Desired | Draco Malfoy & Theodore Nott, 18+

40

Mature content ahead, along with consumption of alcohol. Please read with caution.

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Her eyes flickered wildly across the blond boy and his lips parted by the look of her, seated next to Theodore. Isla wished to say something — to walk up to him and ask why he didn't come back for her, why he never returned to school after Christmas break and why he still looked at her in the way only he did.

''So, what are we getting?'' Mila clocked Isla out of her trapped mind, bending over the table, ''I don't know if I want—''

All three of them quieted, raising their brows at how Isla failed to participate in the conversation — the girl never missed a chance to order food.

Her eyes stayed glued on him, Malfoy, as he marched further into the pub, and just as she was thinking of approaching him, she watched the same girl both of the boys had been with step up beside him.

She looked away as quickly as she could, and the feeling of it rocked sickly within, taking a moment to gather herself. Isla shortly pushed her chair back, standing plain on two feet, ''I'm getting something to drink—''

''Already?'' Mila frowned, her neck snapping to the boys, ''I thought you wanted to eat—''

''I'm not hungry anymore,'' She muttered, and she swallowed the bitter taste in her mouth as she walked up to the counter, placing both of her elbows on it and dragging her fingers through her hair, letting it fall across her spine again.

She ordered drinks for her friends as well, and as she stood, waiting for the man behind the bar to get them ready — she felt someone step up next to her.

Keeping her chin high, her eyes glued to the bottles behind the counter. Not once did she pay an ounce of attention to the boy standing beside her, even if the enchanting scent of him tore through her senses.

The arm being splayed out upon the wood and the fingers ticking against it caused her to feel sick again. She could recognize those rings from anywhere.

She didn't wait for her drinks when she aimed to walk away, but he caught her. As she tried to turn around, Draco's chest caused her to falter, nearly slamming right into it. Isla gulped, tipping her head to the side and looking down at the floor.

''Clarke,'' Malfoy said, so lowly that between the echoing sound of people's chattering, she barely caught it, ''Please.''

Isla stayed quiet, and heartbreakingly so, she still refused to look at him. She didn't want to see his blond strands as they held sleekly across his head, his black turtleneck sweater, his damned eyes — nothing. He left her for two weeks only to come back with someone else.

''Clarke, please,'' He mumbled, blocking her from walking away, ''Can we talk—''

The man placed her drinks upon the timber, nodding for her to do as she pleased with them. She reached her arm out, taking one of the shots as she poured it down her throat. And then another. And another.

''For fucks—'' Draco growled, snatching the last standing glass from her hand, ''That's fucking enough, Clarke. I know you're hurt, but you can't go around—'' Sighing out, he shook his head at her, ''You'll hurt yourself.''

''Keep it,'' Isla snapped, gesturing towards her drink, and for the first time in minutes, she met his raging gaze, ''It's on me.''

She tried to walk away again, but the blond boy refused to let her. Malfoy stood solidly in her way, looking down at her with a heavy chest, ''Clarke,''