𝐀𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐍𝐀 , d. malfoy

02. his

He always got like this.

You couldn't ask him to stop — you knew he only meant to look out for you, and yet...

"If you're going to be sick, mind the leather."

"You're an asshole," you called from your position on the couch, which just so happened to be the only place he could've possibly wrestled you onto.

It was almost better this way, since it prevented you from seeing the flickering firelight and assorted foods laid out on the tables, that only served to enhance your nausea.

"You're one to talk," Draco drawled in his usual tenor, voice alone almost making you drowsy, if you hadn't been so mad at him. "I told you to tell me if you were going to be drinking. I don't like you out and alone inebriated."

"I wasn't alone. I was with Pansy and you know that." But it fell on deaf ears. Your poor attempt at defending yourself went ignored, and he only continued to mutter under his breath about the stupidity of your actions.

You really didn't have the stomach for it tonight.
You shut your eyes, blocking out the stray beams of moonlight that had been filtering on and off through the window, and instead attempted to focus on the feel of the cool leather against your cheek. It didn't curb the headache in the slightest, not when the ever present beat of his heart pressed against your skull, but it was arguably better than the sick jolt you felt in meeting his blazing gaze were you to lift your head from his chest.

"You scared me, you know," he murmured softly.

You hummed, leaning backwards to finally risk a glance up at his face.

Your eyes zeroed in on his adam's apple, watching it dip beneath his skin. You smiled softly, leaning in to nip at his throat shamelessly.

"You good there?"

"Make all the advancements you want," Draco said, his voice cracking as he pressed a short kiss to your temple. "I won't be accepting them until you're sober. Though you'll probably forget the entire night to begin with." He snorted.

"Wow, okay, prick." You groaned.

"You've called me a lot worse," he chuckled lightly. "I'll run and grab you some water. At least attempt to stay awake until I get back."

"Mm," you called, rolling over, a little frustrated. You were beginning to feel an uncertain amount of guilt settle in your stomach — that, or the alcohol was just beginning to kick in.

A hand on your back surprised you, urging you to sit up, handing you a short glass you'd assumed he'd conjured out of thin air, knowing him.

He didn't remove his hand as you drank, and you were thankful for it. He maneuvered around, kneeling down in front of you, tucking stray strands of hair out of your eyes and behind your ears.

When you finally chanced a glance at him, he was crouched beside you, hand still warm against your back, and his eyes watching, calculating. You couldn't help but offer an apologetic smile, prompting him to rub circles into your back.

"You scared me," he said for the second time, tenderly taking the water from your hands to replace the empty space with his own, lacing your fingers together. "I'm getting really sick of you constantly doing this and not telling me a damn thing."

"I'm not your child, Draco," you reminded him softly. "I'm tired of feeling like I am. I'm your girlfriend. You can't dote on me like this just because you have no life now. Get a hobby," you laughed. He glared at you, biting on his tongue at the mention of him having nothing better to do.

"You are my hobby," he sighed honestly, but still bowed himself to trace his fingers along your own.

You laughed, smiling tenderly at him. His lips twitched upwards, jaw ticking with his small smile.

"How about a compromise?"

His eyebrows took a quick hike into his hairline.

"A compromise? Are you mad?"

"Yes," you agreed, ignoring his last comment. "I'll tell you honestly if I'm drinking, but you can't come out and get me the second you suspect I'm drunk off my ass, okay?"

He pursed his lips, eyes trained somewhere around your collar bone. "That's not much of a compromise. Don't you have some friends to take? Other than Pansy? You know how irresponsible she is when she's around alcohol—"

"She comes by it honestly," you cut him off with a laugh.

He chewed his cheek, before you sighed, beginning to feel drowsy. He offered up the water  again, before throwing himself down onto your lap with a huff, his head resting against your stomach. You took one hand to tangle it in his hair, only slightly messy and dishevelled this late in the day.

"I'm sorry I worried you," you whispered honestly, earning a hum from him.

"I'm sorry I acted like an ass," he amended solemnly, earning a snort from yourself. He swallowed thickly. "I adore you."

You grinned, rolling over again on the couch, lifting yourself up as to make a small space for him. "You'll stay the night, won't you?"

He glanced up at you tenderly, his hand moving to grip at your jaw. "Whatever you ask, it's yours."

You knew he'd be gone before you woke, not allowing himself to be seen with you even in the scarce moments of the night. And perhaps he was right, perhaps you wouldn't even remember he'd been there. Still, it was nice to know, just for a moment, he was here with you, and you had been only and unconditionally his — if even for a short time.