Villain's Love || Draco x OC

(10)

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I wake up to someone pounding their knuckles against the door. I grunt, rolling onto my side, planning to fall asleep once again. But when my gaze lands on the empty bed in front of me, its quilt piled messily against the bedframe, the mattress creased from the previous body's presence.

Someone slept on my bed?

No.

I slept in someone's room.

I sit up.

In Draco's room.

Fuck.

That's when the door opens. Draco comes out, yet again shirtless. I gawk at his muscles, but this time I'm too drowsy to stop myself.

Fortunately, he doesn't notice that. He's pondering as to why I'm in his room.

"What–" 

The knocking interrupts him. His eyes flit from the door to me.

"Hide," he hisses.

Nodding, I stand up, grab my socks and rush to the cupboard. Through the gap between the doors, I watch Draco grab a random shirt, hear him yell, "one second!" before opening the door. I see his mother, Narcissa, glance around the room. 

"I've been hammering the door down for a long time, honey," she scans him. "Are you alright?"

"I was just in the bathroom," he replies simply.

Narcissa brushes his arm. "You're going to wear this? With Mara around?"

I exhale quietly.

He scoffs. "I just got a random shirt–"

"She wouldn't be able to take her gaze off you."

"How so?" 

"She would have been able to see your muscles."

He's silent.

Well, Mrs Malfoy, I've already seen them twice. And through his shirt, three times.

Draco begins to rush his mother out. "I have to get ready."

"For Mara?"

"Not everything is about her!"

"Honey, I was just teasing you," she laughs, then closes the door. Her footsteps recede as silence returns.

The cupboard door opens. 

"This never happened," he warns. "You tell no one."

I smile at him, feeling a little hyped. 

"Well, luckily your mother doesn't know I've seen them three times," I wink, gesturing at his shirt. "When did you get them?"

I've never seen his cheeks go as red as they are now.

"Leave," he whispers, voice cracking. "Before anyone notices you're here."

I nod. "My room is right across the hallway. No one will notice."

He meets my gaze. "You're welcome here anytime."

I shrug off the offer. "Perhaps for the sofa."

"Or my bed," he smirks.

I know its a joke, but jokes are meant to be funny, right? They're meant to have no meaning. They're meant to be something false, but this joke hits deep.