- ᴀ ᴅʀᴀᴄᴏ ᴍᴀʟғᴏʏ ғᴀɴғɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ
Draco lifts his head up, shooting a glance towards his left to the witch staring shamelessly at him, his pale eyes settling on her, grunting irritably,
"Do you ever mind your own business?"
Oonagh pondered silently, tuc...
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𝕯raco shifted in his seat, grey eyes helplessly haunted by the ink marked into his skin underneath his sleeve.
He'd originally decided hiding out in the library would be the best place, he could continue some reading or catch up on some of his missed work to pass time. That turned out to be senseless thinking, there was no way he could concentrate efficiently at a time like this. It was inescapable. Everything about this was inescapable.
And his feelings were so contradictory, it was only making things worse, hearing the news Dumbledore had mysteriously dropped dead would mean him and his mother were spared, the Malfoy name wouldn't be tarnished, and he would be successful in the eyes of his Lord.
However, Draco didn't want to be a murderer, to sign his life away to guilt and culpability eating him alive for years and years until he's nothing but a shell of a man. No. This was an honour, he had said so, The Dark Lord had announced to all that he would be the one honoured to have Dumbledore's life in his hands, Aunt Bellatrix had agreed too. Honour, honour, honour.
His mind wanders over to the silent Hufflepuff across from him, hating himself for hating to use her. That should have been the easiest thing, he's used many in the past for everything to work in his own bidding, and felt nothing for it, it was what he'd been taught to do. Manipulation for personal benefit.
There was no way she would be there now if she knew why she had to be with him. She's too pure, too righteous, too innocent to be caught in the middle of his tangled, nightmarish web.
Blue doe eyes and chocolate hair.
"Why are you staring at me?" He grumbles to her across the table, sinking into the familiar position of self preservation just incase she happened to figure him out. He doubted so though, she was Hufflepuff, not Ravenclaw, or Mudblood Granger being the know-it-all she's always been.
Oonagh lazily shrugs, knees tucked up to her chest and her arms loosely banded around her shins, shamelessly watching the silver haired boy wrapped up in his own mind. She'd gotten to drop her broom off at Sprout's, that was her only request, so this was her being with him for the rest of the day.
She rests her chin comfortably in the curve between the tops of her knees, replying airily, "What else am I supposed to do?"
Draco waves his hand around extravagantly, indicating to the high shelves mounted with books, magazines and all things filled of words and pages surrounding them. Her mouth twists when he flopped down his hand, eyeing her carefully, then remembering,
"You can't read"
Her eyes narrow playfully, reducing the sky blue to just a fleck on either side, correcting, "I don't like to read, I can read"
"Can you, though? I feel as though that's just an excuse, I'm not sure which is more embarrassing for you" Draco mumbles, eyebrows raising up his forehead when she's flipping him off in return.
