- 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...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
✧✧✧✧✧
𝕺onagh grins, babbling away to the two lovers on a swing in a graveyard, jumping two feet in the air before she realises what's happening,
"JESUS, MARY AND JOSEPH!"
She whips around to the culprit whom found it absolutely necessary to nearly send her into a shock-induced heart attack, finding fair hair and silvery-grey eyes.
Draco Malfoy was staring down at her, seemingly amused from giving her the fright of her life. She sighs heavily, hand coming to rest over her quick beating heart, now slowing down to its normal cheery rate, muttering,
"You scared the living daylights out of me"
"Oh, did I?" Draco asks, sliding his hands into his trouser pockets, half smirking, half grinning at the startled Hufflepuff.
He hadn't intentionally meant to scare her, there was no tiptoeing or creeping up behind her, she just didn't notice him there. It was just a light tap on the shoulder, nothing else. Her reaction was rewarding though, the strong, thick Irish really came out of her in the frightful yell. Very rewarding.
Oonagh calms eventually, making sure to voice her thanks to the portraits behind for the head's up she had the Slytherin sneaking up behind her. The graveyard couple were far too in love to even have noticed, and the others looked far too pleased with themselves. She supposes it's fun on their behalf though, only living for the entertainment they see daily.
Her face softens considerably when she turns back to Draco, cheeks still tinged pink as she says,
"Tráthnóna maith, cad é an craic?"
Draco's eyes narrow in thought, head tilted to the side as he tries to comprehend a word that she's just said. Briefly, he wonders if she thinks she spoke in English, if slipping in and out of her Irish Gaelic was something she does often. If she speaks fluently at home with her family and that's why.
There's no clear indication on her face for either, or, so he brushes it off and mutters,
"We're going to take a walk around the grounds"
Oonagh's eyebrows raise, stepping forward and craning around to take a glimpse out of the window, then back to Draco, choosing to point out her root of bafflement,
"It's raining"
"Rain? At this time of year? That's absurd" Draco retorts, face remaining straight as Oonagh internally debates with herself. He'd definitely label her as one of those people that merrily jump and splash everyone with puddles, probably then apologising profusely.
His gaze lowers down to her feet at the thought, those ugly boots again, though this time a black pair instead of tan, the ones she wears for class. They could do with some puddle jumping, perhaps then they might look better. No, nothing can help them. They're still the worst pair of shoes he's ever seen.
