- 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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𝕸uch to Neville and Oonagh's joy, Slughorn had agreed to her helping out at the Christmas Party. The more the merrier, he'd proclaimed cheerily.
Slughorn's office was far larger than what she'd possibly imagined, having set foot in Sprout's plenty of time — extension charms, the professor had informed her, once noticing her puzzled expression, sending her a wink to keep it secret. With the use of his magic, the office now resembled somewhat of a tent, the ceilings, walls and doorways had been draped with crimson, gold and emerald fabrics, opening up the room more.
The golden lamp lighting up the entire room had real life fairies fluttering inside, brilliant specks of light — though Oonagh had feared they had been trapped there for a good fifteen minutes after she arrived to help. Eventually Neville had swayed her away, pointing out the loud music in one of the corners, then suggesting they got to work.
Neville was offering around fancy drinks to the guests, having been oddly trusted with glass flutes, and Oonagh helped the house elves carry platters of food around, doing her best not to gag at the dragon tartare after trying one — apparently the taste was just as bad as the smell. The pasty's were much better.
She waved enthusiastically when Luna entered with Harry, looking exceptionally beautiful in her dress robes, despite what the other girls silently spoke through their resentful glares. They were only jealous she was Harry's friend date and they hadn't been close to be chosen instead. She was excited for Luna, and glad to be able to be there to see it firsthand.
"Good evening..."
A low, spellbinding voice spoke, distracting her from her thoughts. It was a freakishly tall male with extremely dark features, contrasted greatly to the pastiness of his skin — with the exception of his under eyes. This man clearly lacked sleep. She smiled faintly, returning just as politely,
"Good evening, how are you enjoying the party? It's grand, isn't it?"
The man's gaze only seemed to dark further, glancing between her blue eyes and then seeming to fixate to her throat with almost a desirable thirst. Oonagh thought it was a fairly odd mannerism, though the man definitely wasn't from anywhere near there, so perhaps it was a different custom elsewhere. To stare at people's necks.
He stepped closer to her, pale, bony hand raising ever so slightly as though about to reach and to touch. It fell limp as his side though, once an unmistakable swish of robes caught both of their attention, Oonagh then finding herself staring up at a pair of beady black eyes.
"I was wondering if I might have a word, O'Connor" Snape drawls, stepping between them, taking the pastry tray from Oonagh's hands to place down, gesturing for her to follow him somewhere private.
Once they were across the side of the tent, Snape whirled around to face her, conveying a message through his expression Oonagh could only decipher to be an insult of her intelligence. She wriggles her nose, awaiting for his bat-attack, his voice sneering and taunting as he hisses,
