- 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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"𝖄ou're not serious"
Draco's face scrunches up, taking by the cheery look etched across Oonagh's face, she was indeed serious.
The pair happened to be in the middle of the cobbled street town, on the darkening evening hours of Christmas Eve. In front of them, an emerald green panelled building, written across the top in golden, bold letters, 'Ó Mordha's Irish Pub'. Dangling above the glass block windows, hanging baskets of plants and flowers, and the proud flag waving in the breeze, green, white and orange.
Jigs, hornpipe and slip jigs flowed melodiously into their ears on the outside, filling Oonagh with some sort of belonging and passion, reminding her how much she'd missed this, longed for this whilst she was at school. She turns to Draco to find him already staring at her, apprehensively.
She takes a step closer to him, reassuring quietly, "We don't have to go in, if you don't want"
Draco shifts, dropping his gaze down to her hands fussing at his shirt, unbuttoning the first two or three buttons. He still looks noble and reputable, missing his tie and jacket, more friendly and casual. He was working on it, this life that Oonagh lives is a polar opposite to his, easy-going, snuggly and colourful rather than the ostentatious, frigid and monotone existence he's had in sixteen years of being.
He's had a taste, of what it's like in Ireland, of what it's like to exist with Oonagh's ordinary, perhaps he should have a mouthful. Nothing can be better than that, than the one-of-a-kind experience of being in an Irish bar. And Draco feels like he owes it to her, now he missed her birthday and he's imposed on her holidays.
"No, let's go in. Just — just stay close" He mutters, a hint of rare vulnerability to his tone. Oonagh had let him in, let him through the door to her own home, open and defenceless. It was his turn now, to leave his door of vulnerability ajar for her to step into, like she'd asked.
Oonagh's smile grows soft, rolling up on her tiptoes to stroke her thumb between his brows once or twice, soothing away the worries of his troubled soul with a murmur,
"I wouldn't have it any other way"
At their sides, Oonagh's pinky reaches out, Draco's tentatively doing the same, finding hers and grazing faintly. It's so simple yet so unbelievably meaningful, electrifying every single bone in their bodies when they intertwine tightly.
An alluring noise sounds from Oonagh's throat in surprise, jolting forwards at the sudden tug on her pinky from Draco, pressing their fronts together with little to nothing in between. A smirk tugs at his mouth, silvery eyes flickering downwards to her pink lips as they part, entranced for a long moment. Or what felt like an eternity to Oonagh.
Her chest rises and falls against his, feeling a tingly warmth from head to toe, all because of him. And the incredibly flustering way he's staring at her lips unabashedly. She's not quite sure when they got this close, when his nose started brushing against hers, or when his eyes became locked on hers again, full of what Oonagh would label affection. Affection that's not very common with Draco Malfoy.
