- 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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𝕺onagh stares at the sea, easing her pounding head.
She'd drank a fair bit the previous night, washing away persistent memories with alcohol. There wasn't an ounce of surprise in her body after spotting the number of empty bottles on the counter this morning. Oonagh wasn't one of those fortunate bastards that wakes up without feeling it in the morning, her hangover was definitely tormenting her.
Draco had given her space, finding one of the old books on the tiny bookshelves, cooping himself up in the guest room. Oonagh was appreciative, he didn't need to see her in the state of shambles she was currently in, it was ridiculous. There's people in far worse situations than she's in, and she's moping around, not doing a good enough job at being the hostess.
What was even worse, she had no way rosy apple sweets to offer with an apology for her behaviour.
The new year was to be here at the midnight hour, and Oonagh had spent one of the last days of the year being an inconsolable drunk. Helga, did she feel ashamed of herself now. Tears prickle at her eyes, welling up to mirror the grey clouds covering the skies. Grey. Grey was everywhere now.
Footsteps rustled on the grassy rock from behind her, Oonagh swiftly swiping the fallen tears underneath her eyes, sniffling it all back in,
"I'm approaching, by the way, I don't want to frighten you"
She smiles despite herself at Draco's warning, knowing his capability to scare the piss out of her without meaning to. Her hand falls limp to her side as he comes to stand there, just a fraction behind her. Another wave of shame comes crashing over her from him merely being there, lower lip beginning to wobble helplessly.
A feeble cry manages to slip between her lips at the cool hand pressing ever so tenderly against her forehead, tipping the back of her head to rest against his shoulder. Draco shushes her quietly, rocking her gently against him,
"Tu vas bien. Je suis ici avec vous, Oons"
He hates to see her upset, those blue-blue eyes glassy and filling with tears. He hates that he can tell she's frustrated at herself for letting loose and resorting to unhealthy habits. He hates how he wants to ask what the trigger was, because currently, he suspects it's something to do with why these are just Oonagh's cliffs and not the O'Connor family's cliffs.
The mentions of family across the duration of the holidays had always been simple and brief. Mammy's best friends. Mammy liked lambs in Spring time. Nothing more too it than the odd comment here or there that had brought a smile to Oonagh's face. A different type of smile to the ones Draco's memorised of hers.
Oonagh's hand lifts to flatten over his, over her throbbing, foggy head, hoping if she pushed down hard enough it would force it away. Her hand falls again when it doesn't, it only helps with Draco's there, he's helping her. The boy who had once told her never to cry again, never to do anything of a sort. He was helping her now. And Oonagh didn't deserve it.
