- 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 faintly smiles, the first one of the day, when palms mask his vision from behind,
"Guess who?"
He inhales deeply, senses hit with a distinctive scent that brims a one-of-a-kind contentment in his bones,
"The only person on the planet who won't be throttled for doing such a thing"
Laughter echoes off the towering bookshelves an walls in their private segment of the library. Draco lowers the hands from his eyes, kissing each palm, before she slumps into the chair besides him, smiling toothily.
He soaks in her jean clad thighs, hugging tight to then flare at the ankles. The ankles covered by the monstrosity of those tan boots. He bites his lip, rather appreciative of the loosened neckline of her sweater, falling down the shoulder closest to him, revealing her protruding collar bones — and the familiar golden chain dangling between.
Upon catching him looking, Oonagh's heart sings, unable to resist wondering playfully, "Frustratingly beautiful level today?"
A deep groan parts him, features consorting up into a pitiful pout. With this sunshine, this temptress in front of him, he's not sure how he'll ever be able to function properly again. Before he had needed the dark slinky numbers, the wine stained lips, the fishnet tights and stiletto heels. Now he had a taste of how the other side of the word lives, he could never go back. Whatever Oonagh wears — even her uggs — it does it for him. Easy peasy.
His abdomen flexes, turning aflame under her slow dropping eyes, scanning every inch of him back, and not holding back. That's another thing with Oonagh, ever since this started, they've stared and they've stared openly and unashamedly. Draco would be lying if he said knowing those blue eyes are blatantly glued to him didn't gather heat below his bellybutton.
They lock on his promptly, speaking the same reply as his lips do assertively, "Perpetually frustratingly beautiful level"
Eyelids fluttering and heart leaping, she sighs, allowing herself to intensely feel the slow squeeze he gives her thigh whilst explaining,
"Well I got all ready for Hogsmeade, finally able to go without detention and they cancelled it at the last bleedin' minute"
Draco chuckles, understanding her disappointment. Another would imagine Hogsmeade visits would get boring after the first year, but there's something about them that never gets tiring. Particularly the upper school years when they're at dating age, the majority wait until visits. Madame Puddifoots, Honeydukes, The Three Broomsticks, they're the most popular three to go to.
A pang of almost guilt hits him, realising that it's technically his fault for the safety restrictions. If what happened to Katie Bell happened again to another student, things for Hogwarts would turn upside down. Of course it wouldn't, there's only one cursed necklace and that plan failed, the professors don't know that though.
