- 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's not surprised to hear girlish giggling as he enters his dorm.
A sixth year boy's dorm, nearing the evening, there's bound to be a girl in from time to time, particularly for Blaise and Theo, massive flirts and womanisers. It's happened often, he's used to tuning everything out and minding his own business until a silencing charm goes up.
Undoing the buttons to his sable jacket and then starting with his shirt, he makes a bee-line for the co-joined bathroom to shower. It's his birthday tomorrow, he'll sleep in as long as he possibly can as a treat, better to shower now than early in the morning. His hand clasps the knob, about to turn on the water when he hears,
"I'll do it one more time. Top 'o the mornin to ya!"
Draco slowly backs out of the bathroom, staring across the room. Because that didn't sound like any girl that Blaise or Theo have brought back. That sounded like his girl. His Irish girl, that's comfortably on his bed, as she chats with Theo and Blaise, absently playing with the silver and green woolly jumper in her lap, forefinger tracing the lucky number and big, block letters of the surname that belongs to him.
Just as he's about to ask what she's doing here, how she's got in, Oonagh shifts, throwing the jersey over herself, pulling the sleeves over her hands to make some sort of mittens, making Draco lose all ability to put together a coherent sentence.
His stomach swoops and his heart swoons, only realising just now how much he likes the idea of having Oonagh snuggled up in his own bed, his own forest green sheets, wearing his own jersey. The one she had worn back at the cottage and handed back smelling all lovely and of her. It faded over time, leaving him fairly disappointed, to say he's rather excited at the prospect of it being all Oonagh-fied again would be an understatement.
He swallows down his heart in his throat, silently stammering before he's able to speak, "What are you doing in here?"
Across the dorm, the three turn heads in his direction, Blaise and Theo recovering from a spell of chortles, whilst Oonagh smiles up at him, answering simply,
"Waiting for you"
"Don't worry, Malfoy, we've been looking after the Mrs" Theo chirps, shooting one of his infamous winks in Oonagh's direction.
Draco raises an eyebrow, casting a quick survey of the rest of the dorm, before shrugging off his jacket and shirt, striding towards Oonagh. She nibbles at her lower lip, gaze travelling down his bare chest and where there's a strip of the waistband of his boxers on show, low on his hips with his trousers and belt. Fit. So unbelievably fit.
"Potter and his sidekicks were harassing her" Blaise informs, grabbing Draco's attention immediately.
Something wild and resentful crosses his features, half in his mind to storm out and finish this off with Potter there and then. Make things clear. He can mess with him all he wants, meddle, provoke, hell, he'd even take another one of those fatal curses he somehow knows. But Oonagh's off limits. No one gets to drag Oonagh into this dark, twisted web they're all tangled up in. She gets to stay in the light, safe and free.
