- 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...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
✧✧✧✧✧
𝕺onagh can barely contain her smile, laughter fizzing before she can stop it.
"Sunshine" Draco huffs, flushing when all the passer-by's direct knowing looks towards them, all thinking the same thing. Ah, young love. How sweet. How cute. How soul-lifting.
Oonagh doesn't stop leaning in sideways and bumping his hip with hers playfully, too high up in a seventh heaven to contemplate it. She'd been doing it since they locked the door of the cottage and headed out, all the way to the celebrated block of rainbow houses they're passing now. As much as he puts on his grumpy, miffed front, she knows he secretly wishes for her to do it again. So she does. Over and over.
Until Draco finally reacts, having had enough and claims, "Right. That's it!"
A gasp of surprise leaves her when the next time she goes to move away, he snatches her back, slender arms securing across and around her front. Holding. Holding her close so that her spine's pressed flush against his chest and they have to do some sort of outward-waddling thing to carry on walking without tripping one another up.
More hearty laughter tumbles through Oonagh's throat, not alone this time, behind her, Draco's chest vibrates and thrums in result of his deep chuckles. Neither make any move to pull away, content with the weird waddling if they can stay together, touching. They can barely keep their hands off each other, wanting to touch. All the time. Sweet, cute and soul-lifting, young love. They're in love.
On top of her head, at perfect height, Draco's chin rests down, glad to spot something on their right, "Look, Oons"
They stop for a moment, watching as the ladder is pulled away from the shabby house and the last finishing stroke is done. Gone was the fading, peeling corn colour, topped up to a nice canary yellow. Like Hufflepuff. The yellow house that they recently heard someone had moved into, has been re-painted, just like they agreed it desperately needed.
"Much better. We'll tell Roslaeen the news later, she'll want to see" Oonagh muses once they decided to carry on up the hill towards the town.
Draco's inclined to agree, he has no bloody clue what's so special about a block of silly tacky houses except that they're brightly multicoloured, but they make his girl happy, Grammy too, and that means they make him happy too.
"Where are going now, Pomme Rosée?"
His question lingers in the cool air of the town around them whilst Oonagh twirls on the spot, looking thoughtfully. Draco swears that Ireland must be the most colourful place on earth, because as well as the Rainbow houses, all of the shops are brightly painted, a different one catching his eye every second. Hanging baskets of plants and flowers are popular too, he notes, remembering Brian's had quite the few too.
There's more pubs, bars and restaurants here too, on every corner that are full of locals and tourists, even though it's only just past lunch time. When in Ireland, Draco thinks, now looking up. Above their heads, going on for miles up and down the main cobbled street, string fairy lights that he imagines make the place that more magical at night. Oblivious they are to the Wizarding War happening and interfering with their world, like life's as happy as larry and normal and there aren't more murders by the minute than births.
