- 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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Warning: Mature Chapter
𝕴t's pathetic, how quickly she switches up for him.
How quickly her anger fades into next to nothing, in it's place, coming back stronger than ever, that excitement, that delight, that special feeling of being wrapped up in the centre of Draco Malfoy's world, just like when she had been after the unexpected visit to the florists earlier. Even though it's pathetic and ridiculous and embarrassing, Oonagh couldn't bring herself to care, it's too good. He's too good. And she really missed him.
From the way he's kissing her, she can tell he has too, both hands firmly cupping her cheeks, keeping her as close as humanly possible, fingertips lightly stroking the soft skin underneath her ear. She tersely wonders what they'd have been doing if Hermione and Harry hadn't showed up at their door, if this is only a glimpse of what it would've been like. It's probably just as rude as he had been to think that way, to wish and dream of what could've been. Again, she couldn't bring herself to care. Not at all.
Wherever she'll let him.
Draco kisses her harder, needing to suppress the guttural groan quaking in his chest at the way she's covering his hands with her own, guiding them slowly down the dreamy shape of her, where she wants him to touch. To feel, make her feel nice. She stops at the button of her jeans, mouth falling open wide in a soundless moan when he unbuttons them, pushes them down low enough that he can sprawl both cool palms across the expanse of her lower belly.
"Fuck" She whispers, heart racing just as out of control as the butterflies underneath his hand are. She's not flat, they've just eaten dinner, there's a little pouch that if it were anyone else touching or seeing, she'd probably shy away, drown in insecurities, but not with him. Not when he murmurs,
"God, you're perfect"
Oonagh chews the inside of her cheek, tipping her head back to see him, aching all over at the want deep and heavy in his eyes. She leans up on her tiptoes, letting their noses graze for the teeniest tiniest second it takes to whisper playfully, "Frustratingly so?"
She takes the gruff noise at the back of his throat as his answer, his sudden push at the hips to pin her against the wall, slotting his knee between hers. Oonagh's head falls back, breathing turning ragged at the way his mouth finds her throat at the same time he lifts his knee, barely pressing where there's desiring heat pooling for him. Uncontrollably, she moves herself on him, too turned on to be embarrassed by the smirk she feels growing against her sweet spot.
Draco sucks until there's hints of colour starting to develop into bruises, then nibbles down and blows over cool air that has her shivering, full of goosebumps. He slides his hands up further, up the snuggly sweater he's resisted the desperate temptation to compliment all night, cradling her sides like she's royalty, something precious, something one-a-kind that deserves to be treated no less than that. The bountiful bouquet of roses on the kitchen work-top was only a taste of that.
