- 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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"𝕸alfoy"
Snapping from his daydream, Draco side-glances left to his disturber, offering a simple nod of acknowledgment,
"Granger"
A week.
Potter and Granger had been cooped with him and Oonagh for the most part of a week now, basking in the amenities ever so kindly offered to them. They were filled with gratitude, made sure not only Oonagh, but Draco too, knew as much, thanking abundantly to the point it was aggravating him. They only seemed to do it more then, enjoyed watching him squirm uncomfortably and making his skin crawl. Oonagh had to place their own sort of taboo on it — thank you.
A week of exasperating measures of thanks, stressful researching, taunting tension and company. A kind of company none of them were used to or ever expected to form. Two brave lion-hearts, one coldblooded snake and a jolly little badger. It was like a coming together, all these different words, lifestyles and personalities thrown into one mix. Draco and Oonagh gained a glimpse inside the concealed ways of the Lion-hearts, and in return, Harry and Hermione saw them.
Hermione Granger saw the most. Saw the exchange of soft, private smiles she pretends to be unaware of, saw how Draco's eyes shine brighter, or correspondingly Oonagh's smiles broaden as soon as they spot each other in a room. She saw how there could be a million and one people chatting simultaneously in a room, but one single, whispered word, easily missable and unheard, from Oonagh O'Connor and Draco Malfoy's whole, undivided attention would be on her, listening intently.
They had something impenetrable, unbreakable, unconditional, that as much as one could see, watch and study, it will ever be enough to even begin to understand their bond, how deep their love goes.
She sees it now, standing besides him in the kitchen, as he adores his Irish girl from afar. He hadn't been back long, duty had called at someone named Rosaleen's house, in need of a man to help move some furniture. Draco hadn't hesitated, simply kissed the eyebrow of Oonagh and left to offer his strong services. When he returned, he had a crumpled, brown paper bag in his hand that got plopped straight on Oonagh's lap. An assortment of sweets she's happily making her way through whilst scrapbooking this month's collection.
"You lied to her. About her Ugg boots" Hermione chimes knowingly, having worked out as much immediately.
Draco's gaze remains fixed on Oonagh, on the shoulders that shimmy slightly to the subtle cadences flowing from the radio, voice both calm and crafty in his reply,
"No. I said I haven't got them, that's the truth"
But he has had them. In the past. He knows where they are, what's happened to them. Draco can practically hear her contradict, point out. The Brightest Witch of her age, the biggest know it all he's ever met, rarely missing a trick. Her eyes are sparkling too, like she's bursting with pride having solved the greatest mystery known to man. Draco runs a hand through his hair, barely sparing her the smallest of glances as he retorts,
