- 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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𝕺onagh makes a sleepy noise, slowly rousing from her soundly slumber.
She was warm, cosy and achey in all the best type of ways, burrowed under the comforter and the blankets to match. Draco had been adamant he'd give her one last blissful memory of seventeen, and shortly after, as the clock ticked midnight, a first one of eighteen. Something that consisted a little more than a grand two minute happy birthday snog.
Her hips throbbed, thighs twinged and toes hurt, from curling over so tightly she'd been temporarily scare they'd never be the same again. She wiggles them at the foot of the bed, glad that they appeared to work perfectly fine, nothing to worry about. As long as they fit nicely into her Ugg boots, all's well. Her throat was raw too, skin tight, undoubtedly from the wanton noises he'd elicited from her whilst marking her throat, collar bones and chest like his life depended on it.
Oonagh loved it, every single throb, twinge, soreness that she was feeling, she loved it. Loved how it was him that had made her feel that way then, hours ago, and still now, for the hours to come. She wanted to bask in it, think about it over and over until she couldn't any longer. Her nosy side had other ideas, deemed it very necessary to find out what on earth was going on downstairs.
Reluctantly, she throws the covers off herself and sits up, groaning quietly as she stretches out her stiff limbs. There's clothes waiting for her, unlike the summer months when he'd set them out on the bed ready, they were hanging over the radiator, warming up so she didn't have to worry about the cold and covering up every strip of skin. Already one step ahead.
It's a quick jump out of bed, despite what slowness her body begs for, to limit time out in the chilliness. She smiles slightly as his Slytherin jersey engulfs her whole, and his plaid pants hang loosely at her hips, gathering generously at the floor. Imperfectly perfect. She pads out of the bedroom, and down the stairs, ears perking at the urgent shushing sounds coming from the kitchen.
The Hufflepuff rounds the corner, squinting slightly through the darkness. The sun had yet to rise, and all sources of light had been put out, making it impossible to see anything that's further than a few feet in front of her. She walks in the smallest steps known to man, swearing that she can hear light breathing across the room—
"SURPRISE!"
Oonagh shrieks loudly, jumping atleast two feet in the air at the very startling, very unexpected surprise, "JESUS, MARY AND JOSEPH!"
Familiar barking laughter bounces off the little walls of the cottage, flying Oonagh's eyebrows to her hairline. It's boy laughter, but it's not the one of Draco's that does wild, inexplainable things to her heart. This one simply makes it warm, an amiable, tingly warmth that comes to light when around friends. She turns to the guffawing culprits, now that the lights are back on, unable to contain a beam.
