- 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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"𝕺ons"
Oonagh couldn't open her stinging eyes quick enough, her head spinning at the suddenness of it all. The hurried action, the special nickname that hugs her heart tighter than the tightest of huggers ever could. The boy who's spoken it, raspy and throaty, and is right in front of her, real and just there, in safe reach. Not Scabior, not Dolohov, not Yaxley.
Draco.
Draco, Draco, Draco. Her heart, mind and soul whispers at the same time, chants like devoted religious figures worshipping their deities. Religions has always been a tricky subject for Oonagh, but she's certain if anyone asked her right now to proclaim her saviour, her salvation her chosen divine being, Draco Malfoy would tumble out of her mouth in a matter of milliseconds, no hesitation. Her Only. He's her Only in all the aspects he possibly could.
"Draco"
It doesn't come out like the harmonious, sweet-sounding chants that are vibrating her entire entity, yet the devoted sense is there, strong and defined, amidst the immense relief that's practically oozing out of her. The immense relief that's not only felt by one, but four, whirling in the teeth-chattering whirly winds around them. Oonagh knows there's others, behind Draco, knows that he's not alone, she doesn't look. Not yet. Not when there's him to look at.
He's not in a much better physical state than she knows she's in, all roughed up and dishevelled. Bruises, a reddish-purple, littered across the jutting angles of his prize-worthy face, his high cheekbones, defined jaw, and one to the outside-left of his darkened eyes, a hard strike that narrowly missed giving him a black eye to live with for weeks. A fight. He's been in a fight, the muggle kind that use fists, she notes, spotting the knuckles of the hand that's caressing her cheek. Knuckles swollen, bloodied and marred. Despite the blurriness, being in the peripheral of her vision, she can tell.
Her focus shifts, commanded by the movements of his ridiculously kissable lips, forming a word that violently tugs on the strings of her heart,
"Sunshine"
And that's all it takes for Oonagh to crumble down.
Sobs, mortifyingly slobbery and wet, big enough to vigorously quake her whole body break out of her. Round and round her head starts to spin again, in vicious circles that definitely get faster at the unhelpful reminders of her subconscious not to cry in front of Draco because of how it fills him up with awkwardness and hate. He doesn't tell her that, though, to stop crying and not to do it again. No.
Oonagh's being coaxed forwards, tucked into the firm chest she's been longing a snuggle from for what feels like a lifetime. One puffy-knuckled hand gently cups the back of her head, the other sprawling against the mid-point of her spine, thumbs stroking up and down soothingly. It's a tender yet firm cradle, as though she's the most precious thing on the planet to him, yet he wants to cling on for dear life and never to let go ever again. Never permit anyone to steal her from his clutches ever again.
