- 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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𝖂hoever it was, knew Oonagh exceptionally well.
Because they'd picked up exactly what she would've chosen to wear. A jumper that she knows the warmth of all too well, a jumper so oversized that it practically engulfs her whole frame. A jumper that has strips of striking silver and dark green and boldly displays the name of her future across the back. Draco's Quidditch Jersey. They'd picked out Draco's Quidditch jersey for her. And good God, it smells divine, like it's been freshly sprayed with his signature cologne.
They'd taken to grabbing a pair of Draco's boxers for her too rather than raiding her underwear drawer, which she was pretty glad about, unsure of what comfort that her selection of lace, mesh, satins and silks of all shapes and sizes would bring her. They're not exactly designed for that purpose. These were better for now. And Draco didn't mind in the least, in fact, he seemed on the side of glad too, but for other reasons. Her selection of lace, mesh, satins and silks of all shapes and sizes are for his eyes only.
Once dressed, damp hair brushed thoroughly to the ends, Oonagh knew it was time to go back downstairs, to face everybody else that she couldn't bare to before. On the most part, the damage done was hidden by clothes, hidden to the naked eye.
The same couldn't be said for her throat.
The purplish-blue channel stark against her wintry pale skin was what all eyes snapped to as soon as she set foot in the kitchen, reducing the room to silence again. They all stared, Blaise, Theo, Rosaleen and Remus, and Oonagh stared back, stomach churning uneasily. She's always the one striving to break uncomfortable silences, fill the room with happy chitter-chatter and earn laughter loud enough to bounce off the walls of the room. She couldn't. Not right now.
"I bloody well hope you've not eaten everything, Nott. Or else I might have to steal your chocolate, Lupin"
It comes directly from her right, tone much more lighthearted than the one he'd used up in the bathroom. Beneath their long sleeves, his pinky twists further around hers, so that he's able to press the pad of his pulsing thumb against hers, and Oonagh nearly bursts into tears from the flood of emotions plunging through her insides. Gratitude, admiration, affection. Draco's the quiet one, the brooding one that grumbles under his breath and keeps himself to himself. He didn't have to break the silence, he did it for Oonagh because he simply knows.
And it works, because then, Theo is scoffing and Remus is shuffling on his chair, most likely hiding the chocolate bar he's been nervously chomping at throughout this unpleasant situation. He shakes his head, dismissing,
"I've not a single clue of what you're talking about. I don't have any chocolate"
Draco makes a noise that sounds like a snort, beginning to venture further into the room, bringing Oonagh along with him,
