Babygirl (SEQUEL to Fuckboy - Draco Malfoy)

4. daydream.

Draco stood in front of his cauldron in potions class, stirring it absentmindedly.

Still wondering how I taste?

He blinked, his eyes glazed over. He could feel Blackwood's hips in his hands. He could smell her scent. He could feel her warmth in his palms. He wanted to feel her, slick, on his fingertips.

You've fucked every girl I know. You seem to think I'm next.

He stirred the cauldron counterclockwise, mindlessly throwing in a handful of lacewing flies. He watched as the ingredient shriveled in the dark brown liquid, steam rising up into his face. He flipped a page in his potions book without looking at it, then reached over and added powdered unicorn horn into the brew.

Blackwood's breath in his mouth sent a shiver down his spine. He saw her lips, wet and close.

You'll never have me.

He stirred the potion faster, seeing the look in her eyes, how they flashed by the light of Hagrid's campfire. He could see her irises darken, her eyelids half covering them. He imagined how it would feel to wrap her legs around his waist, to hold her thighs in his palms. He wanted to spread them, to settle down in between them and grind himself down to the hilt. He wanted her thighs around his neck, too. He wanted them to squeeze his throat, to quiver as he—

You really don't pay attention, do you?

"Oi! Draco!"

Draco's cauldron was bubbling over with rancid green foam.

"Fuck! Shit!" he exclaimed. Theodore was beside himself, laughing as Draco frantically waved his wand, banishing the failed potion with an angry flick.

"Well, let's all pay closer attention, shall we? Don't want any mishaps!" Slughorn exclaimed, his back to Draco. He glared at the back of his potion professor's head, ignoring how the Gryffindors were laughing.

Fuck them. Draco didn't care.

Because Blackwood didn't push him away.

- - -

Hope is a dangerous thing.

Once the floodgates opened, Draco found it entirely impossible to close them. At moments, in the midst of a particularly intense daydream, he would cringe at the wrongness of it all—of fantasizing openly about Evangeline Blackwood: The Resident Slytherin Mudblood. Fear would strike him in these moments, gripping him so forcefully he would nearly gag. The fear didn't last long, however, or at least was not effective enough to stop his rogue thoughts entirely.

A cleansing was in order. Once he took her, fulfilling his hunger and satisfying his blood-lust, post-sex clarity would set in. He longed more for the moment after fucking her than for the actual fucking itself. He craved the moment that he would be free. He craved the catharsis and the moving-on.

He didn't care what it would take.

When Draco returned to the common room that night, his plan was already solidified in his head.

He came downstairs to the common room after taking a shower. He had laid in his bed for an hour trying to solve the problem of Evangeline Blackwood by staring at the dormitory ceiling. He knew he had to approach the problem in just the right way. It was a fragile and subtle process.

"Yeah, I'd fuck Lucius," he heard Blackwood say as he strode over to where she, Theo, Blaise, and Onyx were sitting entrapped in a game of fuck, marry, kill.

Draco darkened, her words giving him the odd sensation that he had just stepped into a nightmare.

"Oh, would you?" he spat out.