Babygirl (SEQUEL to Fuckboy - Draco Malfoy)

6. royalty.

"Blaise, what the fuck were you expecting to happen? I mean, honestly. . .?" Draco trailed off, cringing.

He was sitting with Blaise and Theo on the common room couch. He and Theo were making another attempt to comfort Zabini, a whole week after his and Blackwood's 'date.'

"I don't fucking know Malfoy, but my hopes were high, alright?" Blaise grumbled. He took a hearty drink of firewhiskey.

"I told you to ask her, you bloody wanker," Theo said with a laugh. "Not blindside the poor girl. See this is why you should always listen to my—"

Draco seethed at Nott through gritted teeth. Blaise leaned over on the arm of the couch and stuffed his face into the cushion.

Theo chuckled. When he spoke, the cigarette in his mouth bobbed up and down.

"You have a low tolerance for abuse, mate," Theo said to Blaise.

"I have a low pain tolerance, that's what," Blaise groaned miserably into the cushion.

This was only the latest in the Blaise Zabini pain-fest series.

Draco couldn't blame Blaise for talking about it. After all, Zabini had wanted to go on a date with Blackwood for years—since their very first year, in fact—and now that he had finally gotten the chance, the date had turned into an absolute shitshow. It would take far longer than one week for Blaise to get over it—or even for him to stop drinking during the daytime.

Draco understood.

After Hogsmeade, Draco had been completely delirious. When he departed from Hogsmeade, telling his friends he felt ill and ignoring more unwanted flirtation from Parkinson, he had walked slowly back up the castle, having to stop periodically to catch his breath in the corridors as he made his way to Slytherin Dungeon. He envisioned what he would say to Blackwood the next time he saw her. He imagined where he would touch her next . . . which deep and dirty parts of her that he would explore in all manner of ways.

He had been high on life, high on her smell, high on the ecstasy of repeating her sounds in his head.

Draco . . .

However, Blaise was absolutely catatonic that night, and the next day, and then the following two days after that, until he finally broke and vented about how fucking heartbroken he was that Blackwood rejected him—downing a whole bottle of firewhiskey and having a drunken meltdown in their dormitory.

Draco did not often feel guilty for the things that he did. After years of yearning and frustration, he thought he had bloody earned a small lapse—just a few minutes to let it all go and vent his frustration between Blackwood's legs. But for that entire past week, he had been wrecked with shame.

Because while Blaise had been sulking over his tragic and unrequited love, Draco had fingered that very same girl in a back alley of Hogsmede.

"Shut the fuck up. Shut the fuck up," Blaise suddenly hissed, interrupting Theo, because all three of the girls—Pansy, Onyx, and Evangeline—had just stepped through the doorway.

The moment that he saw Blackwood, Draco wanted to strangle her.

He couldn't decide if he wanted to fuck her senseless or murder her in cold blood. She walked into the common room on Pansy's tail, her arm linked in Onyx's, wearing a dress that made Draco want to commit cardinal sins. He gaped openly, but then settled his face and stared at his hands instead. He twisted his Slytherin ring off and then back on again.

Theo wolf whistled at Blackwood teasingly.

"Shut it," she said to Theo with a joking glare.

Draco considered the possibility that the three girls of their group were actively trying to torture them. Onyx was wearing dragon skin leggings and a lacy black camisole, Pansy had on her tightest black dress, and Blackwood—oh, Blackwood—was wearing a dark green dress that gave off a silky sheen in the light from the Black Lake out the windows. Draco looked up at her, his hands itching as he subtly glanced at her hips and quickly looked away. There were these strings there, holding the dress together, that—if Draco pulled on just one of them—the entire ensemble would slip off and onto the floor.