Babygirl (SEQUEL to Fuckboy - Draco Malfoy)

10. pillow talk.

As Draco sat under the blue glow of the Ravenclaw common room, he pondered why he had ever agreed to attend the party at all.

All his friends were wasted, grinding together in a mass rave of narcotics and sparkles. Blaise and Onyx had abandoned their faux mystery, dancing together in a heated embrace. Pansy was rubbing her ass against Michael Corner's trouser front, and Evan—dressed in a beautiful, tight black dress—had placed herself directly in the center of it all.

Draco leaned against a wall on the outskirts of the party, staring at her with his face in a hardened mask. Evan was a fine dancer, her body curving and swaying effortlessly to the beat of the music. Pansy body rolled into Evan, Parkinson's hips held back by Corner's willing hands.

Theodore would be quaking if he saw this scene, Draco thought.

Although the knowledge of Pansy and Theo's presumed shagging was only a minor detail of his detention with Evan—obscured in his memory by far more tantalizing events—the shagging had had a profound impact on the atmosphere of their friend group. Pansy, always an enigma, had made out with Michael Corner not long after shagging Theo in the Room of Requirement, which explained his current absence. Theo had known Pansy for seven years—he couldn't really be surprised at her behavior.

The current coupling-off within their friend group was unexpected, but not altogether unusual. By Draco's count, they had all at least kissed one another at some point. Well—except for him and Evan.

Draco took a sip of vodka which, unlike the other Ravenclaws and his four Slytherin friends, he had left untainted by the sticky blue syrup he witnessed in everyone else's cups. The straight vodka burned his throat, but made the party much more entertaining. He people-watched, scanning his eyes along the crowded rotunda.

Finding nothing of interest in the rest of room, he locked eyes onto Evangeline once again. He saw her dance, twirling aimlessly as she became more and more tipsy. He pursed his lips. She was quite a sight, the blue lights flashing across her glowing skin as she ran her hands seductively through her hair.

He had tried to keep his promise to himself, to cut off their semi-relationship. But he didn't want to end it—he had no motivation to do so. She was too bloody addicting, a pill that he had to swallow every morning before he could get up for the day.

In the days that had passed since their detention frivolities, Draco had kept his distance, simply because he had no idea what to do with her. Hate her, fuck her, kiss her—he didn't know. He stopped seeking her out, stopped cornering her, stopped flirting with her with his eyes. She still felt like an inevitability—but he didn't want to push the progression forward.

It was difficult for Draco to silence his urge to pursue her as he watched her dance in the low blue light. If she weren't careful, Draco would snap—he would storm the Ravenclaw battalion, throw her over his shoulder, and march her directly to his bed.

Instead, he stepped away, taking a breather from the flashing lights and Ravenclaw chatter. He had been to several Ravenclaw parties before, and had to admit that the Ravenclaws knew how to throw the fuck down—as was proven by the large vats of vodka on ice and glass bowls of narcotics for the pill-popping fiends.

Draco walked out onto a balcony, in seeing distance of the common room. It was quieter outside of Ravenclaw Tower, but he could still hear the music bumping inside the closed balcony doors. The balcony wrapped all the way around the tower, and he could hear a couple of rogue partiers around the corner of the circular wall. He sipped his drink, watching the ground below.

The darkness and the cool fall wind had him feeling nostalgic—a sensation he dreaded. He stared at the trail that ran along the castle, which connected to the cobblestone road that led from the courtyard to the Village of Hogsmeade.