Draco Malfoy ONE SHOTS

Noctivagant

Context: You are a sixth year student at Hogwarts. You have started a relationship with Draco Malfoy. That evening you are going to a party organized by final year students.

House: Gryffindor

Playlist: we R who we R - Kesha // I like the way you kiss me - Artemas // Starboy - The Weeknd // teeth - 5 seconds of summer // I wanna be yours - Artic Monkeys

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"You bite my lip just for the taste. You're on your knees, I'm on the case. You take the heat and with such grace. You say "We're done" but here you stay."

The moon had wrapped the room in a warm opalescent glow, creating synchronous streaks of light. Silently, it peered out the window like a curious lover, eager to know what was happening within those walls.

But she couldn't know, and neither could anyone else.

Draco...

His bony fingers on you, mapping every inch of your neck. Your nails gripping tightly into a lock of his hair, to feel him closer. So close.

Your lips that, now, barely touched: wet, needy.

His name, Draco, repeated in your head like a mantra.

The room had become too small for the two of you; it almost felt like there was no air. Or maybe the feeling of having your body on fire wasn't coming from the temperature inside or the sealed window that didn't let even a puff of wind in.

It was you.

"Draco," your voice broke. "Kiss me, fuck, kiss me."

But let's take a step back.

///

"Explain why we're going to a party thrown by last year students."

Hermione Granger was many things, but she was definitely not naive. She knew that if you'd woken her in the middle of the night, tossing her scarlet sheets in the air and whispering in her ear so as not to wake the other roommates, there was a reason that went beyond wanting to attend a party with some final year students.

Especially since you knew how much she followed the Hogwarts rules and didn't break them even for her closest friends. Well, almost always.

Despite this, you found yourself in the school hallway, at two in the morning, fastening the last remaining buttons of your white shirt and adjusting your skirt so that it didn't look like you'd jumped into the closet and rolled up the first clothes that came your way.

"And why this party is at night?" Hermione continued. You knew she was struggling inside between the desire to scold you and the fear that at any moment one of the prefects or - worse - one of the professors, who respected her so much, could appear. And they certainly did not think of her as a naughty girl who went out in the dark to have fun.

Naughty girl.

You held back a laugh at the mere thought of that word associated with Hermione.

"Because it's a party, Herm." You replied, stopping at the intersection of the corridor.

There was a sound of whispers. Maybe some students; maybe indeed a prefect or a professor. The clicking of heels reverberated for a few seconds before fading.