New Girl (Draco X Reader)

Chapter twelve

  Your breath was sticking in your throat, like vaporized glue. It was all you could do to keep from wheezing as you made your way down the stairs. You peeked, probably shouldn't have, but you did.

The back of his head was an ugly grey color. Fuzzy and sticky at the same time, of course, less than pleasant.

The room was cold, your fingers twitch against the mahogany railing of the stairs. The boards are creaking beneath your feet, revealing their true age. They may have been all shiny, and clean, but they held their secretes. He was nothing like that, the hateful aura melted off his figure like a dripping wet cat.

'It's just a house! There are more important things to think about!' you have to stop and remind yourself, reminiscing on the memories it had, what each scratch meant. You jittered on the stairs, trying to take a step back

Your mother was standing in the background of the room. Her hair had been pulled back and eyes staring ahead, blank and unseeing. Draco's parents were absent from the foyer. You were almost grateful to have two less sets of eyes on you.

"The girl lives. (Name),"

His voice was the worst of it, not even his image could compare to the malice it held. You would prefer to never hear him say your name again, it made you feel all twitchy on the inside.

Your mind had an odd panic setting, now that you thought about it. That was strange, wasn't it?

"I do, my Lord," It sounded funny, like your tongue had turned to rubber and stuck to the roof of your mouth. With irritation, you followed his beckoning fingering until you were standing almost toe to toe with him.

His fingers curled around your chin, very delicately, you a porcelain doll and he the wealthy collector inspecting your face for chips or uneven surfaces. A moment passed with his black stare penetrating your minds inner depths through your own eyes. You wondered what he saw, fear, hate, spunk?

"I do believe you distrust me," He said, voice a silk ribbon wrapping around your ears and blocking out any other sounds in the room.

"You've done nothing to earn my trust," Your words didn't falter, but your breath hitched at hearing the shocked gasps from somewhere to- wherever the other people were. "My lord," You added, with a sense of dread creeping up on you from behind like the predator it was.

To your utmost surprise he laughed, but not the way you would laugh at a particularly good joke, more like the laugh of some kid murdering ants with a magnifying glass. Did he find you amusing? You sure hoped so, if it saved your pathetic arse.

"My my, I suppose-" He paused, spider like fingers curling at the joint. "We'll have the change that," His hand fell from your chin, and instead took you by the shoulder and began steering you out. Glancing over your shoulder, you saw the bewilderment on Draco's face, that most likely matched your own.

The Death Lord moved you into a study, which you assumed was Draco's father's. The desk was cleared off, revealing the unscratched dark wood beneath it. He sat down in a chair facing away from the burning hearth. You assumed he wanted to sit in the chair directly across from him, you did so.

"Move closer," He commanded. Not wanting to loose your life over something as trivial as moving a chair, you stood up and went around the back of the seat before pushing it forward a few inches. You sat down again.

"Closer," You gave him a look of confusion, but repeated the process.

"A tiny bit closer," It was as if he was toying with you, annoying you on purpose. With a silent huff you scooted the chair until it touched his knees. You had to climb, in a rather unladylike fashion, to sit down in it now. Slotting your legs into the gaps between his, which with this closeness made you rather uncomfortable.

Your back curved ever so slightly as you leaned forward to look at him, eyes not daring to meet his and for a while, there was only the soft crackling of the fire in the room.

Suddenly, Lord Voldemort sat up, his sickly slender hands making contact with your temples and his arachnid like eyes shooting as far open as they could go. His fingers were incredibly cold.

"Wha-"

"Sh," It was kind of creepy the way his nostrils flared when he hushed you, and the little white shines in his eyes dilated like pupils. You stared back, against your better judgment, right into the black heartless abyss and hoped for the best.

At first it was just a staring contest you were sure to loose, though, you felt like there was more to this than was let on. The harder you stared, searching for some meaning in this strange- activity, the more your vision seemed to blur and body feel heavy. You were pretty sure the only thing holding you up was the freezing appendages of a mass murder.

The whole room was swept out of focus, almost as if you were being pulled into his face. Before you could dwell on it, the shapes and blobs came together again. The image was focused as a camera would before it was put into a sensible image. You weren't in the Malfoy study anymore, that's for sure.

'Back home?' you thought, surprised. Looking down you saw no feet, no body, but only smeared looked browns and colors that represented the floor boards of your old home. You seemed to be trapped in an oil painting of your life. The lights that filtered in from the windows seemed to bright, blocking out whatever was in the close vicinity of it. Everything just looked- wrong?

"This is your old home, your old life, piece by piece," His voice sprang to life, joining you in the body less state. Not to say his voice was lively, but it was- there. "You've tried very hard to let go? Haven't you?"

"Of what?" You watch the shapes turn into people as your mind cautiously catches up with itself. It doesn't look fake anymore, it's real.

"Of your old life, of your father. Trust is a very important factor in anything, don't you think?"

Your mother is being spun around by your father, smiles on their faces. You feel suddenly queasy, the room is spinning.

"What if it told you this?" You feel like there was something physically gesturing to the scene, although you couldn't see it. "was a lie?"

"It's not-" Trying to protest you feel the warm colors melt away, and were replaced by grays, browns and blacks. Dare you say, it looked a lot like death.

"It is. Emily's been with my organization for a long time, you know, or don't you?" There's a group of hooded people sitting in your living room. "Do you wonder why I'd take the time to convince you, when I could just as easily kill you?"

You watched as the meeting dispersed. Yes, that was a good question, you just couldn't muster up the courage to answer it.

"Suffering is only what one makes it," You weren't sure how you should feel. "Watch,"

The colors swirled together, melding together as paints do when you mix them. Then suddenly your mother was standing in the kitchen, presumably cooking dinner. At least, that's what you would think if you hadn't actually payed attention in potions. Some of the ingredients looks familiar, and one down right dangerous.

She poured it into those dark blue bowls your family had had for ages, dropping bits of carrots and celery into the mixture and watering it down the slightest with some water from the tap. Then you watched, it was impossible to look away or close your eyes, as she set the bowls on the table, atop her stylish place mats.

You felt like throwing up. Literally and wholly the sight wasn't even the worst part of it. It was similar to emerging from underwater, everything sounded crisp and wickedly clear. You were in the moment, the moment your parentdied.

Then it was all gone, fading away before black curtains of darkness shrouded the scene.

"You loved your father more than her. Spite, jealousy, orders, does it really matter why anymore?"

"It runs in your family's line, you know. I would hate to have to replace dearest Emily with a stranger. Which is why, you're not dead where you sit," His voice was growing sickly sweet now. "Any questions?"

"No-" You had several questions. That couldn't be real. That wasn't real. This was a trick. "No, no, no," You couldn't handle this. You couldn't handle it either way, something reminded you.



The fire had gone out, you were shivering. Whether that be from the cold or what you wanted to believe were false visions. That was incredibly weird that you could barely process what had happened, let alone why you were alone.

Looking around you see that night has fallen again. Sigh. What was it with you and sleeping through the day time nowadays?

There was an unpleasant aura fluttering around the room, you would be more than happy to focus on anything than what you had been shown. It wasn't true, it couldn't be true. Nope, no way!

When you stood up, you went about cracking your shoulders. Sometime in between sitting down and now you had curled up in the plush chair and ended up craning your neck in an odd position, you were just glad it didn't stay sore for long.

With a few shaky steps you regained your composure, everything was fine. Well, apart from the war, your mother and boyfriend being a Death Eaters, and The Dark Lord in general. For right now, everything was fine though, because that was all mind illusions and your mother most certainly did not kill your father. Observing it happen though, really made you think you needed a hug or something.

The foyer was empty. The household was probably asleep, you deducted expertly. Seeing as it was late, you started to creep up the stairs and towards Draco's room.



Moonlight filtered in through the curtains making the room look very pretty, mysterious, and alluring.

"Draco? Still awake," You whispered, louder than you probably should have. He jolted up from where he had curled up on the head board, facing away from you. He was still wearing what he'd had on earlier, minus the fancy jacket.

"Y-yeah," Draco grumbled, twisting himself to look at you. "I thought--" he started but stopped when you swept your hair out of your face and gave him that embarrassed look of yours. God were you beautiful. Your hair was probably in knots, you'd been wearing the same clothes for days, dark circles lined the edges of your eye lids, but...

"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you?" She scooted into the room, bending down and undoing the laces of her shoes before kicking them off and seating herself on the edge of the bed.

"No-No, it's fine, I just-" His words caught in his throat as he crawled towards you, leaning on his hip and hand for support as he sat beside you.

Softly, unsure, you laughed, thawing his heart. He leaned forward, pressing a kiss to the edge of your mouth before you turned and returned it properly. He pushed at you lightly, towards the center of the mattress. You did, trying to not break the kiss. On a small level of your rational brain, you wondered if this was wrong or not, but whatever decision maker you possessed decided that it didn't matter. Both of you broke away, silently staring into the other's gaze.

Draco moved on top of your lap, pressing against your hips. Your lips found his again, your fingers set on messing up his soft blonde locks.

"Mmhm- mm," He mumbled slipping his hand slipping beneath your shirt and heading north. You tug lightly at his hair, letting your tongue tangle with his. Draco exhales sharply through his nose at that, both his hands are under your shirt now messing with your bra clasp.

He pulls away, breathing hard, and watching your eyes flutter before you open them and stare at him again. The moment's frozen for a moment before you twitch, and cross your arms in front of you and pull your t-shirt up from the bottom and over your head. It was kind of an awkward movement, since Draco didn't move his hands the entire time, only watched with a piqued interest.

"Are you sure?" He asked after taking a few moments to appreciate your bare skin.

"Now's a good a time as any other we've had," You snarked quietly, but gave him a soft look when his surprise showed. Those lighter moments led to darker ones rather quickly. Arching your eyebrows downward and looking sullen, you replied, "I'm sure,".

Slipping your arms under his you fiddled with the buttons on his shirt, concerned with something between his legs more than with the look in his eyes. Draco shifted a little on your lap, making you quiver at the pressure he added to your sensitive bits.

"Alright," His voice, thick and so goddamn sexy, melted in your ears while he pushed you softly into the mattress. Lips traveled from yours to your cheek, down to the junction between your shoulder and throat. Nibbling there, he found it made you squirm, your voice rising in octave.

"We've got to be quiet though," He chuckled quietly, out of the corner of his eye seeing you bite your lip softly. It was intoxicating.

"We," Affirming his statement, your fingers traced lightly down his chest and beyond with a sly grin that was wholly returned.

All of a sudden, you weren't all that cold anymore.