Author's Note:
Shoutout to CANDACE, aka Candacenycole who turned TWENTY YEARS OLD today. She wanted an update of this story and that's the only reason you're getting one. Thank and congratulate her!
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I can't help admitting I'm crying a little bit tonight. I've been so caught up in Draco and I that I forgot about Draco and Kayla. I may not have been ready for him, but Merlin it hurts like hell knowing I'm not yet enough for him.
Tonight we lay together, underneath the stars on a conjured mattress, snuggled in the covers of a thick duvet. I listened to his heartbeat, calm and slow as he stroked my curls.
"Natalie," he whispered in my ear. I gripped his torso tighter and murmured acknowledgement. "I love you." I met his gaze as he guided my lips to his. The kiss was warm and laced with passion. Every so often I'll receive a touch, a glance, or a kiss so filled with love that it hurts my heart.
This was one of those nights where all of Draco's guards were down. I knew it would make me sick to push it, but I needed to.
"It's not enough, is it?" I questioned. His piercing eyes iced over and he kissed my forehead. All he could tell me that he was sorry.
And as I lay there, wrapped in this man's arms, the man that I'm in love with, I didn't wipe the tears that dripped from my eyes onto the milky skin of his collar bone. I wanted him to know how many tears; with each fallen drop he kissed my forehead.
"I try really hard to be strong," I started, my voice cracking. He gripped strands of my hair between his fingers and forced me to look into his eyes.
"Sh," he soothed, kissing my forehead, my tears on my cheeks, my eyelids, my nose, my lips. It amazes me how I can feel my soul leak into just one kiss. In that moment we were one.
His hands slid down my collar bone, to which I rolled my head back and he carefully kissed down my neck. I felt the butterflies in my stomach stir like the perfect storm that erupted witth the first nip of my flesh in his straight, white teeth.
I unbuttoned his shirt and he pulled mine over my head. He easily slipped my lycra pants down to my ankles and hitched my leg around his hips. He traced the length of my body, from my breast to my hips. He cupped his hand below my ass and pulled me closer.
My lips met his with a sigh, knowing that we wouldn't be able to go much farther. You always want what you can't have. And so our kisses got hungrier, growing in intensity with an urge that burned deep within my soul. I could feel this tremendous connection, and through the rock of our bodies, close in a struggle to get closer, we laughed and cried.
His fingers traced the lace of my panties, slipping underneath to show me what words never could. He bites my lip in a kiss so fierce I rip scratches into his neck that trail down his chest.
"I'm sorry," I cry, for everything.
"It's okay," he tells me, clutching me close and rocking my body through its sobs.
My eyelids drift closed as he sings to me. He used to sing a lot more when we were children, before his father taught him what pureblood manners entailed. Sometimes I miss that little boy and girl we used to be, before society expected us to be something different.
"I'll spend my life, fall in love, with you..." he sings, drawing snakes from the back of my thigh to my lower back. "I'm still here," he coos, having finished the chorus. I drift in and out of consciousness as he dressed me again and holds me while we fly back to the dormitories.
"Nat, baby," he tells me, preparing to set me down from his threshold style hold of me. I look up at him, and even though we both see it at the same time, we're not ready. I can tell we both see it.
My lashes blink up at him, thick and black. My lips smile coyly, enticing him to our new bedroom. He is careful of my ellegent white gown as he steps over the threshold of our manner. He kisses me up the stairs and lays me down gently on the bed. I flash forward to a pregnancy, my little brothers gaping in awe at my big belly while our mothers smile at each other and our fathers shake their head with weariness. I see us raising a family, and growing old. Then it's gone.
"It's time," he says, "I'm sorry. I love you. We're not over. This is just..." I breathe heavily in his arms, wishing he'd let me go.
"A pause," I finish. He nods and sets me down, and I'm just me, and he's just him. Our vision of gowns and tuxedos is replaced with the reality of lycra pants, sweaters, cardigans, and slacks. I brush a strand of his flaxen hair from his forehead. He catches my hand and cradles it to his cheek.
Gently his lips meet mine, for one of the last times, and I know it's all coming close to an end.
