sweet talk ↯ draco malfoy

EIGHTEEN

EIGHTEEN | just breathe

HER FEET CARRIED her back and forth as she waited for his arrival after his night's worth of detention. The other students in the common room thinned out as the clock ticked the time by, the night growing old with no appearance from Draco.

It had been hours since he disappeared into Umbridge's office for detention — one he didn't rightfully deserve.

A detention for something he didn't do.

He took a punishment he knew would scar him — literally — for the rest of his life. Why?

For a girl. A girl he was just beginning to understand. A girl who was unlike every other that has set foot in this school. A girl that made his mind go into overdrive.

A girl he knew he had feelings for.

Even though it had only been a few months since the pair had met, Draco knew that Rosalie was better for him than anyone he had ever encountered.

She didn't treat him like everyone else did — that he was a spoiled prick that didn't give a shit about anyone other than himself. She saw past his facade and to the real him, the caring and sweetly over-protective boy.

So it was obvious to Draco that if he could stop her from inevitable pain, then he would. Because he did, in fact, have feelings for his fellow Slytherin.

But Rosalia didn't get this — she didn't get, nor want, what was eventually bound to happen.

She didn't want to be attached to someone. She didn't want to love someone or be with someone. Because being with someone, showing the world that you care and love them, puts an automatic target on their back.

Especially in the times they are in currently. With the Dark Lord's apparent return, every living and breathing thing on earth was in danger.

And Rosalie didn't want to be the one who was at fault for Draco's possible death.

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

"Rose," a gentle hand shook the brunette's shoulder, abruptly awaking her. She shot up from the couch, the blanket she had resting over her now pooling in her lap.

Her eyes fell onto Draco, who sat on the edge of the couch with a small smirk. Rosalie ran a hand through her hair, tempting to calm the rats nest on her head.

"You snore, did you know that?" Draco smirked, his eyes focused on the half awake girl in front of him.

"Shove off," Rosalie muttered, rubbing her eyes before looking at the smirking boy, suddenly remembering why she was sleeping in the common room in the first place.

She quickly reaches forward, her hands gently cradling the reddened one of Draco's, guilt swirling in her stomach.

"You shouldn't have," she mumbles, her pointer finger gently grazing the irritated skin. "It was my fault and you didn't give me the chance to take blame for it."

"It wasn't bad, Rose," Draco says, letting her stare at his hand as they speak. An abundance of feelings swirled through him as he watched her intently. "It went numb after five lines — just like you said it would."

"I don't understand why you would do this for me," Rosalie shakes her head, peering up at Draco. "You've never liked Neville, why take the blame from him?"

He sighs, a light smile on his face as he stared back at her. "You and I both know I didn't do this for Longbottom — I did it for you."

"But I don't get why," Rosalie stresses. But deep down, she had an idea why, she just didn't want to come to terms with it.

"Isn't it obvious?" Draco's hand reaches forward to take Rosalie's, thumbing over the scar similar to his own. "Or are you too oblivious to see it?"

Pulling her hand back, Rosalie stood and began to pace back and forth in front of the couch, blanket pooling on the ground by their feet.

"What about your dad?" She asks, clearly fretting over the topic. "You've told me before that he gets so angry with you over this type of shit — why do that to yourself?"

Draco opens his mouth to counter her argument — beginning to say that he no longer gave a damn about what his father had to say anyone — but Rosalie cut him off.

"And your reputation," she fumbled over her words. "Everyone was beyond shocked when you took the fall for Neville, even Harry!"

"Have to keep everyone on their toes, I suppose," Draco said, trying to make light of the situation to calm her.

He truly didn't understand why Rosalie was making such a big fuss over it. Yes, it was out of character for him, but he wasn't playing that part anymore. Draco didn't want to hide behind a mask for any longer — he wanted to be himself, for Rosalie.

"It wasn't your place, Draco!" Rosalie spit, her anger increasing steadily, something she knew she needed to get under control. She knew she was dancing on the edge of a cliff, dangerously close to falling over into a sea of panic.

Draco raises from his seat, throwing the forgotten blanket to the side as he stepped in front of Rosalie. His hands found her forearms and he held her in place, thumbs gently rubbing back and forth.

"Breathe, Rose," he whispers quietly, watching as her anger began to morph panic. "Just breathe."

"No one is supposed to do nice things for me," Rosalie chokes. "It's supposed to be just me against everyone else — that's how it's supposed to be."

"Rose," Draco says as his one hand reaches up to cup her cheek, tilting her head up to him. "You aren't alone anymore."

"But that's how it's always been."

"Not anymore," he shakes his head at her, his blue eyes scanning every inch of her face. "Not with me here."

"Why do you care so much?" Rosalie questioned, not harshly but curiously. "Why now?"

"Because of this," Draco says before gently pulling Rosalie's forward, attaching their lips in a soft kiss.

Rosalie's lips take over when her mind goes blank, moving in sync with Draco's for minutes before she realizes what's happening.

And when she does, she pulls away before quickly rushing up the girl's dormitory stairs. Leaving a mildly confused Draco behind.