𝐃𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐈𝐍 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐋𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐒 a draco malfoy fanfiction [𝟐] [✓]

xiv

14
 
S  E  R  P  E  N  S  O  R  T  I  A

( ser - pen - SOR - she - uh )

" to conjure a live snake "

_______________

"TOLD YOU I'D be fine." Lyra gloated, as she ascended the last step to the Astronomy Tower.

Draco was in his usual spot, alway there before Lyra. His head was resting against the railing, his legs dangled aimlessly from the balcony.

"Great, now it's my job to kill you." He rolled his eyes, watching her slip beside him, "Merlin, why do I have to do everything around here."

She giggled, shaking her head at his antics. She bumped his shoulder with her own, "Just give me one last kiss and I'll die a very happy witch."

"Ever the poet." He teased with a heart melting smirk.

Seconds before his lips pushed against hers, Lyra had the odd thought. 'We really do spend a lot of time kissing.'

"That's because your a good kisser, Fairfax." Malfoy clicked in a taunting manner, "Now stop thinking so loud and kiss me back."

With pink cheeks, flushed and pulsing from irreversible embarrassment she swiftly pressed her lips against his. Lyra moved with such force she sent Draco falling flat on his back, with herself tumbling above him seconds after.

She snorted out a gleeful chuckle with morphed into a shriek when Draco rolled them over, hovering above her with a triumphant smirk.

The moon reflected off her skin, illuminating it with a cold, ethereal glow. It was then, the exact second rolled her eyes at him that Draco realised she was never warm.

Lyra wasn't sunlight that pooled at your feet and lit up ocean coloured eyes, getting tangled in strands of hair. She was never an Angel of Paradise like he had acclaimed her to be in the privacy of his sealed head.

She was a Guardian Angel, sent single-handedly from the stars. That was why her face was littered with stars that would be swallowed by the pretty little flush on her cheeks as Draco hovered above her. Unmoving. That was the answer as to why her eyes were so captivating in the moonlight, glowing and understanding.

That was why every kiss, every breath tasted like cold water after mints.

"Draco?" She whispered, leaning up to leave a quick, yet lingering, kiss on his parted lips.

Cold water after mints. Refreshing.

"You-your eyes, they look, nice." He muttered, his breath fanning against her lips.

"Thanks," She murmured against his lips, "They're my dads."

Draco groaned as Lyra giggled beneath him. His hand snaked towards her neck, tracing runes on the edge of her jaw. His hands were cold, unnaturally cold.

It was the stutter in her breath when his hand came in contact with her neck that Lyra saw a glimpse of Draco Malfoy.