Limerence; Draco Malfoy

Chapter Forty-Six: Scars

Draco

One of Draco's favourite things to do was shower. Shower his families galleons to spend on useless, materialistic objects he didn't need. Shower his classmates with insults and snide remarks. Shower his cocain down over the top of his wooden box (or over Lockwood's pretty little body.)

Above all, he didn't half enjoy the simple act of taking a ridiculously long shower in his private bathroom. Because it gave him time to think. Time to daydream. Time to put his left hand to some good use.

Although more often than not those daydreams turned into day-nightmares, and his thoughts would usually turn pretty dark as well. And he'd start overthinking.

Start absentmindedly scratching at his mark and before he knew it, he'd be pretending that the hot water running down his cheeks was from the shower water...

This mornings shower however, was shorter. Exhilarating. Because Violet lying on his king sized bed, all tied up, was proving to be a wonderfull distraction. Maybe too much so, since it was taking every bit of self-restraint in his body not to switch the water off and go out there right now, giving them both the release they needed.

But Draco was letting his pride get in the way of touching her. She had lied to him. She was still hiding something -- he could see it in her eyes. In the way she looked at him: as though he were a stranger. As though he had done something awful.

And that hurt his fucking feelings a great deal more than he'd have liked to admit. Made him feel a childish kind of fear -- What if she leaves me again? -- a fear which left his hands shaking: No. She can't leave me. She wont.

I wont fucking let her.

Draco shook his head sharply, water droplets spraying everywhere.

This was exactly why he'd created a plan: He would find out she was hiding, and ontop of that, he'd make her even more attached to him than she already was -- by making her so needy for him, so dependent on his touch and affection, that she wouldn't dream of seeking pleasure from anywhere or anyone else.

Shouldn't be hard.

A realisation hit him -- one which smacked into him at full force and made the hot shower water suddenly feel icy cold:

Maybe he had become dependent on her.

Because irrational as it was, the Mudblood made him feel safe. Normal. Less miserable.

Not happy -- he could never truly be happy considering the circumstances -- but he certainley never thought about hurting himself when he was in her company; because she distracted him, that's why.

After he'd wasted another twenty minutes in the shower, daydreaming about her and trying not to get himself too excited, Draco got out. Pulled on a pair of black sweatpants and left his hair damp. Decided he didn't need a top.

He was too impatient to go to her. Class started in two hours but Draco had plenty of time. Plenty of time to make a mess out of Lockwood on his bed. A frown etched across his features as her face flashed to mind-

It made him remember what he'd said earlier, when he walked through the door.

He'd nearly called her the G word, for fucks sake! Girlfriend. What a horror! What a disgusting, poisonous label...

With a grimace, he shook a few water droplets out of his hair again, and opened the bathroom door - decided to blame his slip of the tongue on his lack of sleep.

Speaking of tongues, Violet's seemed to be incapable of working to form a sentence. She looked a wreck when he saw her from across the bedroom: withering in the bedsheets like a dying animal. Still, Draco couldn't help but feel oddly mesmerised by the scene lay out infront of him. Awestuck and left dazed by a strong sense of wistfullness.