Student and Master
Chapter 1
Her strong nimble fingers working with the cord, flicking the catch, loading. Her finger on the trigger, firing the gun. Over and over again. Bending, stretching, reaching, lifting.
His eyes scanning her body. Taking in every little detailed movement. The way her shoulders tightened as she lifted. The tension of her forearms with each action. He could feel his stomach clench with desire, his chest swelling, his whole body heating up.
He had been watching her the day before during their flying lesson. He was curious. It was the only subject she didn't excel in. 3 months now they had been having lessons with Madam Hooch. He obviously was up and away with Potter whilst crybaby Longbottom was taken away after his fall. But 3 months in she was still on the ground, barely hovering inches above the blades of grass before collapsing in a heap, nervously taking control of her breathing and composing herself.
She was always worried about being shown up, about what others would think of her. Flying was the only lesson you wouldn't find her jumping out of her seat to help or demonstrate. Her theoretical knowledge was spot on, but she never volunteered it in this subject unless picked on. She always kept to the back of the class on the Quiddich pitch, which irritated Draco as he enjoyed showing off in this class and to do that he had to be in a prominent position in the class. His want to watch the silent bushy haired brunette fighting with his need to show off to her.
He admired the girl immensely for her bravery and persistence in each subject, despite the banter and sneers which were directed at her. He joined in with them because he was a Malfoy and he had to be popular. If he wasn't leading the taunts then he wasn't centre of attention and in turn was endangering the important position he held within the school.
He had been the first to swoop down and scoff at her sitting on the ground, legs still tangled in her school broom. It earned him a detention the following evening but he didn't mind because for her failure in the class he would be teaching the girl to fly. He shivered at the thought. He had spent all night planning how he would get the girl in the air. The thought of their one of one lesson, her skin brushing his, her skin pushed up against his tipped him over the edge.
He awoke with a start, body still tingling from his dream, breathing heavily, beads of sweat plastering his blonde hair to his damp pink tinged forehead. His sheets were drenched in sweat and oh no, not again. There was an ominous damp sticky patch both on the front of his pyjama bottoms and also on the underside of his quilt. Embarassed, he quietly slide out of bed, careful to cover up his accident and went into the bathroom for a shower.
She was a Gryffindor for goodness sake. Why was he dreaming of her? Why was she having this effect on her? He was an eleven year old boy for fuck sake, He slammed his fists against the back of the shower wall. He was allowed feelings of course, but not for her. Not for a mudblood. His father would kill him.
By the time he had calmed down the rest of his dorm were up. He sighed and pulled his fathers latest letter to him. He had 10 minutes before breakfast in which to reply to him. He wrote in depth about his lessons, his homework, and his grades, but he refused to mention the girl. She must never ever leave his mind yet he knew he had to stop thinking about her or all hell would break loose at Christmas when he would be subjected to occlumency by his godfather, courtesy of his fathers commands. His father didn't trust his only son. He had his reasons. Draco Malfoy was as sneaky and conniving as they came, After all he was his fathers son.