"Temporis Et Spatii"

PART 1.

CHAPTER 1.

I never loved any other man than Draco Malfoy, crystalline ice castle whose drawbridge had inexplicably fallen for me. He was a fairytale in my arid desert where nothing grew, a live brook sparkling this dry mining town, a noble creature among the brash savages who staggered about its hastily edificed lumber; and Draco, my closest and dearest Draco, was going to die at sundown.

"Oh, you are not!" I threw a dishrag at him, which he dodged. My things were dirty and worn and decidedly inelegant, but he never seemed to mind.

"I am," he countered matter-of-factly, but a grin spread across his face like a bad poker hand. He closed the whining front door behind him and, golden sun speckles falling down his face like stars, crossed the room with a beckoning hand outstretched. "Cora. Fly away with me. Don't make your supper; Let's just go." His accent, intentionally or otherwise, swept me away on melodic piano arias.

"Draco," I laughed, turning from the hypnotic violet oils existing everywhere at once and blushing. "Draco, this is my home. This is all I've ever -"

He cupped my jaw, tenderly beseeching me look upon his snowstorm eyes and embrace the whiteout. "Cora Lucindra," he whispered. "May I take you across time and space?"

I found myself transfixed by him, pallid skin of his princely face, lips pink with good hydration parted ever so slightly. I would honestly go anywhere with this man, surely he knew it by now; but this strange jest was missing its mark. Moreover, it was a particularly peculiar thing to get the notion to melt across an Arizona summer and barge into someone's home. Then, a might late, I smelled the brutal cloud of whiskey. "Draco," I answered quietly, reaching to rest my hand upon his. It was the first time he'd ever touched me in this manner; Even in his state, I was reluctant to pull away. "It's ten in the morning."

"If I kiss you, Cora," he exhaled, leaning his forehead into mine.

My heart pounded. In the distance, a coyote called out to the sky. We suspended in the sun-dappled ashwood shack, hot firewater combusting mauve from his every breath, and I swore there was no time or space. "... I might let you."

I expected his response to be urgent - formidably, passionately clawing me to shreds - but it wasn't. Instead, his fingers fell to my chin and drifted me just close enough to feel his lips. His soft, full lips. A single firework exploded to the furthest reaches of my body.

"I have to go, Cora Lucindra of 1889 Garnet, Arizona."

Even elevated, I couldn't help snorting. "You're not going anywhere in this condition, Draco Malfoy of 1887 London, England."

He hadn't moved, lips brushing mine as he stammered, "I-if I stay, I might … not respect you."

Oh.

Oh.

My corset was suddenly strangling me. All these layers - all these humid cotton layers - spontaneously conspiring to constrict my lungs and plume faint smoke over my brain - I needed to sit down.

"Cora, are you all right?"

My knees had given out and I nearly found myself splayed on the floor, but he caught my wrists just in time. I exhaled myself back to composure. "Yes. I apologize. This dodgasted corset is just too tight."

He glanced down. "Well, how fat are you?"

I launched a backhand clear across his face. "I am not going to respond to that!" I huffed. "Just get to bed and rest. Before I change my mind and let you soil your good name out there!"

The gall of this man. He was laughing, draping his hands over my shoulders. "Cora, Cora! I'm sorry. I couldn't resist. I'm sorry."

This shouldn't have diffused me, I know, but it did. I sighed. "What are you doin' larkin' in the middle of the day anyhow? You're not one of those greasy hogs in town; You're Draco Malfoy; You have education, gentility."

He snickered, tucking a wayward copper hair behind my ear. "Well. That is very kind of you to say, but I'm afraid I'm not as gentile as you think."

"Because you're three sheets to the wind."

"Because I would like to help you out of your very loose corset." His eyes glinted the partial sunlight like a stained-glass window. "And I might be a little hexed, yes."

I turned abruptly, crossing the shack to its only other door, the bedroom.

"Ah, Cora, don't be like that -"

"Draco," I declared firmly, "I'm not letting you do this. Not like this."

He groaned and lumbered up, but only far enough to stand before me again, a blanched Adonis swaying in a whiskey wind. "Cora. Please. I love you."

My breath spiked sharply. If he was genuine, I couldn't be liberated from my buttons and hooks fast enough; If he wasn't, it was a knife twisting my guts. "Go to bed, Draco," I grumbled.