I don't own Harry Potter.
A/N: I'm currently working on drawing sketches of all my original characters. First up will be a sketch of Joana/Jonah, both male and female version. After that I think I'll work on Livia and Dulcibella. When these will be done is hard to say since I will need to find a working scanner to get them up online. But if worse comes to worst I can always take a picture of the drawing with my phone and put that up. Links to the drawings will be on my profile page.
Also, there's some limey content.
Chapter Fifty-Three
"Where there is desire
There is gonna be a flame
Where there is a flame
Someone's bound to get burned
But just because it burns
Doesn't mean you're gonna die
You've gotta get up and try, and try, and try."—
'Try', Pink
"… Levicorpus, a spell to suspend the one cast upon upside down in mid-air, the incantation is…" Harry paused and put down the Prince's book, as his feelings overtook him for a minute.
He took a huge breath, counted to three and let it out, envisioning his negative emotions with the breath. It was something Luna mentioned doing on the train, she'd only casually said it in the usual airy way she spoke. At the time Harry had just ignored her as he often did with most of the things she said. But later in his room, after a particularly bad nightmare, he'd needed something to distract him and he'd remembered what Luna had said and tried it out.
It worked… sorta; it worked sometimes. Not that he'd ever admit it to her or anyone else for that matter.
He really hated how everyone was all tenderfoots around him, like the slightest wrong word could send him into a depressed coma. He was miserable, but not that much.
Sometimes, reading the Prince's book helped. He didn't tell Hermione or Ron because he knew they'd be overly sympathetic but the Prince's style of writing, his ideas for pranks and spells, reminded him a little of Sirius. It seemed like the kind of thing he'd find a hoot, coming up with shortcuts in potions, inventing spells; the book seemed pretty old too, perhaps the Prince and Sirius had been friends.
He'd never get a chance to ask Sirius now, Harry thought with a miserable sigh.
Soon he'd have to go to Dumbledore's office, but though he was happy to be getting out of Snape's detention, Harry really didn't feel like going. The last time he was in that office with all the knick-knacks, he'd destroyed half of them in fury after being told Sirius was dead after all.
Harry still ran it over and over again in his mind.
It was the 'after-all' part that got to him among other things. That for a moment, in that battle, he'd been able to believe that Sirius was okay, that he hadn't just lost the only family he had left in the world all because of his stupid blunder. That everything would be fine… only to be told he was wrong, that it was really all over.
It was like the universe was punishing him for resting too early, for counting his chickens before they hatched, for being presumptuous that he deserved any happiness at all.
It wasn't fair!
Why couldn't he have at least one person, just one? It wasn't much; just one person who was his family and only his. Someone he didn't have to share with anyone, who wasn't just taking pity on him.
The worst part, the bit that tore him apart, was that it was all his fault. He had killed Sirius. Hermione had told him not to go. She'd warned him about his saving-people-thing, warned him that he could get everyone in trouble. But he, Harry Potter, The-Boy-Who-Lived-To-Defeat-Voldemort-Multiple-Times thought he was beyond misfortune now. How stupid he'd been.
If he'd just stayed put, just not thought so highly of himself, maybe… maybe he could have spared his Godfather his life.
It wasn't fair!
He gritted his teeth and took another deep breath, counted to fifteen, and blew out. No, he couldn't cry, couldn't break down. He hadn't in Dumbledore's office and he wouldn't now. He refused to break. Because if he did… he wasn't sure he could put himself back together again afterwards.
"Mr Pot—Harry," a very light, timid voice spoke from behind him. Harry turned to see a silver and green tie swing before his eyes as the person bent over his shoulder to see him. He quickly slammed the Prince's book shut and hid it under his thigh.
"Livia?" he said, as the petite blond girl walked around to stand behind him. He had chosen to sit outside since it was a rare sunny day and Hermione and Ron were nowhere to be seen.
Not many people came to this area. In the sun, Livia's hair sparkled like a galleon and was no longer in its customary pig tails. Instead it was in a long braid down her back, tied back by a Slytherin green hairband. Her green eyes looked very bright; however, her skin was rather pale.
"Hello Harry, I-I hope I'm not bothering you," she said shyly.
"No," he sighed. "Not really, I wasn't doing anything."
"Where's Mr Weasley and Miss Granger?" she asked. "They're not around?"
"No, I don't know where they are. I kinda left them at the meal and haven't seen them since. Though if I know Hermione, she's probably at the library," he eyed her. "Where are Haim and the others? Aren't you usually always with them?"
"No. Dulci, Chari and Gil are all fourth years now, they're getting ready in advance for their OWLS next year. Patrick's training. He wants to join the Slytherin Quidditch team this year. He said he didn't mind coming with me to the library, but I thought it be best to let him be."
"Oh, that's right; you're a second year now. What's that like?" he asked, relaxing into conversation. Talking with Livia had always been easy. She was timid, quiet, but gave off this feeling of peace; there were times Harry would often forget she was actually a Slytherin.
"It's ok," she said. "I'm still not very good at Charms or Potions, but I like Herbology," her face fell a little. "Patrick's always making fun of me. He says Herbology's for wimps and you can't do anything with it."
"That's not true," Harry said. "My friend Neville's great at Herbology, and he's one of the bravest people I know. His knowledge of herbs saved my butt once," he thought about the gillyweed during the second task of the Tri-wizard tournament.
She smiled. "Thanks, Harry. So, how was your summer?"
And just like that, the memories flowed back. A summer, full of nightmares and without Sirius to threaten his Uncle and Aunt into being kinder to him; completely alone and knowing he was truly alone in the world now by his own hands. It was awful.
"It… I managed… and you?" he asked, not particularly interested.
"Oh, I went home. I live with my relatives and my older brother. But, I spent most of my time with my friends…" she paused. "Harry?"
Harry wasn't listening; he was trying to fight the bitterness that overwhelmed him as he listened to Livia. The thought that even a Slytherin had a better family life than him made him feel really sick. It really wasn't fair!
Livia paused, frowning quietly. "Um…Harry?"
"What?" he snapped.
Livia flinched. "I-I-I was just wondering if you were going to tutor me again this year like last—"
"Sorry, I don't think so," he said spitefully.
"Oh."
A couple more seconds passed as Livia seemed to be trying to bring up the courage to say something. She opened her mouth and closed it a few times. "Um Harry… You… you don't look so good. I've noticed you seem really… down, sad sort of… I was wondering, since you were so nice to me last year, if there was maybe… maybe something I could do?"
At this, Harry couldn't help the cruel laughter that spilled out. "Hah, you, little Slytherin Pureblood Princess with your happy family and your big brother, how could you possibly help me? You don't know anything, pureblood families aren't as affected by this Voldemort thing, so you have no idea what it feels like to have all your family ripped away from you because of someone else's grudge."
Livia looked devastated; all the colour had fled from her face. Her hands shook as she grabbed tightly to her arms. "I-I-I'm sor—"
"Don't bother apologising, it doesn't do anything. Help me, how the hell are you going to help me? Can you bring back the one person who was family to me, a person who was killed by one of your kind?" he spat.
Harry knew none of this was Livia's fault, and he knew that the things he was saying was cruel and unnecessary; just him taking out his anger on an innocent bystander. But right now, it was that innocence that really irritated him, how she was loved and protected; a pureblood and a treasured member of the wizarding community.
It pissed him off.
It was okay for Ron and Hermione to say he'd get over it; they had big loving families. Ron had all his siblings and Hermione had her muggle parents. It was well and good for Luna, for Tonks, for Livia, for anyone to tell him it was okay. They at least had one person, one person who loved them and who was their family. At least one.
He had nothing and no one. No family, no one.
And it really pissed him off.
"Just, go back to your dungeon. And when you understand what it feels like to be the cause of death of someone you love most, then you can lecture me all you like. But till then, shut up and leave me alone!"
He got up and stormed off in the direction of the Quidditch pitch. He needed to blow off some steam. If he showed up at Dumbledore's office, to that room, feeling like this, he'd just trash the place again.
He was in such a fury, he didn't notice Livia sink to the ground, holding herself and biting her lip, nor did he notice the tears that dribbled down her cheeks, or her quiet, broken whisper of, "but… I do understand."
XX-xx-XX-xx-XX-xx-OoO-xx-XX-xx-XX-xx-XX
Draco rubbed his head again as it twinged painfully, something like a migraine and a knock to the temple rolled into one. It wasn't comfortable.
He'd just finished a session with the vanishing cabinet in the Room of Requirement; obviously to no avail, the stupid thing refused to work.
He was avoiding Theo. He couldn't handle all his worry. He was avoiding Joana too, he couldn't take those knowing violet eyes, and most of all, he was avoiding Hermione.
He didn't want to hear the words 'let's break up'.
All he could think was that he was going to lose her. She'd finally accepted his feelings; he'd finally gotten something right. She'd let him love her when she never would have before, and he'd gone and blew it.
Theo and Joana assured him she couldn't be that angry, assured him she'd forgive him. But he couldn't believe that. Something deep, deep down in him knew he couldn't believe that.
Why would she stay with him? He was crazy and dangerous. This time it was Potter, but what about next time? Who else would he hurt if they got in his way? Her friends, her teachers, her parents?
She was so pure, so innocent, and so good. She was like a light in a dark room. Like a flame, he couldn't hold onto her. He loved her, so much so every time he held her he felt she might burn him from how badly he wanted to never let her go. She had no flaws, he had loads.
He was going to lose her.
But no, he couldn't lose her.
He needed her.
She saved him; she gave him a reason to cope. How was he going to get through this war without her to guide him through it, without something to look forward to? Maybe, maybe he could still win her over. What if he took out someone, someone she hated? Would they be even then?
He didn't know anymore. Draco was so confused and his heart hurt. He wanted to go to her, to hear her voice, to see her, anything. But he didn't deserve to.
He stopped, stumbled against the wall as his head pounded so hard he felt like he'd vomit. His vision was shaky. Was he having another black out? No, he couldn't… he had to get…
"Draco."
A clear voice, like a bell in a silent room, chased away all the dizziness and he straightened. It was a voice he both craved and feared; a voice that filled him with a sense of adoration.
Draco forced his head to look up; he saw her shoes first, then her skirt, then her blouse, then her face surrounded by all that glorious brown hair.
She was beautiful. He felt so pathetic, so dirty beside her.
She didn't look happy.
A strange feeling overtook him. He couldn't do it. He couldn't face her, he had to escape. He turned away to run down the corridor in the opposite direction, away from her.
"Draco!" She said louder and he froze. Was she crazy? Yeah, they were on the fourth floor in a rarely used corridor, but there could still be people about, and there was still the second and third corridor?
"Draco Hyperion Malfoy, if you run away from me again, so help me I will scream out your name and proclaim our relationship for everyone on the second and third floors to hear us. Then I'll go running into the courtyard and tell everyone about our relationship. That is if we even still have a relationship!"
"No," he gasped, turning to her. "Don't you know who I am, who my father is, if they found out… " He couldn't even begin to think about what the other death eaters would do if they found out one of their members was dating a Muggleborn. They'd all be dead, she'd be dead. "No, you can't…"
She narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms. "Try me."
He gave in. He couldn't go against her again.
"Follow me," she said and turned, her silky brown curls bounced around her head as she did. He mutely followed her.
She led him to the seventh floor, to the Room of Requirement, as she paced outside and asked for the room she wanted to appear. Draco's stomach twisted into knots.
Maybe Theo was right. Maybe she just wanted to yell at him. They'd get through this. She'd forgive him. Wouldn't she?
Anyway, he couldn't see the big deal in this. It was just Potter; she knew how he felt about him. He shouldn't have ben sneaking in the Slytherin compartment anyway and— no, no he was wrong. He shouldn't have hurt him. Wasn't that the rule? He could hurt anyone else, but not the people that mattered. If Potter died, it could not be by his hand, not if he could help it.
A door melted into existence in space on the wall. She opened it and looked at him over her shoulder. "Come on."
Draco swallowed and let her lead him in.
The door closed and Draco realised it was the same room they'd celebrated Hermione's birthday in. The very room they'd had that argument when she'd tried to slip him the veritaserum. He really didn't like this room.
"It's silenced, like last time, so we can talk properly," Hermione said, sitting down. Draco chose to remain standing, so she stood back up.
He swallowed, his tongue heavy in his mouth, his throat so dry. "Hermione, I'm sor—"
"Don't give me an 'I'm sorry'. I want to know why you've been ignoring me for so long. Why you won't look at me at all, why you punched my best friend and didn't have the balls to confront me about it?" she demanded, tapping her nails against her arm.
"I-I-I-I…" he couldn't speak. "I'm sorry. I didn't want… It was an accident. I'll never do it again, I promise."
A part of him absolutely hated how he begged. Malfoys never begged, not for something like this, but another part of him whispered that this was right, he should be sorry. He was wretched and evil and the one in the wrong.
He didn't notice the crease in Hermione's frown as she sighed, as if readying herself for something big.
"Draco… I think we should split up."
His whole world came crashing down. There was no other way to describe it. This was worse than anything he'd ever experienced.
"Hermione, I can't, you can't… please." He didn't know what to say.
"You hurt Harry, and you hurt me. I never expected that of you," she said, bowing her head. "I guess, I always thought you were different, that you weren't really capable of doing something like that, But you were going to let him go back to the train station, alone, with Death eaters on the loose, and he couldn't move. I don't know what to say Draco; that was just…evil."
"I… know." No, he didn't know. Draco wanted to say something else. Was he really going to let her go like this? Hadn't he tried so hard, hadn't he worked so hard to have her, to love her? He'd cared for her for so long. Was this how it was going to be?
But perhaps, a part of him whispered, perhaps it was for the best. After all, he'd always known he couldn't hold on to her, that this couldn't last long.
She was too good for him, he could never have her.
"I guess… if that's what you want. You're right. I am evil; I told you so before… we should split up."
He hated the words in his mouth. They felt like poison. Something felt awful inside and his head hurt so hard, he couldn't think straight.
He didn't notice the look of hurt in Hermione's eyes, or how her lip trembled, or the tears that glassed her eyes. "Uh, really… you really have nothing else to say than that, you won't do… anything to stop me?"
"No," he said, bowing his head. "You're right, as always. I… we're wrong for each other." He wished he'd never told her how he felt. At least then, he wouldn't have to feel like this. He should have just kept quiet, watching and loving her from afar. That was how it was meant to be.
Hermione was silent, they both were.
Then she took in a big breath, and nodded to herself. "Well… fine then. This… this works out perfectly for me. Now that I don't have you and this weird secret relationship of ours to tie me down, I can date other people more openly."
What?
His eyes widened, his body froze.
Hermione with… someone else?
"You… you're not serious?" he gasped, clenching his fists.
"Sure," Hermione uncrossed her arms and put them on her hips, turning up her head. "I'm not that unattractive you know. There are loads of boys interested in me. There's Cormac McLaggen, Lavender told me he's been eyeing me recently, he's a Quidditch player… "
"You don't even like Quidditch," Draco spat viciously.
"True, but I do like Quidditch players. After all, I liked you."
Liked. Past tense.
"But you know, I can't do this anymore, all this running and hiding. I need more than that, Draco," she put a hand on her chest to indicate herself. "I need a real man; one who's not afraid to love me in public, one who's free from crazy problems, one without all these strings attached. Basically," she lowered her voice. "I don't need you," she said cruelly.
He felt like every word was ripping him to shreds. It was his worst nightmares came true. She was abandoning him.
No! She was his! His girl. As if he'd let anyone else have her. Why was she being… such a bitch about this? If she wanted to break up, she just had to say so. She didn't need to torment him like this. She sure got over it fast and after all that talk about how she loved him, in the end it meant nothing.
He gritted his teeth.
No, she was right. She… deserved someone who could love her openly, someone without all these problems. She deserved better than him.
But what about him, didn't he deserve someone for once?
The thought was scandalous and he didn't know where that had come from. It sounded so… he hadn't thought that selfishly in… years.
His head twinged and he coughed. "No… you-you-you're right, you do deserve someone better."
He'd let her go peacefully, it was the least he could do.
Hermione kissed her teeth angrily. "And… if Cormac doesn't want me… there's always Ron."
Ronald. Fucking. Weasley.
No fucking way.
Not him.
Something boiled in the pit of his stomach. Something he hadn't felt in a long time — jealousy.
Draco's whole body stiffened. His fist clenched so hard he felt it might break. Hermione saw this, but he didn't see her smirk.
Apparently, Hermione wasn't finished.
"After all," she said. "He'd be a much better match. He's clever, funny and popular. Everyone loves him. His family already likes and adore me, and he's not afraid to show me off or take advantage of the situation like a real man, unlike someone I know."
"Weasley, don't make me fucking laugh!" He spat. "He's a class A moron, don't you dare compare him to me."
Hermione laughed. "Why not?" she said and began walking towards him. "I mean, Ron wouldn't let me feel confused. He'd take me out and kiss me, and if we were alone," she approached Draco, so she was standing by his side, and paused. "He wouldn't hesitate to do more especially when I'm more than willing. Not like you."
The image of Weasley, fucking Weasley, holding her, kissing her, running his hands though her hair and along her body, made that boiling feeling in his stomach bubble loudly.
Hermione waited for a moment, then sighed again, and made to walk away. But then, to both their surprise, his arm snatched out and grabbed her wrist, holding her straight and turning her to him.
He looked at her, sneering and frowning heavily. Though a part of him wanted to shut up, wanted to not be so presumptuous and let her go peacefully as she deserved to, the other part of him was a jealous bastard.
He pulled her against his chest, holding her by the waist so their bodies were pushed against each other and kissed her. His tongue invaded her mouth and caressed her, she tasted… well, she tasted like nothing really, but he couldn't get enough of it.
He kissed her hard, his hand burrowing into her hair to angle her head so they could kiss deeper. He wanted to imprint upon her, to bury himself in her so she'd never think about another man again. She was his.
She kissed him back, her tongue meeting his in a heated battle, caressing his so sensually he quivered. Her arms came up to hook around his neck as she pulled him to her, her fingers in his hair.
Then that feeling, that coldness began to seep in, the coldness that warned him not to get to close, not to touch her, not to hurt her.
But before he could push her away, she beat him to it. Her hands that had been in his hair yanked hard, pulling his head and lips from hers, her other arm pushed against his chest so hard he stumbled.
They stood like that, both panting heavily from the kiss, her lips swollen. He liked that, liked that he did that to her. She didn't look so perfect anymore. Her hair wasn't curly, it was frizzy, bushy, she didn't have perfect skin; she had freckles. Did she have freckles? Hadn't she always had freckles?
He couldn't see them anymore.
Her hair, in his eyes went back to being perfect, her skin white and smooth.
"You love me," he sneered, panting. "You— Weasley will never compare to me, you'd never be satisfied by someone like him, someone who doesn't care about you or understand you."
She looked down, biting her lip. "You might be right about that, but… " She shook her head. "He's a good man. He might never understand me, but he'd be good to me, he'd be kind to me, or at least he'd try. I'm sure, with him, I could have a nice, normal relationship. We would date, kiss, have sex, one day he'd ask me to marry him and I'd say yes, and we'd have children together, probably a little girl and boy, and he… I think one day, I might be able to fall in love with him."
She looked at him, imploring him for something, but he didn't know what.
Everything she said, he knew she deserved. But… but… if it wasn't with him… he didn't want her to have any of those things.
The image of Hermione, his Hermione with that arse, Weasley, snapped him. Fuck being good for her, fuck it all. The voice, the coldness in his mind — he told it to fuck off.
Hermione turned away and put her hand on the door handle. "Goodbye, Draco, I hope… I hope you'll be happy for me. Because I will be… happy, that is… and you… I'm going to be with Ron now."
This was the last push he needed. Something inside him snapped and his mind cleared for what felt like the first time in years and his jealously overwhelmed him. He blinked, his head not hurting, feeling like… like he'd woken up from a long sleep.
Draco felt like himself again, and he didn't give a damn if she deserved better, she wasn't leaving this room.
XX-xx-XX-xx-XX-xx-OoO-xx-XX-xx-XX-xx-XX
Hermione felt awful. She'd hoped to reawaken the Draco she knew by antagonising him and being a general bitch; because the Draco from five years ago, before everything went insane, was a jealous bastard.
She didn't mean any of it. As if she could ever like Ron. Though some of what she had said was true, she could probably fall in love with Ron if she tried, and he would be good to her. But it wouldn't be like with Draco. There'd be no passion, no laughter, and no crazy fights.
She had just wanted to show him that she was less than perfect.
Hermione put her hand on the door handle and sighed sadly. It hadn't worked.
But as she was about to pull the door open, a hand suddenly slammed down on the door beside her head, startling a shriek out of her. She froze.
She felt Draco behind her. He didn't grab her or pull her instead he just stood very close behind her. He lowered his head so he whispered directly into her ear; she could feel his breath on her neck. "You are mine."
Her heart pounded. Had it… was this…?
"You love me," he continued, a hand creeping to her waist. "You'll never be able to love anyone but me for the rest of your life, and this is why," then he grabbed her.
He tugged her around to face him; the hand on her waist was rock solid. She couldn't move, not that she wanted to.
Because when she looked into his beautifully silver eyes, she knew, this was Draco. Her Draco. The spoilt, arrogant, jealous little toe-rag she knew all those years ago, the toe-rag she loved. She didn't want pure devotion; she didn't want to be a goddess he only worshiped from afar. All she wanted was him, in all his toe-rag glory.
Draco's thumb dipped a little into the waist band of her skirt, teasing her.
He kissed her, his body pressing hers into the door; one of his much longer legs trapped her between something hard and the wall. His tongue didn't fight its way in, it teased. He sucked her bottom lip, licking the wet fleshy surface. The hand that had smacked into the door cupped her neck and angled her head towards him to deepen the kiss, as his thumb teased and caressed the sensitive part of her neck where the skin met her hair and ear.
He sucked her bottom lip and then her top lip, she gasped, and his tongue flicked inside her mouth as he sucked, encouraging her to meet him halfway.
Her tongue reached up and caressed his, she hooked her arms around his neck again, pulling him closer, wanting to feel him properly.
Draco pulled his head up, but didn't step away.
"Could he kiss you like that, would he make you feel like this?" He kissed her neck, teasing the junction where it met her shoulder while his other hand massaged her hip. "What was that you said about Weasley or McLaggen? Get real, like they could handle a girl like you," he trailed his tongue up her neck and sucked on the skin under her chin. Hermione gasped, her nails digging into his shoulders.
It felt so good. Hermione was feeling so many things and all of them were good.
This was what they'd been missing for so long: this heat, this familiarity. He knew her body and he didn't feel like he was going to let go any time soon.
"Break up?" He whispered against her neck, his hot break moistening her skin. "Hah, you want to break up with me. I'd like to see you try. Let's see if you still want to break up after I'm done here."
His lips travelled back up to her lips, kissing her deeply. Their tongues met in her mouth, caressing and sliding against each other; their lips pressed so closely together they bruised. Something thrummed between them, an energy, an overwhelming sense of need that could only be transferred, never put out.
He came up for air and sucked on her neck. His hands slid up and down her body, his thumb ghosting her breast; it tingled.
"Don't think about any other man," he panted. "Think about me, think only about me. Fuck Potter and his fucking nose. He deserved it; he shouldn't have been sneaking around in our compartment. So fucking what if his nose is broken, I don't give a damn and I won't apologise, it has nothing to do with us. Don't think about him, don't worry about him."
He took her face in his two hands. "You're mine — my girl. If you want to break up, then fine, but I'm going to make sure you're never able to think about anyone else but me no matter what, for as long as you live."
He kissed her again, holding her face so she couldn't escape. Her legs gave way and she crumbled to the ground, but he just went down with her, turning them over so he was leaning against the door and she was sitting in his lap, tucked between his two legs. He pulled her to him, not letting this new position limit any of the precious contact they'd had. She moaned rom the sweet pressure of it as he pressed himself closer into her body and sucked her neck. She could feel him everywhere.
"You're mine," he said again, when he'd come up for air. "You're just… you're… "
Hermione panted, her whole body quivering. Her hands reached up to trace his face, his cheek, and then his lips. His eyes never left hers as she did this. "I'm yours," she whispered. "And you're mine."
They gazed at each other for a moment more, and Hermione began to wonder if she'd broken him. Then out of nowhere, he smirked, her familiar, Draco smirk. "I guess I am," he said. "And Weasley?"
"I was lying," she said quickly. "I… it's you, you're the one I love. I love you, Draco, just you," she said, her fingers trailing along his lip. His tongue came out and licked the delicate pad of her fingertips, she shivered.
"What was that?" he said, his smirk like a Cheshire Cat's grin. "Did I hear you say 'Weasley is the king'? Has someone not learned their lesson yet?"
"I-I… " Hermione couldn't think, not when his tongue was tickling the pads of her fingers. His teeth came out and caught her index finger, biting it softly as he smirked.
"I-I… " She stammered.
He sucked her finger into his mouth, and bit it a little harder, teasing her.
And then he smiled.
"I love you," she whispered. "I just… I love you".
He smiled wide, but it was a little teasing, like her Draco, like the boy she met on the train who took all the credit for finding Neville's toad even though he'd done nothing to help.
That Draco smiled teasingly, "And don't you forget it again," then he kissed her again, this time gently and her mind went blissfully blank.
… …Please review
