LV. Owned
His grin is feral and cold, the kind of look a cat would wear when playing with a helpless bird, but she does not realise this. To her his expression is not one of smugness but delight; to her he is an angel, and angels do not taunt or torture.
"I love you, Draco," she whispers, the words passing her lips before she realises what she is saying.
"You'd better, Pansy," he replies, laughing. "I own you after all."
She giggles, thinking he is joking. She does not realise that her angel is really just a spoiled little boy.
