Disclaimer: I don't own them, J.K. Rowling does.
Feedback? Yes please.
Summary: Something has happened that Draco never thought possible.
A/N: This is my first fanfic ever, and it is also in a genre that I rarely (if ever) read, so...
please go easy on me. I was just rereading Prisoner of Azkaban last night when
this struck me, and it wouldn't go away. :p
Also, assume that Draco is somewhere in his late teens/early twenties.
Also also, ff.n is apparently doing something dodgy with the formatting...
Tomorrow
Draco stared out the window, seeing nothing, deep in thought. His father would have
been so ashamed at what had become of what was supposed to be a game – and that he
had let it continue for so long. In fact, his father was probably rolling in his grave right
now, uprooting a few trees…
He broke out of his reveries as he felt the hands slide over his shoulders, saw the arms,
pale in the moonlight, lying across his bare chest. Heard the voice whisper huskily in his
ear,
"Please come back to bed."
It had all been a game at first – make a Muggle fall in love with him. It had been easy, so
easy that he hadn't even had to use any magic… all the right words at all the right
moments had been enough. He just hadn't been expecting it to go so far or so deep. Fall
in love with a Muggle? It went against everything he had ever been taught.
Slowly, he turned around to face her. She was looking at him with a bemused expression
on her face, her mouth in a small smile that drove him crazy.
"What are you thinking?" she whispered.
Draco didn't answer, but simply traced the curve of her lips with one calloused finger.
She had no idea of how dangerous he was to her; that he could kill her with a single word
if he so chose. It was what had made him stay at first, that immense feeling of power and
control that he felt when he was around her… those feelings had lost their tight grip on
him now, and had been replaced by feelings of true affection. She was not just some
Muggle anymore, she was someone he loved.
He bent down and kissed her, pulling her seemingly fragile, magic-less body closer to his
stronger one; all the while cursing himself. He should not be feeling the things he was
feeling. He was a Malfoy, a Slytherin; he should have maimed her soul while he had still
had the chance of escaping unscathed himself. Not that he couldn't still hurt her badly…
he just was not sure he wanted to.
No, tomorrow he would break it off, tomorrow it would end. Tomorrow…
Fin.
So, what did you think? Comments, suggestions, and constructive criticism are all most
definitely appreciated.
Feedback? Yes please.
Summary: Something has happened that Draco never thought possible.
A/N: This is my first fanfic ever, and it is also in a genre that I rarely (if ever) read, so...
please go easy on me. I was just rereading Prisoner of Azkaban last night when
this struck me, and it wouldn't go away. :p
Also, assume that Draco is somewhere in his late teens/early twenties.
Also also, ff.n is apparently doing something dodgy with the formatting...
Tomorrow
Draco stared out the window, seeing nothing, deep in thought. His father would have
been so ashamed at what had become of what was supposed to be a game – and that he
had let it continue for so long. In fact, his father was probably rolling in his grave right
now, uprooting a few trees…
He broke out of his reveries as he felt the hands slide over his shoulders, saw the arms,
pale in the moonlight, lying across his bare chest. Heard the voice whisper huskily in his
ear,
"Please come back to bed."
It had all been a game at first – make a Muggle fall in love with him. It had been easy, so
easy that he hadn't even had to use any magic… all the right words at all the right
moments had been enough. He just hadn't been expecting it to go so far or so deep. Fall
in love with a Muggle? It went against everything he had ever been taught.
Slowly, he turned around to face her. She was looking at him with a bemused expression
on her face, her mouth in a small smile that drove him crazy.
"What are you thinking?" she whispered.
Draco didn't answer, but simply traced the curve of her lips with one calloused finger.
She had no idea of how dangerous he was to her; that he could kill her with a single word
if he so chose. It was what had made him stay at first, that immense feeling of power and
control that he felt when he was around her… those feelings had lost their tight grip on
him now, and had been replaced by feelings of true affection. She was not just some
Muggle anymore, she was someone he loved.
He bent down and kissed her, pulling her seemingly fragile, magic-less body closer to his
stronger one; all the while cursing himself. He should not be feeling the things he was
feeling. He was a Malfoy, a Slytherin; he should have maimed her soul while he had still
had the chance of escaping unscathed himself. Not that he couldn't still hurt her badly…
he just was not sure he wanted to.
No, tomorrow he would break it off, tomorrow it would end. Tomorrow…
Fin.
So, what did you think? Comments, suggestions, and constructive criticism are all most
definitely appreciated.