"Temporis Et Spatii"
CHAPTER 5.
Glowing sapphire from a wall of pine shutters, Tonks' sleeping porch accommodated a scrolled iron bed, the acacia nightstands flanking it, and otherworldly underwater respiration. Draco ascended from the patchwork quilt, a lithe silhouette radiating celestial silver, and somberly drifted toward me, fingers swimming my waterfall marmalade locks, the freckle-splashed slope of my cheeks. My face sprouted roses as his lips buoyed mine.
"I intend to debauch you, Cora Lucindra."
Violets twirled the silken air. "I intend to let you."
His taste buds captured my whole mouth, voraciously inhaling my essence. Black lace slithered my shoulder and his teeth ensnared my neck. I gasped.
My dress slipped effortlessly over my head, and then I was just me - raw meat - all I had to give him. Heaving me by the haunches, he delivered me to the bed, butterflying down a wake of goosebumps to the apex of my femininity. Gleaming opalescent, the ace-high aguardiente unbridled a decadent suction upon my waking senses. My lungs upheaved.
"You have such a pretty pussy," he smirked, enclosing a parting kiss and standing. Nary but gliding slats kindled this lacteous sculpture of a man, whose unfastening trousers rippled an abominable famine in me. When he plunged to kiss me again, he adroitly took aim.
I mewled when he impaled me.
He spiked a stroke up my molten core, then paused to read me. I answered with fingers interweaving his glittering hair, drawing him back to my lips. "Fuck, Cora, you feel like fucking heaven," he purred as he bludgeoned me again. "Sorry," he hitched. "I mustn't say naughty words."
"I don't mind it so much." My thighs solicited him with an immodest squeeze.
Forehead affixed to mine, he surrendered another thrust, curling my fortuitous toes. And another. Scowling, jaw rigorously ajar, he accelerated, assailing me, laddering to the highest turrets of my consciousness. Our breath scaled the alchemical starlight, hot on each other's faces, utterly intoxicating. We culminated as one.
He deposited a kiss on my brow and rolled off. I floated the royal tide back to my mortal coil, washed ashore to the headboard with the golden siren who had just drowned me.
"That dress looked brilliant on you."
I rested upon his slender chest. "It's from 2010."
"The future," he mused as I tasted his creamy skin. Powdery flora hothoused my brain, danced away ephemeral.
"Your eyes," he marveled, lightly tucking my hair behind my ears. "A minute ago they were peridots. Now they're all fiery like yellow diamonds. In the snow, they glowed like moonstone. Everytime I look at you I'm opening a treasure vault."
My cheeks ignited. He wasn't an affront to vision himself, wintry gaze chilling everything its snowdrift captured; and me blithely eddying wherever the freeze took me. "Can we stay here?" I whispered.
He frowned, observing my face. I didn't know what I looked like. "I was hoping I might get things sorted and figure out how to take you back to my time. My family is very powerful; I can give you anything to your heart's desire." He stroked my hair, evanescing my senses. "Is there anything in all the world you desire, Cora Lucindra?"
I relished the swoop of his palm. "Well, I do miss sewing."
"You absolute Hufflepuff," he snickered. "That isn't what I meant."
"It's calming," I beamed as he rotated me to sprawl beneath him. "It makes sense to me."
His tongue engulfed my mouth. "I intend to get you pilot lessons. Planes are the nearest to magic muggles have built, and I want you to experience that."
I couldn't explain my adoration for the foreign language everyone spoke; It was a magic in itself, I reckon, a delightful inflection on what had been my decidedly plain life. His wand came to mind, its straightforward hawthorn neck and stark gunmetal handle. "What kind of magic are you good at?"
He frowned. "Destruction, mostly. Though I've never been very keen on it."
"Can you raise the dead?"
His weight shifted. "What's with the third degree?" he ruffled. "Supposedly it's in the Necronomicon, but I haven't found everything I need yet. Anyway, that's not a very pretty spell. A person is never the same when they return."
He had dismounted me. I sat up as well, chastised. This resplendent man was not a mine at which I could hurl an egotistical pickaxe. I endeavored, "Could I see a spell you like?"
Face downturned, his sullen icicles ascended the whole of the room to me. It was an arresting expression, one I couldn't entirely read. He retrieved his wand, curlicued at an obscure rumple against the wall.
"Avifors." Cyan lightning veined his bisected shirt, enfolded an evolution of corners to its heart, from which burst a crisp confetti of feathers. A snowy canary bristled, flitted its head toward the ceiling, and became a second plume lulling to the floorboards.
Slouched over the foot of the bed, his inscrutable smolder crumbled. "You don't - regret any of this, do you?"
"Draco Malfoy." I fluttered to him, earnestly entwined our fingers. "How can you not know? If I had to do this all over again, I would invite you to turn up spiflicated and nearly faint me with your advances."
He snorted, parting my knees with his talented hands, kissed my scar. The hours waded supine, sparkling ivory crescendos up our dreams.