Title: That Wretched Word
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Minor language
Word Count: 350!
Author's Note: Written for the dramione_ldws at LiveJournal. For those wondering, I'm almost caught up with re-editing Fragment. New chapter up soon!
Nothing can cool you down quicker on a hot summer day than a flute of champagne poured down your shirt.
He admitted it: he ihad/i gone too far that time. But in his defence, how was he supposed to know that she was still sensitive about being called a buck-toothed beaver?
It really was all her fault in the first place. What right did she have to put him on the spot in front of all those Weasleys? Who did she think she was asking him if he – no. He couldn't even say it, let alone ithink/i it.
But Draco did not have enough time to analyse his thoughts any further or examine the damage on his very expensive dress robes because his girlfriend of one year, two months, and fifteen days was walking briskly towards the house. He knew how angrier she would get if he let her walk away.
He finally caught up to her and grabbed her by the arm.
"Draco, let go of me," she said harshly, not able to even look at him.
Oh, bugger. He made her cry. He ihated/i when she cried. She was supposed to be the brave lioness - not some crying and vulnerable creature in his arms! He never knew what to do. Was he supposed to comfort her or just leave her be until she's back to normal? He let out a huge sigh before pulling her closer until she was wrapped in his arms.
"Don't you love me?"
She just ihad/i to use that word again.
He hated that wretched word. He hated how it made him giddy like a sodding Hufflepuff just because she was nearby or how his throat constricted to see her bawling her eyes out. He hated how there was so much meaning behind it. But most of all, he hated how he couldn't do anything about it because as much as didn't want to believe it, he had completely fallen in love with Hermione Granger a very long time ago.
Reluctantly, he knew it was about time that he told her just that.