Gods, his body shone in my eyes like distant, unreachable star. And with that came the urge to feel every dip and curve of those sculpted muscles and smooth skin, blemished only by that mark on his forehead. I had to feel him, see him, devour him in a fit of madness. Each inch of that tanned skin and petite figure belonged to me. Damn the Weaselettefor looking at him like that. Damn Granger for that casual hand on his shoulder when she spoke to him.
Potter, with his innocent and needy eyes, longing for protection and love. There was an inexplicable need to be the one to break that innocence and fulfill all that he required. I had seen the way his viridescent eyes greedily shone when they drank me up. But when it came to protection and love, I was lost. Those moans excited a beast within me, not some child-like, moronic need to cuddle and caress.
I lapped at his neck, and pinned him to the ground beneath me. Leaves stuck to his hair, and I ran my fingers through it with a brutal force. His skin burned beneath me, and I all but purred to see his purity sapped from him. Nails dug into his skin and hips bucked.
'That's right; don't struggle. Listen to me, let me bite at your neck and breathe sticky breaths on your desperate body. Succumb to me. Let me feel you, steal you away from the protective bubble you've placed yourself in. I want to hear it when you cry, unknowing whether it's in pain or pleasure. The way I make the line between them blur is marvelous, isn't it?'
I jolted up in my bed, my heart pounding frantically against my chest. Thanks to last night's episode, I had learned my lesson and placed a silencing charm around my bed. Still, I hadn't expected him to enter my dreams again. True, Pansy wasn't half as good at kissing as he was, but she was – well – Pansy. Not only was she a Slytherin, but she was a she.
Angrily, I buried my face in my hands. Pansy and I had merely kissed once or twice yesterday, each time much to her enthusiasm. She leapt at me like a slobbering dog, and her inexperienced kisses smeared over my face with her lipstick. It took all the strength I could muster not to wipe her saliva off every time.
Pansy cuddled. It wasn't so much the stroking my hair that I found repulsive, but more when she would curl up and nuzzle her head against me as if she were some sort of household pet. Sometimes I swore I could even hear her purr. With a mild look of disgust, I'd give her an awkward pat or two. To me, she was nothing more than a friend, and no matter how much I tried to make myself see otherwise, the attempts were in vain.
The looks on Potter's face yesterday somehow seemed to make it worth it. I took solace in each broken look of pure agony. While I may not have been breaking him in the same way as in my dreams – something I was thankful for – I was at least still sending him crumbling.
"Word to the wise, Potter," I mumbled to myself as I slung the tie loosely around my neck. "Never mess with a Malfoy." As I walked down to the common room, I found myself lost in thought. A twisted smile formed on my face, though it soon was pulled off as arms wrapped around my torso. An exasperated sigh formed, but still clung to my lips, and I casually slid my face into a smirk as a cover.
"Dray!" Pansy snuggled her pug face into my shoulder, and I forced a smile. "Sleep well?" Did she know?
"I guess." It was impossible to eye someone suspiciously when they stood behind you. This was becoming very irritating. "You?" She gave an eager jerk of her head. Perhaps she didn't.
"We should head downstairs soon." I nodded in agreement and practically dragged her downstairs with me as she clung to my waist. The only thing that cheered my mood was seeing o' Chosen One. Tears threatened to pour from his eyes and from the way Granger still nagged him, I could assume that he hadn't had told them. A smirk became more relaxed and widened to see his eyes clinging to me with as tight a grasp as Pansy's arms.
"One second, Pansy." I went toward the Gryffindor table, sure of myself, and ready for a game of taunt-the-Golden-Boy. Still, she followed me, much in the way Crabbe or Goyle would. "Who broke your heart, Potter? I'd love to give them flowers."
Pleading eyes gazed at me, and for a moment I almost faltered. A flash of my dream flew before my eyes momentarily, and I saw him sprawled beneath me, eyes fluttering and weak whimpers escaping his lips. A tremble shook through me.
"You know perfectly well, who, Malfoy." His voice was hoarse from what was most certainly hours of crying. His robes were slightly creased, and the mess on top of his head was even more unmanageable – if that was even possible.
Making sure that my voice was purely joking, I responded, "Now, I know a lot of people are devastated that I'm no longer single, but you of all people? I am shocked!" Pansy gave a giggle which sounded slightly forced, but smirked none-the-less, arm wrapping once more around me protectively.
"Fuck off, Malfoy." Weasley glared at me with a venomous look in his eyes.
"Now, now, language, Weasley. We don't want mummy-dearest to find out that her dear son started cursing. Merlin forbid we have to hear another howler." His cheeks flushed, and I strutted away.
"Don't listen to him," I heard the Mudblood muttering. "It's only Malfoy. He's just trying to wound you up." He didn't respond, but I could feel his eyes glued onto me as I sauntered away. Oh, I had broken him indeed.
Saturday approached too quickly, and with the Hogsmeade visit came the date. It wasn't that every time I saw Potter's shattered soul I didn't feel slightly better, but it was becoming a nuisance to handle her. And with each passing day, he learned to disguise it better. I could still occasionally see that longing, torn glint in his eyes, but there also were the sporadic smiles. He seemed to be recuperating, and by yesterday managed to act as if nothing had ever even happened.
With each day she acted more and more as if we were inseparable. And her kissing got no better. Every night that pesky Gryffindor's face took its role in my dreams. We never got further than snogging the hell out of each other, yet every time I woke up more and more horny and unsatisfied.
Still, I had to seem as if I were trying to make the date special. I knew Pansy loved it when my hair was disheveled, so I let it remain that way. With the gait of a man with an ego problem, I stepped downstairs.
"You look wonderful!" There was a mischievous glint in her eyes. I didn't like it. "May you do something for me?" One arm snaked around my waist and the other teased my hair. Closing my eyes I could picture it was a rougher, probably more calloused hand with tanned skin pushing through my blond –
Oh, Gods! My eyes flung open, and I somehow managed to quickly compose myself. "What do you want?" I had my suspicions. She could easily want me to place an idiotic rose on my robes as if it were Valentine's day, or she might want to drag me around to some ridiculously girly shop. I didn't expect her to say what she in fact did.
"May you put this on for me?" Her hand held that small, thin cylinder I knew all too well was eyeliner.
"Did Blaise put you up to this? I swear I'll kill that bastard." She stubbornly shook her head, and though it was reluctant, I believed her. "You want me to wear that?" I felt deflated.
"You look sexy in eye liner." What did she say? My head snapped up as I felt a wave of obvious déjà vu hit me. My chuckle was nervous, and I gave her a quick peck on the lips.
"Where do you want to go?" I asked her, attempting a change of topic to shake that horrid feeling the she knew off.
"Madam Puddifoot's!" I nearly groaned. Madam Puddifoot's was the favorite place for any date, but it was tackily decorated and looked rather nauseating. A smile forced itself upon my face.
"Sounds delightful."
Everything was overwhelmingly pink. It seemed disturbingly frilly and covered in rose décor. Both Pansy and I had ordered a vanilla butterbeer, the least sugar-filled item on the menu – at least, the only thing after their coffee. I looked dubiously down at the drink and gave a falsetto laugh of feigned cheeriness upon taking a sip. The taste was atrocious.
"Isn't it wonderful?" Her eyes darted around the crowded shop, and she glanced over to see Michael Corner and Weaselette kissing. "Well, minus the freak fest?" I gave a shaky laugh, but managed to somehow bob my head.
"Wonderful." How could anyone drink this stuff? Had she not been staring at me fondly, I would have spit it out and left without paying. As it was, that wasn't a choice. Instead I was forced to drink it, painful sip by painful sip.
"You never told me, who did Potter mean when he said that you knew who had broken his heart." Ah, pressing for gossip, I might have known.
"I honestly don't know." So, it was a minor lie. Not that it mattered, I lied all the time. Yet somehow the lie felt sour and bitter in my mouth. As if it was even possible for a statement to do that! This whole situation was ludicrous.
"Come on, I saw the way he looked at you. Potter never lies, anyway. It's against his morals." She put air quotes around the last word, letting it roll off of her tongue as if it were a joke, and rolled her eyes as if to emphasize the point. I had to agree that it was idiotic.
"Look, I honestly don't know. I guess he was talking about that Chang girl. He liked her, didn't he?"
"That was a long time ago," she cried exasperatedly as if I were messing up a simple transfiguration spell.
"Well, then, I don't know! Bloody hell, Pansy, I don't keep track of Potter's life!"
"Then why are you blushing?" she hissed through tightly gritted teeth. True enough, I felt my cheeks heat up as I thought off my dreams and that barmy kiss. Had I shattered his heart? It was a stupid thing to think, and it wasn't as if I actually cared, but… "Draco, who made Potter's life miserable? If you tell me, I'll send them those bloody flowers for you!" She was sounding increasingly desperate.
"Why do you care? Sod off." What a splendid date this was turning out to be! Truthfully, I knew why she cared. There wasn't a single piece of gossip Pansy didn't make it her business to know of, and probably hearing that there was something I had heard and that she hadn't drove her up a wall.
"Why won't you tell me?" Though her voice was sugarcoated, I knew this was when she was most likely to lash out.
"Look, I have to go." With that, I left some money on the table and walked out, ignoring the inquisitive stares I was getting from other occupied tables. A beaming grin came from Corner and the bloody red-head in the corner. Before Pansy could start bawling or whining, I had run out of the tea shop.
And then ran straight into someone. "Watch it!" I growled. Then, I realized who it was.
If it wasn't Harry fucking Potter – of all people! The smile wiped off of his face the moment he saw me. Then, eyes went wide as he made his way to mine.
"Malfoy." The blood traitor glared at me angrily enough that Granger went to restrain him. Yet, even she looked at me venomously. There was no way they didn't know. Oh, Gods!
"Weasel, Granger…Scarface."
"You're wearing eye liner." There was that tender lilt and slight adoration. And that hopefulness daring me to crush it. I had to squish it beneath my foot like a squirming bug – eradicate it, or it would haunt me.
"Pansy wanted me to, and since I love her so much..." My smile wavered slightly.
"Then where is she now?"
"That isn't a filthy, little Mudblood's business." If only I could manage a smirk! Before I knew it, Weasley had cast a leg-locker curse my way.
"Shi-" Falling to the ground, my hand reached over to grab my wand, which had all too inconveniently fallen out of my robe pocket. Granger was quicker, and snatched it up.
"Now, now, language, Malfoy. We don't want mummy-dearest to find out that her dear son started cursing. Merlin forbid your father sends one of your house elves after you!" Though he snickered, the Mudblood smacked his arm.
"It isn't funny!" While she shrilly shrieked at him, I struggled to lift myself up and steal the wand back.
"Oh, no you don't!" God, I hated all redheads. He shoved me back to the ground, though a little more forcefully than intended. My head hit against the pavement, and the bitter taste of blood entered my mouth.
"Ron!" Her scream was almost in motherly disapproval. I expected to hear him complain about how I deserved it. I didn't expect an animal-like growl.
"Back the fuck off!"
"Harry's gone mental. It's official."
"Ron!" How many times could she repeat that? It was getting irritating.
"Give me his wand." There was the sound of their feet backing away. And then he knelt beside me and my legs returned to normal. "Draco, are you okay?" Concern filled the jade depths.
"I don't need your help, Potter." Before anything else could happen, I scrambled up and ran for it.
A/N: Aww, is Draco being annoying in refusing Harry? *batters eyelashes* Well, at least the date didn't go over so well with Pansy. And Harry seems to be less heartbroken (though protective, I might say). Well, I hope the chapter didn't disappoint you too much. It wasn't beta'ed again. I figured since I promised that I would post it with ten reviews and I already had twenty... Anyway, so there might be several mistakes in this when it comes to grammar. I did my best.
I'm not posting until I have 20 reviews. Look, I'm not doing this to be cruel, and if it's taking a really long time, I'll settle for less, but I do appreciate it when someone even just posts that they liked it. It literally takes two seconds...
~Luna