Draco was brooding. His eyes were narrowed, lip was snarled, and demeanor more dangerous that the usual. His body was tense and tight with anger. Whoever was in his line of fire better watch their back carefully.
The blonde's eyes, though, were kept down, he was critically inspecting his khaki trousers. Beltane was upon them, but no one was naked yet. Though, the bonfire was going strong in the dry April night.
Ginny and Harry were snuggled under a red and gold blanket, his arm rested comfortably at her hip, lips caressing her freckled ear. Draco felt a bit of jealousy pool hotly in the pit of his stomach.
Saint Potter and has his Queen. You don't fit in, don't let yourself feel. You're a Malfoy. Keep your head, (Even though your heart has been taken.)
It was really difficult to detach himself without walking away from the part, but this extra 8th year was about House-Unitation, becoming friends with your enemies, and settling feuds. And Pansy would never allow him to ditch.
Which was exceedingly unfortunate.
So, here Draco sits, across the blaze from his crush and his girlfriend—Excuse me—Fiancé. That blonde had now convinced himself that if the rest of them weren't here, they'd be going at it like wild, very drunk, monkeys.
Mine, he's MINE.….mine…
Jealous grey eyes turn remorseful and solemn, and he chooses to lie back on his soft silver blanket to stare at the stars instead. He listened to the fire crackle gently, and vaguely recognized his sleepy eyelids hood his vision, foretelling sleep.
A soft orange glow illuminated his face, the warmth welcoming in the cool night. Draco soon fell off to sleep.
Harry never bat him an eyes the entire night.