Nothing belongs to me.
VI: Breathless
Ever since that detention, Draco Malfoy had been fascinated by Ginny Weasley's lips.
It was the way that those lips had spewed angry retorts and insults that caught his attention. Then came the lips themselves.
Whenever he wasn't too busy being repulsed by this sudden interest in the Weasley girl's lips, he found himself fantasizing more and more about them.
And in his defense, they were a rather nice pair of lips, everything a pair of lips should be: plump, juicy, reddish pink, pinkish red (He couldn't make up his mind).
It wasn't long—just a week after the whole craze had begun—until Draco decided he would determine for himself whether the girl's lips were as tasty as they looked. He hoped, watching the said lips move unheard from his position at the Slytherin table during lunch, that this, erm, quest, if you will, would kill the obsession.
It didn't take all of his snake like cunning to devise a plan. Draco would strike at first chance: dinnertime.
It wasn't until he was lurking outside the Great Hall, as everyone ate, when he realized that this might not be as private as he'd hoped.
He didn't have to care, however, because she came out, early and alone, as expected.
Jumping from the shadows, Draco seized the girl by the elbow—
"Malfoy, what the hell—?"
—and pulled her around, pushing her against the wall.
Before she could scream in protest, he had captured her lips in a searing kiss.
Draco could feel her squirm and tremble slightly beneath him. She did not, however, break away.
He made note of this, along with the faint taste of vanilla on her lips, the smell of strawberries in her hair.
Pulling away, somewhat satisfied, Draco was pleased to see that she was speechless, and by the look of it, breathless.