familiar ; draco malfoy

CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN

Draco felt the snake tightening around his neck. He wondered if Blaise could see it too, strangling him as he tried to choke out the words.

"I have nowhere else to go."

It was evident that he was beyond distressed and his appearance could only indicate part of it. Clenching the teeth in an effort to keep the jaw still, blood-shot eyes and dark circles and heavy breathing and an insurmountable amount of terror seeping from his skin could barely amount to the snowstorm ripping him apart from the inside.

Draco ground his teeth together. His heartbeat grew erratic. The serpent around his neck was tightening his hold, reminding him of his place.

"Draco."

Gods. That voice, that sweet voice alone could bring him back from the dead.

"You don't have to tell us anything," said Ramona, tucking a new cigarette between her lips. Her aunt had made the grave mistake of leaving them on the table, and she wasn't getting them back. With a quick Incendio the cigarette was lit, and Ramona leaned back into the cushions, crossing her ankle over her knee.

"Are you mental? He can't just show up at half past midnight, looking like that, and expect us to look past it," said Blaise, all but outraged at her behavior.

Draco tuned out their arguing. He heard nothing but the cacophony of their voices, overlapping one another. His skin burned.

"I can't," he then said, putting a stop to the bickering. "I can't tell you. But I promise it had nothing to do with me. I didn't do shit."

Blaise believed little in his words, shaking his head.

"I don't give a rat's arse! Ramona, maybe you can pretend that he's got nothing to do with this, but I can't," he argued, "Spit it out, Malfoy. A sodding Death Eater comes to my door and wants me to do favors? Absolutely fucking not."

Draco flinched at the words. But he wasn't wrong. A sodding Death Eater had come to his door, asking for favors. It was foolish to expect he'd get one.

He felt the serpent around his neck shift, reminding him it was there.

Blaise was fuming; shoulders squared, jaw set, his two eyes dissecting slits of black. He didn't essentially like Draco, and he surely didn't trust him. The only reason he agreed to let him in, and wanted to listen to what he had to say, was because of Ramona. If she hadn't been there, he would have slammed the door in his face with a heavy heart. Even though he'd feel guilty, he would have done it.

"Merlin, fuck," Draco sighed, running a hand through the mess of white on top of his head. He reached for the pack of cigarettes in front of Ramona, sliding one between his lips.

"I don't have my wand," he then said, prompting Ramona to stand up. She knelt on the coffee table, leaning forward and placing her hands on each of Draco's knees for balance. He stiffened at the contact, feeling her fingers gripping onto his legs, and placed one hand over hers. It traveled up to her wrist, to her elbow, her shoulder and down to her waist, where it settled, keeping her balanced.

Her own cigarette, half-burnt, sat tight between her full lips. Draco tilted his head back, allowing her to press the tip of her cigarette to his. He inhaled, eyes locked, until a puff of smoke leaving her nose broke their stare.

Once Ramona leaned back, sure that his cigarette was lit, Draco felt the temperature of the room grow. Effortlessly, she allowed the stoic look to wash over her features, though a glint of mischief glistened in her eye. She knew what she was doing to him.

Adjusting his pants to mask his excitement, Draco leaned forward, exhaling the smoke and clearing his throat.

Ramona felt her mind go hazy. Even though the sight of him had saddened and worried her at first, she dared look at him once more, and those feelings dissolved like ice on a hot summer's day. As he leaned forward, she could see more of his chest exposed through the half-unbuttoned shirt.