𝑆𝐴𝑉𝐼𝑁𝐺 𝐷𝑅𝐴𝐶𝑂 𝑀𝐴𝐿𝐹𝑂𝑌

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟑𝟐 - 𝐝𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐞

In any romantic movie, this is where the sexy rock music would start, and I am sure that the electric guitar solo would perfectly complement the moment I was pushed back to the stone wall.

One veiny hand had landed on my neck, painfully first but then the thumb stroked me masterfully.

"Tell me you did it to make me jealous..."

When I gave him a puzzled look, he answered firstly with a malevolent smirk.

"The hug... The party..." he explained without me asking. "Tell me you do it all to make me jealous. Tell me I'm falling for your games. Tell me I'm not the shitty person I am. Tell me you do it all to make me jealous."

The words were blurred together and if heard from afar, it could have sounded like a long German word, one that confuses, one that contains a thousand words but has one meaning of its own.

"I view it more as a welcome side-effect of having fun."

Draco must have been planning for some witty comeback but he was suddenly lost, distracted. He had dropped his eyes down to my chest. He dragged his hand on my sweater and seemed to loathe it on sight.

"My Slytherin doesn't wear red and gold sweaters..." he said in disapproval. "My dark Ophelia needs her cold colours or nothing at all..." And with this, he was pulling the sweater up, exposing my stomach for a stroke. He was struggling not to approach my lips and I could see it in the tortured breathing against my cheek.

"These possessive pronouns have to stop," I said, out of breath as well.

"You don't like it when I call you 'mine'? You don't like it when I call you 'my'? My... My free Ophelia, my lovely, emancipated Ophelia, who would never allow her Dray to call her his..."

"But I'm not yours, am I, Dray? Come on, we've already tried it twice. Let's actually forget about it and get on with our lives," I said.

"I am extremely certain that I do not know what you're talking about," he said with a deep chuckle that mostly resembled a growl. He smirked.

"My Dray, my liar..." My words said one thing but my voice said another. I was begging for more. "Don't do anything you wouldn't do sober. Don't do anything that is not noteworthy enough to remember tomorrow."

"I promise I'll remember this time."

And so my hand searched for a doorknob somewhere behind me. I opened the door to my empty dormitory and was instantly lifted off the ground. Draco held me by the back of my thighs as I interlocked my feet around him. He kicked the door closed and carried me to my bed where he let me down harshly. He looked down with intent. Just intent.

He spread my legs apart once more to make way for his fall. He pressed himself while holding my waist and I instantly felt the increasing erection in his trousers softly rising. He wouldn't dare get close to my lips; it was the unexplored territory that seemed off-limits if we wanted to put some glass limit to this madness if we wanted to save ourselves for the right moment, if we wanted to salvage some part of our soul, if we wanted to keep this as unemotional.

But who could say the moan while nibbling on the soft spots of my neck was a sound emotionless and dry?

His lips were already wet as he was undressing me, throwing the sweater on the floor with hatred. When I tried to unbutton his shirt, he grabbed my hands and spread them on each of my sides.

"No," he ordered.

It became apparent that he wanted to spend time on my own body first.