𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐀 𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐄 [𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐞]

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲-𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐞

DRACO waited for her to return.

He hadn't expected to see her until after the weekend originally, however he hoped her plans had changed after their kiss.

Butterflies flourished through his veins at the thought of her. Her wild, curly hair he so wished to bury his face and his hands in, absorbing the scent of serenity she always held with her.

Her alluring, brown eyes that glinted with mischief and hunger before she took control — adrenaline pulsed through him at that.

And that dress that hugged her frame and captured her curves perfectly, her chest, her wrist and her ears that adorned with jewelry.

He had never seen her like that before, and it opened up something inside of him he never deemed possible.

Draco swooned over her—he wanted to have her so badly. Only her. And he wanted her to have him. Only him.

Rage flared within as the concept of her husband — Ron, he struggled to remember his name — cheating on her, lying to her, using her. She didn't deserve that.

She was like the sky — bright and sunny and shining with light until his falsity suffocated and drenched her in his thunderstorm, leaving her to wallow in the darkness.

He had wronged her in the most traitorous of ways, blackening her sun, and now the light inside of her struggled to shine.

Draco hated seeing her so broken, and all he desired to do was to hurt Ron, but at the same time, hold her in his arms and whisper sweet things into her ear to calm her.

He needed her to rely on him, just as much as he relied on her. He wished to be the only one who she felt safe with, who he could give every part of himself to.

Was it selfish of him to want this? Surely not. If she couldn't have this with him, then all he wanted was for her to have this with someone else.

He hoped for happiness upon her — even if he wasn't the one who provided her with it.

The thought of her lathered his heart in millions of kisses, of which he wished to give to her.

Draco hauled himself up, his body swinging around so that his feet landed firmly on the flat surface of the floor.

His spine stretched as he stood tall in the darkness, a yawn ripping out of his throat as he strode over to the curtains, his fingers slipping into the dividing parts and yanking them apart.

His eyes fell shut for a moment, the moonlight illuminating his pale features. His eyes then peeled open, admiring the divine night sky, a fusion of stars and constellations.

He breathed; his frame serene as he absorbed the beauty behind the window he was standing in front of. He felt at peace watching over it.

It was as though his eyes had been blessed — a heavenly sight almost as pretty as Granger.

His hand pressed against the pane of the window coated in condensation, the cool feel of it spreading through his hands that had still been under the charm on which Granger had placed.

Draco arched his neck, grinning to himself shyly as he soaked in the sight displayed in front of him. He swallowed back the air as the condensation thickened through it, his eyes falling shut as he allowed them to rest in the world of his imagination.

He huffed to himself, his thoughts crowning around one single thing — Granger.

She seemed to have found her home in his mind — he only wished that she would find the same in his heart, and him in hers.