Babygirl (SEQUEL to Fuckboy - Draco Malfoy)

prologue.

"Draco?"

He snapped his attention back to Pansy as if he had been shot. "Hm?"

"I said," she whispered, setting her drink down. "Would you like to dance?"

He wouldn't, as it happened. But he took Pansy's hand anyway, walking her backwards towards the dance floor. Once there, he placed Pansy's hand elegantly on his shoulder and placed his own hands on her waist. His eyes darted to the left, then the right. Pansy followed his footwork as he kept them on beat to the music.

There, he saw it. A shadow of black—two shadows, poking through the colorful dresses and silver displays.

"I'm surprised you brought me tonight," Pansy said, right in front of him. He faltered, flicking his gaze back down into his date's expectant eyes.

"Oh?" he asked, remaining decidedly interested.

"You always seem so very cold," Pansy whispered. Draco sensed that she was coming onto him. This wasn't a difficult conclusion. Parkinson's eyes told him everything he needed to know of her intention.

"You're here, aren't you?" he asked, sighing silently.

"Yes."

"With me."

"Yes."

"Just as it should be," he said, matching the look in her eye. She nodded, a shy smile looking out of place on her usually very confident expression.

The slow music, the dancing, the pretty decorations—these things had adverse effects on girls like Pansy Parkinson. They had them dreaming of romance and soulmates and meant-to-be. She closed her eyes and leaned in, pressing her lips to his.

This was the moment that Draco Malfoy had his very first kiss. It would have been perfectly acceptable to him, nice even, as Pansy Parkinson was not a bad kisser. His mistake—the mistake that would haunt him for many years to come—was that he had kept his eyes open as he kissed her.

Blackwood's eyes enveloped Draco's field of vision and ran his blood entirely cold. He gripped Pansy by the waist, too hard. Having danced around the floor for the past five minutes and now landing a mere yard away, Evangeline Blackwood was staring directly into Draco's soul as he had his first kiss. It was predestination, a flaw in the universe for her to be there at that moment. For years afterward, Draco wondered whether—if she had not looked at him then—if maybe he could have kept his sanity for just a little bit longer.

Those eyes were an enigma. They forced him to pause, to lean back, to swiftly turn Pansy around in order to put Blackwood behind him. Pansy was smiling and wiping red lipstick off of Draco's mouth. He was staring at the wall behind her head in an inner monologue of panic.

"Let's get out of here," Pansy whispered in his ear. Relieved, and not revived enough from his fright to understand her meaning, he turned and exited swiftly from the display, leading Pansy out by her hand.

Once in the dark and empty corridor, Pansy backed him into the wall and snogged him.

He tried to keep up, knowing that there were no more eyes to crush his soul, not out here in the dark. Shy Pansy had left entirely, replaced by a girl starved. She kissed him with tongue, tangled her fingers into his hair, and pressed herself up against him. He felt a stir in his stomach and decided to let her do whatever she wanted with him. It was an act of rebellion against that blasted girl in the black dress that he had left behind in the Great Hall.

Anger—supreme anger and madness—drove him to enter the carriage with Pansy that evening. The carriages were parked outside of the nearest entrance, having transported the Durmstrangs and Beaubatons to the party. Pansy simply opened one up and climbed inside.