Green Apples

8

"We'll see who's going to be lasting here," he smirks.

You glare at him, biting your lip. "God you're such a perv."

"Don't act like you don't like it, y/n."

"You know what, I am gonna leave," you huff, dramatically walking faster down the hall, hand above your head, waving him off. "Have fun being all smug somewhere else, paper boy."

You're grinning as you hear his footsteps quicken, and you break into a run, sprinting away through the castle, aiming for the dining hall. He follows, hot in pursuit.

"Too slow Draco!" you laugh.

Ironically, he's a hell of a lot faster than you.

And almost at your heels.

Just as you're about to give up, you feel his hand on yours, pulling you back, through a door.

The transfiguration classroom, now temporarily deserted.

You giggle, remembering how you expertly snagged Draco's wand in the last class here.

You quickly gasp as you feel Draco grab your waist firmly.

"Trying to get away hm?" he questions, one hand drawing his wand up your side, moving it to under your chin, forcing you to look at him.

Your body shudders, and Draco's remaining hand, still on your waist, tightens as he smirks, feeling you move at his touch.

"I guess not," he says quietly, undertones of desire in his voice.

You had to stop doing this, you thought. Either someone was going to find you, or you were going to catch feelings.

You were worried that you had already caught them.

You wanted to give in, to completely melt as you came undone at his touch.

But now was not the time. Maybe never would be the right time.

Or maybe you were afraid of what could happen. How your life would change.

Either way, you had no control over the butterflies in your core. They were a constant hassle whenever Draco was around.

His eyes were still locked on yours, his hand gently caressing your face. "I don't know how much longer I can hold out, y/n," he mumbles, his eyes taking in every inch of your body.

You're also taking in the view.

"You'll just have to keep waiting, Draco," you reply, moving your hand to touch the side of his face, holding it for a moment before you pull back. You begin to walk out the door, swinging your hips more than you normally would, feeling his cool gaze on you.

"Let's go get some oatmeal, I'm starved."

You're the only ones at the table, as Draco decided to make you both get up at an ungodly hour in the morning. You weren't even sure if the sun had risen yet.

You should definitely still have been asleep, you decided as you looked into your food, eyes unfocused and distant.

Suddenly you feel a blueberry smack your forehead. It falls on your plate and you look up to find Draco intensely focused on his bacon.

A little too focused, if you had to say so yourself.

You pick it up and throw it at him. It perches right in his hair.

You surpass a giggle, trying not to look up into his eyes.

"Mm?" he questions, oblivious to the fruit.

"Nothing," you say back.

A few minutes of silence go by as you wait for him to eat. You'd practically inhaled your chocolate chip muffin.

You catch yourself. You were waiting on him? On Draco? What had happened to you?

"Right," you said. "I'm just going to go to the quidditch field to get some extra practice in."

"Might have to join you," he mutters. "Can't have you getting better than me now can we?"

"Your team lost, in case you didn't notice."

"Well you would've been knocked out if I didn't save you from that bludger."

"Maybe I'd rather get my brains bashed in than be saved by you," you say, pretending to be disgusted by the idea of him.

"Maybe I'll let something else slam you. Let's see how talkative you are after that," he says with a smirk.

You snort, the orange juice you were drinking coming out your nose.

Dammit.

He won this round, you think as you quickly clean yourself up with napkins, scowling at his stupid, smirking face.

You hated this boy.

You got up and walked towards the quidditch fields, back to where you felt safe, always ready to lose yourself in the clouds.

The sun still hasn't risen as you walk out, leaving you making the first footprints on the dewy grass. You grab your broomstick out of the storage closet, and fly off, soaring through the clouds.

You're heading to your favorite spot on the whole castle, where three large towers sit very close together, and are joined by a small platform, just large enough for five or six people to stand comfortably. You found the little spot years ago, after a particularly nasty fight with Draco.

How fitting, then, should you see him kick off from the quidditch field, soaring up in the sky, and zooming behind the stands.

You've just watched him fly around the entire castle twice when it hits you.

Is he looking for me? To find me? You wonder.

You sigh but can't help but smile.

Maybe you didn't hate him.