Draco's exception (A Draco Malfoy love story)

Chapter 12

Draco's POV

I've fucked it.

The countless tossing and turning continuing over endless nights without shuteye haven't all been due to my own paranoia.

No matter how many times I told myself that I've 'pulled off bigger lies in the past', I couldn't shake the fact that I think she took notice to the little white one I told her all those days ago.

It feels like a lifetime since I've been transfixed by those consuming, emerald hues.

I've been longing for them on end for the better half of seventy-two hours.

Her eyes were more than plain old green. They were the green the could bring the earth back to life after an unforgiving cold.

The green that could revive grass from the harsh conditions of winter.

The green that, even in the darkest times, could be that light that shows you the way home.

They bare so much innocence, but nevertheless, they behold something so much more desirable.

I've only ever seen a flicker of hunger in them momentarily when I encountered her in the classroom, but the hunger that inflicted upon them in that brief moment has only enticed me further.

She portrays a simple girl, driven by grades and a ridiculous yearning to succeed and impress, but stare into her deceiving eyes long enough and you'll feel incredibly stupid for falling for such an act.

Nobody, not even her, is driven purely on keeping a pristine reputation.

To the naked eye, she may be fooling, but I know she won't settle for boring and craves temptation.

An unfamiliar warmth gushes through my body at any given time in which she's close to mine, and I've become so addicted to the sensation that the importance of her presence is like a drug to me now.

I can't stand it.

I won't stand for becoming a sappy boy who relies heavily on the affection of another.

I've been obsessively observing her deafening silence and distance ever since we last spoke when she opened up to me, watching how timorous she becomes at the raise of a voice or the sudden bang of a door closing or object dropping, or even at the sighting of Snape.

She should be afraid. She has no idea how afraid she should be.

But yet again, I didn't expect her to take my warning so literal.

I expected nothing less than commotion from her the very second she reentered Snape's classroom doors, but my words seemed to play a powerful effect in her reluctance to do so.

She never thought twice about speaking her mind, and that's something I found completely enticing about her.

Intimidating her is surely a challenge, though, but one I gladly accept.

I know exactly which buttons to press now (and which areas to touch) in order to bring out her sensitive side.

Watching how her nose crinkles and brows furrow are a bonus when winding her up, but the real prize is watching how much she shrinks under my gaze.

It's attentive watching how desperately she try's to match my confidence, but all it takes is the grip of my hand on her wrist or waist, or the brush of my fingers along her infectious lips, and she completely melts under my touch.

Her body locks as her eyes watch over mine and my every movement, her erratic breathing accompanying her intimidated state when her chest rises against mine.