Draco got up the next morning at five a.m. and took a cold shower.
He had spent a sleepless night by Evan's side, holding her in his arms as she slept like the dead. She had barely moved for hours when he got up—far earlier than he liked to, but he had unable to lay in bed anymore.
As Draco washed in the shower, he suddenly thumped his forehead against the tile, remembering that they had a Quidditch match that day. And he had not gotten nearly enough sleep to deal with Quidditch Captain Theo.
This was proven not long afterwards, as he walked back out into the dormitory at the sound of heated knocking at the door.
Draco had locked the door hours ago with two or three good protective enchantments. He looked down at the sleeping Evan in his bed, panicked as he walked towards the door.
"What?" he snapped, pushing the door closed, as Theo had broken through the enchantments. Draco had just barely reached the door in time to snap it back shut with both hands.
"Malfoy?" Theo's voice asked, trying to push the door open. "Oi, let me in! I haven't been to bed all night and we got Quidditch!"
"I—" Draco started, calling out to Theo from beyond the door. He looked over at Evangeline, tangled in his comforter. "I have a . . . " he swallowed, resting his forehead on the door in pitiful surrender. "I have a girl in here."
There was a moment of silence. Draco looked up at the door, his forehead still pressed against it, willing Theo to fuck off with his mind.
Theo scoffed. "Course you do, little git."
Theo acted like this was a normal occurrence, even though Draco had not once brought a girl to their dorm in seven bloody years.
Whatever—at least the dumbass rumors had worked in his favor this time. Theo's retreating footsteps echoed from the staircase.
Draco waved a his wand at the door, sealing it shut again, and threw on two more enchantments for good measure.
- - -
It was around 9 a.m. when Evangeline finally stirred in her sleep.
Draco was sitting up in bed, attempting to read. He had really been re-reading the same page for the past half hour. He kept zoning out, forgetting what he just read and having to start all over again.
It was hard to focus when there were sex noises and loud moans coming from the girl's dormitories below. Draco had quickly discovered where Theo went after he locked him out.
Draco had the radio playing, attempting to drown out the sounds. Listening to other people fuck was cringey enough—but listening to Pansy and Theo fuck? It was hell on earth.
"Unnnngh," Evan suddenly groaned. She turned over, facing away from Draco. He looked at her cautiously. She seemed to go back to sleep, so he kept reading.
"Unnnngh," she groaned again. And then again. She made the noise a third time, and Draco rolled his eyes at her, flipping the page of his book without reading the one before it at all.
Within the next minute, Evan was propping up onto an elbow. Her face was turned away, so Draco stared at the back of her head, scowling at her tangled hair. She still wore her black party dress, the straps fallen down her forearms. He held his breath as she rubbed her forehead, groaning in pain.
"About time," Draco growled as she was almost sitting up.
Evan let out a shriek, scrambling, and fell off of Draco's bed, landing on her ass on the floor. She looked up at him from the ground, horrified and wide eyed.
"What—?" she stuttered in abject horror, her eyes wide and finally sober.
"Save the dramatics," Draco snapped, looking down at his book.
There were a few moments of silence in which Draco just brooded, restarting the page for the millionth time.
"WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO TO ME?!"
He snapped the bloody book closed, enraged.
"Me?" he barked, his teeth barred as he blazed down at her from afar. "You're fucking kidding me, right?"
"You . . . you . . . " Evan stuttered, shaking her head. "Why am I in your dormitory, Malfoy?!"
Jesus Christ.
"WHERE IS EVERYONE!? WHAT IF SOMEONE HAD COME IN-!"
"I locked everyone out, your reputation is safe," Draco hissed. She was still on her ass on the floor, but she scrambled up, pissed at Draco for whatever fucking reason.
"WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED?!" Evan screeched, staring down at him.
Draco calmly placed his hands behind his head, crossing his legs as he lounged underneath her death stare. "What do you remember?"
"We . . . we went to Ravenclaw," Evan stuttered. Draco had to resist the urge to roll his eyes. Hers scanned the four poster, where they had spent the night tangled in a warm embrace that she didn't remember. "Oh my god. Did we. . .? We didn't. . ."
She was looking between Draco and his mattress, horrified and screwing up her eyebrows.
"Thanks for the confidence, Blackwood," Draco snapped. "You really think I'd fuck you when you were barely conscious?"
"Is that a no?"
"FUCK YOU!" Draco screamed at the top of his lungs, sitting up and absolutely exploding on her. "I TOOK CARE OF YOUR BITCH ASS ALL NIGHT!"
"TOOK CARE OF ME?! I DON'T NEED YOU TAKING CARE OF ME!" Evan screamed, her face extended forward to glare down at him.
"NO?!" Draco hollered, swinging his legs over the side of his bed. She was in so much fucking trouble, she had no idea. He walked towards her, and she took a step back, alarmed at how hurriedly he had shown up right in front of her. Draco blared the truth at her, staring down into her wide, mascara-smeared eyes. "YOU WERE POPPING PILLS AND GETTING MOLESTED BY MICHAEL CORNER!" he saw her face fall. "DAMN RIGHT YOU NEEDED TO BE TAKEN CARE OF!"
"W-What?" Evan stuttered. It pissed him off even more, watching the realization hit her.
"Oh yeah," Draco threatened, taking another step forward. "You're in deep shit, Blackwood."
It was the root of his rage—that she was so fucking stupid, so careless as to get that goddamn wasted. She got fucked up like that often. She was fucked up at the beginning of year party and every party since—at Hufflepuff, and now Ravenclaw. She needed to fucking stop.
"You were a goddamn idiot last night," he said, his voice lower but still inflamed. "You put yourself in danger."
"I don't . . . I don't remember," Evan said worriedly, searching the floor and rubbing her forehead.
"Clearly," Draco snapped, tilting his head. "And you assume I raped you in your sleep or something!? Fucking cunt!" he exploded.
"No no no," she said, raising a finger and waving it at him, ignoring his insult. "No, wait a damn minute. I remember you in the corridor, you were touching all up on me and you had a boner and—"
Draco flinched.
"That was Corner," he seethed through gritted teeth, reeling his anger in. "You were easy prey to him, fucked up as you were."
"Oh, it's my fault?!" Evan exclaimed, spitting the words out at him.
"Fuck yes it is," Draco said, taking another step forward and squaring up to her. "And it's Corners fault, and it's my fucking fault because I should have kept on eye on you!" he raged, pointing a finger down at her and releasing his guilt in an explosion of anger.
"I don't need you to keep an eye on me," she said heatedly, as if he were just a nuisance, a bug she must swat away.
"I saved your sorry ass!"
"Oh, my hero," she spit out ruthlessly. "And you decided to take me not to my own bed but to yours? For what, to be nice? Fuck that."
Draco's face fell in devastation. She truly thought so very low of him. "You should have realized by now that I would never do anything to you without your permission," he whispered.
Draco could see the wheels turning in her head. It made the sting in his chest worse, watching how she had to bloody think about it.
After a pause, she seemed decided, but Draco didn't know what she had decided upon. She changed the course of the conversation altogether.
"Why did you take me here?" Evan asked, eyeing Draco with reluctance.
"I took you to bed. You were fucked up and sick."
"Cut the bullshit, for once!" she yelled out. She sneered at him, looking him up and down. "I just want you to admit to it."
"Admit to what?" he asked, laughing incredulously.
He knew what she was after—the admittance that she wanted to hear. He refused to give it to her—she just wanted to hear it for her own fucking satisfaction.
"Forget it," Evan muttered, tearing past him and heading for the door.
"Goddamn you, Blackwood!" Draco yelled furiously, "Because I didn't want to leave you alone! Because I wanted to take care of you!"
"Why?"
"What do you mean, why?!" he screamed through gritted teeth.
"You hate me, right? Why bring me here to take care of me, why sleep next to me?" she said, walking back to him slowly. There was a small, knowing smirk on her face that made Draco want to let her walk out the fucking door.
He opened his mouth, trying to find a way to explain without giving her what she wanted. He couldn't think of anything except the cold, hard facts of it all.
"Because you don't hate me. Do you?"
"Right now? I want to fucking murder you," Draco seethed.
"But you don't hate me, not anymore. Admit it," Evan countered. She snickered at him, entertained that she had him trapped.
"I'm not admitting to shit," Draco hissed. "I confessed plenty last night. It's not my problem that you don't remember it." He stood his ground against her ruthless manipulation. "And you owe me a fucking thank you."
"Thank you," she said without hesitation.
Draco exhaled, calming down. But it wasn't enough. He beat the flying fuck out of Corner for her, broke his hand, carried her down a million flights of stairs, held her hair back while she puked her guts out, stayed up all night to stand guard over her—and in return, she had been toying with him since the very moment she regained consciousness.
So he lunged at her, locking his fingers around her throat like a manacle. He dug his fingertips in, yanked her face into his, and raised hellfire upon her.
"Don't . . . you . . . ever!" Draco yelled, inches from her face. "Get that fucked up again. Understand?"
"Well, it was fun . . . at first," she replied smoothly, leaning in and giving him an erotic smirk. Draco was in no mood to be teased—not even by her.
"Evangeline, I swear—!"
"Okay, Jesus!" she exclaimed, because he had tightened his chokehold and death-gripped her jugular.
"Oh, Jesus isn't gonna help you!" he yelled into her mouth, taking a menacing step in.
"I understand. Okay?! Just—!" and she yanked his hand off. He let it fall to his side, clenching it into a fist. Then he released it, letting his knuckles relax.
He sat down onto the edge of his bed, rubbing his forehead. His sleepless night made him feel like his brain was about to ooze out of his ears.
"You can't go out there," he said with his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose.
"What now?" Evan whined, turning back around from where she had walked to the door. She looked so fucking bratty that he couldn't keep his mouth from twitching.
"Quidditch match today," Draco explained, nodding to the door.
"And?" Evan scoffed, crossing her arms.
"And the entire house is in the common room, pre-gaming," Draco told her. The Slytherin Quidditch Groupies did it every match—he'd been listening to the music all morning. "And I'm pretty sure, judging by the noise earlier, that Theodore and Pansy are in your dormitory."
Evan looked at the door in disgust, as if the door was giving her an instant reply of Theo and Pansy. Draco chuckled silently, but pursed his lips to hide it when she turned back around.
"God, they're back together?"
"I think together is a strong word," Draco said with a smirk.
Hopefully they weren't together and had never been together. Hopefully they were just shagging—because Theo couldn't be that stupid, could he?
"For fuck's sake. Give me a towel then," Evan then snapped. She extended a hand like Draco was supposed to have a towel hiding up his ass, hers for the taking.
"What?"
"I need a fucking shower. May I have a towel?!" she suddenly raged out. Draco's eyes widened because she was so goddamn cranky and it was scary. "I won't get mud on it, promise."
Draco threw her a heated glare. "Don't say shit like that," he snapped in outrage as he walked over to his trunk. He crossed over to her, depositing the towel into her hand.
"Why not? You've said it for seven years."
Evan was smiling this sick, fake smile at him. She wasn't wrong, of course.
"You're downright nasty this morning, aren't you?" Draco asked, eyeing her with caution.
"I'm only hoping that I puked on you last night," she said, walking to the lavoratory. "Got an extra toothbrush?"
He did, as it so happened.
- - -
Draco knew it shouldn't have been a big deal. But Evangeline was in his shower. She was naked and wet and—oh god.
He tried to keep reading, but every time he looked at the page, the words shifted to the image of her—naked and wet with her arms raised as she washed her hair. . .
Draco shifted uncomfortably, scowling at the closed lavatory door.
But then, he heard a sound from below. At first they were just talking, then there was a stretch of silence, and then he yet again listening to Theodore fucking Nott and Pansy goddamn Parkinson.
Draco snapped his book down and scrambled to turn the radio up, blasting the Weird Sisters. If there were any way to cure his raging Evan-hard-on, it was that.
It was not long before the woman herself reappeared before him, dressed in her same party dress from the night before. Now, though, her hair was wet as she dried it down with his towel, steam following her out of the bathroom, her skin flushed and clean.
"God, your bathrooms are disgusting," Evan complained when she stepped into his line of sight. He looked at her wet hair, her exposed legs, the dress.
"Take it up with the house elves," Draco mumbled, trying to act natural. "Feel better?" he asked, darting his eyes back up to her from where they had dropped to his book.
"Not really," Evan said with a sigh, tossing his towel into his hamper. "Safe to leave, yet?"
Draco smirked, leaned over, and turned down the radio just to torture her.
Theo! Oh my god, Theo! Yes!
"Turn it back up, turn it back up!" Evan begged frantically, covering her ears.
Draco laughed, then obeyed her wishes. The song drowned out the partiers downstairs and their friends' private, far more intimate party.
"The floors here are especially thin, hm?" Draco teased.
Evan surprised him when she walked over and sat down on the edge of his bed. She even raised his comforter and slipped underneath it, sitting up against his headboard.
How quickly she had grown comfortable there, in his presence and under his bedsheets. It made his cheeks prickle with heat.
"You know, there's still a pair of my panties in there," Evan said, nodding to his nightstand.
Happy that they had returned to their usual rapport—instead of screaming and malice and angry chokeholds—Draco set his book down and shifted.
"Want them?" he asked deviously.
"Not particularly," she said with a shrug.
"Good. I do enjoy them," he teased her.
"Sick fucker," she said, chuckling.
Then, they fell into silence. It was not uncomfortable, to Draco's surprise. He had not often spent much real time with her at all—even though they had been pseudo-friends for seven years and had been fooling around with one other for two months straight.
They sat side by side on Draco's mattress, and he realized that he no idea what to even do with her. He didn't know where they would go from there.
Evan caught him staring at her. She stared back for a moment before she was suddenly sighing and shuffling down, laying her head on his pillow.
Draco didn't even hesitate. He followed her, soon gazing into her eyes across his pillowcase.
He wanted her. Fuck the consequences.
Everything needed to be out in the open. He hid the true intentions of the bet—from her and from himself. And he'd hidden something else, too.
"I'm still pissed at you. But there's something you should know," Draco said. He cleared his throat, preparing.
"God, what else did I do last night?" Evan asked across his pillowcase. She was smiling at him, grinning widely, recovered from her foul mood. He smiled softly.
"Well, several things," Draco said truthfully. "But it's not that."
"Okay," she said in undoubted suspicion. She shifted closer into him and laid her hand between their faces on the pillowcase. "What, then?" she asked, her voice light and gentle, her eyes soft with growing curiosity.
"There's something I've been needing to tell you . . . and I've been waiting for the right time and since . . . we currently have lots of time. . ." Draco said, quirking an eyebrow. Evan chuckled.
"Okay. Then . . . tell me," she said. "Sounds serious."
"I just think you deserve to know, before anything else happens with us," Draco murmured, holding her eye contact but stalling.
"So, before we shag, you mean?" Evan asked, shifting. She was teasing again, fucking around with him, but Draco was not having it.
"Yes," Draco deadpanned.
He paused, because he didn't know exactly where to start. He had never even said it out loud before. It hadn't mattered, really.
"Well goddamn, Malfoy. I'm on the edge of my fucking seat," she huffed, her voice back to its normal, dominant state. "Spit it out."
Draco exhaled, then sat up, propping up on his elbow and hovering over her. She turned to meet his eyes, and he got lost in hers.
"I haven't done it."
"Done what?"
Draco tilted his head, looking down at her in irritation.
"Yeah, I'm not following," she said, shaking her head. Then she rose, leaning up on her elbow to be level with him. The strap of her dress fell off her shoulder.
"Evangeline," Draco said darkly, ingraining the words into her head as truth. "I've never fucked anyone."
He held her eye contact, not breaking or even bending. Her face fell.
"Bullshit," Evan laughed, after she weighed it in her head and decided it was a farce.
"Wow, okay," Draco said, narrowing his eyes at her.
"Draco, I know you have. Pansy—"
"No," Draco cut her off, shaking his head in direct denial.
"But she said—"
"I have never touched her, in any way. We've snogged like . . . twice," Draco said, forcing the anger out of his voice. He already told Evan that he hadn't fucked Parkinson—he'd told her more than once. It was funny that Parkinson's lies were her first line of rebuttal, every time.
He watched as Evan's face changed, her indignance falling into shock. Draco could not help but find her expression amusing. Her mouth was open, for fuck's sake.
"Draco," she then said, cautiously. He immediately flopped down into his pillow, hiding his blushed face in it. He groaned, wrapping his arms around it and burying deep within to drown the world out. "Are you trying to tell me that you're a virgin?"
"I was trying to," he grumbled into the pillow.
From his pillow sanctuary, Draco heard Evan shuffle. Then she was suddenly pulling on his arm, yanking him over and rolling him over onto his back.
"That . . . doesn't make any sense," Evan said in shock, leaning over him.
"Why?" Draco asked, furrowing his brows.
"Well, have you met you?" she asked, eyes wide. Draco laughed at the shrill, outraged tone of her voice.
"Okay, buckle up, Blackwood," Draco said, shifting closer to her. He looked down for a moment, stealing himself, then snapped his gaze up to her eyes, spilling his entire sexual history in one blow. "I haven't had sex, I've never had my dick sucked . . ." he said, but then he paused, looking her up and down and smirking. "I've never been given a handjob inside of my trousers—until you, of course."
"But why?" she asked.
"What do you mean, why?" Draco scoffed at her ridiculousness.
"Just . . . why?" she asked in complete shock, her eyes wide as she came to terms with it all.
Draco paused, looking her up and down. He wanted her to know all of the facts, so she could make an informed decision—as it was no easy task to get into bed him.
"Okay," Draco said firmly. "It's quite the horrifying tale. So, do you really want to know?"
"Well, obviously," she said with a tinge of heat.
"I've tried to, but it didn't . . . work out," Draco said, cringing at the memory.
"What-?"
"Shut the fuck up for a second," he snapped, trying to think. Evan chuckled at his aggression, and he couldn't resist smiling back at her. "I've only kind of had sex once. With Astoria," he explained.
"Kind of?" Evan laughed. "What does that even mean?"
"It's a bit graphic," Draco warned.
"Oh, come on," Evan chuckled, because at this point in their relationship, she'd seen her fair share of vulgarity from him.
"Well, I mean. . ." Draco said, trying to find the correct way to word it. He shifted, fidgeting with his comforter. "We tried to. But it didn't work."
"I don't—"
"Shush. We tried to. But I got about halfway, then I hurt her, and she was crying. . ."
And then Astoria shoved him off, turned on her side and sobbed, clutching her stomach.
In reality, he had barely touched her. They had fooled around before, but it was her first time ever seeing him in all his glory. He always touched her, kissed her, pleasured her. He never let her reciprocate and, really, she never tried to. He did enjoy the relationship, to an extent. But they never really talked much.
When they finally decided to fuck, Astoria had been so excited about the prospect. But the Draco Malfoy in her head was a very different person that the one of reality. The real one was darker, more menacing, and—to a girl like Astoria Greengrass—he was too blood-thirsty.
He had gotten too eager, shoving into her without much work up. He thought it was hot, but she obviously felt differently. She wanted soft, gentle, and romantic. Draco wanted hot, heated, and aggressive.
"Crying? Like . . . Blaise crying?" Evan asked. Draco had to hold in a wild laugh at Evan's ability to make even the most horrible conversations comical.
"No," Draco, pursing his lips. "Like . . . pain crying."
"Because you're—" she started, trailing her eyes dramatically to his crotch.
"Because I'm me. Yeah," he interrupted. "And I really hurt her, on accident of course. But I didn't want to hurt her, so I ended it."
Astoria Greengrass was a lovely person, really. She reassured Draco that it was fine, that they could still be friends. In reality, though, they rarely talked.
"And it was . . . terrible. So I haven't tried since," he said in a low voice, meeting Evan's eyes again.
There was a lot going on in her pretty little head. She had her eyebrows furrowed, she was looking him up and down, but then she smiled and did the best thing she ever could have done.
She teased him.
"So you tried to fuck Astoria but your dick was too big?" Evan asked with a smirk.
He was expecting her to be disgusted, to be horrified at the thought of shagging a virgin. He expected her to completely change her mind. But she was being lighthearted and quick-witted. Her playful teasing always managed to calm even the most worrisome of his thoughts.
In awe, Draco just nodded.
"Well I can't say I'm surprised, I have seen it."
"Fuck off," he laughed.
"But I don't believe it," she said, shaking her head. She smiled at him, her eyes alight in wonder as she searched his face. "Draco, you're . . . notorious."
"It's all lies."
"But there's no way you haven't done anything," she said in outrage.
He wasn't a complete amateur. Onyx and him had their moment, years ago. And he fooled around with Astoria for six whole months.
"I've done other things," Draco said with a shrug. "Just not . . . for my own benefit. And . . . I didn't want to hurt another girl, so . . ."
"So, Astoria traumatized you, and that's why you're still a virgin?" Evan asked. He didn't know why she had to word it like that. He started chuckling at the absurdity of her summarizing.
"Well . . . it was a little discouraging, sure," he said truthfully.
And besides, he thought, Draco had spent most of the past three years spiraling over Evan—not looking for other broads to bang.
Evan proceeded to administer a rapid-fire quiz, asking Draco about all of the girls she believed he'd shagged.
It was quite illuminating.
"What about . . . Onyx?"
"Fooled around once, during fifth year. Kissed a few times."
"Okay but . . . Daphne?"
"That's Astoria's sister, Evan. I wasn't looking for a damn matched set."
"Hannah Abbot."
"I have literally never spoken to her."
"Cho Chang?"
Cho Chang? In what bloody universe would Draco take Potter's sloppy seconds?
"Who told you I fucked Cho Chang?" Draco asked with a laugh.
He realized that Evan was not freaking out; she was fucking amazed. She wore an open smile on her face, and her eyes were twinkling at him in rash excitement.
Never able to resist, Draco placed his hand on her thigh, gripping the bare skin at the back of it into his palm.
Evan immediately bent her knee, letting Draco pull it up and around his waist. Soon, he had a leg tucked between hers, her bare thigh was around him, and she placed a light, comfortable hand on his chest.
"Theodore," Evan replied.
Draco took a moment to remember what the bloody hell they were talking about. He had been too busy looking down at her thigh, reeling.
"Exactly," he said, and the quiz continued. But this time, they were cuddled up in Draco's bed, so he found it far more enjoyable.
"Lavender Brown," Evan said.
"No."
"Millicent."
"Fuck no," Draco said, looking at her as if she were batshit crazy.
"Professor Trelawny."
". . . What the fuck?" Draco asked, doing a sharp double take.
"Ginny Weasley."
"No."
"Luna Lovegood "
"God no."
"Hermione Granger."
"You're the only muggleborn I want to fuck," Draco teased her, trailing her fingertips down her thigh.
"I just . . ." she trailed off, looking down at Draco's wandering hand. "I've always thought you were a man-whore."
"It's okay, Blackwood. You're gullible," Draco teased her, grinning so hard his cheeks started to hurt.
"So . . . none of it is true?" Evan asked. Her voice had a tone of finality, of acceptance.
"Nope," he murmured across his pillow.
"But," she said, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. She sat up, leaning over on her hand. "Why me, then?"
Who the fuck else?
"Well, I told you last night. I've wanted to have you since forth year," Draco admitted, and it was easier to say it the second time around. Then he explained the bet, the stupid proposition that he thought was such a logical plan. "But I also hated you, so I thought I might like to see you cry. I wasn't afraid of hurting you . . . at first."
"At first? So not anymore?" she asked in a low whisper, eyes wide.
"No. Not anymore," he said, dropping his smile.
Evan paused, taking in the new information he had thrown at her.
"I wanted you to know, in case you change your mind because of it," he said to Evan, touching her thigh gently. Goosebumps rose on her thigh as Draco forced himself to meet her eyes again.
She was thinking, hard. Draco wished he could hear her mind, as he always found it impossible to break through.
Soon, though, her face fell into a gentle smile.
"Do you want to know what I think?" she asked.
"Of course," Draco said softly.
"I think . . ." she said tauntingly. She reached her fingers up to play with the collar of his t-shirt.
At first, he thought she was going to tease him, to say something comical to deflect the tense atmosphere. But instead, Evan tore her eyes away from his collar and snapped her gaze up to his eyes. She searched his face with soft eyes, hers flitting back and forth between his as if she were searching for something within them.
". . . that you're incredible," Evan concluded in a soft whisper, her eyebrows furrowing together on the last word.
Draco thought she should check her pulse, as she had complimented him again. She must be dead or dying.
He blinked the fog out of his eyes and looked down at her lips. She deserved to be kissed for it.
"You tried to kiss me last night," Draco informed her, leaning in ever so slightly.
Her eyes widened, but she didn't pull back. "Did we?"
Draco shook his head. "Don't worry. I'm still waiting to win it from you."
"Good. That's something I want to be able to remember," Evan whispered on his mouth. He shivered, nearly salivating. He urged her to lean in, to let him show her exactly what it all meant.
"Since we're confessing our deep, dark secrets today . . ." Evan said, leaning back and breaking him out of his fiery stupor, "want to know one of mine?"
"Yes," Draco murmured, pulling her leg more tightly around himself. He pressed the pads of his fingers into her flesh, reveling in her proximity.
"Okay," she said. She paused, as if preparing herself. Draco opened his eyes in anticipation. "I'm . . . weird . . . about kissing."
Draco pursed his lips and blinked in confusion. "How so?"
"Well, I've kissed very few people," Evan said, a nervous tilt to her voice.
"Since you know my entire limited sexual history," Draco smirked, chuckling. "Who all have you kissed? I know it's at least three."
"What makes you say that?"
"Your body count. It was . . ." Draco paused, trying to remember the name of that Muggle bloke she shagged over the summer. "Cedric Diggory, Blaise . . . and some Muggle bloke named Hamilton."
Evan looked surprised. "You do pay attention, I suppose."
"Who else, then?" Draco asked in a chuckle. Evangeline was being entirely shady. She laughed a bit, as if there was a joke of some kind that Draco was not in on.
"Okay. Here's the full count—ready?"
Draco nodded, and Evan laid her hand on his chest again. Her fingers twitched and she looked him dead in the eyes.
"I've kissed Theo, Pansy, Onyx, and Blaise during spin the bottle this year. Crabbe during spin the bottle fourth year, Onyx during spin the bottle fifth year."
She paused, and Draco didn't understand how this was a secret. He watched all of those kisses happen.
"And Diggory. And the Muggle," he said, because she conveniently left them out.
"No," Evan said firmly, shaking her head.
"What?" Draco asked in complete confusion. But then his eyes widened and he understood. "Wait. Wait wait wait."
"Go on, make the connections," she said, laughing as he put it together.
"Have you ever kissed anyone outside of spin the bottle?" Draco asked in shock, sitting up to get a better look at her—as if he had never seen her before.
"Nope," she chuckled.
Draco laughed along, this incredulous laugh, but then he just stared at her.
"That doesn't make any sense," Draco said, shaking his head. "So you fuck these poor blokes, but you won't kiss them?"
"Well, I kissed Blaise. But our first kiss was two months ago, during spin the fucking bottle," she complained.
Oh, Draco remembered. When Zabini had sat back down, he had panted, looking utterly destroyed. Draco remembered wondering what the fuck was wrong with him—why he was freaking out when he had kissed Evan before.
This meant that Evan had not even had a boyfriend, she'd never stolen a kiss under mistletoe, and she'd never kissed Draco's best mate, as he always thought that she had.
"No wonder he almost had a heart attack. Merlin's sake," Draco laughed. Evan laughed along.
"Shagging is all . . . sexual attraction. Just for physical satisfaction. But kissing feels more . . . serious," she said with meaning, holding his eye contact.
He fidgeted semi-nervously with her damp hair, holding it between his fingers. He realized with a wash of fire in his chest that Evan had agreed to the bet, knowing she might have to kiss him in the end.
"You've never had a real kiss?" Draco whispered slowly.
"No."
"And you're going to kiss me?" he asked, snapping his eyes up to hers.
Evan simply bit her smiling lip and said, "Yes, I think I will."
Draco put the puzzle of Evangeline Blackwood together. Maybe, just as she said to him the night before through a drunken haze—the bet was just a tactic. Maybe it was a front for something deeper.
"I want to kiss you, now," Draco gasped as he understood. He gripped onto both of her hips and pulled them towards his. "Let me kiss you, right now." He leaned in, rubbing his nose on hers.
He needed to kiss her, because he feared his chest might burst.
"But you've worked so hard to win a kiss," Evan chuckled, putting minuscule distance between their lips as she leaned back to look into his eyes. "I don't want to waste it."
"God, I should've kissed you last night," Draco groaned. He respected her wishes, not leaning in again. Instead, he reached down, running the palm of his hand up her inner thigh. "I'll just have to kiss you . . . elsewhere."
Evan shifted underneath his comforter, accepting his touch. Draco swallowed an elated moan when she opened her legs, welcoming his hand. He reached around for the buttons at the back of her dress, attempting to undo them while he kissed down her neck and across her throat.
He couldn't remember the last time he had even touched her—it had been too bloody long ago. He placed heated, delicious kisses up her throat, his hips tilting into hers.
Evan practically purred, wrapping her arms around his neck and arching her back off of his mattress. He grazed between her legs. His fingers brushed onto her panties and Draco vowed to himself to steal them for his collection.
Everyone was downstairs, enjoying the party. The Weird Sisters were still turned up, drowning out any noise they might make. Draco wanted to give her everything, then give her a real kiss—as she had bloody well deserved it.
He trailed his hand up to her stomach, teasing his touch at the soft skin underneath the waistband of her panties—but right before he reached inside . . .
But suddenly, the sound of the doorknob— someone twisting it back and forth and stopping Draco's hand dead in its tracks.