99 ways to say I love you- Draco Malfoy

No.43

I never meant to make you feel like that

Emily Davies was drunk. Not tipsy. She was practically passed out. Her body moving to the rhythm of whatever pop song is playing at the Gryffindor party and her mind is struggling to grasp any thought other than one. Draco.

Draco was pulling away from her. Barely speaking to her. He'd promised you and I as they laid listening to Hermione's gentle snores but he had been MIA ever since. She was lucky to have a minute of his time. He hardly looked at her, let alone touched her. They hadn't had sex since the night before summer break. They hadn't even kissed properly since diagon alley. She was drunk. She was horny. She was lonely.

She's vaguely aware of Lavender Brown kissing Ron and immediately her feet are following after Hermione, until a hand wraps round her wrist

"You're way too drunk to handle this one," Harry smiles gently

"No. No- I'm fine," she hiccups "have to see her! Worst friend ever-" she protests, staggering a little and stabilising herself on Harry's shoulder.

"Not the worst friend. You'll speak to her tomorrow. I'll go look after her, okay? You get to bed yeah?" He prompts. She nods. Her thoughts once more with Draco as she decides to attempt to go and find him.

She stumbles down the corridor before she arrives at their shared quarters, flinging the door open to see Draco leaning over a book and scribbling notes vigorously.

He looks up and immediately his heart drops. He knows she's only got so drunk out of her hurt she's feeling from his cold manner. Can't help but think of when she stumbled in only a year before, he truly believed back then he would get to keep her. He wouldn't have her ripped away from him.

He realises as he looks at her in one swift instant that it's too late. He can't keep her safe anymore. He knows that. He looks at her as she smiles at him and knows the best thing he can do for her is end the relationship. It's the last thing he wants. He's certain she's the only good thing he has. But he won't put her at risk. Won't be the one to put her in danger.

"Hey precious, you okay?" He questions gently, standing up. Tomorrow that conversation could come. Right now he wanted to bask her in one last time.

"Baby, you are here!" She cheers, jumping up in his arms and latching onto him like a koala

"Hey sweetheart," he whispers into her ear, pressing a kiss to the side of her head

"'Mione is sad. Lav kissed Ron," she stresses

"Hey, hey, don't you worry over it. You can comfort Hermione tomorrow. Right now I need to get you to bed. Alright?"

"Yeah," she nods happily. He easily climbs the stairs with her in his arms. He pulls the little red dress over her shoulders and finds her a shirt of his for her to sleep in. "My makeup," she grumbles. Rubbing her face with tired hands as if it'll take the makeup from her skin.

"Ill get it," he smiles gently. Running down to the bathroom and returning with her makeup remover and some cotton pads. "Can you rub it off?" He questions, pouring the liquid onto the cotton.

"You have to do it. You have to look after me cause you're my angel," she grins happily. He lets out a soft sigh, moving his hand to gently wipe the layer of makeup from her skin.

"Here, have this water," he offers her the plastic bottle from his bedside table.

"No. No want a fun drink. We can have a fun drink together!" She shouts excitedly, grabbing his hand "Dean had firewhiskey," she adds

"Think you've had enough fun drink," he teases, ignoring the pout on her lips. She takes the water with a dramatic frown and gulps it down before passing the bottle back.

"Okay, you get some sleep alright?"

"Where are you going?" She demands

"To finish my reading,"

"No. No you have to stay. Have to hold me. You never hold me anymore Draco. You don't care anymore," she complains.

He stiffens at that. He'd been pulling away, knowing that the day he had to end things was coming and hoping to make the eventual breakup a gradual process. That hurt though. The thought of her truly believing for a second he didn't care about her. He would always care about her. He will care about her when they're old and grey and she's married with grandkids and he's in an old manor all alone just a distant memory to her. If they made it that far.

"Oh, oh angel, I never meant to make you feel like that. You really think I don't care about you?" He questions, climbing onto the bed next to her as she collapses into his arms. She really was like a little kid when she was drunk.

"You never kiss me or hold me or tell me anything anymore. Thought you got bored,"

"Emily, you listen to me. No matter what happens to me and you, I care about you. I will never be bored of you. Everything I do is to look after you. Everything I do is for you. Even if at the time it feels like it's not. You're the only thing that matters anymore. Nothing, no one else. Okay? I care always, you don't forget that for a second,"

Eventually his girlfriend falls asleep in his arms. He climbs out of bed and folds two jumpers and a shirt, spraying them with cologne and stuffing them to the bottom of her trunk. A momentum of him when the inevitable came.