"Good girl."
WARNINGS:
- lots of mature themes (smut)
-violence
-Toxicity
Highest rankings:
1 on Dracomalfoy
1 on malfoy
1 on dracolovestory
1 on spice
Draco's a bit obsessive in this book
THE FIRST FEW CHAPTERS ARE NOT THAT WELL DONE BUT I P...
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Y/N ROWENS POV
I stood there emotions on high watching Draco being carefully attended to on the white bed sheets. His blood turning the linen crimson, he was still unconscious, unaware of events that just happened.
"What would you like dear?" A kind faced lady asked.
"Oh um well I was just visiting." I told her, stumbling the words out of my mouth.
"You must be new, I am Madam Pomfrey." She got up and made her way over to me. "I'm guessing you have come to see Draco as no one else is here?"
"Yes." I said softly Turing my eyes to look down to the floor holding my arms.
"That's a surprise Draco never gets visitors, anytime he has previously been in here. Apart from that one girl Parkinson." Her voice becoming annoyed by the last things she said.
"Yeah I'm a friend of his."
"Well I leave you two then I've got things to get on with." Madam lastly commented, making her way out of the exit.
I rushed straight down to Draco to asses the damage that had been done to him: black eye, the blood that was caused by friction burns, a growing bruise on top of his forehead and a cut lip.
Not me finding the cut lip hot.
Pulling up a chair from the corner to sit beside him, I spotted a poem sleeping on the window seal, I picked it up and it read.
Pablo Neruda Love Sonnet XI
I decided to read it aloud to Draco to see if it helps him gain strength To wake up again,
꧁꧂꧁꧂꧁꧂
I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair. Silent and starving, I prowl through the streets. Bread does not nourish me, dawn disrupts me, all day I hunt for the liquid measure of your steps.
I hunger for your sleek laugh, your hands the color of a savage harvest, hunger for the pale stones of your fingernails, I want to eat your skin like a whole almond.
꧁꧂꧁꧂꧁꧂
My hand automatically made its way into his without me registering what I was doing, gliding into his paw. The poem made me think how perfectly it described my attraction to Draco, how I ached for his touch the way it influenced me, how I was always thinking about him when I didn't even want to and how his laugh was the cutest not mention his tenderness for me when we were alone.
I departed from the chair to crouch down beside him setting my small hand on his cheek, other depositing singular hair strands back in place gentility scratching his head.
