𝐅𝐑𝐔𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 | Draco Malfoy

𝐏 𝐑 𝐎 𝐋 𝐎 𝐆 𝐔 𝐄

Draco Malfoy was always punctual.

From arriving early to class, to waking up first before any of his friends—when the sun had barely even risen.

But Draco Malfoy rarely had things go his way.

Despite being perfectly on time or even earlier, the things he wanted were always given to someone else before he could get his hands on them.

Maybe the early bird doesn't always get the worm.

The golden snitch was a perfect example. He was a fast flyer, despite having only made it to the team because his father bought his slot. He seemed to have always spotted the winged sphere first and aim towards it before anyone else—but for some unfathomable reason, there were still events when someone got to it first.

But even if he threw his fists in the air as strong as he could and cursed the skies with the most vulgar words he could think of, there was nothing more he could do.

There was nothing more he could do to stop the fury-filled letter his father would soon send him, and the disappointed eyes that criticized his every action. Nothing more to stop the occasional fist that was thrown in his face for, quote, "being a failure and a loser" as Lucius liked to say.

But this only taught him to act vain and pretend to be better than everyone else—to conceal the sore loser that was really within him.

This was his way of coping. Insults, bullying, a blunt or a shot at times. His only way of getting what he wanted—to forget about the things he got to first but didn't get to claim.

Be it the snitch or the girl.

And all Clementia Bass had to do was lift a finger.

She didn't have to prove herself, or improve her grades, or be good at Quidditch.

Clementia Bass always got what she wanted.

No matter what time of the day it was, her desires were always served to her on a silver platter.

Or at least that's what it looked like.

All the expensive dresses, luxurious vacations—the easy life, it only taught her how to bottle up her emotions.

Whenever she got sad, there was money.

And on the other hand, whenever he got sad, there was power.

And in an unlikely twist of fate, the two people who had uncommon ways of jumping over the hurdles of life found themselves alone in a room, no boundaries, no limitations, no clothing—nothing but them and a cold, lonely night.

That's when they realized—that it wasn't money or power that provided what they wanted the most.

Something Clementia couldn't buy,

and something Draco couldn't order his henchmen to do.

But both were too blinded by their royalty-like statuses—to admit,

"Let's make a deal,"

"I fuck the living hell out of you whenever I want to,"

"and whenever you want to,"

"But in return, you will do whatever I tell you to do."

that he wanted her, and she wanted him.

But it wasn't really as simple as buying a new bag, or beating someone up.

Who knew,

"Are you mad?"

"We're only having sex, Draco. I'm not going to be your little doll."

That a harmless, meaningless, one night stand

brought by impulse, lust,

and frustration,

could turn into something deeper than sex?