𝐮𝐧𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝 | 𝐝.𝐦

𝟒𝟗

Draco Malfoy | April 1996

Draco's eyes were saucers as he stared dumbfoundedly at Kaimana.

Okay, so he was wrong. Kaimana was in fact not harmless. She was in fact crazy.

"If you're weak in the gore department, I suggest you don't go into the third stall." She sounded congested from all her crying as she wiped her tears with the back of her hand. "It's a real mess and her dress is ugly. Fucking hell, it looks like moss. I think the blood added some pizzazz."

He didn't even blink.

Kaimana... this girl... the girl he was falling for... killed someone?

And she was acting perfectly normal? Besides the fact that she was livid about her blazer being ruined.

"Don't fucking look at me like that, stalker." She scoffed and shoved him back, so she could slide off the counter. She winced as she did so.

Draco just stood there, his slender fingers trembling.

Usually the person would run for the hills and report the murder and get the murderer thrown in Azkaban.

But Draco didn't feel the desire to do either. Instead, he felt the great desire to protect Kaimana. He felt more... drawn to her... more attracted and comfortable with her.

Holy fuck, did that make him mad? Crazy?

Perhaps it was the idea that she did this to protect the ones she cared about. Perhaps that was what his mind and heart clung onto.

"If you keep standing there with that blank look on your face, I'll slap you."

Draco blinked and saw Kaimana staring at him with brows drawn together in frustration. "What?" His voice was hoarse, and he was suddenly thirsty for water.

She stared at him in vexation for a moment before she shook her head at him and went back to trying to clean her hands. "She ruined it, Draco," she said. "She ruined my blazer. There's blood all over it—and the rip!"

"I can fix it." He took her hands in his and under the water, he rubbed softly at the spots of blood she missed from being too high on energy and anger and frustration.

"My blazer was new," she muttered sadly, and let her cheek rest against the rich material of his blazer over his bicep. "I liked it too. I felt pretty in it, and now it's soaked in her bitter blood."

"You look pretty in everything." He turned the water off and took her wet hands in his, braiding their fingers. He turned to her and his eyes were soft, but serious. "Clover, look at me."

Kaimana veered her gaze to him, her makeup streaked down her cheeks.

"Where is the knife?" he asked lowly.

"Up your ass."

"Not the time for jokes, Clover." His eye twitched.

"Sorry. It's like a reflex to respond like that." She cleared her throat and took one of her hands from his. She reached under her blazer to the back of her pants and pulled out a knife that had dried blood all over the blade. "It's a steak knife. It was in me. Not my vagina, but in my stomach."

He took the knife from her and put it on the counter before kneeling down, so he could look at her wound. He peeled her blood stained blazer away from her wound and then he pulled her blood drenched lace top up, so her wound was exposed.

He looked at her wound, brows knitted together in seriousness. Her wound was small considering the size of the steak knife, but it looked pretty deep. Blood was still spilling out of her wound, and the edges of her wound were thick and dried with blood. Around her wound was blood, dried and fresh. All blood.