His Potter girl

09

I'm on my way to Divination. To be completely honest, I do know I'm a little late, but that's not what I'll tell Trelawney when I get to her class. The book I'm engaged in at the moment is so much better, and reading is actually good for my education, therefore, I don't know why I really need to go to class. It's just what it is, I guess. Fair enough.

"Potter!" I look ahead to Draco in front of me, getting ready to wave my hand.

Abruptly, he grabs me by my arm, towards a classroom, he had just mumbled a spell to open. My book actually falls to the floor, startling me.

Before I can ask what on Earth just crossed his mind, because I'm already late, and even if I didn't have this class with him,--by the way, why is he not in class?--I would still see him at lunch, or at another class, or at the library, or at dinner, or at the fucking--

I hear the door being poundered on and the pair of Harry and Ron hysterical-talking to each other for a reason that doesn't exactly come to mind, partly because I can't hear them properly, from the other side of the door, until I turn around and lock my eyes with him. Then I know all too well what's going on.

He takes a few steps towards me and, maintaining eye contact, holds the skin opposite to my palms. I watch him look away, curving his lips into a smile like he's about to crack up. In fact, he does. Quickly, I'm forced to look away and make sure my brother is already gone.

What can I say? Between the tension and his contagious laugh, I start cracking up too. Just echoing him, until tears tip down the corner of my eyes. He wipes them like it's a reflex, slowly bringing us back to silence. My gaze ricochets from his eyes to his lips, which makes him kind of uptight; I can sense it.

Something inside me comes to life, or forsooth, comes out, bringing myself  wanting to make the first move. As it happens, I put my hands in his shoulders to pull me up a little and directly crash my lips into his. He does not step away. For some reason, I thought he would. It actually comforts me that he doesn't.

As I'm heavy-hardly breathing into his mouth and moving my hands desperately in his hair, he is calmly kissing me so good, so slow and lifting my skirt a little. all of it with an incredible amount of confidence I know I'll never have around (accordingly, kissing) anyone.

He drags me, making me walk backwards, although, he's basically carrying me. I wait for my back to hit the wall, but it doesn't. Instead I am sat up on a table that gets me at a considerable height for me to kiss him more appropriately. Frankly, if he had thought about all that just to make me more comfortable, he's an angel. (Or a beast willing to do anything that makes me still want to kiss him until we both run out of breath).

His hands travel through the length of my thighs, tickling me. To the point they end up being unbearable and I have to break from the kiss to stop his hands.

"What's wrong? Did I make you uncomfortable or something?" I smile as he takes a step away from me, with his hands still touching my knees, just barely.

"You really like tickling. It's not the same as stroking."

"I would pretty much call that stroking. Maybe you're just too tickly."

I pretend to be offended and hit his shoulder.

He loses balance for a second, making me frown deeply, but he's so fast that I can't say anything about it before he throws himself at me tickling my waist and belly.

"No, no, no. Please, stop." I laugh helplessly. Anyone watching this would think I didn't want him to stop. "Draco!" I elongated the O. Even trying to get hold of his hands didn't work. He was too strong.

I kicked his chest with my shoe, finally sending him away, and trying to recover from this, ironically, hilarious moment. It just occurs to me that I'm wearing very huge boots and that i may have hurt him. Ups.

"You okay?"

"Yup." But he doesn't look okay. "I got it. No tickles. Just go to class, you hair-mess." He shook his hand in my hair, which I hit away. This led into a small fight of trying to push our arms away until we both landed in a hug. A very comforting hug.

He bent over to grab my books from the floor and gave them to me.

"Are you coming?" I said to him, already at the door. His hand was in his hair and his stare on the ground; he looked just like when I hit his shoulder: disorientated.

"No. I have better things to do than sit on a table and listen to that crazy woman for ninety straight minutes." He barely even looks at me.

All of a sudden, I feel a kind of hurt, or sulkiness myself. Upset, and not worried about him anymore, I simply leave. Back to the empty and muted corridors of Hogwarts.

I've never thought about how much I'd like to be one of those girls in books and films that run around their college long corridors. I used to think it would be exciting.

I don't know if they run away or towards something, I guess it depends on the case. I'd definitely rather to run towards something. But I don't know yet what's so exciting out there that would make me want to run along this endless corridors.

Someday, I suppose.