Blood I've Spilt

Butterflies

The kiss was amazing. His lips were so soft; more than I ever thought they would be. The smell of his cologne mixed with the scent of cigarettes coming from me. It was hard to depict what his cologne consisted of but it was definitely a favourite for me. My stomach felt tight but in the best way possible. The more I got comfortable with the kiss the less my stomach seemed to twist.

His hands moved to my hips, our lips locking together in a perfect rhythm. I slipped my arms over his shoulders naturally and my fingers weaved through his hair. I was ecstatic about this; more than I ever thought I would be. I had realised my feelings for Draco at the dance before the whole fiasco with Pansy. Why haven't I seen that he liked me back sooner? I was so oblivious to everything, especially with all the shit on my mind.

My back came in contact with the wall that was behind us, the warmth of Draco towering over me. I couldn't stop; I was greedy for more.

So was he. It was like a fever dream.

I could sense he was trying hard to pull my body as close to his as was possible and it made the butterflies course through me. He wanted me. And I wanted him.

Finally, his soft lips reluctantly broke away from mine. I chewed the inside of my cheek, waiting for him to say something. He wiped his bottom lip with the side of his wrist and looked at me devilishly.

"Fuck, Smedley. You're a hell of a kisser," Draco taunted, winking at me. The blush had taken over my face and I looked away bashfully.

"Uhm." I was speechless. I couldn't think of what to say.

"Shall we go back inside? You look cold," He added with a grin of happiness but also secrecy. He reached for my hand, kissed the top of it, and then pulled me along.

"You're being awfully nice for a Slytherin," I teased, walking beside him. His thumb rubbed against the back of my hand, sending goosebumps up my arms.

"Am I? Or are you stereotyping me?" He scoffed, gazing upon me expectantly. My lips parted at his words. It made me remember the first encounter I had ever had with him after his first Quidditch match of the season against the Gryffindors. Draco chuckled and shook his head at my no reply.

"No. Well- maybe. Damn it. You bastard," I playfully seethed, pushing him with my hand to the side. Are hands pried apart as he stumbled a few steps to the side.

"Hey!" he whispered loudly in a defensive tone. He then slipped his body in front of mine, crouched down, and lifted me up at my thighs. I folded forward over his shoulder and frowned. As annoying as it was, it took pressure off my ankle and I sighed in relief.

"Put me down, Malfoy," I scoffed against his back. I was not having it either way.

Draco let my body slip down through his arms so he was now holding me in the air by the waist. Ah, much more comfortable. Now, we were eye level. I cupped his face with my small hands and ran my finger over his lips.

Does this mean he's mine and I am his? Are we dating? Or was this a one time thing. Are his lips only mine to snog? So many questions and none of them felt right to ask.

He smirked against my thumb before both of us started to lean our heads forward to kiss once more. It was only a peck but it was still exhilarating. Eventually, Malfoy put me down and we resorted to hand holding once more.

"Would you like to come with me to my dorm?" He asked out of the blue. I averted my eyes to meet him beside me and smiled.

"Sure, if you can sneak me in," I shrugged. He looked offended at this.

"Oh please, I am very sly. I could sneak that oaf, Hagrid into my dorm," he rolled his eyes. I took this opportunity to tease him.

"And how did you figure that out? Do you and Hagrid have something going on that I don't know about?" I joked, smirking at him. His eyes went wide and he furrowed his brows.

"Hell no! I was just making a point," he exclaimed, shaking his head vigorously.

"I know, I know."

The rest of the walk back to the castle was pretty much quiet. Maybe a few murmurs or teasing comments but we were both tired and my foot hurt too much to keep a conversation. At this point, it was hard to think about anything else.

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