Henrietta Potter || Draco Malfoy

22 - Fancy a Ride?

One thing that was keeping my mind off of the Quidditch ban was Dumbledore's Army. Due to Umbridge's pathetic teaching skills, we decided to teach Defence Against the Dark Arts ourselves.

Seeing as I was already brilliant at everything, I was naturally the teacher.

We met up in secret in the Room of Requirement. Anyone that wanted to retaliate against Umbridge and her stupid Ministry decrees could join. No stinking Slytherins though. They all seemed to like Umbridge.

I had just wrapped up a pretty good DA session (if I may say so myself) when I was strutting down a corridor, heading back to the common room.

"Where have you been sneaking off to, four eyes?"

Shit. I really should look at the Marauders Map more often. And then I wouldn't have to put up with encounters like this.

"Malfoy, if you're going to use insults, at least give them a bit of originality." I sighed, as Draco stepped out in front of me, bringing me to a halt. He had appeared seemingly out of nowhere. I was starting to wonder if he just hid around the castle all day waiting for me to pass by.

"Oh, I've got more up my sleeve, believe me," he smirked, his eyes glinting. "Only, I was saving them for the right occasion."

"Look, Malfoy, as pleasant as this is, I need to get moving. Now please kindly step out of my way."

He didn't move.

"I'd prefer it if you made me." His smirk grew wider. "After all, I know just how much you like to get your hands on me."

"I'll fucking break your nose again if you don't move right now, Malfoy," I spat angrily. I could have just walked around him, but you know - principles.

Draco flinched, irritation flickered across his face. I could tell he didn't like being reminded of the time he was beaten up by a girl.

"Missing your broomstick, Potter?" He sneered, changing the subject. "I heard it makes great firewood - all it would take is one word from me about your late night shenanigans."

Shit. What did he know? I looked into his eyes, but they didn't give anything away.

He moved his face closer to mine, his lip curling. I caught a whiff of his cologne and my pulse suddenly picked up pace. He whispered in my ear, his voice husky, "If you want, Potter, I can always lend you my broomstick. What do you say? Fancy a ride?"

I cursed myself as my breathing accelerated and I felt the heat rise to my cheeks. I didn't want him to know the effect he was having on me.

But it seemed he knew full well. He moved his mouth from my ear, slowly down my jawline. I shuddered involuntarily as I felt his lips brush ever so slightly along my skin, moving nearer down towards my mouth.

When his lips reached mine, he paused ever so briefly, his eyes piercing mine, waiting. But I did not move away; instead, my heart was going crazy and I was breathless with anticipation.

And then he kissed me.

I didn't hesitate to respond. I felt as though a dam had burst open inside of me, and I suddenly wanted him, wanted this kiss so much. He grabbed me, slamming me against the wall, deepening the kiss with an urgency I too, felt. Our tongues hungrily explored each other's mouths, fighting to be the dominant one. Hands grabbed at one another frantically, pulling the other in, not being able to close the space between us enough.

I couldn't believe anyone could ever make me feel this way. I couldn't believe he could. And that's when I realised:

I was kissing Draco. I was fucking kissing Draco Malfoy.

Son of a Death Eater.

With all my strength, I put my hands on his chest and pushed him hard away from me. He staggered backward and looked at me, momentarily confused. I leant back against the wall, breathless.

"This was a mistake," I said, my chest heaving as I tried to get my breath back.

"Didn't feel like it to me," Draco said, getting his smirk back.

"I hate you. I don't kiss you." I snarled.

Draco gave a deep throaty laugh. "Yeah, you just keep telling yourself that, Potter,"

He sauntered toward me, once again closing the gap.

"I don't need to have kissed a lot of girls, Potter," he growled in my ear, making my legs go weak at the knees. "To know when a girl is enjoying it."

He lowered his lips, brushing them against my neck. I closed my eyes, feeling dizzy from the pure pleasure of it, a small moan escaping my lips.

"Tell me, Potter," I could feel his hot breath on my skin as he spoke, sending wild tremors along my nerves. "Did pretty boy ever get you this hot?"

Anger exploded in my chest. My eyes flew open and I shoved him hard away from me.

"How fucking dare you," I said, trying to keep my voice steady, but failing as it shook in anger. "How fucking dare you speak of him to me."

Draco immediately righted himself, not even looking slightly ashamed.

"Oh, come off it, Potter," he scoffed, straightening his tie. "We both know you loved it."

Hatred ripped through me. I felt like spitting right in his arrogant face.

Instead, though, I stormed off, throwing him the most disgusted look as I pushed past him, needing to be as far away from him as possible.

Because I loathed to admit it, but deep, deep down... Draco Malfoy had not been wrong.

That fucking prick.

***