𝕮𝖆𝖙𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖗𝖔𝖕𝖍𝖎𝖈 𝕷𝖔𝖛𝖊 ~ ᴅ.ᴍ(DISCONTINUED)

𝓔𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽 ~ 𝓓𝓸𝓷'𝓽 𝓢𝓹𝓮𝓪𝓴

~

y/n=your name

*Viewer's Discretion is Kind of Advised*

~

*Evans*

Malfoy really is beautiful, isn't he?

He's a fucking jerk, but it's... hot.

Now that you got a taste of him, you can't get him off of your mind. The way he takes control, the way his hands grasp all around your body. The way he looks at you, biting his lip with hunger.

Just looking at him right now, eating peacefully across from you, talking to Goyle gives you butterflies.

"Hello? Earth to Evans," Blaise waves his hand in front of your face, making the cloud of thoughts disappear.

You flutter your eyes as they focus on Blaise, who was trying to ask you something. You have never really talked to Zabini before, you only knew him as Malfoy's bodyguard, along with Goyle.

"So you and Malfoy, huh?"

Your eyes widen in shock. How did he know? You glance over at Malfoy for a split second for his approval to tell Blaise that you two were fooling around, but when you did, he already seemed to be one step ahead and was glaring at Blaise.

"Blaise shut the fuck up," Draco snapped.

What an asshole.

"Jeez, someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed. There's no need to take your anger out on me," he snaps back.

"Blaise, what the fuck don't you understand about 'shut the fuck up'?" 

Draco's eyes seemed to be tearing Blaise apart, as they were huffing, ready to rip each other to threads. 

"Boys, enough,"

The tension is broken by a raspy voice that belonged to none other than pug face, Pansy Parkinson. 

The boys' facial expressions relaxed, as did their muscles. They unclenched their fists, continuing to shuffle food onto their plates as if nothing had previously happened. Draco's jaw was still clenched in anger.

What the fuck is his deal?

"Um, Dracy? What the fuck is on your neck?" Pansy queries, almost as if she was offended at the sight of hickeys all along his neck.

"None of your damn business, Parkinson," he snaps.

"You're right, sorry," 

Silence.

The awkward silence filled the air as the continuous chatters from the other house tables increased, increasing tension between Pansy and Draco.

Out of nowhere, Malfoy slams his fist on the table, causing attention to be drawn to your group. He rubs his tongue on the inside of his cheeks, clenching his jaw so hard, it would seem you could cut a rock in half on the sharp edge of his jawline. 

Hot.

"What the fuck do you need Pansy?" He spat.

"I- I just wanted to ask you something, Dracy,"

"Don't fucking call me Dracy,"

"But it's cute," Blaise cooed, with puppy eyes.

"Fuck off Blaise; Pansy, let's go," 

Draco stands up from the table, bringing Parkinson out of the great hall to talk.

Some sort of anger washes over you. But it wasn't anger, it wasn't hatred or rage. It felt like a burning sensation inside. But not the good one. The one that makes you want to punch someone in the face. Specifically Parkinson.