REQUIREMENTS | DRACO MALFOY

16 | A Ring And A Message

He looks like he's saying the title in the gif LOL

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Y/N

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"I'M GOING TO KILL HIM," Harry spat out, tugging on his black windbreaker, "he just doesn't know when to stop, does he?"

Harry is about to die.

No, I shouldn't say that.

But Harry might die. He's ten minutes away from getting shoved into an arena with a dragon, and the only thing he has is his wand, a horribly fleshed out plan, and a very bad haircut. So he very well...might die.

"What are you going on about?" I huffed, tossing him his boot, "the only thing you should be worried about is killing this dragon."

Harry didn't care, "I'm talking about Draco."

"Since when are you not?"

"Since when has he ever decided to back off?" The boy scowled, "Dean Thomas told me Malfoy shoved you up against a wall by the Xylomancy classroom."

I blinked, "what?"

"He's sick for doing that, and I'm going to kill him the next time I see him."

Ugh, the way rumors spread like wildfire. Things always got twisted too. Draco Malfoy did not shove me up against a wall that day (although he did shove me up against a bookshelf), and besides, why was Harry surprised? Draco was known to be a bully.

"He's not worth it," I sighed, "and no, he didn't do that to me."

"Then why did Dean tell me he did?"

"Why don't you ask Dean?"

"Because he said he heard it from Angelina Johnson."

"Well, now you're hearing it from me," I said, placing my hands on the boy's shoulders. I paused, staring him in the eyes, before deciding to fix the lopsidedness of his glasses. "You've got this, Harry."

He told me he had a plan, but he wouldn't go into detail.

Typical him.

Taking a step back, I began to make my way towards the front of the tent, but I felt his arms wrap around my waist and pull me to a stop. At first my back was against his chest, but then he flipped me around so that I was facing him.

"Are you sure he didn't hurt you?" He said, his voice hushed to a whisper, "because if he did—"

"He didn't."

"Oh," he said, "good."

He paused for a moment, just staring at me through the panes of his thin-rimmed glasses, and gave me this jumbled look. Half of it looked like fear, half of it looked kind-of desperate.

"You'll be watching from the stands, won't you?" He whispered.

I nodded my head, "I will."

"So you'll know I'm going to win this. For you."

"For me?"

"Yeah," he smiled softly, "for you."

And then he leaned in.

I watched it happen in slow motion, like some sort of pivotal scene in a romantic comedy, or some dire point in a drama. From him pulling my waist in tighter, tilting his head towards me, and the sharp inhale of his breath as he puckered his lips, I didn't know what to think. I should have seen this coming. No, actually, I did see this coming, I just didn't know it would be now.