Salazar's Angel

XVIII

Dahlia is so momentarily distracted by the proximity of their lips that she is almost, almost, able to ignore what he has just said. Unfortunately, no such luck on either of their parts.

She jerks her head back. "I'm sorry, what?"

Draco sighs and rests his head back against the book case, his body relaxing underneath hers except for the visible tension running from his shoulders up his neck.

"It was my father's idea. Well, I'm sure my mother had something to do with this but he's the one who sprung it on me. He has some sort of notion that we're...friends. And like I said, he wants me to be more like you." He places his hands on her bare thighs, right below where her skirt has bunched up.

Dahlia swallows a laugh at their current position compared to his statement about them being friends. Then, "Who all will be there?"

"You're not seriously thinking about doing this are you?" Draco's eyes widen. "This is completely ridiculous!"

Dahlia takes in a deep breath and lets it out slowly. "Don't you think it will look a little suspicious if I refuse to come?"

"Yes! But if you go and they kill you is that any better?" Draco practically shouts, pulling his hands from her thighs to slide over and over through his hair.

"They're not going to kill me. I can play the part I need to play. I'm an excellent liar." Dahlia quirks an eyebrow. "Now tell me, who all will be there?"

"Just my parents and my aunt. He is far too busy to drop in for a dinner," Draco answers.

"Then it should be no problem. Your mother and Bellatrix and I spent a lot of time together this past year, they love me. And as you said, your father is already enamored by me even though I've hardly spent any time with him."

"Why are you agreeing to this with such ease?" 

"I already told you, it will keep them off my case. I don't need to deal with them on top of this fucking mark lighting me on fire every day." At this, Draco takes a hold of her arm and pushes her sleeve up with his cool fingers to run them over the mark.

They are silent for a moment, as his icy digits dance over the black ink. She was already cooled off from sitting on his lap, but the skin to skin contact has a new level of frigidness washing over her.

"...and it is quite obviously tearing you apart," Dahlia whispers this, glancing over at the drugs casually resting less than a foot away from her bent knee.

His eyes flit up to connect with hers. "Why should you care if its destroying me? You don't owe me anything." 

"Your family was good to me this last year." Dahlia leaves it at this.

Draco is having none of it. "But I wasn't. I didn't even meet you until that day on the train."

"And you certainly haven't been overtly pleasant since then...but I don't want to see anyone struggle like this," She pauses to gesture to the drugs, "Let alone someone I'm supposed to see on a daily basis."

Draco says nothing, still holding eye contact.

Dahlia pulls her arm away from his grip and picks up his, pushing the sleeve of his white dress shirt up to his elbow. Then she holds their inkings next to each other. "Besides, it does appear that we're stuck in this together...for better...or for worse."

This time when he kisses her it's different. He sits up and gently uses her chin to guide her mouth to his. One of his hands cups her cheek and the other sits modestly at her waist. It is gentle, and it is most certainly new for them. He waits for her to deepen the kiss, to open her mouth first and willingly.

So she does. And she guides both of his hands down to her hips, then lower. And she works her hands up into her hair. And she follows his lead when his strong hands guide her hips to rock up against his, her skirt pushing farther up her thighs.

Dahlia pulls apart, sucking in a breath, her hips still slowly moving against his. She drops her hands down to work at untying his tie, and he takes this as an opportunity to fist her hair in his hand and tug so her neck is exposed to him. 

"See?" Dahlia pants, slipping Draco's now undone tie off his neck. "My big fucking hair is good for something, now isn't it?"

His laugh turns into a groan against her neck as her hand slips farther down and starts to work at the buttons on his shirt. She realizes the hip movement is probably counterintuitive to the heat she is trying to stifle by having physical contact with Draco, but this thought simply evaporates from her mind as she undoes the last button on his shirt and slips it down his shoulders.

Her hands immediately go straight to his chest, pressing her palms against him. He is cold all over, she is pleased to find out, and smooth, and hard, and muscular, and sinewy, and a dozen other wonderful adjectives that simply flood out of her mind at the contact. His heart his absolutely pounding in his chest, and she likes to think this is as much due to her as it is the cocaine. 

He reseals his mouth to hers, and then groans as she slips her hands down his torso and back up to rest just under his collarbone. 

Dahlia's hips are just beginning to speed up, the fire in her stomach growing, when the sound of a meow forces them apart. 

Panting, they both stare at the cat standing at the entrance to their alcove.

"Wha-?" Dahlia tries to ask.

"Fucking Filch! We need to get going," Draco says, pushing Dahlia to stand up as the cat pads off.

He shrugs his shirt back over his shoulders, standing, as Dahlia pushes her skirt back down over her thighs. With a flick of his wand, any evidence of the cocaine disappears and the books sort themselves back onto their shelves. 

"Come on!" He grabs Dahlia's hand as she stands dazed, yanking her out of the alcove and tugging her behind him as they run down the aisle of the library.

She notices his wand flick again and suddenly it is significantly easier for her to run. She looks down, still running, and sees the heels of her boots have disappeared.

"Hey! Not cool Malfoy, I liked these boots!"

"You were being too loud...and not to mention they make you look a lot like someone who would sell that muggle drug on a street corner..."