Draco Malfoy

Draco's scoff was audible as it rang through the empty corridor, echoing in your ears. Your eyes rolling was your only response, and you maintained the same pace so as not to seem intimidated by him. “Oi!” he called, and you cursed the slight fluttering in your stomach at his baritone. “You’re ignoring me now?” he asks. “Shove off. How many times do I have to say that I want nothing to do with you?” you sneer. Another scoff this time, but then his hand wrapped around your arm, effectively spinning you to face him. Inches were the mere breaths between you, and even that seemed too great a distance to describe it. Because he was right there. “You know,” Draco drawled, arrogance stealing his face, “I never took you for a liar.” And the faint smell of mint that was ever-present, ever-promising that it was him, drew you in. “Good thing I'm not lying then,” you said. “C’mon, love. Don't be like that,” he cooed, and you found yourself slowly backed against the wall, his height dwarfing you with ease. You glared, disgust bubbling in your throat. Disgust, for the way his smirk was just crooked enough to be perfect; for the way the slight bobbing of his adam’s apple pleaded for a special sort of attention; for the way firewhisky seemed weak when you had something like this to intoxicate you. And it was that same loathing that had the words tumbling out — aggressive, violent, so much more passionate than you wanted them. The quiet, “I hate you,” before you were yanking at his robes, pulling his lips down to yours. It was fire. Infernos. Embers being shifted, growing to flames; kindle being added as one hand gripped your waist tightly; more and more as the other held your jaw, gently. He then released you from the embrace and stared. Your lungs gasped for air, and thoughts were communicated between eyes, affirmations that would never greet oxygen, for they were too revealing. “I hate you...” you breathed, trying not to imagine the way his lips felt on yours. “...more than...” one more inhale, paired with a near-silent exhale, “...more than you could ever know.” You thought he was going to kiss you again, but you were wrong. Instead, Draco’s lips grazed the shell of your ear, so delicate. “Not as much as I hate you. Unfathomable, the way I feel about you," he said.And then, there was a clatter down the hall. He smirked, pushing away from you and fixing his tie like nothing happened. His legs were quick as he continued his walk, leaving you to pant with shaking hands. You glared, seething with potent anger. “I hate you,” you repeated after him, as if recurrency was assurance. “I hate you so much.” And all you were left with was a drifting chuckle, lies etched upon the falling sound.