H I M ; Draco Malfoy

R E S O N A T E D

R E S O N A T E D

V i n n i e

I was about to run away once more from the scene. He's the last person I need to see right now. And just when I'm about to open the squeaky old door again, he spoke. His voice was euphonious.

"Don't"

I stopped my track. I took a deep breath in and it out long, deep, and audible. I relaxed my clenched fist and spun my heel abaft. He's already looking at me. His presence was different. Usually it's intimidating, annoying, exasperating, and overwhelming. It's still overwhelming but at this very moment it's melancholic.

He walked to closer to me, I resisted the urge to step back.

He didn't say nothing and just looked at me with his grey with a faint of blue eyes. I'd muster to courage and combined my pride and ego to look back at him. Trying to show little to no emotion.

I couldn't bear the silence anymore. If he won't talk then I'll leave.

"Listen, Malfoy I—"

"Draco," he said cutting me off. "Call me Draco"

I paused, he, the same. I bit the inner of my lower lip

"Okay, Draco." I sighed "things won't work out between us."

"Why?" He ask, eyebrows furrowed and left his mouth slightly agape.

"It's," I sighed again. "It's complicated"

"I like you, you like me back. How is that complicated?" He ask, sliding his hands in the pocket of his pants.

"Let's be realistic, okay? You're a Malfoy, I'm a Weasely"

He raised his eyebrows in response.

"And your father absolutely despise me" I added.

He walked closer to me, both his hands in his pocket. "Why would I care what he thinks? He's not the one loving you like I do"

I didn't answer, I couldn't answer. Even when I wanted to, words won't come out of my mouth. I can form thoughts but it's as if my tongue is pushed back or when time got reversed that my ability to talk was equal to a newborn child.

I looked down and I can feel his eyes follow.

Silence emits.

He sighed deeply and I'd look up at him. He ran his hands through his hair and I could sense that he was getting frustrated. It's winter yet he's wearing the same almost fully-unbuttoned-button-up shirt he was wearing at the party earlier.

"I'm sorry" I say, breaking the silence, lifting my shoulders and letting out a big sigh. I turned my heels around to I was facing the door and grabbed the doorknob.

He reeks of alcohol and I doubt we'll have a proper conversation with the influence of it. I want to talk to him when he's sober.

He grabbed my wrist gently, I looked at him and he looked back. His eyes reflected from the moonlight.

He looked stunning, awe-inspiring, pleasing, glamorous, alluring, heavenly, bewitching, exquisite— No, Vinnie. Stop.

I gently took his hands off mine "don't make the situation worse that it already is"

"You're the one who initiated that kiss, why am I the one making it worse?" He almost immediately replied furrowing his eyebrows.

I stayed silent. He's right. I am the one who initiated the kiss but only if he had pushed me off maybe things won't get to the point it already has. I bit my inner lower lip again.

"Don't give me false hope," he'd say, his tone was quiet and calm, his voice was despondent. His forehead dropped on my shoulder and I'd turn around to catch his head. I lift my hand and place it on his arm as a reflex so he wouldn't fall off.

I looked at him, he looked tired. I sighed deeply feeling inevitably stuck to assist him in this situation. I was the one who put him into this. I felt responsible for it.

I took his arm and wrapped it around my shoulder, one of my hand holding his wrist while the other grasp onto his waist.

I helped him to the bench and gently sat him, his head lazily knocked up with his hair flowing through the morning breeze. I stand infront of him completely clueless on what to do. So, I sat beside him in a distant with my palms on my knees. I would sometimes look at him and his eyes are still closed with his head still knocked up, I can see his chest rising up and down and sometimes his inner eyebrows raising.

I looked pass him and noticed that the sun was slowly coming in giving the tower a yellow hint, it wasn't snowing but the snow is still all over the place and the breeze it still cold. It's less than two weeks before Christmas and we're to head back home for the holidays. Ron, Ginny, and Fred and George are probably getting their things ready already but here I sat, beside drunk Draco Malfoy.

I stood up and leaned on the balustrade and took out the sketch pad and pencil I have brought from the my pocket. I started sketching the sunrise and from time to time checked behind at Malfoy to make sure he was okay.

It was pass 6 am already and curfew has passed. Made me wonder what was Malfoy doing out here this early, I mean, the party of course but wasn't he a prefect?

I continued my sketching and once finished I slid the pad and the pencil into my pocket and turned my heels to check at Malfoy. When I turned I saw his chest right in front of me. I looked up, he wasn't looking at me, he was looking beyond, at the sun.

I turned around and looked into where he was looking as well. He rest his hands on the balustrade.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" I said.

"Yeah, it is"

-

I'm enjoying typing this out very much. There's a lot more to happen!

(Next chapter will be Draco's pov)