Yours in Mayhem |Dramione

33 yours in awe|| pt. 2

"Are you trying to kill yourself?"

Draco was yanked forward into a seating position as his eyes opened. He can't speak. His teeth are chattering so badly he can hardly respond. "N-n-n-no, i-i-i-if I were I-I-I'd do it w-w-with more f-f-flare."

"Well, I bet. What better way than to punch someone from your house, walk out the ball, blast something," she pointed to the hexed branch, it was blatantly obvious from this angle, "drink yourself brainless and then sleep out here in the cold."

A blanket had wrapped itself around him and a cup of hot chocolate settled itself on his palm. It was warm. He watched Hermione fume, she was wearing a muggle jacket of unknown fabric over her dress and her Gryffindor scarf. They shouldn't even be talking, it was too obvious. But she was breathtaking in the fairy lights. There's no one else in the grounds but them and he wanted to say so. "Well, it just suits you doesn't it? You and your ice cold heart."

He took a sip of the chocolate, it burnt his tongue but managed to warm him immediately. There are even soft squishy sweet white things on top of it. "You asked me about merits but not what makes me happy."

"Then what makes you happy?"

"Merlin, Hermione. Must you ask?" He took another sip of the chocolate in the muggle cup.

She crossed her arms around her chest in defiance. Too bad, he was enjoying the view. Fourteen is a joyous age, isn't it?

"You," he finally said and he can't look her in the eyes as he did. His cheeks are flaring from the sudden heat. "You make me happy. It doesn't have any merits, as a matter of fact, I'll lose everything for wanting... For wanting you. So, will you give me time before I lose everything? I want to be brave enough for my downfall. I just want it to be on my own terms. Afterall, I'm not the Gryffindor here, am I?"

He felt numb. Like he was separated from his body because of the cold.

She sat beside him and removed her gloves. She placed a warm hand on his cheek so that they were facing each other. Flecks of snow have settled on her lashes and hair that she has put  up in a bun, some curls too stubborn to follow and  framed her face. Draco felt himself counting every single detail that he could see now that she was much closer-- the blush on her skin, the freckles that looked like sprinkled coffee on her cream skin, the slight artificial tint on her already red lips-- her lips. If he could, he'd slow even the fall of snow as softly but suddenly she leaned forward and touched his lips with hers.

Innocence gone in a puff of warm breath in the cold air.

He closed his eyes and let the moment lingered. It was a miracle that he felt it as he was number than a block of ice.

And it might just be a night of miracles.

"I've never kissed anyone before," she whispered. Her balmy breaths blowing over his freezing skin. Their foreheads are touching.

The secrets are piling.

"It's not my first kiss," Draco said with a smirk. Hermione looked at him in pained shock, her lips parted slightly, trembling. She was about to move away from him. But he pulled her back and took the pins from the bun on her head, her curls cascaded down softly behind her and in front of her. Draco took his time tucking smooth strands behind her ears, it was like silk against his cold fingers. It was a sweet despair to keep the moment from happening as he touched her chin, fingers caressing her smooth skin. She smelled like cologne and all his fantasies, sweet and subtle and soft. He slowly leaned in and pressed his lips to hers, as tender as he could, barely tugging on her pillowy mouth. "There's my first kiss," he whispered in her ear. Her eyes were still closed and he wanted to capture her lips again.