Deliverance | Draco Malfoy

Thirty-Two

"I think you still look ravishing," Draco told me as I sat on his bathroom counter, a cold compress held to one of my swollen eyes to try and alleviate the hour's worth of crying I had done the night before.

"The sarcasm in your voice would say otherwise. When the fuck do you use words like ravishing?" I mocked. I glared up at him and his blank expression slowly slipped into his usual cocky smirk.

"Okay, so you look mediocre at best, but I would still take you right here on the counter-"

"Oh, fuck off." I shoved his shoulder with a laugh. He staggered back a step as my assault caught him off guard, but he still hardly moved against my much weaker strength.

"Believe me, Rook. I'm trying." He gave me another humorous smile and stepped closer again. "I mean, if I flip you around and bend you over the countertop, I wouldn't have to look at your swollen, crying eyes-"

"Stop!" My voice lost its humor as I tried shoving him away again. The exhaustion in my bones and my annoyance from his jokes were starting to get the best of me, and I could feel my temper rising.

"I'm only kidding, angel. Relax." His voice finally took on a softer edge as he took my wrist into his hand and pulled us closer together. "You're still beautiful." My swollen eyes fluttered as he pressed his lips against them delicately. "Just less beautiful than you usually are, but-"

"Draco!" I yelled, throwing my head back.

"Ah, screaming my name to the heavens! Now I think we're getting on the same page." He pushed his hips into me between my legs, and I couldn't help the giggles that slipped from my lips as I started to grin. I wrapped my arms around his neck and hugged him close.

"You're going to kill me one of these days," I told him with a sigh, our foreheads pressed together and his eyes meeting mine.

"And if that ever happened, I wouldn't be far behind you. I'd pitch myself off the top of the Manor before I'd live with the pain and guilt from that." He mumbled seriously. I sat up a little straighter and scanned his expression, feeling how his muscles tensed in his shoulders and his fingers squeezed my hips possessively.

"You don't think you could handle the guilt of adding me to another kind of body count, tough guy?" I quirked a brow. "I thought you were like— I don't know, Mr. Cold-Blooded-Heartless-Killer. You barely have emotions." I teased, but his smile didn't return, proving my point. "I don't think it would make that much of an impact if I were to go. Not really." His silence was the only response, so I continued.

"I still hardly live with the grief from my mum, but I'm still here... unfortunately, some days. You've made sure of my staying here on a few occasions..." I rolled my eyes. "You get used to the grief slowly. I guess it never goes away, but life grows around it so it starts to feel smaller. Until it doesn't... and it feels like it's still a fresh wound, and your heart can barely take it." My gaze slowly slipped from his and my words grew quieter as I spoke.

"What I'm imagining is not even described as grief." My eyes lifted to his again. "Thinking about a world without you in it is torture. A cruel, fucked up joke that would be my karma for every horrible crime I've ever committed in my life. It's Hell. It's my personal Hell, and it's agonizing." He pulled his bottom lip between his teeth and furrowed his brows. My breath caught in my throat.

"Draco." I breathed quietly, my heart pounding in my chest. Was it a warning or a request for something more from him? I wasn't sure which I was insinuating. I ran my fingers over the hair on the back of his head, just at the nape of his neck where it prickled from how short it was cut.