D R A C O & P A N S Y
Draco’s a bad liar and a soft drunk. She laughs in return, but it isn’t cutting. She hums lightly. Draco’s fingers tighten along the line of her back, pressing in where bare flesh is exposed; as they dance, he feels the notches of her spine move with them, beneath her skin. (He would never admit it aloud, but she feels the same as she did years ago, back when Draco was hers and Pansy wasn’t dating his father and the second war had yet to happen.)
“I never loved you either,” she counters. “Thanks for the dance.”
TOP FIVE OUTFITS, Gemma Arterton | Prince of Persia, Los Angeles Premiere
Lips red as blood, hair black as night, bring me your heart, my dear, dear Snow White
