The Malfoy Project

𝟔𝟒 - 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐓𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐞

༻⚜༺

     Montague was storming our way, his heavy footsteps trampling the ground as his hulking figure grew larger and larger. Blaise, Vaisey, and Pansy followed close behind.

     "She's having a panic attack—"

     "Get away from her!" He barrelled me aside and dropped himself to Ainsley, taking her face in his hands, crushing. "What happened? Are you hurt? Did he hurt you?" She shook her head, still sobbing.

     "She needs air," I said, and his head swung around to me, his boozed-up eyes bloodshot and sparkling with anger. A thick vein throbbed at his temple, and his jaw was clenched so hard I thought the bones might snap. "What. Did. You. Do?"

     "We were just talking—"

     "WHAT DID YOU DO?" he hollered, spittle spraying on my face.

     My body tensed, my hand instinctively going for my wand. "Nothing."

     He grabbed me by the collar and raised his fist, and I braced myself for the punch, but before he could swing he was quickly jerked backwards by Blaise and Vaisey. "No, man. Not like this," scolded Blaise sternly.

     Montague shook them off, rolled his shoulders, and tugged the hem of his shirt. "You're right," he said. "This blond fuck," he spat at me, "isn't worth two seconds of my time."

     He fell upon Ainsley once more, whose crying had only gotten more earnest with the commotion. "Are you sure he didn't touch you?"

     I waited for her to tell him what I had done, but she only shook her head again. He smoothed her hair away and kissed her damp forehead.

     I tried to catch her eyes in between Montague's beefy arms. "Ainsley, I'm sorry—"

     His arm shot out. "Stay the fuck away from her! Haven't you done enough?"

    "You need to give her space," I insisted. "Can't you see she can't breathe?"

     He rose to his full height — a good half-a-head taller than me — and stared me down. "You must have some massive balls telling me what to do with my own girlfriend."

     Then he glanced at his friends, then at Ainsley, before finally turning back at me. When he spoke again, his demeanour was visibly softened. "You know, Draco, I get it. Ains is a pretty girl. She's friendly and polite, and it might be easy for you to mistake her niceness for something else. But I can promise that's just how she is. And the sooner you rid yourself of the notion that there's something more, the better."

     Right then, I wanted nothing more than to tell him everything Ainsley and I had done together: Lying in bed that night she had gotten drunk and forgotten to tell him; the long stares we exchanged in the dark, trying to reach as deep into the other as possible; the secret kisses, her warm wet lips on mine; the touches, the moans, the sighs; the heavy, comforting weight of her on my hips.

     But I knew Montague was using her as a weapon, and I wasn't about to do the same. Still, I couldn't find it in myself to give her up. Not yet.

     "And the sooner you accept that you're a shit boyfriend, the better."

     It was weak. And catty. And it stabbed a bigger hole in Montague's fragile ego than I'd thought. His faux sympathy fell away, and his face coloured purple with rage. I could tell he wanted to hit me, but our friends were watching. In fact, I could see, just over his shoulder, that some of the party had spilled out and were watching on with glee.