She has thought of him.
She has thought of so many of them.
But the memories of each of them remain wholly separate.
There are no crossed wires, no blurred lines.
She does not make the mistake of confusing one for another.
She thinks of Draco and remembers how he’d asked her what she wanted. How he’d asked her to tell him what she wanted so that he could give it to her. And she had taken her simper and the sweet burn of her desire and she had gone. Without a word, she had blinked at him and then turned to go. If he’d called after her, she had not heard him. Though, she doubted that he had. He did not strike her as a groveler, which made it all the sweeter.
She thinks of Draco and remembers how he’d awakened something in her that she had not yet had a name for. She knows it now, though. Knows it quite well. Not because it has been coaxed out of her by others but because she has had time to dissect it. She is not weak, no, but she is not impervious to base instinct either.
She moves slow through the canyons now and thinks about nothing at all. Until she sees him. And she always happens upon them by accident, doesn’t she? She never has to seek them out. She continues to move slow, even as she heads in his direction. There is no sense of urgency, not really.
“Draco,” she purrs as she settles into the space beside him. Thinks about raking those fanged teeth down the length of his throat but refrains for the moment.
