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Forcefully pushing his chest — though you regret it almost immediately after you’ve done it — you assert in a matter-of-fact tone, “No, listen, you don’t deserve that. You deserve someone who—”
“Don’t tell me what I deserve,” he interrupts. “I can judge for myself.”
In between his statements he seems to calm down, fingers circling your wrists on his chest. The look he casts on you is too tender for you to handle, and as your hands retreat to leave his hold, a rational part of you snaps.
With a menace you don’t intend and guilt over how you have treated him before, you conclude, “What I did to you was brutal, selfish, and unfair.”
And that seems to be the wrong thing to say, because tears are once again forming in Draco’s delicate eyes.
“I— I don’t care how you treat me,” he stumbles upon his choice of words, sounding pathetic but meaning every single word nonetheless. Lifting his gaze, closing the distance between you two, he whispers, “I just want to,” his lips brush against yours, “be with you.”
The sizzling proximity leaves you speechless, yet he continues, “Why do you make it so hard?” His right hand slowly moves behind your neck, caressing your soft skin as he mumbles, “I thought you no longer wanted me anymore.”
His eyes are so beautiful, and so near. You feel his breath, irregular and piercingly hot. Lowering your head you stare at the wrinkles on his shirt, defending yourself quietly, “That’s not true.”
“No?” He responds too quickly, his left hand steadily interlacing with one of your trembling hands. The desperation in his voice sends you shaking, unable to face him, unable to atone for the past.
“No,” you look up, lightly lifting a fallen strand of his smooth hair back onto where it should be. Standing on your tiptoes, you gently brush your nose against his as you whisper with your eyes closed, “How could I?”
Eyes filled with confusion, he whispers, “Then why push me away? You know I,” he visibly swallows. “I love you,” he breathes.
You avert your eyes again at his confession, “But we can’t have a functional relationship like this, Draco. I can’t be with an employee.”
He steps back, eyes narrowed but hurt, “So I’m just an employee? It would have hurt less if you called me a casual sex partner.”
Quickly stepping forward, you try to comfort him, “I didn’t mean it like that. All I’m saying is, we can’t be together with our current occupations. It won’t work. We will both lose our jobs.”
Knowing that the stubbornness in this man will not allow him to speak, you sigh, “I don’t want you to lose this job, Draco. I care about you.”
“But I care about you more than I care about this job,” he argues in a dangerously low voice. You recognize this tone — the calm before the storm. Folding your arms, you take a deep breath. “Not now,” you say.
“Later, then,” he promises, looking at you with almost a glint of vengeance. You know you have messed up — he won’t make it easy for you after all. You will be at his mercy, and he most definitely will not be merciful.