it's okay to stare at me, i understand🖤

17

A/N:

Sorry this and the next chapter is highkey half-assed (as of 9/15 at 10pm.) I'll fix it soon, I promise, I just wanted to get something out for you guys. I have a few exams and games(sports) this week and the time I take to write and properly edit is limited. Especially since now the story is really taking off and is gonna get super fun, I want to make sure my writing is to the best of my ability for you guys. 

Anyways, message me or just comment here any suggestions or literally anything:)) 

I love you guys sm omfg. Sorry:)

POV: Mira

The plan for tonight is to wait for the announcement of the Beauxbatons champion, only to see if it's Fleur, go back to the common room before everyone else to write father a letter, then, go to the tower to meet Cedric. Simple enough. Fleur and I both walk in late. We quietly take a seat in the back as Dumbledore announces the Durmstrang champion.

"Victor Krum!" he shouts. The quidditch dude? I didn't even know that he was even in school. Cheers erupt around the room. The headmaster reaches his hand up again as the flame, turned pink, spits out a second sheet of paper. It floats down and he snatches it out of the air.

"The champion from Beauxbatons," I squeeze Fleur's hand, "Fleur Delacour!" I clap for her loudly, even though I shouldn't. She walks up to our headmaster to shake his hand.

I stand up and slip out of the room. I can still hear the cheers as I walk down towards the Dungeons. The walk down to the common room was weird. There was no one in the hallways. Not that I would even talk to anyone anyways. It felt odd.

I enter the common room to see Malfoy seated in front of the fireplace. He sits crouched on top of a paper, which he seems to be reading. I go to my dorm, grab a paper and quill, and go back downstairs. I sit down on the couch across from him and put the pen to the paper.

'Father,'  I begin,

'It has been a long time since I've come in contact with you.' It had been three days. 'Yesterday evening, Draco Malfoy and I spoke to the Dark Lord. We've both been assigned tasks. Draco is to send detailed updates to his father, which I see he is doing now,' I look up. He catches my eye and looks away immediately. Instead of reading, he is now writing. 'And I am to befriend Harry Potter. The Dark Lord says it is to make his killing easier.' I lay my head back and shut my eyes. I need to include something that will make him proud of me. Something that will make him think of me similar to the way he does mother. 'I wish to exceed Voldemort's expectations.' Perfect. That way father will think I am beyond devoted to his Lord and that I have an ambition to do better than I am asked, just like mom. 'I haven't decided what I shall do, but I know it will make me his favorite Eater of Death.' I sign my name at the end and I fold the paper up. I hand it over to my little owl and he takes it away.

I have nothing to do until midnight. I check the clock on the wall. 9:23. I fold my arms across my chest and watch Malfoy across from me. I have nothing better to occupy my time with.

He isn't wearing his robes or sweater: just dress pants and his white shirt. It's unbuttoned and his tie is lazily placed around his shoulders. I would find him attractive if he wasn't an asshole all the time.

"What." he says, not looking up from his paper.

"Nothing." I reply quickly.

"Then stop looking at me."

"I'm not."

"You're right," he says looking up at me, "you are intensely staring. It's weird: stop it."

"I got lost in my thoughts, piss off Malfoy." One day, I'll kill him and feel no remorse. Who does he think he is? I stand up and go to my room. I sit at the desk and work on my potions essay.

Only an hour later does the door open. Pansy groans. This is the first time that we've been in the room together when one of us isn't sleeping.

"What are you doing here?" she asks, annoyed. She makes her way to her dresser.

"In case you didn't know, this is my bed," I say pointing, "I sleep there. In this very room. Fun fact; I also live here. Interesting isn't it?" She ignores me. Mature. She asks what I'm doing in our room and then when I respond, she acts like I didn't say anything.

Maybe I'll kill her instead of Malfoy. Maybe I'll kill them both. Of course, I'm only joking. My hatred for them isn't excessive enough for me to commit murder. I'm no Death Eater and I'm certainly not Voldemort. Every person that disrespects them dies. It's scary. 

Father has written of many times he's killed for a reason as stupid as someone brushing his shoulder. The only person I would even think to have that privilege is the Dark Lord himself. But apparently, father is high up enough in rank to kill whomever he chooses. 

I don't think I could ever kill a person. Maybe for father. Maybe for Voldemort. But it would have to be an exceptional good reason, I couldn't kill Pansy for just being a bitch. 

That's it!  Voldemort failed at killing Potter once, maybe he won't succeed again. What better way to please Voldemort and father than to kill Harry Potter?

I'll do all the dirty work for him. Problem solved. The Lord would adore me for it. I will not tell father though. He will know when I lay Potter's body before him and the Dark Lord. I really don't want to spend eternity in Azkaban, though, so I do need to figure out a way to make sure the murder isn't traced back to me. Ugh. The first suspects would obviously be those associated with Voldemort, then people that hate him. I need to be immediately ruled out, if I am going to do this. I guess Potter and I must be best friends. 

For now, however, I mustn't dwell on this. If I get hooked on the thought, I'll get too excited and won't execute it properly. I need a solid plan. I need to make sure it's perfect. I need to make father proud.