Limerence; Draco Malfoy

Chapter Twenty-Five: Distractions

Violet

Draco Malfoy did not turn up to class that morning.

Not for the first five minutes, not for the first ten. My gaze kept obsessively shifting over to the clock on the wall. And then the door. Then back to the clock, the door, the clock, the door. Clock, door. Door, clock...

My nails were bitten raw.

Why did I even care? Why should his whereabouts have been any of my concern? Instead, I should have been having an internal celebration. Hell, I should have felt relieved.

But my curiosity to know where he was and what he was doing and why, was overpowering. Burning, irrational curiosity which cut into my every thought - the same way Malfoy's blazing eyes had cut into mine when they'd briefly locked in the hallway earlier.

That brief, snapshot image of his invasive stare was flickering in my mind like the reels to an old movie. A horror movie, if we're going to be specific - I had never felt more terrified in walking past a group of people.

The eye contact we'd made was so impending it made my heart palpitate. It had felt twenty times more intense than any scowling, loathing glare he'd ever thrown at me before, because this time, his expression was merely an apathetic, unreadable mask. Somehow that managed to come across as far more threataning than the former. Draco Malfoy was emotionless, inhuman, an empty-shell - and that, I thought, was very fucking scary.

My eyes fell on the clock again -- couldn't help themselves.

8:15...

Fifteen minutes into Defence Against The Dark Arts and all that filled the air was the scratching of quills on paper and the faint howl of wind rattling against the window pains. The drapes across the windows were, for once, drawn back, yet no pleasant sun rays beamed through. The day was colourless.

And now, not only was the sun absent, but so was the blond haired Slytherin boy whose face had tormented my dreams last night.

I waited until Professor snape (I think that's what Hermione told me he was called) had turned his back to write on the blackboard, before reaching and slipping my diary from out of my bag.

Penning down my thoughts and worries was always more effective than trying to search for a solution to them. I doubted there even was a solution that existed anyway.

The diary's blue leather binding was slightly frayed and falling to pieces ever since someones thieving hands had roughly snatched it. Gripping my quill a little tighter in my hand as though to steady myself, I flicked to a clean blank page. There wasn't many left.

I waited. Pulled my bottom lip between my teeth and chewed - because I reckoned if I kept on chewing my nails instead, i'd have no fingers left by the end of the school week.

I definitely needed to keep my fingers as well, as I decided they'd come in handy for when the opportunity arose to poke out Draco's eyeballs.

My quill started scratching against the paper, like it had a little mind of its own.

Diary, I'm sorry I've not written you in so long. You could say I've been distracted. A little busy. But get ready to have some shocking truths scrawled onto your pages from now on, because now that I don't have all that many close friends, it's looking as though you're the only one I have left to rant to. So, here goes nothing:

I have a very egotistical selfish belief, which is that I'm starting to think (and I confess this with complete seriousness) that I'm the main character. In - life? In everything. And I know, I know it's laughable. But if you had spent the past two days in my shoes, you'd likeley be drawn to the same belief.