Limerence; Draco Malfoy

Chapter Thirty-Nine: Wonderland

The prefects bathroom was exactly how I remembered it: cold. Spacious. Echoey and illuminated with a cool, blue tint. The air was thin and chilly; silent aside from the sound of the wind rattling through the high, arched window panes.

I was still mystified as to why he'd led me here. And I thought it was ironic that it should be the very same bathroom where Pansy had dug her claws into me earlier. That whole ordeal already felt like years ago, and yet I reckoned only four hours or so had passed.

Time truly does fly by when you're having fun...

My echoing footsteps slowed as they walked into the centre of the bathroom. I turned a slow circle, taking it all in.

Draco had wandered off over to the sinks, where he was currently sliding one of the tiles across the floor.

I was ready to question him. What the hell was he doing this time? And had he lost his mind?

He was loosing a lot of things lately: his mind, his patience, his common sense, his shame... Although he probably never had any of those traits to begin with.

My attention was dragged away from him by the sight of a blood splatter on the tiled wall. It was faint, barely noticeable.

But it was my blood. I knew that much.

Seeing it made me forget where I currently was, and who I was currently with. Made it all come surging back - the whole, painfull ordeal. All of it.

Pansy's voice and my own hysterical sobs stayed echoing around the bathroom like ghostly whispers. Playing on a haunting loop.

I couldn't risk dwelling on it right now - replaying what had happened. Oh no:

Because then, all those searing emotions I'd bottled up would only go flooding out into the open in the form of tears - out to where where his critcal, ridiculing eyes would watch and judge.

I wouldn't - couldn't - allow for that to happen. My pride had already been dented enough today.

Distraction distraction distraction - ah yes,

- it was time for a distraction.

I turned to face Draco.

He was sitting leaning back against the wall under the sinks, busy fiddling with a small wooden box in his lap.

His long legs in their black school trousers were stretched out infront of him. And the white school shirt he wore appeared crumpled at the shoulders: A result of my scrunching my fists up into it.

"What's in that box?"

I broke the strange silence in the air - trying to drag my thoughts away from the faint blood splatter behind me; and away from the flutter in my chest that came from looking at his face.

"And why have you brought me here? Or are you just planning on us both sitting on the floor all night? Doesn't sound like my idea of fun."

He snapped his unsmiling gaze up to mine, one eyebrow raised, looking as though he was weighing up his thoughts.

Stroking the lid of the mysterious box, he scanned me up and down; Contemplating and appearing somewhat conflicted.

I tried to not to fidget, or flush, or look away.

He's so pretty...

"Can I even trust you? Not to snitch?"
He adressed me in clipped, hostile tones.

I swallowed, snapping myself back into focus.

Why had I been thinking that right now?

What if he can read minds?!?!