The Consequence of Ambition

Game Of Morality

The game with Malfoy continues.

I hate him.

I hate him.

I hate him.

But he is still winning.

And I hate him for it.

A month had passed since the Christmas Party and Lana was still loosing miserably, her interactions with Malfoy had been few and far between in the weeks that passed but every single one was another reminder that he had an undeniable power over her, how he continued to keep that power was a mystery. He was a mystery. This stupid little game he had invented was just that, stupid, yet Lana was fully immersed into whatever dark fantasy he was playing out, the game was addictive and it consumed every corner of her mind, even her subconscious was constantly plotting ways to out-do Draco Malfoy at his own sadistic game. But she knew in order to out-do him, to out-smart him, to be in ultimate control, she had to be clever about it. He was the type of person who always expected the unexpected, who looked over his shoulder while walking alone, who slept with one eye open and a knife under his pillow. It was going to be difficult. She remembered the hospital incident and how he had seem so broken and how she had wanted to help him, to fix him. He was right, she wanted him to be her little broken project so she could feel like some sort of saviour to the fallen angel. Now she wanted to clip his fucking wings. That little show was all just an act, he had made himself look weak to lure her into this false sense of security and drag her into his game that she couldn't possibly win. And all because she was stupid and made a promise too quickly. That wouldn't have even mattered if she hadn't been taught from a young age to always keep a promise. But she had been brought up knowing that a promise wasn't just empty words, it was something you had to stick by regardless of who was involved or the disastrous consequences that came along with it. And while she was too busy riding along on her moral high horse, Malfoy was winning and ripping her friendships apart because by being loyal to him she was slowly and painfully breaking the trust of every single one of her friends. Each lie was another black mark on their relationship, almost as strong as the powers of dark magic, the lies were tainting and ripping apart everything good, until she was left with two things. Her thoughts. And him. This wasn't a game of morality, but she played it like it was, and that's where she knew she would loose. She knew in order to win this she had to be colder and crueller. More like him.

She had spent the afternoon alone whilst her friends had gone to the Three Broomsticks. Of course they had asked her to come, and only Harry seemed uninterested in trying to persuade her when she declined the offer. But once again she resisted their overly optimistic attempts at persuasion and stayed by herself, alone in the common room. She had thought about just going about life as if nothing had changed, that she wasn't hiding secrets and writing journals and contemplating how she had found herself so entwined with the boy who had made their lives hell for the past 6 years. But she just couldn't do it, there was no way she could sit and drink butter-beer and gossip about relationships and moan about homework when underneath all of that she was lying again and again and again. And so here she was. The common room was completely empty, its usual comfortingly busy atmosphere replaced only with an empty silence that made the sound of the fire crackling and Lana's steady breathing sound deafening. She was curled up in the armchair, legs tucked under her as she flicked through the journal, eyes scanning through her thoughts that had come to life on the yellowing pages. It was very possible that she could now recite every page from memory, each sentence, every word, every single syllable saved as a permanent image behind her eyelids. She wondered at what point she had crossed the dangerously precarious line from ambition to obsession.

"You are only young once child. Go and spend time with your friends." Her eyes shot up, instinctively slamming the book closed and burying it under her arm. The last thing she needed was someone finding that. Glancing around the room she was at a loss as to where the voice had come from, it couldn't have possibly been a student.