his star

𝐗𝐗𝐕𝐈

𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐨

𝚍𝚎𝚌𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛 𝟻𝚝𝚑, 𝟷𝟿𝟿𝟼

Let's say a person decides to take this one specific way over and over again, day after day. It becomes a habit and habits are familiar, right?

Well, not this one, not mine. 

I turn right one time before I reach the first staircase, going up all the twenty-one steps a staircase has and then I round left, stepping foot on the next one hundred and forty-seven steps until I reach the seventh floor, my destination, my habit as some would call it.

A routine is something you do almost every day of your life, something your day seems empty without. For most people it's stuff like putting on moisturiser before going to bed or writing down everything that happened today in their diary.

For me it's nothing like that. My routine, my habit, is to work on a plan on how to kill a man.

There rarely is a day on which I don't pass through all the corridors in oder to reach the Room of Requirement, reaching the piles of books which might carry the solution to my problem.

I'm currently staring at the floor, trying not to touch the grout line which is separating the one tile from the other adjacent one. My feet move fast which makes it even harder, but I'm used to it so I don't struggle with it.

It's a habit.

The first three staircases lie behind me, currently passing the portraits which make stupid comments about myself, but I don't listen to them. 

Everything goes according to plan and there is nothing that could stop me from pursuing what I have to do, nothing besides the voice which is the reason for my abrupt halt.

"Where are you going?"

I'm turning around, facing the dark haired girl who is fiddling with her fingers, slowly taking a step forward but paying attention to keeping enough distance between us.

"Where are you going?" I ask instead, heart pounding in my chest because of the fact that she could've followed me further, could've seen where I was heading to.

"I asked you first."

"Fair enough, but it's nothing special so I don't think you want to know." I try to keep her away from questioning me further, but it doesn't really work.

"I do, that's why I'm asking."

She wants me to reply, waiting to hear more, but nothing reaches her.

I keep quiet, staring at her face and noticing something which causes my brows to furrow.

"What's that? Who did that to you?" slowly moving in her direction, I point my finger to my cheek because it seems safer to use my face instead of hers.

For a short period of time she allows me to come closer, but at some point her feet move backwards again and that's the moment I stop. 

"Ask your girlfriend."

"Girlfriend? You mean Astoria? Are you saying that she-" I start, but get interrupted.

"Yes, that's what I'm saying. She went rigid after I tried to put some sense into her little brain and then she suddenly hit me." I shouldn't find it funny, I don't think I even do, but I'm laughing anyway.

"Stop laughing! I tried to be nice and she just- she just slapped me that stupid hag!"

The girl who is standing opposite me is trying to keep a straight face, trying to keep her expression as natural as possible, but she can't suppress the slight smile which wants to appear on her face, her lips.