Do you know, it's extremely unnatural looking at yourself from another's point of view. It's unsettling, really.
I try to hide my astonishment, Harry doesn't seem to be matching my energy. Suppose though, he's done this once before.
I'm getting off topic.
Shivers run over my arms as if it were a cold December day. Now, I'm not too sure if that's due to some side effects of the potion; I hadn't really listened to them when Draco was warning me. Could be from the unreadable expression, and the way Harry hasn't yet responded to my mastermind plan yet, or could be because I know that look on my face is anger. A type of anger I've never seen Harry produce before, not to me at least.
Side note, good God am I ever scary. I mean, really. So irate. Suffice it to say, if I go around scowling like that, well no wonder I get all those fearful glances thrown my way.
I might have to work on that.
My palms, or, Harry's palms, what a complex scenario. Whoever's palms they are, I wipe them on my jeans. The anticipation of a reaction is agonizing.
I realize, as time goes on, that I'm growing extremely nervous.
Not nervous about the tournament, that bit has hardly crossed my mind at all to be honest.
Not even nervous about what's to come later. Well, still nervous about that, of course. Though admittedly shoving that thought away to the side and pretending that it's not a serious problem, as unhealthy and problematic as it may be, is doing me wonders.
Right now, my primary cause of concern, is that I've made a grave mistake.
The way I stare back at myself now makes it all so real. There's no going back now. And as I'm met with this unreadable expression, all of that confidence and certainty that I was sure I was doing the right thing, has seemed to vanish slightly.
