Villain's Love || Draco x OC

(8)

Slughorn had planned his party earlier. He had told me that he had enjoyed the dinner immensely, so he decided to hold his party next week. He also hinted that I bring along a plus one, but I kindly declined the offer that I had one at all.

The person I'd bring along has already been invited to the party.
Theo, I'm talking about.

I don't really want to invite Pansy or Daphne, as this party could be my chance to get closer to Theo and possibly officialise our relationship. And.. maybe I can get drunk with him and end up feeling his mouth against mine once again.

I shake my head. I'm overthinking again. I shouldn't meddle myself so much with such problems. And wasn't I the one who claimed that love is worthless? Now I am the one wasting my time with it. Perhaps my opinion has budged and I have exaggerated my hatred, but my mind still believes that deeply. But does my heart...?
No.. We don't talk about her.
I don't have time to be irrational.

I've heard that Potter has grown suspicious. He suspects that Draco is behind the cursed locket, and that he is a death eater. Clever of him, but he's still stupid- he hasn't tried to approach Dumbledore about that. And I know he hasn't because if he did, me and Draco would be kept under an eye and we both would probably have to be suspended for the time period of Voldemort trying to grasp power. Humourlessly, Dumbledore blindly trusts Snape. This is why Gryffindors aren't known for their brains- only their recklessness and arrogance.

I sigh. Currently, I'm in my dorm. For the previous hour, I have been studying. Unfortunately, I can't focus. The book still lies in my hands, and if I attempt to decipher it's meaning and grasp the information, I end up failing miserably. My mind is racing with how to murder the headmaster, and how to fix the vanishing cabinets, and how to get my way through my messy love life. I haven't heard from Mattheo, which I see has taken a toll on me. I need his humour and carelessness to distract me from these hard times.

I close my book and lie back in my bed, staring at the ceiling as my sister's laugh echoes in my ears. I can remember her soft smile and gentle brown eyes- I can remember her giggles and the fact that she made me happy. I can hear my mother calling out for me, beckoning the both of us to dinner. Even Father seemed happier, and I can remember his human features before he had completed passing pieces of his soul into random but hard to find objects. Even Tom smiled more- him without a burden makes him have the kindest and most purest soul I know. I remember the way we took hours to finish dinner, because we were all laughing so much. I haven't felt that in such a long time. The fact that i don't even know who murdered my mother and sister kills me internally. They died in front of me. Someone had slit their wrists. I don't know who could have done that. I don't know how came inside that night. All I know was that someone broke in, slashed a dagger at them, and fled. Me and my brothers held them as they died. I had never ever felt as much pain I had felt that night. I never will. That night, I lost two relevant people in my life- and I wasn't the only one severely impacted. A part of me believes that Father became evil to mask up his hurt and need. My brothers had moved on along with him, but I tend to keep things in mind forever. The pain I felt will never disappear. I will forever be motherless and sisterless. I will forever remember my sister choking on her blood, I will forever be reminded of the blood stained rug that I didn't want to throw out because it was my mother's favourite rug. I will never forget how much I fussed over letting their lifeless bodies be buried six feet into the ground- they were too far from me.

You know, I wanted to talk to my brothers about them. I knew I needed to spill the bottle and just talk to them about it, but they never gave me attention. That was one thing I hope they regret- they let me grow up alone. They let me feel left out and excluded. Even when young, I knew that they wanted to cry it out with me, they wanted to hug me and wanted to support me, but they wanted to be men, supposedly like Father. Mattheo was always preferably rational; he hated expressing sadness, while Tom learnt that I needed emotional support and came to my aid a little too late. I know he recognises that, but my other brother doesn't. That's why he's not so close to me. That's why we forever will be just brother and sister.