Inferno | Draco Malfoy

041 | The Art of Vanilla

October is comforting.

It's been a little over a month since the start of fifth year and everything has been fairly normal. I suppose me and Cormac have become closer. We are really good friends.

I had breakfast with the Gryffindors this morning, with him and his mates. We are now outside of Potions together since Cormac, being the gentleman he is, chose to take me to my class. Cute. However we are a few minutes early and regardless, chattering can be heard from the class by students.

He talks to me about his family and his connections outside of England. His uncle owns a restaurant in Northern Ireland which I think is pretty wicked.

Cormac smiles. "I can take you there one day. It will be just the two of us, what do you say? It will be like a date—"

"Enough chit-chat." I catch a glimpse of platinum-blond hair. Though I didn't even need to see him to acknowledge him. His voice is recognisable enough.

"What are you aiming for? A trophy for having the loudest mouth, McLaggen?" He gives an exaggerated eye roll. "Maybe you should consider a career in competitive talking."

"You— Say that again!" Cormac reaches out to take hold of Malfoy but before he can, the ferret grabs my hand. Almost yanking me away from the furious Gryffindor as he starts to drag me inside the classroom.

I couldn't help but blush. His hand is soft, colder than mine and his fingers grip onto the back of my hand. Ah! He brushed his thumb over mine. I think I'm going to hyperventilate if I don't control my breathing.

No! He's in the wrong!

"Malfoy! What are you doing?!" I shout, letting myself be dragged by him. "And get your hands off me!"

"Why? What's the matter, Rosie? Already flustered?" He chuckles mischievously. "Careful now, don't make it so obvious that my hands turn you on."

I shut my mouth, sort of shaken with how upfront he was. That sick stomach feeling is happening again. I don't know why this monster keeps returning. It seems to have only obtained more power since September, and I have no idea how to kill it. At first it was simple to defeat, but now I think that it's immortal and is angry with me. It never leaves my side.

Malfoy chuckles as we sit down. At once, I snap out of my delirious mess, reminding myself not to get so worked up over holding hands even if it feels intimate.

Nothing will ever compare to that night.

My mind plays with me like the keys to a piano. When you mess up over and over again you become frustrated with yourself. Yet, you still continue. Perhaps there's a reason, or perhaps, you're just simply drawn to it.

After that night of unexpected and unfortunate surprises, I can't stop thinking. I constantly recall Daphne and I's conversation. Guilt, shame, mortification hang in my throat for I recently have been daydreaming, if not fantasising, about my sworn enemy.

It's disgusting, I can't help but reminisce on the sensation of our close proximity. The smell of him and most importantly, his touch. I want to punch him, throw up and run away every time he touches me. But in reality, I run away because I expect my consciousness to disappear and my body to betray me the moment his skin meets mine.

It makes me hate him more.

Malfoy cursed me with a monster full of animosity throughout our eternal feud. He needs to undo his agonising spell because one day it will take over my body, leaving me out dead and dry.

"Dark in here." Clicks of high heels are heard. "Do you consider your students visions?"

"No." Snape shuts the door with a bang behind him. "I suggest the ones who fail in my class to invest in a pair of spectacles."