A/N: This chapter contains suicidal thoughts and descriptions. Please do not read if it will disturb you in any way. There is a summary in the Author's note at the bottom.
I shouldn't be worried about Granger. She should mean nothing to me.
But I can't stop thinking about her.
No. I mustn't think like that. I am Draco Malfoy. I am a pureblood. That is all that matters.
But is it?
Does anything even matter?
After I leave Granger, I go back to the kitchen, with the intention to make her some food. I find myself drawn to one of the drawers, and I slowly walk closer to it, reaching for the handle. I open it, and stare at what's inside.
A knife.
Silver and polished, shining under the lights. It looks sort of... beautiful. Tempting. I think about what it would look like with my blood on it.
"What are you doing?"
I whip my head around, guilt written all over my face. Granger stands in the doorway, her arms crossed around her tiny frame.
"N-nothing," I stutter slightly, and hope she doesn't notice.
"I'm going to bed," she states.
"Ok," I say dismissively, too busy imagining the hot, red liquid staining the knife.
It's only 5 minutes later that I realise.
She didn't eat anything.
"Damn it," I whisper to myself, already moving towards the bedroom.
"Gra-" I start to call out, but stop when I see her.
Her tiny form is huddled under the sheets, curled in a fetal position. If I stay still, I can hear her breathing in time with the rise and fall of her body.
I find myself walking closer, marveling at her sleeping form.
No.
I should not find any beauty in a mudblood.
I should hate her.
I should be repulsed by her.
So why am I not?
Why do I find myself inexplicably drawn to her?
I watch her sleep for a while, but when she starts to stir, I slowly back out of the room, closing the door behind me.
Stupid me.
If she realises I was there, watching her, it will be bad. Very very bad. She can't find out that I think about her, that I want to look after her, that, for some reason, I find myself unable to stay away from her.
That I care about her.
I shouldn't.
There are so many things that I am, that I shouldn't be.
Cruel. Vile. Repulsive. Monstrous.
Alive.
Yes, that's it.
I
Deserve
To
Die.
I walk back into the kitchen, and see something glistening on the table.
The knife.
I pick it up.
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