Limerence; Draco Malfoy

Chapter Eleven: Seating plans

Violet

I woke up early the next morning, surprised to find myself feeling wide awake and alert despite last night's disturbances. The other girls in the dormitory were still fast asleep as I quietly dressed in my robes, trembling head to toe with nerves.

I went into the bathroom, splashed icy water over my face gazed at my wide-eyed expression. I had expected to feel nervous for my first day, but even so I forced myself to tilt my chin up a little higher. I'll be fine I mentally reminded myself. I would survive my first full day at Hogwarts.

I just needed to make all the smart choices. Be careful. Cautious. It shouldn't have been too difficult to stay invisible now that practically all my fellow Slytherin classmates had a strong burning dislike for me.

I could only hope they wouldn't pay any attention to me. I'd have preferred them to forget my existence entirely, if I'm being honest.

But that would just be wishful thinking.

After a lonely breakfast spent with nobody to talk to, I left the hall with a stomach empty of food but filled with nerves. I'd checked on my timetable to discover my first class was Defence against the dark arts. But how the hell was I supposed to find the classroom in a school of this size?

By the time I'd finally reached the classroom doors after asking for directions from a kind ginger boy in my year -- we'd given each other, what I like to call, the silent ginger nod: a wordless means of acknowledgement redheads give to other redheads in passing -- the hallways were empty, silent. I had limped the rest of the way once I'd reached the top of the stairs. I made a mental note to go and see the nurse later to get my ankle checked out.

Okay, deep breaths Violet, deep breaths, I thought as I braced myself to walk into the class.

Many deep breaths I took.

Any more and I might have accidentally started hyperventilating.

Just get in there!

I opened the door.

The burning sensation of many curious eyes immediately hit me as soon as I stepped inside the darkened classroom. The curtains were mostly drawn, giving the room a shadowy, ominous atmosphere.

Standing opposite me was an equally as ominous looking schoolteacher with long, black hair; he stood stiff and stern in his black robes. His narrowed eyes inspected me with displeasure from afar.

"Miss Lockwood, is it?" He addressed me in icy, clipped tones. "Thank you for finally blessing us all with your presence."

Blood rushed to my face as the sound of muffled laughter rippled across the classroom, but I forced myself to keep my gaze fixed firmly on the professor. If he thought he could intimidate me...

Well, he could.

But I wasn't going to let him see that.

Prick.

"What makes you think it is acceptable to come into my lesson ten minutes late?" He spoke again in a terrifyingly calm voice. "On your first day, as well? Do you not think this is a poor impression you're making?"

His eyes suddenly glinted with malice, "You are not in America anymore, Miss Lockwood. Punctuality and manners have high value here, especially at Hogwarts. Now sit down."

I blinked at him, shooting a wary side-eyed glance around the class full of ogling students. I didn't lift my head, enabling my hair to remain shielding my face: I couldn't, wouldn't, let everyone see me blushing and getting all uncomfortable. My words trembled off my lips as I gripped the strap on my bag tighter.

"Where do I sit, sir?"

He sighed. Sighed! I was struck with a sudden bolt of burning rage: He had the attitude of a spoilt toddler.

Striding over to his desk, he snatched up a piece of paper, scanned it, crumpled it, and threw it back on the desk. Then his sharp eyes surveyed the room intently. Finally, he clasped his hands together and turned impatiently away from me on his heel.

"There is one spare seat on the second row to the back, take your books out and turn to page three-hundred and ninety-four." The class was deadly silent as I turned. Whilst I walked, I kept my eyes trained to my shoes, snaking my through the sea of desks towards the very back of the class. The professor suddenly snapped, "I don't hear any pages being turned!"

God, I already knew he was going to be a headache and a half.

There was a sudden rustling as everyone hurriedly rushed to follow his grouchy orders. I finally looked up to see where I was to be seated.

Oh.

Wonderful.

I wanted to Avada kedavra myself right there and then.

The desk was situated by the wall, yet the desk on the last row behind it was occupied by no other than the surly faced blond Slytherin boy. Not him, I internally groaned. Please, of all the people, why does it have to be Malfoy?!

I wasn't even going to bother giving him the curtesy of using his first name anymore. He never bothered to use mine.

My left ankle throbbed in complaint as I continued moving. It was impossible to hide my limp now. That bastard had could've seriously injured me.

I only caught said bastard's expression for a split second before I slipped into the desk in front of him. He wasn't frowning directly at me; instead, his glare was latched on my ankle.

I'd spotted something flicker behind his eyes for a brief moment - interest, apprehension, confusion, before his expression quickly morphed back to a cold mask.

I knew he was probably bitter inside - I could feel the anger directed from his glare burning into the back of my head. It created a static tension in the air, and a horrible sense of self-awareness crushed down on me. I'd sat in the chair closest to the stone wall - that way he wasn't sat directly behind me.

Not that it made me feel any safer or less on edge.

I might as well have been sitting in a lion's den. A pit of snakes.

The professors voice pierced through the air and I didn't pay much attention. Achieving good grades had never proven difficult for me - all I tended to do at Ilvermorny was sit and chat to my friends. Even then, I'd always been able to fly through my exams - all I had to do was take some extra time to study in the library in the evenings.

Now, I hadn't a soul to gossip to. Nobody in this class was daring to speak anyway. Before I could let out a yawn, I carefully, silently, pulled my diary out from my bag and flicked to a blank page. Doodling always passed the time, plus, I loved to draw - I had quite the knack for it. I took my quill and dipped it in some ink, before carefully scrawling my design across the page.

I hadn't payed much attention to what I was drawing until I'd finished it. I admired for a moment, then blinked down at the image, feeling daunted and confused.

The air I was breathing became thin as fear trickled through my veins; my throat tightened like a boa constrictor. I gripped my quill tight - tight enough it came close to snapping.

The picture showed the rough sketch of a scrawny girl with a long and wild mane of hair; she was standing by the window of what looked to be a prison cell - it had slanted bars across it which she was gripping onto, wanting out.

The cell she was stood it was empty, aside from the figure that stood in the corner. A pair of eerie yet unexplainably familiar eyes pierced from the page, taunting and cruel. The eyes were the only thing visible from the figures face as the rest of it was shadowed away by a tall, dark cloak.

He was lurking behind the girl - behind me - gripping what looked to be a knife in his hand, although it looked far too long and thin to be a knife; and any second now he was going to pounce, attack-

- I snapped my diary shut with trembling hands, biting my tongue so hard I tasted blood.