Limerence; Draco Malfoy

Chapter Twelve: Childish

There was a kick at the back of my chair. I flinched in my seat, stiff with dread.

Another kick.

I ignored him.

He didn't exist.

I should have just ignored him right from the very start. Life would be a breeze by now if I had done that.

It was too late by this point though; he wasn't going to give up or forget our disputes now. A second later my chair leg was sharply kicked again, and I blinked, fully snapping back into focus.

The air was buzzing with the hum of conversation, and upon taking a swift scan around the classroom, I saw many of the students were pouring over shared books, swapping notes and scribbling things down.

"Lockwood," An impatient hiss shot out from behind me. I turned reluctantly in my seat to meet Draco's sneering expression with a troubled glance.

"Are you deaf or something? We're supposed to be working together."

I stared at him for a long second, blinking slowly. I nearly laughed in his face. "Group work?" I said stiffly. "Oh.... right..."

It was then I noticed something flicker behind his scowl; he'd scanned over my expression somewhat analytically, and then his eyebrows creased in displeasure.

His eyes bore into mine, burning and clouded with suspicion. I fidgeted under the horrible awareness that he was looking right at me - right into me, as though any second now he would start pulling out my thoughts.

"What is it?" He interrogated harshly, "Why do you look as though you've just seen a ghost?"

I stalled, averting my gaze to my hands which were currently gripping the back of my chair.

"Well... we do share a school with plenty of ghosts?" I tried brushing off his invasive question: he was only trying to get under my skin again, stir up another petty argument.

He scoffed. "Right. Whatever. Just give me your bloody notes, alright?" And then he mumbled bitterly under his breath, "I'm not in the mood to fail this year. I happen to be at the very top of this class and every other."

He paused to let out a dry, cryptic laugh. "Well, I'm supposed to be, but I don't count that bloody Gryffindor girl. She's abnormal - a freak."

"You mean Hermione?" I corrected him testily, having finally remembered the name of the kind Gryffindore girl who'd given me directions yesterday. "You just sound jealous."

He ignored that last remark. "You're her friend then, are you?" He sneered, leaning back in his chair and twirling his wand in one hand. I tried to stop my eyes from flitting down to it. It was irritatingly impressive how he could spin it so effortlessly one handed; I could never do it properly. "Granger and Lockwood... tell me why that doesn't surprise me in the slightest."

I ignored his sly dig, yet still had no choice but to reluctantly turn my chair to face his desk. I grabbed the small pile of books and notes from behind me, setting them down before us with a forced sigh.

I was sitting as far back from the table as I could get away with, the back of my chair trapped against my desk. The toxicity emanating off of him might as well have been contagious.

Draco didn't seem to care about distancing himself from me, uncannily enough; I saw the smug expression return to his features as he observed my discomfort. He slyly leaned across the desk to lean on his elbows, resting his chin on the palm of his hand -

- Staring blatantly right at me with flinty, judgemental eyes whilst I tried to look at anywhere but him.

I suddenly became very invested in the random notes laid before me, ignoring the burning in my cheeks. He was a ruler width apart, and his close proximity was all I could focus on.

I intended to copy his notes without his input - the less spoken interaction the better - and so a heavy, painfully intense silence descended between us as I scribbled away. The only thing that broke it was the tap, tap, tapping of his pen against the wood. Constant. Irritating. Deliberate.

After a painful fifteen seconds I snapped my eyes up to see him still staring in disdain, and then a thin sneering smirk twitched on his lips.

"Can you stop that?" I frowned at the pen he was tapping, my eyes lingering for a second or two longer at the curious looking ring on his hand. This hand suddenly tightened into a fist. I glance back up at him, trying not to shrink away under his glower.

"Stop what? I'm not even doing anything." His scornful expression didn't shift. "I can't help it if my presence is distracting to you, Lockwood."

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes: I needed to cut back on the sass, if I wanted to avoid any more fights. Though that would be-- difficult.

I couldn't even help but mumble my complaints under my breath as I went back to scribbling my notes. "You're so bloody childish."

"Childish?" He repeated in a strangely light yet icy tone. There was a sudden rustling of papers and I shrank back in my seat, my heart leaping into my throat as he leaned forward, and I tried to lean back.

He reached over to the desk behind me and snatched my diary up -- oh no no no -- swiftly leaning back in his chair, carelessly peering at the cover, turning it side to side.

I froze, horrified.

"I think that's rather a hypocritical thing to say. Doesn't drawing in class count as childish? Let's have a look at your sketches then, little miss Monet. I'm sure Da Vinci has nothing on y-"

"--Give that back!" I lurched forward, reaching to snatch it from his thieving hands, but he held it tauntingly above his head. I looked across to meet his delighted, cunning eyes; his mouth had set into a supercilious smile. I gripped the edge of the desk, sitting back stiffly in my chair.

"It's- it's my homework. I need it - give it back."

He must have heard the fear edged in my voice because the spiteful gleam in his eyes practically turned blazing. He lowered the book, not tearing his eyes from me as he flicked it open at a random page. Everything suddenly felt like it was moving in slow motion.

No no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no

I shall evaporate from humiliation if his eyes read one word of the things I've written in that thing-- For the millionth time in these past forty-eight hours, I was well and truly officially doomed.