Limerence; Draco Malfoy

Chapter Sixteen: Knives

I didn't notice him straight away.

Instead, I had taken a moment to give a long, careful scan of the common room: it seemed far more spacious, far more echoey now that it was absent of all students. The night brought with it a still, frozen atmosphere which was half-peaceful, half unnerving.

The emerald green flames that licked and sparked up from the dying embers were the only source of lighting. Eerily hush, the atmosphere made the hairs stand stiff on the back of my neck. Made the dungeon air feel a degree or two chillier than normal. Slowly, paranoia trickled into my bloodstream, mixing in with the butterbeer to give way for a strange, floaty feeling.

All this irrational anxiety was only further proving my belief that I did not belong in Slytherin. Even the damn common room gave me the creeps.

With its murky water view stretching out of the floor to ceiling windows, it's far too formal looking leather sofas, it's hard, flagstone floors. The blond boy standing over in the far corner-

The blond boy standing in the corner.

I visibly flinched from where I was standing.

Blond.

Two days ago, seeing a blond boy, or a blonde girl for that matter, wouldn't have been of any significance to me at all. It was a hair color - one I often secretly fancied over my own carrot-colored curls.

And yet, when my gaze snagged this current flash of short, blond hair, it was like a panic leaver had been pulled inside my brain, and I could've screamed with fustration.

My fight or flight was instantly activated once I recognized his familiar profile: sharp jawline, stiff posture, and from what I could see, a thunderous, surly expression hung heavily over his features: an expression bleak enough to send any sane person running for the hills.

He hadn't spotted me yet, thank god. Too busy glowering at the wall. I still had time to creep away. Retreat from the danger at hand.

Yet I couldn't move a muscle.

I stared at him, stupidly transfixed. Or more so, at what he was staring at.

I followed his steely gaze to the wall opposite, where chalk had been drawn on the stone wall. It looked like a circle - no, a target. Like some kind of shooting range or a... dartboard?

Then I saw the glint of metal from his right hand, and it dawned on me that Draco wasn't playing with darts.

I gaped as he roughly pulled the sleeves to his white shirt up. Well, only one of them - the arm in which he was gripping the knife. His weapon.

Carefully, steadily, precisely, he raised his armed hand, keeping his sharp gaze fixed on his target.

The concentrated expression he now wore seemed to replace some of the rage which earlier clouded it - but only just.

I only snapped back into focus once the sound of a sharp thud broke the silence of the common room.

The knife was now sticking proudly in the very center of the chalk target. Draco's expression didn't even shift as he straightened up.

He didn't blink as he took several long strides over to the wall where he roughly yanked the knife out; the blade glinted as he held it up for a moment, almost as if he were admiring the sharpness, and then he twirled it effortlessly between his fingers as he strode back over to where he was stood before.

I blinked slowly.

Once, then twice.

Why...
...why is he throwing knives at the wall?

A more confusing scene couldn't have been layed before me. All my nerves had been momentarily pushed to one side as I watched, half forgetting I was even standing by the entrance. And then-

-And then he glanced to the side and he was suddenly staring right into my soul.

His eyes were piercing needles, first flickering in surprise, then puzzlement, and then, as expected, undeserving rage.

His arm was still raised and positioned to throw the knife again; he didn't lower it or move as we both stood frozen, gaping at each other in shock.

I glanced between him and the staircase next to him. Him. The staircase. Him. The staircase-

I cast my widened eyes to the flagstones and started scurrying over, trying to put as much distance between us by keeping close to the wall. His voice nearly froze me in my tracks.

"And where the fuck have you been?"