Broken

Chapter 1: Meetings and Mayhem

 

            She wakes up as the first beams of light flood through her window. As she opens her eyes, a heavy feeling settles over her. Memories of yesterday rise to her mind. She looks down at her right hand, now bruised and swollen. It really happened. Today is when The Plan goes into action. Can I really do this? I'm a Gryffindor, I'm not cunning. Can I really do this to him? Her gaze wonders to the shattered mirror. Yes, I can, she decides. He has broken her, and he doesn't even care. He deserves everything she can throw at him. So why do I feel like this is wrong?

She meets Malfoy outside the Great Hall after breakfast.

“Did you do it?” he asks immediately. She nods almost imperceptibly, casting her eyes down.

“What is it?” he asks, his voice edged with annoyance.

 She doesn't answer, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. Without thinking, he lays a hand gently on her shoulder. Her eyes meet his, the soft brown orbs clouded and shimmering with tears. She is surprised to see his face soften, if only for an instant.

“What's wrong?” he asks again.

“I don't know if I can do this.”

“You already have.”

Her face pales. “Yes, I suppose I have,” she whispers.

“Look, Potter deserves anything you can throw at him. You have no reason to feel guilty.”

“What do you know about guilt?”

“More than you would think, Weasley.”

She narrows her eyes in confusion at the almost sad tone of his voice. “Wh–What do you mean?”

He sneers at her. “None of your damn business. Are we done here? I have more important places to be.”

“Then go.”

“Fine,” he hisses, “I will.”

She closes her eyes against the angry slam of the door. So I hit a nerve. Apparently there is more to the Slytherin King than meets the eye.

            She saunters into the common room, a smug smile on her face. The smile grows as she notes that a pair of vivid green eyes are trained upon her. They are practically burning holes into her skin. But as she turns to face their owner, he looks away hastily. She walks to his table, fixing her expression into the nervous one she frequently displayed not so long ago.

“Do you mind if I sit with you?” she asks, speaking softly and giving him a doe eyed gaze.

“Uh– I mean– sure,” he stutters, sweeping his books over to one side of the table.

She represses the urge to laugh. The potion had begun to work fast, but the effects were subtle. He probably had no idea what was going through his head right now. But I do, she thinks. A pang of guilt wells within her chest, but she pushes it down. He deserves this. She slides in beside him, letting her leg brush his. He tenses and his cheeks redden. Score one for me.

Dear Diary,

            This is positively perfect! I have to admit, at first I felt incredibly guilty. But what do I have to feel remorse for? What have I done? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. He is the one who should be sorry. But is he? No. But he will be. Once this potion takes full effect, that's when the real fun begins. Malfoy says that day is at least a week away. Well, I can wait. And when my time comes, he will regret ever having ignored me.