Okay kids. This was the very first fanfiction I ever wrote (five years ago), and I thought, hey, what the hell? So, I'm posting it here. If anything, it's a nice look at how far I've come. And this is my baby, so it's always going to be that kind of special.
Disclaimer: I own nothing except Mira, her background, and her family. A little bit of intro to this story. It is AU, and Mira is, obviously, my own creation.
Warnings are self-harm, some eating disorder behavior, underage drinking and language.
A bit of background: Mira's parents were killed a while ago, and Mira has been taken in as a foster child into the Malfoy home. She and Draco have a somewhat twisted connection, also they were heavily involved in the past. Mira is an initiated Death Eater, as well as Draco. This takes place the summer before and during sixth year.
This is dedicated to Drew and Amber. They are at the top of the list when it comes to the most important people in my life, and I love them.
It was a bland sort of day. Mira rolled her eyes and lifted a smoldering cigarette to her lips.
"Mira, you must eat something." Lucius Malfoy, his shoulder-length blonde hair pulled into a ponytail by a black velvet ribbon, called down the table at her. His blonde wife next to him nodded, nibbling on a carrot like the overgrown rat she was.
Mira scowled at the table before her, overflowing with various dishes from the Malfoy kitchen. The smell of anything that would nourish her made her stomach squelch and twist. Deciding that if she stayed in this dining confinement any longer she would vomit all over the Malfoy's linen table cloth, she made to stand up.
"I'm going to bed." She said curtly, giving a final suck on her cigarette. She tossed it in her goblet still full of pumpkin juice, and left the table quickly.
Once out of the dining room, away from Lucius and his snarling wife, she breathed easier. She cursed them, every fucking one of them. Her parents, for being idiotic enough to believe in that fool Dumbledre, that he would save them if they joined him, Lucius and Narcissa, acting as though her parents had simply gone on holiday. And then there was Draco. She loathed Draco. His calm demeanor, his snide when-you're-ready-to-talk-I'll-listen attitude. Really, he was infuriating. And yet...
She sighed as she tried to push his face, his gray eyes that could dissolve her anger, her frustration, from her mind. Her thoughts dwelled again to her parents, dead and cold in their graves, just a mile away, in the dark graveyard beyond the Malfoy manor. The anger she had managed to swallow all summer was rearing its head again, seeking and demanding demonic relief. She would get her relief. The only problem was hiding it. Hiding it from Draco, of course, for he always did seem to know about it.
"Idiot," He would say, shaking his head, as he wrestled the glistening razor from her bloody hands.
She was being a bit too careless, she noted, looking down at her arms. The scars bore their faces, red and some still slightly bleeding, others thin white lines, fading, though their imprint on her would last forever.
"Going to bed already?"A deep voice said behind her, graceful footsteps marking Draco's approach.
Mira swore inwardly, biting her lip. "Yes." She said, tight lipped. She turned, facing him, staring in the face the young man who had, for many nights now, lived in her dreams, both at night and during the day.
His look, so gray and so cold, pierced through her. They stood like that, Draco's sneer disappearing as he searched into the depths of Mira's deep green eyes.
"You can't hide forever, you know." He drawled at last, his hand instinctively raising to her cheek, his pale, long fingers softly trailing down the side of her face.
Mira's eyes snapped shut. She had been fighting the urge to climb into Draco's arms and completely break down for at least three weeks, as he was the only person she could talk to, the only person that could even remotely understand how she was feeling, the only person for a thousand miles around that wouldn't think her stupid and juvenile for the tears she longed, and needed, to cry.
She took a deep breath and tried to steady the torrent of thought in her mind. She had to keep going, keep fighting these idiotic impulses. If she started talking, she wouldn't stop. She would tell this boy everything, things she didn't even want to remember herself. That, she knew, was something she couldn't handle.
She swallowed the lump in her throat, and stepped away from his touch. "Watch me." She said, glancing at his eyes once more before turning around and continuing to her room.