Tainted Love

The Bathroom

IRIS

It was a peculiar feeling. An odd mix of shame and hope. Iris spent the whole weekend thinking of him, thinking of what had happened. What had happened again. She had been so out of it that even Tracey had noticed it on Saturday night - and if Tracey noticed something, it was glaringly obvious.

She had explained it away with a quick "sorry, I'm tired," which had earned her a quizzical look from Sebastian.

The weekend had been bad enough - she had spent it waiting with bated breath for Monday, wondering whether or not he would acknowledge what had happened or try to ignore it again. Probably the latter, but Iris had always been a bit optimistic.

Not that it would make her happy if it happened again. It was more like... well, she didn't know exactly what it was like. If it was possible to dread something and want it at the same time, then maybe that was what she was feeling.

She knew she hated him, knew she wouldn't want to go anywhere near him unless she was forced to. And she knew he felt the same.

It was almost as if she was hoping that their brains would do that thing again. Short circuit. Shove down the inevitable guilt and disgust and let their hands go.

She wouldn't want to fuck him with a clear head. She could only do it while she was angry, while she was in the Love Chamber, while she was feeling spiteful and cruel and so, so attracted to him.

But as soon as she walked in on Monday, she knew it wouldn't happen. He was back to ignoring her, determined to keep his back turned to her.

He had done the same thing last week but it felt different now.

Last week she had wanted to ignore it, too. Until a point. Now, she wasn't sure what she wanted. If she wanted it again.

And last week, even though neither of them said a word to each other, they had caught each other's eyes so many times that it couldn't have been a coincidence. She would look up and find him looking at her, or he would glance around at her to see that she was already staring.

It was some sort of strange connection. She could never tell what he was thinking by looking at his face - he kept it blank all the time.

But she thought she had learned other ways to figure him out. The fact that he was looking at her enough to catch her eye meant something. She wasn't sure if it was hatred or lust or... something else, but she knew it wasn't indifference.

That was the thing. Even though she wasn't sure if she wanted him again, she wanted him to want her. She didn't want him to be indifferent.

As much as she loathed Draco's superiority complex and his need to grab power wherever possible, Iris felt like she had the same urge in her, too. She liked the knowledge that her looking at him might affect him. Might make him think of things he was probably actively ignoring.

Definitely actively ignoring.

She toyed with the idea of ignoring it too - an idea that she had fancied this time last week - but she found that she didn't want to. However she felt about it, whatever complicated mix of emotions existed within her, she didn't want to forget about it.

Draco seemed like the type to believe what he needed to. He had survival in his veins - she supposed most people who had been in such close proximity to the war had to. It was wired in him.

If he needed to forget her, he would. His behavior was proof enough of that.

The thought pissed her off. She was nowhere near a perfect person, but she had never been forgettable. And the fact that Draco thought she was... she felt a growing need to prove him wrong.