A/N: Hi, My name is Maggie and this is my first fanfiction: I'm so nervous! Thank you so much to Athena's Daughter for reading this over for me! If you like it, please review, because I'm really scared about posting my writing on the internet :)
Mirabella looked around with satisfaction as she placed the last book on the shelf above her bed. Her new dorm room was small and spare, but it was all hers, with a lock that only she held the key to, and no parents or younger brothers to barge in uninvited while she was reading or daydreaming. She smiled as her eye caught on Muzzy, her pink and somewhat careworn stuffed poodle, perched at the head of the bed.
College was going to be fantastic, she thought, shaking her chestnut-brown hair out of her blue eyes for the seventeenth time that day. She'd already met several girls on her floor that she thought might turn into friends: Cally, a leggy blond from Minnesota who spent most of her time talking about horses and boys; Mellie, a redhead from California who sported the latest fashions and had already pasted up photos of all her favorite celebrities in her room; and Sandra, a quiet girl from Michigan who had a wicked sense of humor once you got her talking. It wasn't going to be anything like high school, where she'd cringed and muttered and hid from the "popular" kids. She was going to reinvent herself here.
Shaking herself out of her reverie, Mirabella gave her new home one last once-over, smiling at the wide windowseat beneath the room's only window and running a finger down the spine of one of her beloved Harry Potter books before flopping onto her back on the small, lumpy (but all hers) bed, grinning up at the ceiling as her mind filled with plans for the years to come.
The year was kicking off with a bang, Mirabella thought as she watched the bodies gyrate on the dancefloor. Her residence complex hosted an annual party to celebrate the beginning of the school year, and Cally and Mellie had dragged her and Sandra along, despite her protests that she wasn't a 'partying' sort of girl. But the party had turned out to be a lot of fun, with thumping dance music and punch that someone must have spiked, because her head was starting to spin a little after three cups of it.
"Want to dance?" A gruff voice intruded on her solitude where she leaned against the wall.
Mirabella looked up…and up, and up, until she met earnest brown eyes. The boy – young man – standing in front of her had to be at least 6'3". He was muscular, with high cheekbones and a strong jawline, and his eyes seemed to bore into her, imploring her to divulge all her deepest secrets.
"Are – are you – what?" Mirabella said confusedly. Boys like this just didn't ask her to dance. She'd never been one of the popular girls in high school, and she'd just gotten used to the idea that her place at a dance was to lean against the wall and watch everyone else.
Those brown eyes blinked. "Do you want to dance?" he repeated, looking a little confused.
Mirabella took a second to realize that, yes, this guy was asking her to dance, and no, he didn't seem to be teasing. She loved college. "Yes, I'd love to," she said, and let her partner lead her out to the dancefloor.
"My name's Mirabella, by the way," she shouted into his ear as they began to gyrate in time to the music.
"Andy," he grunted, sliding an arm around her waist to drag her closer. One of his legs slid between both of hers, and he pulled their bodies together, moving them in time with the beat.
Mirabella began to feel uncomfortable. She'd never danced with a guy before, and she'd never realized that it was this – well, sexual. It was exciting, but it was also a little weird, to be pushed up this close against someone she'd only just met. She tried to draw back a little, but Andy only drew her closer, burying his face in her neck.
"You're so hot..." he slurred, as his body continued to guide hers through the rhythms of the music. Mirabella's head spun. He thought she was hot? No one had ever told her that before. Andy turned his head slowly, dragging his lips up her neck and across her jaw until they met her lips. His tongue pressed against them until she opened them reflexively, and then he was kissing her deeply, moving his body against hers in a rhythm that had nothing to do with the beat of the music.
Mirabella started to panic. Andy's hands were moving up and down her sides, touching her in a way no one ever had before, and his mouth was moving demandingly against hers, and the three cups of spiked punch she'd had were blurring everything, making it hard to shove him away, to break off and say "No". Andy was nibbling at her ear now, and she could hear his breath wheezing in and out as he rocked against her, hands roaming restlessly. His lips felt good on her earlobe, and part of her wanted to just give in to whatever Andy wanted, but part of her was screaming that this was wrong, that she needed to stop him, that she didn't want this with a complete stranger.
One of Andy's hands brushed over her breast and Mirabella broke. She pushed out with her arms and stepped away at the same time, saying, "No."
Andy looked down at her, disbelief painting his face. "I thought you looked like a cool chick," he accused.
Mirabella closed her eyes tightly at the accusation. She'd hoped, so badly, that coming to college would let her escape the invisible label she'd worn all through high school, a sign that kept her from getting invited to parties or weekend shopping trips. For just a second, she considered letting Andy do whatever he wanted, if it meant that she'd be popular here. But her stomach twisted sharply, even thinking it, so she raised her chin and said, "I just don't like to move that fast."
Andy rolled his eyes. "Whatever," he said, and then he was gone, wandering through the crowd in search of another girl. A minute later, Mirabella spotted him wrapped around someone she recognized from her floor, with his hands cupping her butt and his tongue so far down his throat that it might as well have been a part of her. She sighed, and turned away, looking for Mellie or Cally to tell them that she was ready to go back to her room.
By the time the key was turning in the lock of her door, Mirabella's head was spinning. Cally had insisted that she drink another cup of the (spiked) punch before allowing her to leave the party. Mirabella hadn't been sure that was a good idea, since she wasn't used to alcohol, but Cally had draped an arm around her shoulders and told her, "You're in college now. It's time to grow up," so Mirabella had forced a grin, taken the red plastic cup, and drunk the contents down, resisting the urge to grimace at the bitter taste of the alcohol. Then she'd stumbled back to her building, fumbling in her pocket for her keys as she lurched up the stairs and down the hallway.
Once she'd finally found the right door and gotten inside, Mirabella leaned against it for a while, breathing hard. She felt a little nauseous from the spiked punch, and she was still a little freaked out from the way that Andy had manhandled her earlier. She needed a way to calm down a little before she fell asleep.
Her eye fell on her collection of Harry Potter books, sitting on the shelf above her bed. Nodding to herself, she picked out Order of the Phoenix, her favorite book, and threw herself on her bed to read it for what had to be the 32nd time. The familiar words and beloved characters bewitched her as always, taking her away from the cares that filled her everyday life.
After a while, her eyelids began to droop, and Mirabella fell asleep on her tiny dorm bed, her head pillowed on Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix and her head filled with thoughts of the book and its characters.
When she woke up, Mirabella knew almost instantly that she wasn't alone – even before she opened her eyes, something in the air told her that someone else was present. She sat up quickly, blinking her eyes against the bleariness of sleep and groping around for some sort of weapon, imagining robbers or murderers or any sort of wrongdoers. As her vision cleared, she saw that a young man was sitting on her windowseat, looking out on the campus. He was slim, and had dark hair that was just a bit shaggy.
He looked so relaxed, sitting there, that Mirabella almost forgot to be afraid. "Wh – What are you doing here?" she asked, trying and failing to adopt an intimidating tone.
Her uninvited visitor jumped a little, turning around quickly. Mirabella had an instant to register that he was really very good looking, with high cheekbones and gorgeous grey eyes, before he spoke. "Finally, you're awake," he said in a tone that sounded like relief.
"What? How long have you been there?" Mirabella demanded, outraged. "For that matter, how did you get in here?"
The young man spread his hands helplessly. "I have no idea," he said. "One minute, I'm asleep in my bed, the next I wake up and – " he made a vague gesture – "here I am."
Mirabella's heart beat faster as her mind whirled. This sounded like the plot of one of the fantasy novels she loved to read. Then again, it also sounded like the sort of thing an Andy-type might say, hoping to confuse her into things she wouldn't normally agree to. Clutching the covers closer to her chin, she bit her lip before saying, "I don't believe you." She braced herself against the bed, ready to throw herself aside if her unexpected visitor turned aggressive.
Instead, the young man shrugged, and grinned. "Didn't really expect you to," he said. "I s'pose I'll go now. Find a way back somehow, anyway – "
Mirabella watched, frozen, as he pushed himself up from the windowseat and headed toward the door. When it didn't turn in his hand (Mirabella was always careful to lock it, whether she was inside or out), he fumbled in his clothes, pulling out a stick of wood that was nearly a foot long.. "Alohomora", he said carelessly, and the Mirabella heard the click of the deadbolt turning. Recognition flashed through her mind as he laid his hand on the knob again and began to turn.
"Wait!" she blurted as he began to open the door.
The young man froze instantly. A moment later, he turned around. "Was there something?" he asked, smirking a little.
Mirabella bit back a retort. She had to know, after all. "You – you just said Alohomora, didn't you," she stammered.
A single eyebrow was lifted in response. "It's a curse in my native language," the young man replied coolly, but his shoulders twitched, and his eyes slid away from hers. He was obviously hiding something. Could she be right?
Mirabella shook her head. "I'm sorry, but that's not going to work," she said, watching the young man's eyebrows rise in response. "You see," she continued, hoping for all she was worth that her wild speculations were right, "I know about the wizarding world."