Draco gently pulled Stormie up from the floor and sat her on the bed. She
visibly cringed. He stepped away from her and began to pull his dark green
sweater over his head, giving way to light, soft flesh stretched taut over
rippling muscle.
"Draco I-" She started, but he cut her off.
"Just sit there, I'm ganna show you something." The shirt was off and he walked over to her, he stood inches away. He turned around, and he heard her gasp.
Shiny silver scars criss-crossed all over. Bubbling up so they looked like welts. Without a second thought her index finger touched one, tracing it until it disappeared in the waistband of his pants.
He could feel her finger tracing, and it sent shivers through out his body. No one had ever been that gentle, even when they were trying. But she wasn't trying. She was just doing it, without even thinking.
"What are they from?" she asked in a whisper. Her finger still at the top of his waistband.
"My father doesn't forgive mistakes so easily. Unfortunately, I make quite a few of them." He turned and drooped to his knees in front of her.
She looked down into his unique gray eyes. She wanted to hug him, but wasn't sure how to go about it. Unsure of where she stood with him, she sat and waited for him to continue.
"I wear my scars on the outside, every one of them I thought were my fault. If he's drunk, If make to much noise, I get beaten. If I don't get high enough marks, I'm beaten. He beat's me with what ever he gets his hands onto first. Once he even beat me with a metal pipe. If my mother show's too much attention to me, he beat's us both." He held her gaze; new tears were running down both of their faces.
"I have scars on the inside too. I have scars from being unloved, yelled at, and pushed away. You wear all of your scars on the inside. I have just as many problems as you do. I cry myself to sleep because I will NEVER have a real father, one that will love me and care how I am. You have that Storms, you have a family who loves you, friends who love you, every one has problems, we all have scars, and some take them better than others." He looked at her, doubt written all over her face.
"You know your friend Weas- Ginny?" he asked, she nodded. "Did you know that she set a Basilisk on students in her first year? Do you know that a young Voldermort inhabited her body? How about Neville? Did you know that he lives with his grandmother because both of his parents are in St. Mungo's because Death Eaters tortured them? They don't even know who he is when he goes to visit them."
"Why should you care? It doesn't affect you." Stormie said, wondering why no one ever told her about Ginny.
"It does concern me, my father is the one who was responsible for what happened to Ginny in her first year, my father is one of the Death Eaters that tortured the Longbottoms, and now how do you think that makes me feel? I feel sorry for every one of them who lost a parent a sister, a brother. And you wanna know why I act the way I do? Because I know that their parents love them, that when they go home, their mothers hug them and tuck them in at night. I'm lucky if my mother looks at me, even with Potters parents dead, he knows they loved him. Now what doesn't affect me? Just because I look like I don't care doesn't mean I don't. I just learned early in life that you have to hide your emotions if you want to survive."
She had tears streaming down her face. "What about me? What do you think about me? Why did you tell me that? Why am I so special if you can relate to anyone else?" she asked.
"Why did you tell me?" he replied, his eyes were dry, he had never cried in front of anyone before, but he had just let the one person he knew that could tear him up see him in one of his weakest moments.
"I told you because I was mad, and because I wanted to hurt you for hurting me." She whispered so low that he almost missed it.
"How did I hurt you?" he asked, looking thoroughly bewildered.
"I like you. And it hurts because I know that either you won't like me back, or you will hurt me." She said her eyes on the floor.
His breath caught in his chest, she liked him? He didn't know what to say, but a part of him obviously did because before he knew it, he was talking. "I do like you, and I never want to hurt you, never. I would hurt myself before I hurt you."
She looked at him with her big hazel eyes, surprise written all over her face.
"C'mon, you look tired." Draco said as he got up and pulled the covers back on the bed. "You can sleep here with me if you want, or you can go back to your dorm."
Stormie looked around the room, "I'll stay here." Was all she said before she climbed under the covers and lay down.
Draco looked at the tiny girl in his bed. No one had ever shared his bed, well with out having sex first, with him. He smiled at how much smaller the big bed made her look than she really was. He turned out the light and climbed in next to her. He turned his back to her, hoping he would be able to keep his promise to himself about not touching her. He felt her shift closer to him.
"Um." he turned to see her looking at him. "I." she couldn't get the words out. Draco flipped over so that he was facing her. He pulled her soft body closer to his hard body.
"Goodnight." was all he said. She didn't move away, or struggle, but settled in within his warm embrace. All she could think of was how he knew what she wanted before she did, than she was asleep.
~*~*~*~*
Draco woke to something soft rubbing up against his leg. He opened his eyes and looked down. Coppery-blonde hair met his gaze. He looked at her small face. Long copper lashes resting on smooth, creamy skin. She had a small upturned nose and pouty little lips. He tried to inch away from her, but she had her arms securely around his abdomen, and wasn't letting go. He smiled; she looked just like a pixie.
With a small moan and another brush of her leg against his, she opened her eyes. She smiled up at him and said, "You know, you look just like an angel?" before she released him and turned over, falling back to sleep.
He sat there, shocked. Sure people had said he was a piece of art, but never in the history of his life had he been told he was or looked like an angel. Wanting to know how she derived at this decision he began to try and shake her awake.
"Um?" was the only response he got out of her.
"Where do you get I look like an angel from?" he asked in a quite voice. She shrugged. "Muggle paintings." Was all she said.
"What about muggle paintings?" He asked
She sighed and turned over. "Your not going to let me go back to sleep are you?" she asked, he shook his head. "Muggle paintings of angels are always the same, they have blondeish hair and blue eyes. You look kind of like an angel, but I guess if you were an angel, than you would be a fallen angel." She finished looking thoughtful.
He vaguely wondered how she could use so much logic right after she had woken up. But instead of asking he said in a voice laced with mock hurt, "A fallen angel? Why would I be a fallen angel?"
She giggled, he thought it sounded like music, and replayed "Because, for one, you would be in heaven and I would be lost in the dungeons, probably still screaming at that picture, and two, I don't think they let arrogant prats in heaven."
She ducked as he threw a pillow. "HEY! That wasn't fair! You could have at least warned me!" she said as she pouted.
"Now why would I do a thing like that?" he asked, looking confused. She picked up the pillow from under her head and hit him up side the head.
"OH, and that was fair?" he asked garbing the pillow away from her. She giggled and nodded. "Um. your mom and brother are leaving today, and you missed Breakfast. Maybe you should go see them." He said, knowing she wanted to tell her mother goodbye.
"OK, I'll see you later." She said as she stood. She pulled out her wand and started to transfigure her clothes. She ended up with a pair of tight fitting light green jeans and a tight button down white shirt. Her slippers became black steel-toe boots. She smiled. "What? You don't think I was going to walk around in my sleepwear all day did you?" he just smiled and shook his head. She threw a 'Later' over her shoulder as she ran out the door.
"Draco I-" She started, but he cut her off.
"Just sit there, I'm ganna show you something." The shirt was off and he walked over to her, he stood inches away. He turned around, and he heard her gasp.
Shiny silver scars criss-crossed all over. Bubbling up so they looked like welts. Without a second thought her index finger touched one, tracing it until it disappeared in the waistband of his pants.
He could feel her finger tracing, and it sent shivers through out his body. No one had ever been that gentle, even when they were trying. But she wasn't trying. She was just doing it, without even thinking.
"What are they from?" she asked in a whisper. Her finger still at the top of his waistband.
"My father doesn't forgive mistakes so easily. Unfortunately, I make quite a few of them." He turned and drooped to his knees in front of her.
She looked down into his unique gray eyes. She wanted to hug him, but wasn't sure how to go about it. Unsure of where she stood with him, she sat and waited for him to continue.
"I wear my scars on the outside, every one of them I thought were my fault. If he's drunk, If make to much noise, I get beaten. If I don't get high enough marks, I'm beaten. He beat's me with what ever he gets his hands onto first. Once he even beat me with a metal pipe. If my mother show's too much attention to me, he beat's us both." He held her gaze; new tears were running down both of their faces.
"I have scars on the inside too. I have scars from being unloved, yelled at, and pushed away. You wear all of your scars on the inside. I have just as many problems as you do. I cry myself to sleep because I will NEVER have a real father, one that will love me and care how I am. You have that Storms, you have a family who loves you, friends who love you, every one has problems, we all have scars, and some take them better than others." He looked at her, doubt written all over her face.
"You know your friend Weas- Ginny?" he asked, she nodded. "Did you know that she set a Basilisk on students in her first year? Do you know that a young Voldermort inhabited her body? How about Neville? Did you know that he lives with his grandmother because both of his parents are in St. Mungo's because Death Eaters tortured them? They don't even know who he is when he goes to visit them."
"Why should you care? It doesn't affect you." Stormie said, wondering why no one ever told her about Ginny.
"It does concern me, my father is the one who was responsible for what happened to Ginny in her first year, my father is one of the Death Eaters that tortured the Longbottoms, and now how do you think that makes me feel? I feel sorry for every one of them who lost a parent a sister, a brother. And you wanna know why I act the way I do? Because I know that their parents love them, that when they go home, their mothers hug them and tuck them in at night. I'm lucky if my mother looks at me, even with Potters parents dead, he knows they loved him. Now what doesn't affect me? Just because I look like I don't care doesn't mean I don't. I just learned early in life that you have to hide your emotions if you want to survive."
She had tears streaming down her face. "What about me? What do you think about me? Why did you tell me that? Why am I so special if you can relate to anyone else?" she asked.
"Why did you tell me?" he replied, his eyes were dry, he had never cried in front of anyone before, but he had just let the one person he knew that could tear him up see him in one of his weakest moments.
"I told you because I was mad, and because I wanted to hurt you for hurting me." She whispered so low that he almost missed it.
"How did I hurt you?" he asked, looking thoroughly bewildered.
"I like you. And it hurts because I know that either you won't like me back, or you will hurt me." She said her eyes on the floor.
His breath caught in his chest, she liked him? He didn't know what to say, but a part of him obviously did because before he knew it, he was talking. "I do like you, and I never want to hurt you, never. I would hurt myself before I hurt you."
She looked at him with her big hazel eyes, surprise written all over her face.
"C'mon, you look tired." Draco said as he got up and pulled the covers back on the bed. "You can sleep here with me if you want, or you can go back to your dorm."
Stormie looked around the room, "I'll stay here." Was all she said before she climbed under the covers and lay down.
Draco looked at the tiny girl in his bed. No one had ever shared his bed, well with out having sex first, with him. He smiled at how much smaller the big bed made her look than she really was. He turned out the light and climbed in next to her. He turned his back to her, hoping he would be able to keep his promise to himself about not touching her. He felt her shift closer to him.
"Um." he turned to see her looking at him. "I." she couldn't get the words out. Draco flipped over so that he was facing her. He pulled her soft body closer to his hard body.
"Goodnight." was all he said. She didn't move away, or struggle, but settled in within his warm embrace. All she could think of was how he knew what she wanted before she did, than she was asleep.
~*~*~*~*
Draco woke to something soft rubbing up against his leg. He opened his eyes and looked down. Coppery-blonde hair met his gaze. He looked at her small face. Long copper lashes resting on smooth, creamy skin. She had a small upturned nose and pouty little lips. He tried to inch away from her, but she had her arms securely around his abdomen, and wasn't letting go. He smiled; she looked just like a pixie.
With a small moan and another brush of her leg against his, she opened her eyes. She smiled up at him and said, "You know, you look just like an angel?" before she released him and turned over, falling back to sleep.
He sat there, shocked. Sure people had said he was a piece of art, but never in the history of his life had he been told he was or looked like an angel. Wanting to know how she derived at this decision he began to try and shake her awake.
"Um?" was the only response he got out of her.
"Where do you get I look like an angel from?" he asked in a quite voice. She shrugged. "Muggle paintings." Was all she said.
"What about muggle paintings?" He asked
She sighed and turned over. "Your not going to let me go back to sleep are you?" she asked, he shook his head. "Muggle paintings of angels are always the same, they have blondeish hair and blue eyes. You look kind of like an angel, but I guess if you were an angel, than you would be a fallen angel." She finished looking thoughtful.
He vaguely wondered how she could use so much logic right after she had woken up. But instead of asking he said in a voice laced with mock hurt, "A fallen angel? Why would I be a fallen angel?"
She giggled, he thought it sounded like music, and replayed "Because, for one, you would be in heaven and I would be lost in the dungeons, probably still screaming at that picture, and two, I don't think they let arrogant prats in heaven."
She ducked as he threw a pillow. "HEY! That wasn't fair! You could have at least warned me!" she said as she pouted.
"Now why would I do a thing like that?" he asked, looking confused. She picked up the pillow from under her head and hit him up side the head.
"OH, and that was fair?" he asked garbing the pillow away from her. She giggled and nodded. "Um. your mom and brother are leaving today, and you missed Breakfast. Maybe you should go see them." He said, knowing she wanted to tell her mother goodbye.
"OK, I'll see you later." She said as she stood. She pulled out her wand and started to transfigure her clothes. She ended up with a pair of tight fitting light green jeans and a tight button down white shirt. Her slippers became black steel-toe boots. She smiled. "What? You don't think I was going to walk around in my sleepwear all day did you?" he just smiled and shook his head. She threw a 'Later' over her shoulder as she ran out the door.