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I find it very hard to believe that Draco Malfoy – with all his female conquests – is ever short of company in the morning; therefore I am very much surprised when I find him rolling over and screaming as he sees my face. "Nice Malfoy, you haven't been awake for two minutes and you are already insulting the way I look." I should put it this way; I may not be a morning beauty like those girls in the films, the ones with the big hair and makeup done before they wake, but I can guarantee that I have not turned into a hippogriff over night.
He rolls back over, dragging a hand down his face, the slight stubble causing a little friction – this is where I will stop my observation of his morning look because I fear that I am starting to sound a little... well, odd. "This is a first."
I choke out a laugh, "Not bloody kidding there Malfoy, are you?" I murmur, fuming quietly that he has the balls invade my bed – my bed – and then freak out when he sees me lying there... in my bed. "And it's not like anything happened."
"That, Granger, is precisely what is so odd about this situation."
I smirk, rolling the covers down my body – though on closer inspection of my morning attire I realise that I am wearing nothing but an oversized quidditch t-shirt, so I find myself yanking them up to cover some of my remaining modesty. There really is no point giving him something else to smirk over and shoving him my knickers would be just that. "What? That we didn't have sex?"
He looks at me, grey eyes dancing in the morning light and says the dumbest thing that I have ever heard come out of someone's mouth. "I've never slept in the same bed overnight with a girl before, Granger."
"You must be such a generous lover, Malfoy – 'I'll fuck you but you have to get out before I fall asleep!'" I comment loudly enough for him to hear, ending the last part of my statement with a male undertone that is clearly supposed to take the piss out of him. Deciding that my modesty is not worth the price of sitting here and listening to him muse over the fact that he shared my bed for a whole night without an ounce of sexual pleasure passing between us, I push the covers back and pray that the shirt covers my bum as I strut to the door, calling "Coffee?" Over my shoulder back to where he is still re-evaluating his life between my purple sheets.
"Are you insinuating that I don't show my bed companions a good time?" He asks, a hit of shocked anger lacing his tone. "No one has ever complained about my technique, Granger, if that is what you are saying!"
I look to the ground, realising just how out of my depth I am. A light hearted banter about his sexual acquisitions has quickly stirred something up in my chest. A sort of resentment that I find excruciatingly hard to quash. Why can't I be one of those girls? I find myself asking, what is the difference between me and them? That is when I steer myself away from the dangerous path of these thoughts. You have some self respect Granger! Do you want your first time to be taken by someone like Malfoy? Someone who would kick you out of his bed as soon as he was done with you?
The answer to that is a firm 'maybe'. I have a strange feeling that it would be bloody fantastic to be taken by Malfoy, but as I stand there admiring him – the way his t-shirt pulls over his chest, showing a hint of the muscle hidden beneath, the way that he uses a long fingered hand to push his hair out of his eyes in a way that he knows looks good and the way that he smirks, an expression that seems to come much easier to him than smiling – I realise that he has probably taken a million girls. But none of them like me. Not the bushy haired Gryfindor Muggle born that was always a pain in his arse though school.
No, Draco Malfoy is privy to another world, the sort of world that has supermodels dancing before his eyes. In what kind of world would a man turn down a beautiful experienced supermodel to be with someone like me – a twenty three year old virgin with bushy hair? Not in this one. With this realisation, I slam the coffee down on the table in front of him, push the folders in to his hands and tell him to find his own way out as I make my way down the hall and into the bathroom.
Running a warm shower, I can't help but think about the look on his face as he drifted to sleep the night before. A calm, serene expression. One that I won't ever be seeing again.
In my haste to forget, I end up dumping a very large amount of shampoo into my palm and then onto my head where it trails down and drip into my eyes.
The next scene of events, however unlikely – and horrific – they may seem, did actually happen to me. In this very bathroom. With Malfoy observing the whole time.
The soap in my eyes drips, causing a stinging effect which I guess I am not partial to – not that many people are – this, in turn, causes me to swivel round as I try to aim my head under the running stream of water. However, things do not entirely go to plan and I find myself slipping. This would have been ok, if I had not slipped out of the bath. Falling over the rim of the tub, I pull down the shower curtain, land with a sickening thud on the ground, scream as I realise that something is definitely broken and find the door being pushed open. "Granger, are you ok?"
"Do I look ok, Malfoy?" I curse, grabbing my wrist and sitting up.
"Whoa there, Granger." He looks away, trying thankfully to give me some dignity. I look down, the shower curtain, the only thing that was shielding my body – albeit not really that well – slipped away when I sat up.
My right boob is sitting firmly in his line of sight, "Oh shit," I reach for a towel, the movement moving my right wrist and causing me to scream out in pain. "Malfoy." I yell, his head flicks to me and then he raises his eyes to the sky when he realises that I have not yet solved my little problem. "The towel." I say, he hands it to me, and I try as best I can to cover myself. He helps me to stand as I cradle my broken wrist to my chest.
He tells me to hold my arms above my head as he notices the towel slipping over my hunched form, I do as he says and he wraps it firmly about my shivering body. "I could heal it for you, but I don't want anything to go wrong." He tells me as he transfigures another towel into a brace that he puts over my hand, "I'll help you get ready and we will go to St. Mungos." He tells me, he's quickly made up his mind and has me following him back to my bedroom as he pulls out a pair of jeans and what looks like one of Harry's old football shirts – you know the ones with the player's names on the back.
He left it here a few months back and it was just so bloody comfortable that I decided to keep it. "Whose is this?" He asks, and then he flips it round noticing a name.
"If you must know, it was Harry's. But you can buy them at any muggle sports stores."
Malfoy looks at me a smirk dancing around his lips as he obviously decides that it is some sort of duty that he takes a look through my underwear drawer while I am in pain. "Why do you have Potter's shirt, I thought he was married?"
"We are having an affair." I joke, laughing at his expression before he realises that I am taking the piss.
I shove him away from the drawer and grab my own pair of knickers. He turns around to give me some privacy as I struggle to get the on. "Oh haha, Granger." He laughs sarcastically as I howl, "Ow, Malfoy it hurts. Do something."
"What do you expect me to do?" he asks, turning around to see that I am still trying to struggle my underwear up my legs. "I have never had to put underwear on a girl before; usually I have to pull them the other way." He laughs to himself as I worry over my hand, and I find myself avoiding his gaze as his fingertips heat my calves, dragging the garment up my body.
"Sod off, Malfoy." I tell him, motioning to the jeans on the bed with my functioning hand, "Help me with my jeans. I sit down on the end of them bed as he slips them over my feet, pulling them up my legs and then joining the button together.
"I guess I'll have to forgo the bra." I tell him as I reach for the shirt. "Ow." I look down, a purple swelling has erupted and it seems to have grown to double its previous size.
"Come on, if I can take them off, I must be able to put them on."
"Ok, but no looking."
After the awkwardness of him aiding me with the bra situation, he struggles to get my hand through the hole in the t-shirt – with a lot of screaming and death threats from me – and I just can't deal with him having to tie my shoes too, so I grab a pair of blue flip flops and he shuffles me towards the floo.
We step through together, him holding my right hand and making sure that my left is supported so that it was hot getting any more damaged as I sniffle and pretend to be brave when I really just want to let the tears flow.
The hustle and bustle of St. Mungos is not that different to that of a train station at peak times, but here you happen to have the addition of people with very, very odd magical issues. The man ahead of us in the queue is a startling shade of purple, with green pussy boils spluttering on the skin that I can see – both Malfoy and I take an involuntary step backwards as the one on his neck looks about ready to blow.
There is a woman, two people ahead of the man with boils, that has a cat's leg in place of where her own, human one, should be. And a young boy two steps after that – at the front of the queue – supporting a large quantity of hair (wrapped round and round his arms to stop it from trailing on the floor ) that seems not to be showing any signs of decreased growth rate.
I support my wrist as the healer at the desk waves us forward and then mutters 'Floor nine' without even looking at us. "Thank you." I say and after he takes my details I let Malfoy take hold of my waist and walk me towards the lift. "I can walk myself Malfoy."
"Are you sure, you seem to be a walking catastrophe." He smirks, pushing the little purple button (that contrasts starkly with the red walls) and we both stand there and watch it light up. Soon there is a dinging and we both step into the open, empty lift. "And I do need you there to finish the project, after that you can fall anywhere you want – even off a bridge – but until then, you must stay in one piece."
"How lovely you are!" I mutter as he clicks another button – green this time – and we wait for the lift to move. "And I'm mad at you, anyway!"
"What?" He asks, looking at me and waiting for me to answer. "Why?"
"This is your entire fault," I tell him, my logic may seem skewed but when you hear my reasoning, I believe that you will see that I am correct in my judgement. "You came over at an obscenely late hour, demanded that I complete some paperwork that is not going to be handed in on time now anyway, fell asleep on my sofa, woke me up at four in the morning, jumped into my bed, stole one of my pillows, made me so angry that I got soap in my eyes which caused me to fall and that is why we are here!" I push a finger of my good hand into his chest, but it seems to have no effect and instead of cowering under the force of my anger, he just stands there and even has the audacity to smile at me. "So, in conclusion, it is so obviously your fault!"
"Yes," He continues to smile, pulling on a curl of my hair and the tucking it away behind my ear, "So obviously my fault." and this is when he starts to laugh, unbearably loud and totally obnoxiously, but all the same I can't help but admire the pulling of his features until I really can see the kind looking Draco Malfoy.
"If you continue to laugh at me," I tell him, my tone harsh as it flows with my words, "I will kill you."
We end up having to sit in the hospital for a few hours before we are seen. When we are finally called through, the man obviously seems to know Draco from somewhere and they have a conversation while he is waving his wand to fix my hand. Yes, I know. He is chatting while he has control over the way my bones heal back into place. "Would you mind concentrating a little? I do really need my hand."
"Sorry, Miss Granger." He says, turning his brown eyes to fix on my own and I scream as the bones join back into place. "How did it happen?"
Malfoy looks at me, smiling up at the healer and then laughing while he says, "She fell in the shower. She's very clumsy."
The doctor smiles at Draco knowingly, "Yes, and while the shower is a nice place to have sex, it can be dangerous if you are not careful. You could have hit your head, Miss Granger and that could have been harder to heal."
"We were–" I start to speak, to reassure him that we were not engaging in activities with any sort of sexual nature, but I am cut of just after I start to speak.
Draco tucks his hand around my waist and smiles, "We'll stick to the bed next time, Healer Johnson." His expression – if I did not know any better – looks genuine and I am about to whack him with my healed hand but the healer steps in with a 'goodbye' and I have to diffuse my anger to return his farewell.
"Malfoy, you are such a prick."
"One that you can't seem to get enough of, obviously." Malfoy pulls me towards the floo, shuffling us in and saying the name of our offices. "What would the Boy Wonder say if he knew what you were up to, Granger?" I am stopped from replying by the green flames that slither between us and heat the areas he is touching on my body to beyond scorching.