When the Stars Fall

TWO: Look into the Mirror

He walked toward her, moving with cat-like stealth and grace. She swallowed thickly and closed her eyes, but all she saw in her mind were moments with him. She knew that he was emotionally cold, cruel, and vicious. Her eyes sprung open when she felt his hand on her arm. Something sparked, not painful, but it was stronger than static electricity. Malfoy looked up at her with startled blue eyes. He'd quickly withdrawn his hand and examined it. He looked from his hand to her, and then back to his hand. He scowled.

"What did you do? How could you have cast a charm to keep me from touching you?" he asked, his voice barely containing his obvious anger.

"Me?" she asked incredulously, "I did nothing of the sort! I felt it too. Is it always someone else's fault with you, Malfoy?"

He walked back to the bed and resumed his seat on the mattress, all the while glaring venomously at the girl. She picked up the gown from the floor, not quite recalling how it had gotten there. She sighed and began to lay the gown across her desk chair.

"Aren't you going to try it on? I would like to know how ridiculous you would look in that gown. Go to the bathroom if you must," he snapped.

"You would say something like that you great spoiled ferret!" she retorted.

She took the gown and headed toward the door that led to her adjoining bathroom. She shut the door, locked it behind her, and then proceeded to try on the gown. Once she had it on she felt somewhat silly and girlish. She took a deep breath, unlocked the door, and stepped into the room. Much to her surprise her entrance wasn't met with a snide remark from Malfoy. She looked at him skeptically and saw something dark in his eyes. She swallowed thickly, nervousness churning in her stomach, as he stared at her. She looked down at herself in the silky lavender gown, wondering what he was staring at so intently.

He had looked up at the sound of the door opening. His eyes widened as she stepped out of the bathroom. The silky lavender gown clung to her every curve. The skirt of the gown swept the floor, her hair flowed down her back in waves, and her face flushed. Draco couldn't come up with a single insult. He felt as though he were being drawn toward her. He shook himself and then sneered.

"Why are you looking at me, Granger? The mirror is right over there. I bet you wish I were your reflection. Pity that such a lovely gown belongs to a mudblood, but I must say, you wear it well," he said.

She flushed again, detecting a compliment in his snide remark. Gathering up the skirt she approached the mirror and gasped. She couldn't believe it was her reflection in the mirror. She smiled and spun around. Hardly recognizing herself, her eyes locked on the reflection, noticing how the lavender gown clung to her curves. The collar was dipped in a gathered v-shape. The silk was wide over her shoulders, but had no sleeves. The skirt clung down to her thighs and then fanned outward like a fluted champagne glass. As she spun again, realization struck her. The dress was zipped up in the back, from her mid-back to the small of her back. She'd managed to get the zipper up, but with the way the silk was folded and arranged to cover the zipper like the front of the gown, finding the zipper would be difficult. She would have to ask Malfoy to get the zipper, or disturb her parents and listen to them gush, oh, and ah.

She walked to her dresser, got out a pair of light blue pajama bottoms with crescent moons decorating them, and a white tank top, and then looked to the floor as she slowly approached Draco Malfoy. He raised an eyebrow at her questioningly as she gathered her hair, pulling it forward over one shoulder, turned so that her back was facing him, and then she asked him to unzip the gown.

He pressed a hand against the gown and her back as he used his free hand to unzip the gown. His eyes followed the descent of the zipper as more and more of her back was exposed. He noticed her shiver as his fingers followed the lowering path of the zipper. When the zipper was almost undone, a wicked thought occurred to Draco. He leaned in close to her, his breath warming her back, and then he lightly pressed his lips to her mid back as his fingers brushed the small of her back. He smiled smugly at how quickly she retreated to the bathroom.

He got off of her bed and walked over to face her mirror. He looked over his reflection; there were no bruises, cuts, or stray marks anywhere. Once he was done admiring his reflection, he turned to face Hermione's room. The walls were painted powder blue, the furniture was mahogany, and the room was well kept and tidy, although cluttered with various books. Books filled several shelves on her wall, were in neat alphabetized stacks on her floor, and there were a few lying open on her desk. Draco shook his head in amazement. The girl practically lived in a library.

He found himself drawn to the desk. He picked up one of the open books, turned it over, and looked at the title, Wuthering Heights. It was by a woman, he snorted his disapproval, but was intrigued nonetheless. He flipped through it, scanning over various pages. He was so busy looking through the book that he hadn't noticed Hermione was out of the bathroom. She noticed the book in his hands and looked at him curiously. She took in a sharp breath when she realized what book he had.

He turned and looked up from the book. He noticed how she looked in the pajama bottoms and white tank top. His mouth went dry and his blue eyes grew dark.

She crossed the room to get to him, and then took the book from him. She looked down at the book and went very pale. He'd picked up her copy of Wuthering Heights, one of her favorite muggle books. She'd read the book dozens of times, and seeing Malfoy holding something so precious to her was too much, and the look he was giving her made her flush faintly. She shook herself, and looked up when Malfoy cleared his throat.

"Is this how you present yourself around Potty and Weasel? My, no wonder they're at your beck and call. Here I thought you were Potter's little bet mudblood, when really he's your little pet," Malfoy sneered.

Hermione's eyes flashed in anger, "What makes you say that?"

Malfoy raised an eyebrow in shock. "Are you out of your head? How often do you look in a mirror? Never really took much notice of you in the school uniform. I've missed out on a lot.

"Oh, and what is your attachment to that book? Didn't think you were the type to read romance, Granger."

"It's not a romance!" she snapped and then continued in her defense, "Wuthering Heights is a story about a man destroyed by ambition, and at the end of his days he seeks redemption. His love was corrupted by his misguided passion."

Draco took a step closer to her, leaned down, and whispered, "Passion can often be misguided."

Hermione's eyes snapped up to meet his. "I'm not the type of girl you can seduce Malfoy. Now it's getting late, and I'm exhausted. I suppose you'll want the bed, so I'll take the floor."

"Well, I do want the bed, and although a mudblood like you deserves the floor, your bed is large enough for both of us. I only request that you restrain yourself and stay on your side," he smiled smugly at her, "And I thought we'd already settled sleeping arrangements."

She let out a snort and sent a glare his way before crawling into the right side of her bed. She managed to untangle the covers, then turned on her side and curled up. Sometime while she'd been untangling the covers she's placed her book on the bedside table. She muttered something about him shutting the light off and then she slipped into unconsciousness.

Malfoy watched over her until she fell asleep. He liked hearing the soft sounds of her breathing, the rise and fall of her chest. He shook himself and then went into her bathroom. After relieving himself, he washed his hands, looked in the mirror, and sighed. He splashed cool water on his face, noticed her mouthwash, swished some around in his mouth (for lack of a toothbrush), spit the mouthwash out, and dried his face and hands off with a towel hanging from a rack by the door. He felt refreshed as he walked out of the bathroom.

He turned the lights off and swore when he stubbed his toe against a large stack of books. Luckily they didn't topple over. He found his way to the left side of the bed and crawled into it. He pulled the covers up, but he couldn't get comfortable. He turned toward her and took in a deep shuddering breath as he looked at her long wavy hair in the shadowed moonlight filtering into her room through the blinds, and that was how he laid as he fell asleep.

Streams of sunlight seeped into the room from the blinds at the window. Hermione groaned as she woke up, and then froze. There was a warm body pressed against her back and a pair of arms holding her. She could feel the rise and fall of a chest against her back and she felt...safe, protected. That feeling didn't last long as her breath caught in her throat at the thought of who was in her bed with her. She tried to wriggle out of his arms, but stopped when he drew in a sharp breath. She turned on her side to face him and her eyes widened. He looked so peaceful, blank...and beautiful was the only word that came to her mind.

He murmured something softly. "Hermione..."

Then she noticed movement. It was subtle at first, the muscles around his mouth twitched slightly, and then he began stretching. His eyes suddenly snapped open as he realized that he wasn't alone. His blue eyes flew to her toffee brown gaze, and for a moment she saw disorientation in their depths. Hermione took that as her opportunity to get out of the bed. She didn't say a word in her rush to get to the bathroom.

Once in the bathroom she splashed cold water on her face and stared at her reflection. She'd felt safe in his arms. How was that possible? He hated muggle borns, and he especially hated her. She looked down at her appearance and grimaced. What had he been talking about? She covered up, and besides there wasn't much to her appearance anyway. She closed her eyes, slowly counted to ten and regained her composure. She smiled and then proceeded with her usual routine in the bathroom. Once she was done she got an extra toothbrush out of the medicine cabinet (the mirror was the door of the medicine cabinet), and put it on the sink for Malfoy, no doubt that he had morning breath.

As she walked out of the bathroom she noticed Malfoy pacing the length of her room. She had no idea what was going through his mind and she didn't really care much to know. At the sound of the door opening he looked up and stopped in his tracks, then changed his direction. He walked straight for her, grabbed her by the shoulders and brought his lips down savagely on hers. He forced her mouth open with his tongue, but strangely Hermione only fought for a moment as the spark returned. The spark wasn't unpleasant, it was a slow burning in her stomach that built until it was swimming through her veins. She was giving into Malfoy.

He broke the kiss off as quickly as he'd begun it. He let go of her shoulders and then brushed past her into the bathroom, leaving her swooning and breathless just outside the door of the bathroom.

His head was swimming. He hadn't planned that at all. It had been spontaneous, powerful, dangerous, and he'd liked it. He'd liked the taste of her minty fresh lips and how easily she'd responded. She was amazing, and that night when he'd slept with her in the bed there were no nightmares. No dreams of his father's cold and commanding voice demanding utmost devotion. No blood red eyes demanding his loyalty and service. He'd only dreamed of living a happy life, with a family...and her.

He looked in the mirror and was stunned. It was almost as if he were seeing himself for the first time. He had more coloring than usual, looked determined (although that was nothing new), and happy. He thought back to all the times he'd insulted Hermione and realized that all those years he thought he'd loathed and hated her; he'd really loathed and hated himself. She was everything that he wanted to be...everything he wanted. She was also the one thing he could never have, simply because she was strong enough to resist him.

He noticed the toothbrush lying on the sink. It was a new one with a dark blue handle. He picked it up, put toothpaste on it, and then brushed his teeth. When he was done with that he used the mouthwash once more, then relieved himself, washed his hands, and dried them. He turned to the mirror once more and ran a hand through his tousled silvery blonde hair and sighed as it flowed back and settled down. He then looked down at himself. He really needed something to wear. He was sure that Hermi...Granger was tired of seeing him in his boxers. He shrugged the thought off and then walked out of the bathroom and into her bedroom, just as she was pulling on a tee shirt. She quickly snatched the shirt down at the sound of the door and spun around. He had a bemused expression on his face. It was nice to know that she was shy and modest in his presence. It was almost endearing...