Broken

 She paces the floor frantically, periodically wiping the tears from her eyes. Her thoughts are all on him. How could he do this to her? She had shown him four years of devotion, and what did she get in return? Ignored. Rejected. She thought he was different. Surely he would see that there was more to her than meets the eye. But no, he had looked right through her, just like everyone else. How could I have been so stupid?! Did I really think that he would suddenly notice me after all this time? She crosses over to the mirror, closely examining her reflection. Her hair, once almost orange, now hangs in dark red waves to just below her shoulders. Wide brown eyes appear too big for her tiny features. Her ivory skin is sprinkled with freckles. She had always considered herself pretty, but now her reflection disgusts her. She finds herself hurling her fist into the mirror, the sound of breaking glass music to her ears. Then she sinks onto the floor, cradling her bloodied hand, and sobs.

 *

 She walks down the dark corridor. The darkness had always scared her, ever since her first year. But now it is comforting . She runs her hand along the rough stone wall. She doesn’t know where in the castle she is, nor does she care. She is away from him. That is all that matters. Suddenly a cold voice cuts through the silence.

“Well, well, what have we here?”

She looks around and sees a familiar figure staring back at her. His gaze is cold, sweeping over her entire body. He is a good several inches taller than her. It is not until the light reveals a glint of pale blond hair that she recognizes him. She tenses as he steps closer.

“The youngest Weasley out all alone after curfew,” he continues. “Won’t potter miss his traveling fan club?”

No, he won’t even notice.“Oh, and what are you doing in the halls, Malfoy? Some business for the Dark Lord, I presume.”

He laughs softly. “Virginia, I suggest you get back to where you belong before I deduct house points.”

“And where would that be?” she mutters under her breath.

 *

 She lies awake, staring up at the ceiling, absently rubbing her injured hand. She thinks of him, of how much she is hurting because of him. She wants him to feel the pain he is inflicting on her. Then an image of Malfoy rises to her mind. Her face twists into a smile.

*

“Good morning, Malfoy,” she says curtly.

 He looks up at her, shock playing over his features before his face hardens. “What do you want, Weasley?”

“I need to speak with you for a moment.”

With that, she walks away, exiting the Great Hall. She leans against the wall. In an instant, he is standing in front of her.

“What the hell are you doing?!”

She looks back at him with perfect innocence. “What do you mean?”

“You are a Gryffindor, damn it. You do not just waltz over to the Slytherin table where anyone could see you!”

“Apparently I do.”

He glares at her. “Whatever Weasley. Just tell me why you dragged me out here.”

“I have a proposition for you.”

*

“What makes you think I would go along with this little plan of yours?”

She looks up at him, smiling wickedly. “It’s just a hunch.”

“Why do you want to do this?”

She narrows her eyes. “Do you care?”

 He shrugs. “I’m just curious as to what could possibly make his biggest fan want to do this to him.”

“Malfoy, quite frankly, that is none of your business.”

“Well, what’s in it for me?”

“We have been over this,” she says, sighing. “What else could you want?”

He inches closer to her, snaking an arm around her waist. “Do you really have to ask?”

She pushes him away, crossing her arms over her chest. “Malfoy, I’m not that desperate.”

“Maybe not now.”

“Whatever Malfoy. Do we have a deal or not?” She extends her hand. He looks down at the dried blood on her knuckles, and for an instant she thinks she sees concern flicker through the endless storm clouds of his eyes. But he simply takes her hand.

“I believe we do.”