Dead But Not Delirious

I look tired. I note this with dismay as I glare at myself in the mirror. Yuck. Now that I've ice-creamed myself into a stupor, I'm totally ready for bed.

I try to yank a comb through my irritatingly bushy hair, but it gets caught in a snarl. Silly me, I forgot I have the most accursedly TERRIBLE head of hair at Hogwarts. Help me!

I try a few more times, but am rewarded only with an aching scalp. Having to choose between tangle-free hair accompanied by a bloody hunk of torn-off scalp, or tangly pain-free hair, it's really no contest. I whisk the comb out and slap it down onto the dresser with an aggravated "Hmph!"

I stand up, giving myself a last, disgusted glance in the mirror, and go over to look out of the doorway of my new bedroom. The common room looks very peaceful; firelight flickers over the dark silhouettes of the furniture, and there's a sleepy, warm sort of atmosphere permeating the area. Good. I need some relaxation time.

I step out onto the stone floor, but have to bite my lip to contain a small gasp at the coldness meeting the soles of my bare feet. Eeeek. The floor is absolutely FRIGID out here. On tiptoe, to minimize contact with the icy ground, I make my way over to a couch by the fire.

I sit down heavily, stare into the fireplace, and, I guess, sort of zone out, because the next thing I know, Malfoy's standing by the sofa, glowering down at me.

I return his "What are YOU doing here?" look, and, I hit the nail on the head. "What are you doing here, Mudblood?" he sneers. Ah, Malfoy, thou art one so predictable. Tsk, tsk.

I give him my chilliest glare. "I don't think I have to give a reason for sitting in OUR common room," I retort, challenging him to come up with a response. Ha. Put that in your pipe and smoke it, Sir Freezer-Burn.

He narrows his eyes at me, but can't seem to think of a reply. Good. That means I have the last word. That's always nice.

He sits down next to me, his frigid gaze never leaving mine. Ugh. His glacial stare is chilling me; even through my fluffy red robe, I feel suddenly cold, as though rivulets of icy water are running down my back.

"Granger." He bites the word off, sounding so malicious that my blood seems to freeze in my veins. Well, guess I was wrong about the getting-in-the-last word thing. At least technically.

"Yes?" I return, giving him a defiant glare. He's still staring at me. This is getting creepy. Any minute now he's going to pull a knife on me and slit my throat. Or at least that's what the look in his eyes suggests.

I manage to swallow the startled cry that rises in my throat when he grabs me roughly by the shoulder. He draws me closer, so that his mouth is a mere breath away from my ear.

"You...are...MINE," he hisses softly, and that quiet statement holds more malevolence than any knife he could whip out. Even worse than one of those huge meat cleavers. If that gives you any idea.

He pushes me violently as he releases my shoulder. But, still, his eyes pierce me like cruel, twin daggers. Panting slightly, I can only sit like a comatose elephant or something, feeling helpless and slightly mesmerized.

But, miraculously, seconds later I find my voice. "What makes you so sure?" I whisper, some semblance of defiance finding its way into my tone. Yeah, how much more arrogant can he get and still be able to fit his head through doorways?!

In answer, he jerks me forcibly to him, our faces so close that our noses almost touch; we seem to share a breath before it hits me. Dear God. He's going to kiss me.

When I realize this, I am shocked to feel my traitorous heart skip a beat. No. NO! NOT Malfoy! NO!

Despite the rush of dizziness that floods through my head, a single clear though survives: If I let him kiss me now, like some barbaric, domineering Neanderthal, I will NEVER forgive myself. I will promptly bang my head against the hard stone wall. Forcefully.

Holding onto this thought like a lifeline, I struggle against the hand clenched around the base of my neck. His eyes gleam sharply like sheets of shining blue metal, sending a tremble through me.

My resistance freezes as he brings his lips as close to my own as he possibly can without actually making contact. WHAT THE HELL?!? I can't think. What's happening?

But then, inexplicably, he pulls away. As soon this registers in my hazy mind, I stand abruptly, resisting the urge to collapse from the sudden onslaught of giddiness. Dizzy, dizzy.........the room is spinning a bit.........how lovely.........look at all the pretty colors.........

I give myself a mental shake, and, without a look behind me, I run into my dormitory and slam the door loudly, putting a BLESSED heavy slab of solid oak between myself and that weirdly intense bastard.

I fling myself wearily onto my bed, hardly feeling the feathery softness of the mattress beneath me. Come, sleep, come, sleep.........could this day get any weirder? Shudders course through me, and as I drift off to sleep, I can't shake the feeling that that stormy-eyed prick has somehow violated me.