Perfection

The scalding water poured down from above as she cried. Blaise Zabini pushed her thick, raven coloured hair from her pale, elegant face as the shower water mingled with her tears, and she looked around the large house shower room. Mist was already forming on the pearly white tiles, every so often interrupted by the silver and emerald slytherin house badge. The colours were cold and angry. Unforgiving and relentless to her large almond shaped eyes.

Sobbing she looked into the slowly misting ornate mirror opposite her. She could see the neat outline of her ribs; yet her stomach seemed painfully huge, distended and bloated as marble white skin stretched over it. Knowing what she had to do, she closed her eyes as her middle and index finger found her mouth. She began to bend her knees to kneel on the tiled floor when:

"Wait."

Blaise stopped. Whipping her head around so tiny drops of water flicked in every direction, she saw Draco Malfoy standing at the door, his hair dripping from the heat and water vapour in the room. Random thoughts flitted through her mind such as how long he'd been there, why he was in the girl's bathrooms, and the apathetic realisation that while he was fully clothed, she was completely naked. Slowly she turned her head back round to continue what she was about to start. She ached to be rid of the food which was alienating her body, and tears leaked from her sapphire eyes as she brought her fingers back up to her mouth.

"Please don't," said Draco again. This time he was right behind her, and she felt him place his large hands on her waist. The skin was thick and he smelt of earth and aftershave; he was warm and comforting and she wanted to melt into him.

"But I'm ugly," Blaise said as her tears fell faster. She didn't know why she was telling him, and she realised he wouldn't understand what she was saying but the words poured out of her mouth before she had time to stop them.

"No you're not," Draco replied, "you're perfect."

She gasped. What had he said? Perfect? She turned around and looked up into his cold icy eyes, wondering if he knew the impact of his last statement. He stared back with equal intensity, and followed her eyes as she desperately searched his.

"What did you just say?" she asked him desperately

"I said you're perfect," he repeated, and began to smile. A smile which reached his eyes and warmed them from icy grey to light light blue, the colour of very early spring morning skies.

And she erupted into tears, kissing him on the mouth, on the cheek, on the neck, anywhere she could reach. Hungrily she devoured his mouth, and he returned her kisses with the same passionate desire. How could have known? How could he have realised that was all she'd ever wanted to be? Perfect; to herself, to others, to everyone. All she desired was perfection.