The World and Her Stars

Chapter Eight

I woke up the next morning, but I didn't open my eyes immediately. The headache behind my eyes was raging and pulsating, and I wasn't ready for the light on the outside of my eyelids to make it worse.

The events of last night where distant, but I think I remembered everything. I wish I didn't remember everything.

Draco knows about my mark now. About the burning, about the pain. He actually helped me with it. I don't know what the hell he muttered under his breath, but I needed to make a note of it.

One thing I very clearly remember though, is him showing me the same angry red, scarred skin on his own arm.

"We are similar in more ways than you think." I heard him say in my head. Then I spilled the drink and asked for a shirt like a fucking idiot, Draco agreed, and that was where my memory went hazy.

I think what shocked me the most about Draco being willing to give me a shirt was the fact that Pansy had been trying to keep an article of Draco's clothing for years. A sweatshirt of his to wear around school, a t shirt to sleep in, hell, she tried to steal a pair of boxers one time because she was so desperate for something. She wanted that validation from him. Validation that he was not willing to give her.

"I put on his sweatshirt and he immediately ripped if off of me," I remembered Pansy whining one day about it in the Three Broomsticks.

"Oh...sounds fun." Daphne shimmied her shoulders.

"No...not like that. He doesn't like anyone wearing his stuff. I've been trying to get something...anything of his for as long as we have been...messing around, and he won't even budge. He hates when people touch his things." Pansy took a big gulp of her butterbeer, which left a foamy mustache on her upper lip.

"Well that is reasonable, I guess. I don't like when people touch my stuff either." Millicent shrugged. Always trying to be partial in every situation.

"It's not just him not wanting people to touch his stuff...it's that he only wants certain people to touch his stuff. I think he thinks that if I'm wearing something of his, that people will think we are together...or that he's like...claiming me or something." Pansy gulped.

I snapped back into the present as the headache reminded me of its presence. The bed underneath me creaked as I slightly shifted on my side. My bed didn't creak. I moved my foot against the sheets.

These were not my sheets. My eyes snapped open. This was not my ceiling.

"Good morning there, princess. About bloody time." I heard a voice say from behind me.

You have got to be fucking kidding me.

I shot straight up and looked around. Sitting on the end of the bed was a shirtless, freshly showered Draco Malfoy. Why in the hell was I in his bed?

I ran a hand through my hair as I tried to remember last night's events. How the hell did I end up here?

"Don't worry. If we did anything, you would sure as hell remember." He took a sip of coffee and let his eyes scan over my torso that was adorned with one of his shirts.

"Why am I here?" I looked at him with a twinge of disgust, trying to hide my embarrassment.

"You insisted, really. I was expecting a thank you at least." He stood up and set his coffee mug on his night stand, not breaking eye contact with me.

"A thank you? For what?" I looked him up and down, the angry look still on my face.

"I give you a shirt, I let you sleep in my bed, and I tamed that burning mess on your arm. Three thank yous are in order now that I think about it." He leaned his hands on the bed, getting closer to me, and for some reason, I let him.