Memory Of A Dear Place

10. Why did it have to be me

December, 1995

I wake up with a gigantic headache and feel sick to my stomach. The guilt and regret I hoped would be gone after a good nights sleep is still heavily present within me. I slowly move to my side and moan out of pain as I feel my aching muscles and the stinging feeling in between my legs. Everything hurts, even my fucking jaw and throat. 

I slowly breath in and out and raise myself to the edge of my bed scrunching my face as I move. My body has been totally ruined from both the inside and the outside. My mouth and lips are dry and my body is aching for water. 

I rub my eyes, moan and put my hair into a quick ponytail. I slowly push myself off my bed and my legs are still shaking as I try to walk. I gather my shower supplies and move towards the showers in an attempt to rinse the disgust. 

I look down at my body as I move underneath the pouring water, finding bruises on my knees, thighs, hips, waist and in between my breasts. I turn my head backwards and also find bruises on my lower back and arse as well. 

As the hot water slowly makes me relax my aching muscles I attempt to wash my hair and body, squirming and clenching my jaws with every movement. 

Although I did something really, really regret yesterday I feel a bit of relief and excitement as well. All the Slytherins usually go back to their families during the Christmas break, which means I have the fucking kingdom to myself for two weeks. 

After I washed myself with soap twice I get out of the shower and dry myself off quickly as I wrap myself into the towel. I brush through my wet hair, decide to let it air dry and brush my teeth. I then put on some comfy shorts and a Slytherin hoodie. 

I quickly drop of my things and glance over the Christmas present my parents send me. I know it's a book. They give me a book every year. I slowly unwrap the present and my hands trace over the hardcover as I read the title. 

Jane Eyre by Charlotte Brontë. 

A classic. And one I already own and read about a hundred times. But I appreciate the effort and I didn't bring it with me to Hogwarts this year, so I guess I will be reading it another time. You will never get tired of Brontë anyway. 

I grab my book, my wand and some parchment, my quill and ink to write a letter. I grab one of my fuzzy blankets and head over to the common room, feeling relieved as I find no one there anymore. 

Cedric usually goes back to our parents during Christmas break, because he has a lot of friends at home. I prefer to not go home myself, because I enjoy myself more at Hogwarts. I can practice magic here, have a common room to myself, a huge fucking library and amazing food. 

I sit down at one of the sofa's in front of the fire place and sink into its soft pillows as I wrap myself inside my blankets. I open the book and sniffle my in the book, inhaling the smell of fresh paper. I flip the page and as I begin reading I let myself drift away in Jane Eyre's life, forgetting about mine. 

''Goodmorning.'' a very familiar voice says after I have been reading for about half an hour. I huff and move my eyes up from my book, but keep my head still. 

Draco fucking Malfoy. His violating smirk plastered on his face, curiously looking at me. I expected him to be gone by now. I slowly roll my eyes and huff. 

''What the fuck are you still doing here.'' I scoff as I move my eyes back towards my book, flipping towards my next page. 

He laughs and puts his hands in his pockets as he walks towards the armchair. ''Not happy to see me apparently...'' he shakes his head as I still feel him looking at me. I ignore him and try to read words I my mind doesn't process because I'm distracted. 

''I need to stay here for a few days until my parents come back from a little business trip.'' he crosses his legs as he flips open a newspaper in front of him, ''I'm not happy about it either.'' 

I scoff and ignore him, which makes him lower his paper just below his eyes so he can look at me again. ''What is it your hiding underneath that stupid blanket?'' 

''Nothing.'' I huff as I smash my book down on my lap and lock with his peeking eyes. ''I was here first, can you please read your paper somewhere else?''

''I'm afraid I can't unfortunately.'' He hides his face behind his paper again as he starts reading it. 

I huff and clench my jaws out of frustration. This is not what I fucking expected. This is not what I need. And this is absolutely not what I want right now. 

As I almost decide to leave myself an idea pops into my head. Draco Malfoy hates muggles and he hates fun. I happen to love muggles and fun. And especially fun muggle music like ABBA.