pureblood.

n i n e

I wake up to a cold breeze consuming the room. The window was wide open which allowed all of the warmth from the room slip away. I look over to Malfoy's side of the room and see him still asleep in his bed. His blonde hair was messy and his eyes were shut tight. He looked so peaceful.

I pick up my watch that was on my bedside table, it was five in the morning. I pull myself out of my warm bed and walk over to the large window.

"Don't even think about it." I hear Malfoy moan as I get to his side of the room.

"Come on it's freezing outside." I whisper back to him

He opens his eyes and just looks at me. "Maybe if you put some clothes on then you wouldn't be so cold."

I roll my eyes in response and pull a knitted sweater from out of my dresser. It was my grandmothers. She passed away a few months ago, she was more of a parent to me than my mother and father could have ever been. The sweater was a faded green colour, I've never really liked the colour but it was the only thing I have left of her. My father has most of her things hidden somewhere. She started to show me magic when Uncle Severus gave me my wand. Magic was the only thing keeping her alive, she was 112 when she died. If my parents would have stayed in the wizard world, she could still be here.

"What is with girls and not wearing pants?" Malfoy groans as I pull the sweater over my body. "Do you even have any underwear on?"

"Obviously I have underwear on you perv" I whisper. I had to think if I did have it on or not.

The sweater covered my bum but it was still short to wear it as a dress. She told me that the sweater was my grandfathers when he was my age. It was big enough to fit two of me inside. The knit was stretched which made the holes in the right corner more noticeable. The holes has loose threads poking out of the wool.By this point I was wide awake, it was way too cold for me to fall back asleep so I grab one of my books from the bookshelf and continue with my reading I had to catch up on. I was already a week behind in classes because of my late arrival. It was Tuesday which meant I would have to be up in a hour anyways.

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The alarm on my watch tells me it had been a hour and that I needed to start getting ready. Malfoy was fast asleep. I'm guessing he didn't have any classes this morning.

I pull myself out of bed and tip toe into the bathroom and brush my hair. My hair was long and dark. When my powers came through the bottom layer of my hair started to turn white. The girls at my old school thought I dyed it, but the colour didn't even look normal. Nobody's hair could become white at my age. Even at my grandmas age her hair didn't go white. I must get it from my fathers side.

I reach for my makeup bag which I had hidden behind the sink. The bag was overflowing with makeup I hardly used and the things I use everyday. I just packed all my makeup just in case I might need it. I look at my neck in the mirror, it was blue and purple.

"That looks painful." Malfoy remarks as he walks into the bathroom. "Sorry about that by the way." He says while running his finger over the bruise. His touch was like fire on my sore skin; I could feel every muscle flinch with the pressure of his fingertip.

I grab his hand and move it away from my neck. "Keep those violent hands off of me, Malfoy."

"Oooo you're not very friendly this morning. I only wanted to have some fun, darling" he steps back in anticipation of my reaction. The nickname infuriated me more than him touching me.

"You think me having a bruised neck is fun do you? Are you that tapped that you think that chocking someone you had known less than an hour is completely acceptable?" I snap.

"It wasn't Pansy you was crying about last night, was it?"

I start to clap my hands slowly in front of his face. "Well I'll tell you what Sherlock Holmes, you are a bloody genuine."

Malfoy stands there puzzled by my words. "What?" He replies. "Who the hell is Sherlock Holmes?"

I chuckle at his response as I remember that he probably has no idea who Sherlock Holmes is. A smile at him which I think sends him into a deeper state of confusion. "He is a famous, fictional muggle Detective."

"What has a detective got to do with you crying last night?" He asks which sends me into the giggles.

"It's a term of phrase. It basically means no shit." I rub my face in frustration. He stands there with the face confused expression on his face. "Yes, I was crying about you chocking me you idiotic fool! Why else would I be crying? I wouldn't be crying because that stupid bitch called me a muggle fucker." I feel my eyes welling up.

"I said I was sorry. What else do you want me to do?" He shrugs.

My sadness turned into pure hatred. The fact that he thought that sad excuse of an apology was going to make things better. "I want you to stay the fuck away from me. We share a room and that is all. No conversations, no interactions, nothing."

"Deal. Never really liked you anyways."