Empty Classrooms

This was originally a piece I wrote when my friend and I were working on a story together, but it never really worked out.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" I asked allowing the venom to seep into my voice.

He closed the door behind him.

Our room.

The room where two years ago we came to continue an argument as to which philosopher theorized the Unicorn Hair Theorem. I was wrong and he would never let me forget that. It was an old classroom, very close to the Gryffindor common room.

I came here before that sometimes to practice spells. The room hadn't been used in years. There was a large desk in the middle of the room and tons of books in the large dusty bookshelves. There was a purple sofa with a few drink and other stains on it that I suspected was not from any lessons and wondered how a student was able to get a sofa into Hogwarts, magic, I suppose.

I walked to the center of the room allowing my hair to fall lank in my face.

"I heard you're going out with Dan Couch now," he said, slowly approaching me in the middle of the room.

I tried to catch my breath. We were so close. I just wanted to reach out and push a lock of white-blond hair out of his face so I could see his piercing gray eyes. I resisted, hoping my blush would be interpreted as anger.

"That has nothing to do with you," I sniffed, turning my head away. In all honesty, I'd had no idea that Dan was going to ask me out. He'd surprised me. I almost started laughing, until I realized he was serious, and accepted.

"You're better than that Rosie," so I was Rosie again? "You're better than him," he tried to reach out and touch my shoulder, but I jerked away before he could.

The months of anger brewing inside me, from his unanswered owls over the summer holidays, spilled over. "It's none of your business, Malfoy! Leave me alone! I don't want to speak to you! Why do you care who I date? You shouldn't care who I date! You didn't care the entire summer! Why do you care who I date?" I repeated.

My anger must have gotten to him, "You certainly are different from the Rosie I knew!" What was he talking about, I would always have reacted like this? "You little blood traitor whore!"

I'd heard the story many times of how in her third year my mother smacked Draco Malfoy across the face, hard.

I could tell I would have done her proud by the way the pink marks from where my hand was were already showing up on his face when I looked back at him.

He raised his hand. I closed my eyes tight and braced myself for a slap or a punch or whatever it was he was planning to do.

It never came.

His soft lips pressed against mine, and I opened my eyes in shock, but quickly closed them again, taking in the moment. He was hunched over to be at my level, I got on my tip-toes to make the stretch easier for him. I felt him jam his tongue into my mouth as though there was only a limited time that we could have together like this. I put my arms around his neck, but soon found that my fingers prefered to be tangled in his hair. I felt his own hand rumpling my hair with the other on my back keeping us wound close together. He gave a soft moan.

It suddenly hit me what was happening.

My eyes flew open and my hands were at his shoulders, pushing him away.

This was not acceptable, this was not allowed. I fell to the floor when his hand left my back, and I quickly scurried out of the room.

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