The days swept by coldly. Times were spent by children playing in the snow, story-reading by the fires in respected common rooms, and family visits.

Heather made no choice to go back to her family's villa this year. As she explained in her letter to her parents, she stated that time was of the essence, and she needed more of it to complete the task her caretakers assigned unto her.

They agreed, and left her off to tend to herself.

Indeed, she has partially fulfilled her promise. But her days with Professor Moody required to last a bit longer, as she swiftly began to enjoy the man's company every second he showed his true self.

The young witch spent many afternoons recalling the witty remarks and the casual calling-outs the professor always made, his snarky side never tended to falter when they were alone, tidying up a classroom and whatnot. She was assigned the task of gaining his trust, when, really, he gained hers.

However, the same cannot be said for the other professor she promised to do the same thing for. Professor Snape began showing signs of forgiveness, no matter how much resent he may have been hiding inside his chest all that time.

It's a work in progress, the witch will admit. But, it will all work out in the end. It has to. She knows the consequences if her plans have failed.

As she walks alongside the darkened, deserted hallways with Professor Moody, she wonders how she went from fearing his capabilities to laughing with him about Neville Longbottom and his fear of chameleons.

"He's changing colour! How does he do it? It's like magic! Oh...", he says, Moody raising his arms up in fake fear, replicating a reaction poor Neville would have.

We both laugh once more together, before falling into a comfortable silence. "You know, Heather,", he begins, "I've always thought you were
just a decent, upcoming student. Not average, no, no. Bright."

I smile to myself, the change of conversation confusing me. "Professor, where are you going with this?"

He rolls his eyes at the sound of being called such a title, "Let me finish, young one. In the time that I've spent with you, you've shown me much more than what goes on inside your head- Has anyone ever told you that you were capable of great things?"

He stares at me, awaiting my answer. I shake my head.

"No? Well then, I guess I'll be the first to say this.", he turns to me, and grips my shoulder. "You, Miss Mortem, are an incredibly intimidating witch. It's all in your head, what you can do. Anything you set your mind to, it'll happen. Remember that."

After a few long moments, I mutter a ,"Thank you, Professor", and make my way to the Gryffindor Common Room.

—

"Look everyone! Heather's doing her 'I-just-spent-time-with-him' smile!"

A voice interrupts Finnigan's, "Shut up, Seamus. He's a teacher. He's just being polite."

I smile kindly. "Thank you, Dean."

He speaks up again, "Besides, it would be way too obvious to tell if they were snogging in the dark corners of the castle. She'd be doing more than smiling."

The boys giggle until I slap them both upside their heads. Annoying twats.

"Has anyone seen Harry? I have to speak with him."

A sweet voice broke through the room, "He's not here."

Squinting my sight at the girl in front of me, I rest my eyes at the recognization of the blue-clad student. "Luna? What are you doing here? How'd you even get in?"

She raises her lips to speak simply; "The painting let me in."

"You mean the....Fat...Lady?", I lowly implore, voice heavy with hesitation and uneasiness.

Blonde eyebrows scrunch together. "No, I don't like calling her that. That nickname seems like a rather rude one to call a person, huh?"

I slap my hands against my thighs in familiarization, "Thank you! I've been saying that ever since I got here but no one has agreed with me!"

Luna smiles gently, "Of course! Oh, by the way, Harry hasn't been in any of classes, and he's not in his dorm right now." Seeing my vexation, she adds. "But, I've recently came from Professor Moody's office, and he requests you go pay him a visit again."

Face contorted into perplexity, I inquire the girl. "Again? But I've just gotten back from there..?"

She nods her head in understanding, and just shrugs her shoulders slightly. Sighing a bit deeply, I walk my way back to where I was.

"Professor?", my vocals call out, the only other sound in the office being my footsteps and the creaky door as my gentle hand places itself upon the knob to push it open.

I walk into the room, steady feet pacing forwards as I look around for any sign of the man.

A voice from the back of the office shouts, rather irritated, "How many times do I have to tell you? You have permission to call me by my first name, Miss Mortem!"

Finally facing him, seeing him seated in a desk chair, feeling the upper corner of my mouth rising as I caught him. "Yes, Professor, you said so. But how do you expect me to call you as such when you called me by my last name?"

His lips pout in doubt, "No, I don't recall having doing such a thing."

I stutter in my stance, "Wha- But you just did!"

His eyes stare up into the roof of the room as if he were trying to remember. "When?", he simply inquires.

My eyes fixate on him, in complete disbelief, as my mouth hangs open and stays open in defeat. "What did you need me for, Professor?"

He rolls his eyes at my choice of words, parting his chapped lips to speak his mind. "I've forgotten to tell you one thing. It's rather a subject of...personal matter."

"Oh?", Heather questions, not knowing how to reply to the man in front of her. Her palm caresses the surface nearest her, the wood seeming to tense underneath her delicate hand.

His lips nervously separate, his tongue swiping across and to the side. The man takes a swig of the unknown liquid before lowly gasping, and begins to speak what's on his mind. "As an Ex-Auror, I have certain...adventures...that allow me to see who is on which side."

The young girl's eyes widen at his words, his vague words already clear and formed into her mind.

He continues, "It has come to my attention that your parents, have chosen a rather dark path."

Heather's sights drag along every dark corner in the classroom, attempting to avoid this topic of conversation. This was something new, and something new is as much unexpected as well as unpredictable. New things aren't very much appreciated.

"However,"

Her pupils shot up to the man in front of her.

He licks his lips again, although, less wild this time, "You don't seem all that crazy for the Dark Lord yourself. And so, I felt like I needed you to know that I am always available at any time. An old chap like me doesn't have very many friends, now does he?"

Her head shakes, slightly tipped forward to avoid the truth of her eyes pooling at his words. She chuckles, dryly, like it was the wrong time to laugh, but she did it anyways.

Her tongue swipes over her lips, preparing her vocals to escape the crevices of her throat once more. "You don't know how much that means to me, Pro-",

"Alastor."

His eyes light up a bit, a relaxed sigh escaping his lungs, glad the conversation didn't go unexpectedly. "I'm sure you have a lot to think on right about now. You're free to go.", a hand gesturing towards the door.

Feet lightly moving against the stone floor, a short 'thank you' makes its way to him, and I leave the deserted classroom.

Leaving the place has me grinning like an idiot, even though the subject that was just recently at matter should've had me shaking out of my wits. How is it that Alastair Moody, a man that I've only known some months, could make me feel...

Comfortable?

Comfortable about a situation that I could never speak to my own, close friends about?

Perhaps maybe it's because he's an adult, and I'm less afraid that he'll judge me. Or maybe it's the exact opposite? Maybe I'm more afraid he'll judge me, and in that, my fears further expand?

My logic is flawed, but I'm too dizzy to think it out at the moment. Perhaps never seems like a good time.

The cobblestone path i'm walking across takes my mind elsewhere, the cold wind passing through me, thinking back to the night of Christmas Eve. My skin shivered at the thought, the cold snow back then reminded myself of his blond hair, and the smell of him in his black and white dress robes filled my senses.

The image of a scowl on his face while we danced around clouded my mind, every little detail of his face was written into my eyes, the sight failing to leave once I try to fall asleep every night since then.

How is it that the mere words he speaks have me thinking about them days after? How the pronunciation of every letter he says has me on the edge of my seat?

~A few weeks back~

This time tonight, the words that fall out of my mouth stutter instead of his, "U-Us?"

His eyes close slightly, and he hums in content and confirmation. A lazy smile appears on his pale face.

An exasperated sigh escaped my lips. "I've already told you before, there is no "us", Malfoy-"

His stare intensified into mine, brows sinking and all emotion leaves his face. "Stop doing that."

My grip on his hand loosens, "Sorry- What?"

He doesn't reply. He only looks past my head, at the other couples dancing behind me.

"Stop doing what, Malf-"

The feeling of his hand around my waist jerking my body closer to his causes my breath to leave my throat, our faces inches apart. Lines on his complexion appear after a sneer welcomes itself to his face. His heated breaths fan my own face, all thoughts leaving my head without a trace. I think I've forgotten how to blink.

"Stop calling me-"

His grimace tightens, nostrils flaring and eyes now cold, emotionless, at the thought of his surname.

Normally, the Malfoy name would be something that one would take pride in. If the family weren't a band of Death Eater prefaces, perhaps they would be known throughout the wizarding world for a different reason.

However, his family's endeavors clearly make no matter to him. Their impressions are short-lived to the boy, but he still boasts about the tiniest things just to prove to others that he's better, only because he is a Malfoy.

So, what's changed this time?

"And you don't want me calling you by your last name, why, exactly?", my head tilts to the side in confusion. This time, I have no idea what's going on with him. It isn't what I am...used to.

He inhaled, deeply, contemplating his answer. It seems like forever, with the gears of his mind turning, tiring themselves. However, he shakes his head a small bit, crossing out the possibility of letting me know the true reason why he's bothered by such a thing.

"Just...don't."

Those simple words would've angered me. I would've thought he was having a fit, that he didn't want to tell me the true meaning behind his actions. I would've thought so, had it not been his eyes that told me the truth. The partial truth.

He wasn't saying that for absolutely no reason. He was asking me not to.

I've decided to not push it.

~Present~

My mind is undergoing a battle within itself. I'm starting to... feel...a certain way towards him. Not the same way I feel about my friends. Nothing is set into stone, at least not yet. I do not want to watch myself allow these feelings to grow.

Harry his his task in two nights. He still needs help. Ron, Hermione and I are working on helping him. He already knows the task, after sweet Cedric sent him that clue. I just hope we can get it done in time, I don't want to focus on any other subjects. They aren't worth my time.