It was now the third week of November. The Gryffindor witch's attention has turned to her studies, profusely preparing herself for her end-of-term exams. She's spent the past two weeks cozying up in the library, one of her favorite getaways that she trudged upon since her first year. Of course, she wouldn't allow herself to catch a break, occasionally meeting up with Hermione to study together, as if they were the only two students in the entire world who needed it. As usual, Harry and Ron weren't bothered to get themselves ready for their examinations, Harry having trouble with the dangerous task that he must complete tomorrow, and Ron simply not caring enough as he should have.

As Heather paced herself to the bookshelf marked Magical Creatures, she reached for the slightly burnt book titled 'Dragons, and Their Fiery Nature'.

How fitting.

Naturally, Care of Magical Creatures wasn't exactly a mandatory OWL, but the female witch decided that if it was a class, then it was important, also deducing that it might contain useful information that she could pass onto her friend to heighten his chances of not burning to death by a dragon in the next twenty-four hours. However, her hand was slapped away from the book before it was within a few inches from it.

"Merlin's beard!", she yelped, alarmed by the sudden presence that made itself known. She quickly realized that it was, not one, but two other students. Students with strawberry red hair that reached their shoulders, goofy grins plastered on both of their faces. What else did I expect?

"I never realized you were such an easy scare, Heathen.", joked George, nudging Fred in his side with his elbow.

"What do you boys want now? I'm studying, something you two should be doing as well.", the girl stated with a slight attitude, annoyed by her personal twin disruptions. If they were going to distract her, she might as well tease them a little bit.

Both boys groaned at the same time, much unpleasantly. They both loathed studying, occasionally explaining that there was no need for it. They had this absolutely ridiculous excuse to get out of it every time someone tried to force them to study, saying that their ginger hair gave them good luck and whatnot. Hermione almost fainted when she heard them say this for the first time, it took about half an hour for her breathing to go back to normal, and even Molly was running around, hands in the air about her reckless twin boys. How they managed to pass each year and continue to attend this damned, beautiful school always crossed my mind.

"Honestly, Heather, sometimes I want to swipe the sorting hat from Dumbledore's office just so it can finally put you into sodding Ravenclaw.", Fred says, rolling his eyes as the name of the Eagle house slips off his tongue. The blue and silver themed house never managed to spark joy in Fred, as he finds anyone there 'too uptight and book-wormy'. Unlike George, who believes that the entirety of Slytherin house has rather large sticks shoved up all their arses.

I felt at home in Gryffindor, it was the most welcoming house, other than Hufflepuff, of course. I've made plenty of friends, granted they don't know much about me, but I feel like they'd accept me anyways. I still have my worries, though. Gryffindors can really hold a grudge, and I doubt that any of the people I associate myself with daily would instantly forgive me if they find out the secrets I've been holding out on them. I just hope that there's someone who would accept me for me and overlook what my parents are, if I finally build up the courage to tell them. It seems like I'm the only one who believes that the unfortunate offspring of seemingly evil parents are not exact replicas of them, what a shame.

But, the Ravenclaw students did acquire a bit of space that made up her brain. There was just a feeling there, that she'd belong more with the witty, clever, quick-thinking house. She definitely seemed more like them, and the thought of being challenged even the slightest bit everyday excited her a little, like answering a riddle every time she wanted to get into her common room, it was exhilarating to think about.

"It's not my fault that you boys despise learning. How you two managed to stay in this school with your low marks and notorious pranks, I'll never understand.", Heather easily quipped back, snapping into reality as she realized she spent quite a bit of time in her head.

"Speaking of pranks...", George trails as he digs into his trouser pocket for something. Heather takes the opportunity to retrieve the book from its confined shelf, no one could stop her from taking it this time. She retreated back to the cherrywood desk she settled herself upon, the twin towers following closely behind. As she began to open the book, her peripheral vision caught a glimmer of something in a shimmering gold colour.

She followed her eyesight, landing on a tiny vial that contained a gold potion, held in between George's index finger and his abnormally large thumb.

Heather feels herself take a short gasp inwards as she recognizes the potion from a book she read in Snape's class. She had already finished her assignment and opted to read a little to get herself ahead. She often did this in most classes, so she didn't mind getting called out by a couple of Slytherins for being such a 'nerd'. Screw them, at least I can read.

"So that's it then? The Alihosty Draught, I presume?", Heather inquires. she raises an eyebrow, wondering if the two boys in front of her even brewed the potion correctly. As she remembered, the potion was supposed to be more bronze. "Shouldn't it look a bit different?", she inquired.

"Relax, we paid a third year with some green to check it. Said it was perfect.", Fred tries to, what I think is, assure me. His flimsy attempt doesn't work.

"And you just believe a random third year? What if they lied?", the witch asked. How could they be so careless with a potion? A potion that I have to give to Snape himself?

"Calm down, Heathen, said he was top of his class, I checked his OWL marks for the past two years too, he wasn't lying.", George pipes up.

"So? Why would a student at the top of his class ask for some weed in turn?" Heather could feel herself getting hot. If this potion was messed up, it would be their fault, and she would not hesitate to take her anger out on the both of them.

The twins shared a glance to each other. They both simply stated, "Seemed trustworthy enough.", with a shrug from Fred and a slight smirk from George. I'm literally going to kill these two one day.

"Alright well, give it here. You two don't want to be late for Astronomy.", the girl holds out her hand and clenches her fist around the small container of the dreamy looking liquid.

They both turn around at the same time and leave, arms linked together as they hum a tune I don't recognize. It's most likely an inappropriate song, she thinks to herself. The boys have been getting themselves more into muggle music, and I have nothing against it, they've shown me a couple of songs as well, and I've enjoyed them. However, I can't tell which one they're humming about as they walk away, either.

Heather begins to examine the tiny bottle of the draught she received from the duo. The specks of silver drowning in the everlasting gold reminds her of the stars on a clear night sky after it rains, of a glimmer in a youngsters eyes when they speak of something they are passionate about, of the speckles that shoot around the black lake in the springtime, when it doesn't seem black at all, but rather a mesmerizing mix of deep azure and never-ending amaranthine, of the hypnotizing shade of grey that the Slytherin's golden boy's eyes possess.

Heather sat up quickly from her seat with a jump. Not this again. That git Malfoy always found a way to slither into her head, no matter the circumstance. Curse his insipid, captivating eyes. They'd be so much easier to stray away from if they didn't remind the young witch of the sweet kiss that thunder and lightning share as they paint the late afternoon sky with their covalent, profound bond as the ground beneath them shakes, completely under their mercy and at their will.

The intrusive, absolutely disturbing thoughts of the boy's eyes didn't even make Heather falter anymore, she came face to face with herself a week ago. Having one Draco Malfoy asking you to the ball does that to a person. She didn't fancy him, oh no, she could never, she swore on Merlin's grave that it would never happen. But, it didn't hurt to admit to herself that his eyes and the intense glare they give almost 24/7 weren't, pretty, at the least. So what she jumped up so abruptly before earlier, she had no clue why.

Heather sighs gently and moves her gaze over to the slightly charred book she set down earlier. As she began to open the first couple of pages, after reading the index, of course, the witch was startled a bit as she sees a pale, ring-covered hand slam on the table. It took the girl but two seconds to recognize that hand, the veins and silver rings didn't belong to just anybody.

Still, she made sure her gaze unto the yellowed, crisp pages of the printed work between her slim hands never faltered. She wouldn't give this narcissistic knob the satisfaction of looking at him straight away.  She could tell it was working as she hears a huff of hair escape his somewhat rose-colored lips. It was hard for her to stop her upper lip from curling up into a smirk, instead focusing on the most common types of dragons in Eurasia during what the muggles called the "Middle Ages".

What she didn't get to comprehend was the sudden weight the blonde-haired boy forced onto her, coercing her out of her creaky chair that she claimed as her own, into the now rattling bookshelf behind her as he slammed her mercilessly against it. She felt an unsurprisingly cold hand on her throat, not squeezing necessarily, just pushing back enough so that her head couldn't look down.

What the fuck?