"Ten points from Slytherin and Gryffindor!" I heard Professor McGonagall's voice roar as we turned into the corridor. "How dare the both of you . . . and in front of the first years! You should be ashamed of yourselves!"

"I bet you five galleons it's Draco and Potter back at it again," Tracey Davis, the blue-eyed witch, smirked.

"A bet can't be a bet unless both parties are on opposite ends of an argument, and I agree with you on this one," I said. We approached the crowd, eyes squinted as if that would block out the loud sound. Pushing past people, we made it to the front. Tracey was only partially correct. This time, it was Ron and Draco.

I turned to Tracey. "I can drop two galleons from what you owe me," I said. "Please leave three under my pillow when you return to the dormitories."

She scowled. "Oi! You said-"

"But professor!" Ron exclaimed, almost whining. "He's terrible. He has the dirtiest mouth, calling Hermione a mu-"

"I'm sure Miss Granger can speak for herself," McGonagall scowled. "Get to class. I don't want to see the two of you anywhere near each other. And the rest of you . . . why are you still standing here? Go!" The boys scowled at each other. Malfoy turned, walking away.

"Move," he said, an annoyed tone in his voice, pushing past Tracey and I. His right cheekbone was beginning to turn red. So, there had been a fist fight. Why hadn't they used their wands?

"Oh, and Mr. Weasley," she said, calling his as he tried walking away, "I'd suggest you went down to the infirmary and have Madam Pomfrey take a look at you. There's something growing out of your. . ." she gestured to her face. Ron spun around, his face turning beet red, and I started to laugh. His nose was starting to grow longer and longer. Ron pressed his hands over his face, running in the opposite direction.

I turned to the dark haired girl standing next to me. "Tracey, go ahead to class. I have to do something."

She gave me a sly look. "What are you planning?"

"Nothing!" I backed away, innocently. "I'll see you later." I turned, heading down the corridor we just exited. There he was; walking in the direction of the Slytherin dungeons.

"Malfoy," I said, quickening my pace. "Malfoy!" I repeated, which he ignored. "Draco!"

He stopped.

"What?" he asked, turning to face me.

"Are you alright?" I asked him.

"I'm fine."

"Please avoid fights like that. We lose every year because points keep getting cut off."

"You don't need to tell me," he rolled his eyes. "I know." He rubbed his wrist.

"Are you sure you're alright?" I questioned.

"Look, Steele," he said, taking a few strides towards me, until he was only a foot away, "I don't know what you're thinking, but you don't need to act like you care about anything I do. I know you think you may belong here but you don't. Hell, I don't even know what the Sorting Hat was thinking reading your mind!" he sneered. "You'll never be a Slytherin, blood traitor." His silvery eyes turned dark. "Are you that desperate?" I backed away.

"Desperate?" I repeated, confused.

"I know who you are, Steele. And your parents. So you stay away from here. Stay away from me. I don't want anything to do with you."

And with that, he spun on his heel, walking away. I scoffed. He'd been acting weird since this year started. Before, he'd always been a jerk. Now, he was more silent. Calm.

Alone.

Three years ago. . .

"Oi, Steele!" Malfoy shouted, pulling up next to me on his broom. I leaned back. I'd been watching them practice from the stands. "Who are you rooting for this game? Slytherin or Gryffindor?"

"Obviously, Slytherin," I said with a roll of my eyes, "but if I had a choice I would go with Gryffindor. Maybe Hufflepuff too, because they've actually won Quidditch games in the past two years unlike us."

Malfoy's cheeks flamed red and I laughed, Tracey joining in. "You're wearing the wrong colors, Steele!" he shouted as he spun his broom around. "And we will win this time!"

And so we did. He seemed almost angry as he reached out, leaning, leaning . . . and then his long fingers closed around the snitch and his face broke into the biggest smile I'd ever seen. Harry cursed as the players made their descent. Malfoy's chest rose and fell, his hand raised in triumph. He looked around the stands and his eyes met mine.

"Say it again!" he shouted, pumping his fist, his eyes bright. "Who hasn't won in the past two years?"

I got to my feet and clapped, along with everyone else around me. He grinned, turning to celebrate with his team.

Now.

Draco Malfoy had always been a jerk. He was rude, condescending, snobby, and annoying. But, he had a heart. He always felt the need to prove himself. He didn't want to be lower than anyone, not necessarily higher than everyone. But now, he was just . . .

Quiet.

To be honest, he was better as a jerk. Now he was scarier.

I wanted to make sure he was alright. I didn't want to follow him. I wasn't exactly following. I was . . . checking up on him.

He walked slowly, taking his time. He stopped. I retreated, hiding around the corner and placing my back flat against the wall. I held my breath. When it was quiet, I turned, ready to continue "checking up" on him. Suddenly, I slammed into something hard. I let out a squeal.

"Why are you following me?" he demanded. "Didn't I just tell you to stay away from me?"

"I was making sure you were alright-" I tried to explain, but he wouldn't listen.

"When I said I was fine, it means I'm fine!" his voice rose all of a sudden. I scowled deeply.

"Fine."

ϟ ϟ ϟ

The common room was packed. I pushed past people, knocking shoulders with Pansy Parkinson.

"Watch it," Pansy scowled.

The entrance was blocked. I made my way to the sitting area, when I stopped abruptly. He sat on a sofa, legs crossed, staring at the wall in front of him. His elbow was propped up on the armrest, his index finger and thumb rubbing against each other.

I plopped down on the chair next to him, pulling open Theories of Transubstantial Transfiguration. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him glance at me. I braced myself for a scolding.

"Transfiguration?" Malfoy smirked. "The last time you tried that, you blew up a spoon."

I laughed. "You were never great at it either," I pointed out, and he rolled his eyes. "You turned a cup into a toadstool."

He got to his feet. "At least I turned it into something." Maybe he felt guilty about how utterly rude he'd been towards me. Or maybe he was bipolar. Maybe. . . "The entrance to the girls' dormitory is clear," he said, nodding towards it. Get some sleep, I thought he would say. "There's no way you can study for this. You're terrible at everything."

There it was.

"Goodnight," I huffed, shutting the book with a force that shook the table. He didn't bother to reply, heading in the opposite direction towards the boys' dormitories.

ϟ ϟ ϟ

I was, proud to say, excellent in charms.

I flicked my wand. The clear vinegar in the goblet that sat in front of me slowly turned into a crimson wine. I sat back, satisfied as professor Flitwick noticed.

"The only two that completed this task was Miss Granger and Miss Steele." My face fell. I glanced at her, and her eye caught mine. She quickly looked away. I crossed my arms over my chest, greatly displeased. No matter how hard I tried, I just couldn't out-charm her.

I looked on my right, only to realize Malfoy's seat was still empty. Maybe he was sick. Maybe I could check up on him after class?

No. No checking up, Steele. He already hates you enough.

Next was herbology.

Oh, how I despised herbology.

"No mandrakes," I whispered to the skies under my breath. "Whatever it may be . . . Not mandrakes."

"Maybe if you say it enough she'll have a change of heart," a voice said, interrupting my plea. I whipped around to see Harry standing there, glasses, scar, messy hair, and all.

"Hello," I greeted. I was just . . ."

"Take your seats!" Professor Sprout said. "Today we will be working with--"

"Surely not mandrakes!" I gasped, and the entire classroom fell into a bottomless silence.

Professor Sprout cleared her throat. "Sit down, Miss Steele. I was going to say the Venomous Tentacula, but you've ruined my fun. Now, I won't be able to see your surprised reactions when I say that these are deadly plants! Put on your gloves. With one bite, it can put you in a sleep that will last forever."

It was at this time where I envied people with gifts for these pointless subjects. For example, Longbottom. When it came to herbology, he was your guy.

I turned my attention towards the trio. They had their heads down and were laughing at something. I scowled, grabbing the green, spiky plant. There was nothing to laugh about. Jerks. They were having the time of their life, weren't they?

"Diffindo!" I growled, as one of the Tentacula's vines tried to latch onto me with it's venomous thorns. The vine was sliced in half, falling to the floor. "That's more like it."

"Imagine one of these against a mandrake," I heard Hermione say with a giggle. I looked up to find her staring straight at me. I smiled and nodded, surprised but not unhappy that she was speaking to me. Me! The girl she totally, completely ignored after our first year, even though I basically saved her from getting bludgeoned by a troll in a bathroom!

"Imagine that," I said, but she wasn't even looking here anymore. She was busy being a genius, cutting the vines from that stupid Venomous Tentacula while I stood here getting whipped by one.

"Damn it!" I shouted as one of the vines latched onto my dragon-hide gloved wrist. "Sorry," I quickly said to Professor Sprout. She waved me away.

"Cursing while dealing with a Venomous Tentacula is the only time I'll accept it. Carry on."

I let out a puff of air.

"I will kill you," I sneered into its eyeless bulb for a face. "And then I will eat you for dinner." I grabbed it as it tried to back-vine me across the face. "Oh, really. You're being quite immature, Tentacula," I tutted. This was going to be a long year.