She looked curiously across at him. Rain streaked his face and his breath came in heavy white puffs.The pale, blonde-haired boy shared her potions class. He held a thinly veiled disdain for anything muggle related, including people like her. She wondered what he was doing out here. Scorpius didn't seem like much: he was thin, almost weedy; with vainly styled hair. If they'd been at her old school, he would've lost his lunch money every day. But here? Here it was different.

Even his last name was impressive: Malfoy. It was in the textbooks for Christ's sake. She nodded at him in greeting, still too exhausted to speak. He nodded half-heartedly back, shivering, and soaking wet.

The shelter was much larger than she'd originally thought. The roof was low. Sariah squinted into the darkness, it could've been a burrow. There was a natural ledge a couple of meters back. Her legs aching, she hoisted herself onto it and sat down. Beneath the moss and dirt, the metal was cold. The metal? Sariah stood abruptly and turned around. She was confronted with an overly familiar object, just as out-of-place as she was. Surprise flashed through her when she realized she was sitting on the hood of a car.

It was camouflaged well within the burrow; green with moss and brown with dirt. No wonder she hadn't seen it initially. Vines trailed from the tree's trunk onto the car, distorting its sides and creeping over the bonnet. Other plants pushed through the holes in the windscreen. The few windows not cracked or shattered were covered with grime. Decades of it. It was dented like a derby car; there were even snapped off arrowheads embedded in the driver's door.

Scorpius regarded her gleeful expression. "What are you so happy about? It's just some stupid car. Doesn't even work."

Sariah ignored him. "My parents are mechanics," she explained. "They fix cars."

She'd had experience too, of course. Every summer break she'd find herself back in her family's garage, piecing together a car, covered in oil stains darker than her own skin, that sparkled and gleamed in the lamplight.

The rain drummed down in slanted sheets as she assessed the car's condition. It looked rusted almost beyond repair, but some part of her couldn't bear to leave something so familiar to decay by itself in the wilderness. She ran her hand lovingly along its dented hood. I'm going to fix you, she thought. The car's headlights flickered in the dimming light. She drew her hand away in shock. Hadn't the battery died yet? On impulse, she reached through the missing window-hole and turned the key. Scorpius flinched beside her as the engine coughed and spluttered.

Hope flooded through her. If she could get the car up and running again, maybe - just maybe - she'd be accepted. She'd have the best Muggle Studies project in existence.

She drew her wand, pointing the ornately carved wood toward the center of the car's bumper. "Scourgify," she muttered. Spells had always intimidated her; they had a habit of going terribly wrong. This was one of the few she was comfortable with. The spell cleaned away an awkward oval of grime, revealing a sky blue finish, and a rusted nameplate: 'Anglia.'

"Who's a pretty girl?" she cooed.

The car's engine wheezed in response.

Scorpius scoffed at her.

"Do you know what car this is?" she asked.

"I don't care," Scorpius replied.

Sariah did. It was the one thing she'd remembered from 'Hogwarts a History': a sentient, illegally enchanted car that had crashed into the Whomping willow. Allegedly, it had fought in the battle of Hogwarts; that might explain some of the more sizable dents in the front of the car.

It would be Christmas break in a few days but Sariah was mentally planning a list of all the things she'd have to bring back with her to get the car running again.

Gasoline, oil, antifreeze. Some car wax, a couple of bottles of detergent, maybe even a battery or some spark plugs... and definitely, something to deal with the rust.

She hopped off the hood and tried prise it open. It raised all of two inches before it became apparent that the vines were much thicker than she'd realized. Unwilling to get any more dirt on her woolen gloves than necessary, she removed them and tucked them into a pocket in her robes. She began tearing vines from the car.

Scorpius made a noise. "I wouldn't touch those if I were you,"

"Why not?"

"It's poison ivy," he said bluntly. "You of all people should know that, Hufflepuff."

She wiped her hands hastily on her robe.

Darkness fell. They listened to the rain bulleting through the trees in silence. Sariah's stomach growled restlessly; they'd be missing dinner right now. His presence made her uncomfortable. She could feel him judging her in the blackness. Soon she couldn't even make out his pale silhouette. "How were your results?" she asked, out of politeness more than everything else.

He seemed surprised to hear her speak. "Alright, except for the Muggle Studies practical." He scowled. "I failed. But it's stupid: us being forced to take that subject. When will I need to know how to drive one of those muggle death traps?"

"Cars aren't like that," Sariah said defensively. "You can just get behind the wheel and drive, go where ever you want. It's like being free."

"I'd rather apparate," he replied bluntly. "Besides, you're used to cars. You're muggle born. Imagine being graded on your ability to fly a broomstick."

Sariah's cheeks flushed, glad for the darkness. "I was. I had to learn to fly during my first year. I broke my wrist and collarbone when I crashed into the quidditch goal posts."

Scorpius' lips tugged into a small smirk. "I assume you remember what happened during my practical?"

"I think the whole school knows what happened," Sariah replied honestly. "Professor Batt's was very vocal about it: 'The brakes! Mr. Malfoy, the brakes!'" She imitated the Professor's panic as the car had careened off the quidditch pitch, where the course had been set up, and started its very rapid descent down into a ravine.

"It's a dumb subject." Scorpius scowled. "I wouldn't be taking it if my father wasn't forcing me to, at O.W.L level too."

That's my life you're insulting. Sariah frowned and said nothing.

She assumed Scorpius had floored the accelerator instead of the break, effectively postponing the remaining practical exams. Absentmindedly, she started fiddling with some of her thinner dreadlocks, plaiting them together before unwinding them and starting again. "Scorpius, you won't tell anyone about the car, will you?"

"Why would I? It's a rotten piece of junk."

There was a loud, rusted creak as the car's door swung open haphazardly. She heard him curse, and stumble forward.

He glared at the car with icy-blue eyes. "It's probably worth more as scrap."

An hour passed and the rain still hadn't let up. Sariah made the pragmatic decision to return to the castle. She tucked her phone into her bra, the driest place on her person. People would talk if they spent the night together in the forest, and she had no desire to be the gossip of the school. Scorpius shrugged and followed her. With any luck, they'd make it back to the castle before it was locked for the evening. Sariah shared the rest of her wine gums with Scorpius as they trekked through the forest.