Hi! I thought I'd give my hand at writing fanfiction since I spend so much time reading them. Anyway, so every chapter's based off a song title and yeah, enjoy! :]

These are my confessions

If you had the wondrous fortune of knowing who I was, you'd know that I've never been kissed, I'm tan all year long, I love kittens, I'm a terrible liar, excessive chocolate gives me terrible headaches, I love apple pie, I'm very short, and I'm Indian. Boring black hair, brown skin, but I've got gray eyes.

I'd think I was a bit crazy, too. It calls for fun stories, though.

And so I stood there at King's Cross, looking for a familiar face. Of course, my loving parents couldn't make it because of their demanding doctor jobs- I'm a Muggleborn- but hey, what can you do. It's not like I'd miss them or anything. Nope, not me.

I realized people were giving me strange glances as I stood in front of the barrier to platform 9¾. I walked through the barrier for the third time and found myself grinning widely at the sight of the glorious red train, the Hogwarts Express.

So. I'm 13 and I'm a Gryffindor. My name's Ellora Prem, but most people call me Lora. The Sorting Hat said I'd be miserable in Ravenclaw, which is where I figured I'd end up, because of my parents' smart genes. I'm in the same year as Harry Potter and his friends. I suppose we were friends, too- Hermione, Ron, and Harry were actually really cool, but we weren't close. At least, not as close as the three of them were. I don't think many people had that kind of friendship. To be honest, I've no idea why I'm a Gryffindor. There's nothing special about me. I haven't got many friends. Most of the time, it's just me and my kitten, Tinker.

I looked almost nothing like my parents. In first year, the Sorting Hat told me that "everything is not what it seems to be." I still have absolutely no idea what that even means. Bloody Sorting Hat. I have gray eyes but nobody in my family does. It's uncharacteristic for Indians to have gray eyes. A very small, paranoid part of me believed that I was adopted. It isn't that hard to believe. Besides the fact that I look nothing like my parents, they're never around. I mean, they aren't cruel to me; in fact, they're great most of the time. They're just never home because of their jobs. So we never really talk. Most of the time, it's just me, Tinker, and my too big house.

I got on the train and quickly found an empty compartment. I was early. Way too early. There was almost nobody on the train yet. Wonderful. I yawned and decided to take a quick nap, placing Tinker on my lap. Nobody would come through here, I concluded. I threw my trunk onto the top bench with a grunt- yes my muscles, they astound me as well. Tinker just sat on the seat as if to mock me. I rolled my eyes and curled up to the side of the seat and welcomed sleep with open arms.

I guess that quick nap turned into at least an hour long nap because I felt a soft tapping on my arm and found two pairs of brown eyes staring at me about two inches away from my face.

I almost screamed in their faces. While I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes, I realized who was smirking at me. They were twins with red hair, so that could only mean-

"Fred and George Weasley. To what do I owe this pleasure?"

"Well, Lora, every compartment is pretty much full," George began.

"So we figured we'd grace you with our enlightening presence," Fred finished.

"Lucky me, then," I muttered to myself.

I wasn't close with them by any means. But you couldn't just ignore Fred and George. They were Fred and George. You had to talk to them. Not to mention, they were great to look at. The Weasleys were really a great family. So we were talking about everything and nothing- Quidditch:

"Wood's going to make us work our arses off this year,"

Their plans for their joke shop:

"Mum happens to think we'll amount to nothing," Fred said almost seriously.

And the Daily Prophet's newest hot topic:

"So you heard Sirius Black escaped Azkaban?" George asked casually.

"Of course! I don't know much about it though, I haven't really been in tune with the news," I replied.

"So you don't know he has a daughter and nobody knows where his wife's gone to?" Fred asked with genuine interest.

"No," I gave them a strange look, "I suppose I don't. Poor kid, though. How old is she?" I felt bad for his daughter, whoever she was. Must suck having a convict for a father and a missing mother.

"Around our age, give or take a few years. I heard she lives in the dungeons of Hogwarts because Dumbledore wants to keep an eye on her, you know, so she doesn't go on a killing spree like her dear old dad did," George said with enthusiasm in his voice.

"Yeah, maybe we should lock you both in there, too" I muttered, with a disbelieving eye roll.

"I'm wounded, Lora."

"That you'd even say such a thing, really."

"But it's okay, we'll forgive you."

"Kiss and make up, yeah?" Fred smirked.

Before I could reply, the train came to an unexpected stop and suddenly, my teeth were chattering and I was shivering. It was freezing in the compartment and this coldness felt sinister.

"Why'd we stop…" I let the question trail off. None of us had an answer. Goose bumps were rising on my arms, from fear or the cold, I didn't quite know. Tinker was curled into a ball, whimpering at the corner of the seat. Fred and George looked as nervous as I felt.

"It's nothing good, I'll tell you that much," Fred murmured."

"Look at the window…" George whispered. I turned my head and my eyes widened. The window was covered with ice. Completely covered with ice. I could feel panic flowing through my veins. I wanted nothing more than to curl into a ball and hope that it would end. Nothing could ever be right again. All the happiness was slowly washing away to some unreachable place. Why was I a Gryffindor again?

And then the compartment door slid open. A huge, black figure glided into the compartment effortlessly and suddenly the temperature plummeted even lower than it already was. The hair on my neck and arms were standing on an end, I could hear my heart pounding a mile a minute, and I could hear the blood surging through my veins. Nothing was worth living for. Everything meant nothing.

Dementors. It was a dementor.

I couldn't see Fred or George. It seemed that the dementor had taken an interest in me. It was gliding towards me and it seemed like death would have been a better fate than this. I barely realized that I was trying to get as far from it as I could. I was so paralyzed with fear that I couldn't hear myself screeching. It was literally five inches from my face and suddenly there was screaming, a mixture of faces, crying, doors slamming, a bright flash of gray, and then nothing.

Review? :D

ps: song by usher