Alex's POV

A light snow fell outside the black windowpane, as I sat in Dumbledore's office waiting while my father pace in front of me, Oliver, and Fred Weasley. 'God…why me?'

Oliver sat to my right, I couldn't help but glance apologetically at him every ten seconds, and Fred on my left, this was all his fault! Well, him and my prejudiced git father. Let me try to sum up how all of us ended up in the headmaster's office tonight. My father hates everyone, well, everyone who's not a British pureblood witch or wizard. Oliver, my boyfriend of the last two years, is Scottish (three guesses how my father feels about him). For some unknown reason to me and the rest of the world, Fred Weasley is obsessed with me, even though my best friend, Pyper, has been in love with him for the past year. The human race as a whole would be better off if Fred would look at Pyper and not me, so once again, I ask, 'God…why me?!'

"Young lady, you better start explaining -" My father began to yell.

"What's there to explain, Dad?! I love Oliver, the end!" I snapped back at him.

"Be silent, Alexandra!" He ordered, and then stopped his pacing, facing Dumbledore. "Fred, stand." My father said calmly. Fred stood without a second thought. "This young man has my blessing to be with my daughter. Wood, stand." Oliver hesitated a moment, glancing at me, but stood nonetheless. "This…" He paused a moment, trying to find a nice word to cal Oliver. "Boy has, in one way or another, cast a spell on her to win her heart."

"That's a lie, Professor." Oliver said firmly.

"Magic can't create love." I said, standing and looking at Dumbledore pleadingly, he hadn't said a word since this began. "Surely, at least you understand that, sir." Standing in between Oliver and Fred, I came, once again, to the realization of how short I was (they both towered over me). I hope my words wouldn't be thought as small as me.

"Alexandra!" My father shouted to stop me from saying any more. He remained facing the Headmaster. "If she," he pointed an accusing finger at me, "doesn't renounce this silly 'love' of hers, I'm removing her form Hogwarts, and enrolling her in Beauxbatons tomorrow!"

"No! You can't do that!" I yelled, glaring up at him.

"You have no right –" Oliver said, taking a step forward.

"Alexandra is still underage, I have every right." My father said smugly.

"Professor, please." I said, turning my attention back to Dumbledore. "I'll be seventeen in two months!"

"I am sorry, Alexandra." Dumbledore said, speaking for the first time. "But, until your seventeenth birthday, your father still has complete control over where you receive your education."

I shook my head slowly. 'God, why me?!' Oliver reached down and took my hand. I felt a hand on my left shoulder, I looked over at Fred, hoping he'd talk some sense into my father – I should have known better.

"Alex," Fred said gently. "Please, see reason. Just-"

I shrugged his hand off my shoulder and took a step closer to Oliver. "Reason? Since when did you even know the meaning of the word?" I asked venomously.

"Fred," Oliver said, glaring. I don't think I have to say it, but Quidditch had been a nightmare that year. "If you cared about Alex at all, you'd understand how she feels. Don't you think she should be able to make her own choice?"

"That's enough!" My father said. "The only choice Alexandra is making is whether or not these false feelings she has for you are worth her pain."

"That and my life." I answered, squeezing Oliver's hand.

"Then, this is your last night at Hogwarts."