Coming home on the scarlet Hogwarts Express this year, I had lost the usual twinge of sadness – replaced by an overriding worry I couldn't for the life of me shake off. When I stepped off at the platform 9 ¾, I lugged my trunk down the steps in a matter of seconds. Hermione caught my shoulder as I was wrapping my fingers around the cold metal of the handle on the cage of my beautiful, spotted owl, Chole. I accidentally fumbled and her cage clunked as it hit its shelf. An indignant screech broke through the train, and I mentally sighed.

Twirling on the spot, I faced Hermione with my hands placed on my hips. "What?" I asked, my tone rather irritated – she had been all protective of me the whole day and it was getting on my nerves.

Hermione was persistent, though. "Are you sure you're alright, Leah?" Concern was evident in her wide, brown eyes and she still held a death grip on my right arm. I could feel my circulation being cut off.

I nodded stiffly, "I'm fine." My face must have betrayed me, though, as she cocked her head to the side.

"Really?"

"Just drop it. I've got to find Mum and Dad." I gave her a meaningful look. Picking up Chole's cage, I gazed at her once more and broke. "Of course I'm not. Write me, this summer, okay? I guess I'll see you next term." I opened my arms to hug her. I smiled as she returned the favor.

A tiny sad smile blossomed on her rosy lips. "Sure.", but the way her eyes looked downcast after she said it and she bit her lip, I knew something was wrong. As a friend, I wanted to ask her, but I had to find my parents. Regretting every step I took, I walked around her and stepped down off the steps. Halfway to the archway, I stopped mid-thought.

A body collided with me as I stood mulling over my conversation with Hermione – my best and only friend. Finding myself on the floor, a pain ripped through my elbow. I tried to rub the tender spot, but I realized I was trapped by another body atop mine. I pulled myself up and was met with the piercing, icy blue eyes of Draco Malfoy dusting off his black suit.

"Watch it mudblood. You may be a Slytherin, but you're still a foul leech."

It took me a moment to form a response, "Shut it, Malfoy."

"Not in the mood, Sevigny? Off to hide your muggle parents before He gets to them?" He smirked, gloating at my obvious discomfort at the subject. I couldn't understand him. How had he hardened so much over the past few months? How could one person make such a turnaround?

My voice wavered, "I said shut it, Draco." His eyes seemed to soften as I used his first name.

"What? Cause I take orders from mudbloods? You must be off it today, Leah."

I shook my head, and Draco shrugged in response. Allowing one last glance, I stalked away from him, and ran through the archway.

Spotting my parents at the entrance to the station, I sprinted forward. Dad enveloped me in a big bear hug. He was safe, warm, but things couldn't stay that way for long.

"Honey, how was your sixth year?" my mom asked. Her honey blond curls roped around her angular face in delicate spirals.

"Terrible." My voice was serious, but my dad laughed in spite of it. Then he realize I wasn't joking. "I'll tell you once we get home."

Climbing into our old, rusty truck I flung my baggage into the bed and held Chole tight as I settled into the worn backseat. The engine fired to life as we pulled away from the parking lot and back towards our home in the little alcove of woods.

Honestly, I tried not to think of him, but I never could seem to succeed. My mind flew back to his face. His pale blond hair slightly disarray and his cold blue eyes staring into mine. I would have smiled, when I had saw him then, but in the recent events . . . .

Draco and I had been a strange pair from the start. Me being a muggleborn, it was a sort of major uprising when I was sorted into the Slytherin. For the first year, I was a total outcast. Second year was better, when I met a certain pale blonde. He was caring – feeling. Something I have known just about none other Slytherins to be. We were like best friends all throughout the year. We could talk about anything. Whenever I found myself reminiscing about those days, I always was accompanied with a longing to sought them out and take them back as rightfully my own.

In third year, I had befriended Hermione Granger, a bit of a know-it-all and a proud Gryffindor. We had bonded instantly, but it had ruined my relationship with Draco. He didn't want me to associate with "dirty bloods", he had said. I had shouted back, I remember - my temper flaring like the harsh December wind that was tangling my already knotted, black tresses. We were standing outside, on the shore of the Black Lake, and in full view of the notorious Womping Willow. "Then what does that make me? Aren't I the same as her?" Heads had turned, my shrill voice carried through the swirling air. When he didn't reply, I turned and fled. If it hadn't been for my eyes swelling with tears, threatening to overflow, I would have stayed there and waited for him to say something, but I left, and he took that as our friendship was over.

Later on, we had gotten together once or twice. He taken me as his date for the Yule Ball in third year, and we had chatted in the common room the beginning of last year as I comforted him after his father was placed in Azkaban. He seemed so fragile . . .

A car door slammed. "Earth to Leah!" my dad poked me playfully, but I saw that it was half-heartedly.

Once I stepped through the maroon door of our house, my mum plopped down in her ancient, wooden rocking chair, and stared at me expectantly, her hesitant demeanor hid behind curiosity. "So, what's this terrible year I hear about, Leah?" She patted the space on the side of her chair, and I squeezed between her and the armrest as I prepared to spill.

My blood pounded in my ear, as I remembered every little detail. This was real. For a second on the train it had all felt like a nightmare, but this was not a fairy tale life – not even close.