The Game
She sat, blankly staring at the pictures. She had seen, and rejected, nearly all of them. If she didn't find someone soon, none of this was going to work. She sighed, and looked at the next picture. Draco Malfoy. She grinned. Draco Malfoy. He was perfect. He wasn't naïve, like so many of the others. He could take care of himself. He might even understand why she had to do this, why she had to play this game. But he couldn't know who she was. Not unless he won. But, he was the one. She was almost sure of it.
She had become a little less… well, insane, since that night. That night. She hated to think about it. She had lost almost all emotion, all feeling. She couldn't have it, not if she was to survive. She was cold, unsympathetic, unfeeling, and she hated herself for it. But she had to live with it. She had no choice.
She sighed. She collected her things and began to walk towards the Owlerey. She picked an owl, and tied her message to its leg. As it flew off, she smiled. She couldn't wait for breakfast tomorrow.