A/N: So, I've been trying to write this for a while. I can promise that I wont update regularly, so don't get attached. The point is that I've reached a point and I don't know what I'm going to do next and it's starting to really frustrate me when I get stuck. A lot of times these Harry Potter stories are written very well, but I enjoy them best when they don't have much substance other than the relationship status of the love interest.

It's Lupin x OC, by the way.

I don't own Harry Potter. If I did, I'd be writing another bloody book to make millions off of as opposed to publishing it as a fanfiction. .

When she arrived at the castle, it had been raining tremendously.

Not that it was unnexpected, just down right inconvienient, as she would thus have to trek all the way to the main entrance from the ornate gates completely and utterly soaked through. Normally, one might feel a bit weary in said weather seeing as axe-murderers apparently loved treking about in the dreary rain, but she only found herself damp and annoyed, all things considered. Besides, any creatures (or axe-murderers) that might decide to take the trek all the way up to the castle from the forest this late at night for a snack was likely cozy and warm in their Dens of Doom, surrounded by the bones of their past victims. It seemed quite a bit more lovely than having to walk several thousand meters.

"Sarcasm," she grumbled, heaving a bag through the mud behind her, holding an expression very far from enthusiasm, "is not a good way to solve your problems. You know that, Frankie. You've said so over one-thousand times by now."

Francheska Alberta Natalie Stein had a poor habit of mumbling to herself when put in a situation that wasn't necessarily to her liking. Of course, it wasn't as unfortunate as chewing one's fingernails, or bursting into hiccups when one was nervous-though she did have a slight problem with both, and by slight, the intended meaning was she in constant peril in the Bloody-Stumps-For-Fingers department and possibly coughing up a hippogryff when in an awkward situation-but it was unfortunate, none-the-less. Usually her muttering tended to freighten off anyone around her. Though doubly-unfortunate when she was around oneyone with a respectable social standing, she found she usually didn't mind, as when she was in a foul mood everyone in the general vicinity seemed a right git, anyway.

Frankie had assumed that her first glimps of Hogwarts would be accompanied by starry eyes and perhaps a small gasp in wonderment. Instead, she gave a half look up, barely able to see her hand in front of her face, let alone all the way up the bloody tower. The moment was considerably ruined by the weather.

"As it often is," she mused, trudging onward to pound on the doors, less than impressed with the ages it felt she was forced to stand in the rain while she waited for someone to come around and let her in. She was less impressed yet with the foul man that ushered her inside, bearing a horrible slouch and reminding her vaguely of Quasy Modo without the giant hunch on his back. Surely that was a severe form of scoliosis, which should have been treated regularly while he was growing up. Then again, the times were more primitive, and Paris wasn't exactly filled with the most caring people-

"Professeh Magonagals' will see ya immediately, Miss-ah-"

"Stein," Frankie filled in generously, looking about the large main entrance. Just as she was ready to comment, the slightly grey man heaved up one of her cases and she decidely allowed him to take it, despite the fact that he was quite ridiculously skinny-almost skeletal, really-and would probably need help in getting up any stairs, if they should encounter such an obstical. Frankie almost became miffed as he marched forward, having forgotten about the fact that water tended to stick almost unnaturally to her glasses. She had really wanted to wipe them off, but it was either that or get left behind, thus becoming hopelessly lost in this castle that she honestly didn't know the size of in the slighest, or leave them to dry and hope she didn't get those ridiculous splotches that she forgot about, but left her vision foggy and have her bumble around, having absolutely no idea why until she realized 'Oh! There must be something on my glasses,' and then took them off the clean them, feeling like a complete ejit-

"Hurry et along, will ya? I 'aven't got awl night, eh," the skeletal man wheezed, bustling down the corridor.

Frankie was quick to follow, double checking her coat pocket to make sure her wand was still there-being quite the volotile mix of a half-pheonix feather and manticore hair, as well as bloody expensive, all covered up with smooth and plyable hawthorn wood-and sighed in relief at it's familiarity. It was 12.5", brazanly long for someone of her stature-at least according to what her auntie had told her once upon a time. She had taken a peculiar pride in that fact, though it wasn't as though the length of her wand was going to make her sprout up a centimeter or ten. She was quite a length shorter than the average witch, a vertical challenge she struggled with on a daily basis. Usually when high-up shelves tempted her with their goodies and she had left her wand somewhere in the distance that she didn't want to bother with walking to.

Frankie followed the sullen man-who had rudely forgotten to intorduce himself-down several seemingly never-ending corridors. That might have been because he had to keep stopping to catch his breath, but when that happened Frankie stopped to amuse herself with picking out the silliest looking sleeping portrait in her general vicinity and determaining when was a respectable and safe time for her to come back and paint a mustache onto one or several, just for the sake of mischeif.

The skeletal man led her down many more hallways with many more amusing paintings until finally, they reached what must have been Professor McGonagall's quaters. The man knocked, and after several moments of slighty uncomfortable silence in which Frankie swiftly discovered what it was like to be one of the people around her when she started mumbling unintelligably, the door swung open. On the other side stood a strangely cat-like woman-her eyes were sharp as the flicked from the bony man and back to Frankie, recognition alighting her face but not making the flat line of her lips any more unnerving.

"Argus," she greeted the man, then turned to Frankie with a look that said she knew exactly who the girl was, and late night visits like this don't happen very often, and that she wasn't sure if the rule in which people shouldn't be stomping around in the corridors in the dark applied to her the same as they did the rest of the students. She smiled just slightly, however, opening the door further to allow them both inside, the tightness of her lips never disappearing. "Francheska Stein-welcome to Hogwarts. I imagine your trip wasn't too arduous."

Argus stumbled after Frankie into the almost unnaturally organized office, heaving Frankie's things behind him. When Professor McGonagall noticed she simply flicked her wand and the suit-cases went floating out the door and down the hallway, presumably to the bunk in which Frankie would stay.

"Thank you, Argus, but I believe that will be all. Good night," she said bruisqly, permissing the grey man to grunt and turn out of the room, mumbling something about witches and their magic and a cat that Frankie had yet to see anywhere on her journey to or through the castle.

With his exit, the Professor turned and plucked several sheets of parchment from her desk. Frankie sepped forward to accept them as she handed them over, glancing over them before the woman could get to explaining how this was her schedule, and she was expected to be at each of her classes rather promptly at the respected times.

"I suggest arriving at the Great Hall early tomorrow morning. Ask one of your room-mates to escort you-it is to my understanding that you wil be sharing your room with a Ms. Lily Evans. She is quite punctual," Professor McGonagall said sharply with a quick nod. "Dumbledore would like to meet you in person." Frankie didn't bother to ask why he couldn't see her now-it was already quite a hassle for poor Professor McGonagall to have to stay up so late just to make sure she arrived safely.

"Ah, right," Frankie nodded in response, wondering if it would be acceptable to ask who, exactly, Lily Evans was and why Professor McGonagall seemed to know her by name with so many students to keep track of already. Based on her punctuality, she figured that perhaps Evans was a goody-two-shoes of sorts.

"You'll find your room in the Gryffindor wing, as you've been placed prematurely based on your... situation. It's down the hall and immediately to your right. You'll want to enter through the portrait hole with the password written on your schedule."

Frankie nodded, and assuming that there was nothing more for her to be dictated on, turned on her heel and began towards the door, thinking about whether or not it was proper to say goodnight to one of your teachers. She didn't get very far, however, as Professor McGonagall called her back.

"Ah, Ms. Stein?" There was an uptilt of her voice, something Frankie figured was partially unnatural for the woman who seemed to be usually quite demanding. She turned to acknowledge she heard her, looking through her glasses and squinting in annoyance at her blurriness. Really, she needed a new prescription... "If there is anything that you need, do not hesitate in asking." After a moment she added, "That is all. Off to bed," she turned, sucessfully dismissing Frankie.

She turned and left the room, closing the door behind her and cutting off any light that might have saved her from abruptly tripping over her own foot with her first step. She yelped, glaring down at where she presumed her feet were, and fished her wand out of her pocket.

"Lumos," she hissed, and the tip of her wand came to life, glowing a faint blue, but not brightening enough to disturb the portraits. She held it in front of her as she walked, muttering quietly to herself. "Honestly, you'd think they wouldn't bother being so primative. Electricity was invented long ago-and if it upsets anyone that much, would a bit of candles lining the walls really hurt anyone?" She mumbled, missing the sound of scuffling feet underneath her own quiet mumbles and bowed attitude. Her clothes were really beginning to weigh her down.

She didn't, however, miss the yelp somewhere behind her, and her heart jumped into her throat as she spun around, waving her wand wildly as she went. Her eyes widened as she looked about, trying to find the source of the noise, but it seemed that all the portraits were still asleep. Somewhere to her right, one gave a snort in it's sleep, but that seemed to be the only disruptance. She swiftly found herself second-guessing whether or not axe-murderers could somehow hack their way into Hogwarts when she heared a hissing sound in the same direction as the yelp, and then the distinct sound of someone smacking someone else. Hard.

"Who's-?" She squeeked, stopping abruptly to clear her throat and stand a little straighter. "Who's there?" She called, though it still came out to be quite weak and she clenched her teeth to stop them from chattering. After a short stint of silence she contemplated whether or not she should creep forward and try to find out what was going on. She steeled herself, squaring her shoulders as she decided to go for it. She began moving ever so slowly, holding her wand forwards as if it were a weapon, making her way centimeter by centimeter.

She looked around, peering sharply at the portraits on either side, feeling the nervousness bubbling in her stomach and struggled to keep her fingers away from her mouth lest she make herself bleed to death. She slid along the ground slowly, too freightened to even pick up her feet, pressing her lips together.

She had made ten paces without any more sounds, taking approximately five minutes to get there, and at that moment decided that whatever had been making the noises must be gone now. It was quite the myrad, really, and she wondered what kind of creature both yelps like a little girl getting hit with a ball and hisses like a snake, and why the bloody hell it would be wandering around the hallways of Hogwarts smacking itself in the middle of the night.

"Then again, you are wandering about in the middle of the night," she mumbled to herself, straightening up a bit. "There's not exactly someone stalking about you muttering how you're the axe-murderer, now, is there?" Then she nodded to herself, as if coming to a sensible conclusion. "And I doubt any axe-murderer is going to shreik like a little girl-" Frankie jumped and cried out in surprise as there was a shout of laughter to her immediate left.

For the record, most smart witch's have the sensability to not throw their wands at things that surprise them with loud laughter in the middle of dark corridors very late at night. Frankie is just a bad example of smart witches, and so her immediate reaction was to chuck her wand straight towards the sound at the same time as she tripped over her own two feet and landed hard on her behind. If she hadn't been so clumsy, she might have noticed that her wand didn't exactly reach the wall, instead bouncing off of something that seemed to be invisible. Promptly afterward, she heard the sound of feet pounding in the direction of the dormitories none too inconspicuously.

She lay there for several long moments, struggling to catch her breath only to eventually get the hiccups. She deemed it too late for her now, standing up and stumbling over to her still illuminated wand. She bent down to pick it up, relieved to find it was unharmed, and was promptly met with the sight of a folded piece of parchment. She frowned, picking it up, and was mildly releived that she had found it, else she would have forgotten to gather her own papers that had gone flying when the urge to throw things apparently overrideded her common sense to cast a bloody spell.

Frankie put the tip of her wand down on the paper, surprised to find words inscribed on the front. She unfolded it once or twice (not yet having the patience or the sight to read what it said) as it seemed to be bewitched to be appear smaller than it really was, and discovered it was a map of some sort. She quickly realized that it was a map of the school, though why any random poltergeist who was freightening poor wandering students in the dark hallways needed it was beyond Frankie. With a sigh she refolded it and used the light of her wand to gather the rest of her parchment, turning to continue on her way to the dormitories.

The portrait of the fat-lady was already awake when she got there. She looked up at Frankie, appearing a bit disgruntled.

"Why must you sneak about the castle in the-oh, hello," she crowed, her tone changing suddenly. "I'm afraid I don't recognize you, dearie."

"Uh, erm," Frankie grumbled as she shuffled her papers, trying to find the one labeled Schedule. She finally found it and traced her finger down it's length to find the password. "Uhm, Cactus Snout...?" She said, looking up at the fat lady with raised eyebrows and a skeptical expression.

"Oh, yes, of course," she mumbled, and then paused as she swung open.

Frankie stumbled through the portrait hole into what must have been a common room. She looked around curiously at the chairs for lounging and the tables for doing homework as well as the fireplace that was currently put out for the moment. The rain was still coming down hard, pounding against the windows mercilessly, though someone had charmed them to stay silent as they took their beating.

She stumbled into the dark, pondering about how her night sight was usually better than this. It only took her slamming into the coffee table-hard-to give a shout and fall flat on her face, her glasses skewed. With a grumbled she righted herself, hoping she didn't wake anyone, not noticing the sound of feet tapping up the stairs on the boys side. She luckily guessed with side was for the girls correctly on her first try, and she slid up the stairs as quietly as she could.

She found her room with little trouble, only once opening the door to the rather freightening sight of two girls laying about covered head-to-toe in what appeared to be green slime.

She didn't really get the chance to look at who her roommates might be, only managing to stumble across the room and collpase on the bed she guessed was her own, because her bags were placed beside it, and immediately fall into a deep sleep, forgetting entirely to put out her wand's light.

"Sirius, you idiot!"

Sirius yelped as James smacked him over the head, mussing his hair further and bowing him over. He hissed at him to be quiet, but that only caused him to smack him again.

"It's not like it's my fault! If you hadn't shreiked like a little girl-" This caused another bought of laughter to come bursting from behind his pressed lips, thus earning him another slap on the back of the head.

"I wouldn't have yelled," he emphesised,"if you hadn't stepped on my foot!" James growled.

"If you both don't stop it, you're going to wake the whole castle," Remus murmured from where he lay on his bed, trying to hide his grin despite himself. Really, it had been quite hilarious when the girl had mumbled what they had all been thinking, and even funnier yet to come back to their room ony to find James flushed bright red in humiliation.

"He started it!" Sirius whined glaring at James. This earned him yet another smack.

"I did not!"

"You did, too!"

"Did not!"

"Did too!"

"Did not!"

"Did too-"

"Quiet!"

Sirius and James jumped as someone from a room over yelled loud enough for them to hear and promptly shut their mouths.

"Who was that girl, anyway?" Peter asked, considerably quieter than the rest of them as he unwrapped a chocolate frog and chomped into it before it could wriggle away. Remus watched him enviously, but didn't say anything about it. "Ooh, I got Circe!"

"Probably some Ravenclaw prefect or something," Sirius mused. James groaned as he flopped over onto his own bed, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

"Great, just great. Now some random Ravenclaw prefect has the Map. You do realize what this could mean, right?" He asked, sitting up to look sharply at his roommates, who all turned to stare at him expectantly. He waited, staring at each of them, before realizing they weren't going to answer his question.

"No, what does it mean?" Sirius asked, rolling his eyes.

"Well, i-it means that a Ravenclaw prefect has our map, and that she could, probably, uhm... Blackmail us! Yeah, do that, or something..." He finished lamely. Sirius had to swallow a laugh, afraid that it would get him hit over the head again and turned to Peter and Remus, as if gathering their support.

"We could always just, you know. Steal it back."

James blinked, before sighing. "It's not that easy."

"What-"

"He's right," Remus cut in before Sirius could start another fight, effectively shutting him up. "It's not like we can just go waltzing into the Ravenclaw common room, much less into their girl's dormitory. Besides, we don't even know who the girl was, let alone whether she was a Ravenclaw or a Hufflepuff or otherwise." The rest scrunched their noses, wondering what it would mean for them if she happened to be Slytherin.

"Right. And she probably doesn't even know what it is, anyway," Sirius added, giving a shrug as he lay back in his bed, kicking off his shoes and wrestling out of his shirt as he went. James blinked again and suddenly hunched over, looking very clearly like he had just kicked a gnome into the nighbors window. Sirius looked up at one of his best mates, his eyes narrowing as he recognized the face he was making. "You did hide it again after you were done looking at it, right?" He asked slowly, as if talking to a child. James shrunk back even further.

Peter's eyes bulged as he realized exactly what that meant, and Remus grumbled some unintelligble comment to himself, rolling over and pulling his pillow over his head.

"I'm the idiot?" Sirius yelled, jumping out of bed. "We're screwed! You do realize we spent ages making that map, right? How can you be such an ejit?" Sirius growled, beginning to pace.

"Be quiet!"

"Uhm, guys...? Maybe we should talk about this in the morning?" Peter suggested, huddling under his blankets as though Sirius was going to come over and begin to bludgeon him just for talking.

"I second that!" James yelped, ducking under his own covers and waving his wand over his head to turn the light nearest to his bed out. "'Night!"

"Goodnight!" Peter whimpered quickly, sliding under his own covers.

"Goofnif," came the muffled reply from Remus' direction.

"Are you kidding?" Sirius growled, but no one seemed to be paying any attention. He finally rolled his eyes and slid into bed, mumbling to himself as he did so.