Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or any of these characters. I do not own Hogwarts or anything of that sort.

I just do it for your people's enjoyment. So, enjoy:)

(A/N): This first portion of the story is based on my recent experience with a guy. Also, please review! I want to hear your opinions so I can make this an awesome fic. :)

Chapter One

Ola Gomalasz was enjoying her lunch at Smirter Elementary. Her friend, Kyle Gredeen, got his lunch without pay, and always had given some to her. Ola thought this was a smart move in saving $1.60. She wouldn't ever have to buy lunch, therefore saving her money to buy what her heart desired for that price (chocolate). Today was Thursday, October 20th, and she was munching on cheese pizza, trying to keep her thick brown-blonde hair out of it. Kyle, a slightly chubby, dirty blonde, usually angry- looking boy, reached into the pocket of his jacket and handed Ola a chocoalte milk. Ola gave a word of thanks and restarted the conversation with her other friends.

Kendra Hitihochi was at the end of the small table, writing a new, long poem. She was a Jappanese student who just recently moved to the states. She was a very artistic spirit, and quite moody. In between the two girls sat another: Emmaru Cappan. She was cheerfully munching her bagel, her dirty blonde hair behind her shoulders. She squinted her eyes to get a good vision of her "Yummy-Funny Muffins," as she so fondly called him. His real name was Erick Dziebinski, and he was the Polish hottie of the school. Most girls were in love with him, falling heels-over-head for his tall, muscular figure and charming smile. Natasha Jablko sat across from Emmaru, finishing up her math homework while devouring a ham sandwich. She was the brainiest one in the group, eager to worry about school and future life. On Natasha's left side sat Christian Cherwicz, a very thin, very silly boy. Although he looked underfed, he always ate large amounts of food. He just had a fast metabolism. On Natasha's other side sat Jamie Amirez and Liz Calverdon, the quietest ones of the whole crew, who were now in a whispered conversation.

Jenna, the light-blonde flirt had just come from getting her lunch and positioned herself next to Ola. They were talking about the subject that was usually at hand- the "Polish Mafia." They were a group consisted of a few boys they knew: Erick "Yummy-Funny Muffins" Dziebinski, David Mazurski, Matt Katski, and Tom Nizeczski.

Christian piped up,"I don't know how you can like those assholes."

Emmaru was chewing slowly, looking past Christian, her eyes glazed over. He rolled his eyes, turning to Ola.

He began to speak, but someone else caught her attention. She placed the last peice of pizza in her mouth as she glanced at the garbage can about eight feet away. Throwing away his garbage, was David. Immediately, Ola could not control what she was thinking. She just stared, grinning slightly, at the short, tanned Polish boy as he walked back. She looked down, her concience scolding her for how she had behaved. David was the worst of them all. The one who started to truely hate her and the group she was currently sitting with.

Ola felt like crying as she reminiced what he had done to her; at first, everything was fine. They'd chat on the internet, Ola giving a quick, eager response each time she saw that orange light go off. He inspired her to read, write, and speak in Polish. If it wasn't for that beautiful mofo, she would have forgotten to say "Hello" in her own language by now. Then, things started to go bad. As she fell deeper in love, people tried harder to keep them apart. A few of her friends had betrayed Ola, telling David her feelings for him. Luckily, David believed Ola when she denied it all. Well, he did until the last friend told him. Then, it couldn't be fixed, no matter what approach Ola took. For a while, she ignored him, only to produce no result or change in his hate for her. She smiled sadly as she thought of the time he had helped her make Polish oatmeal. She hadn't understood a word of it, and David happily translated for her. But those were old, broken days of the past. There was no going back. Ola wished there was a type of magic or something to help her, but she knew very well that there wasn't. Even if there was, she wouldn't have the heart to toy with him, she loved him so.

Suddenly, she came crashing back to reality. Kyle had just nudged her. It turns out Ola's consience wasn't the only one scolding her; Christian was now peering over his glasses witn a very annoyed expression on his face.

"He's an ASSHOLE," he repeated, screaming the last word.

People all over the lunch room stopped their chatter and stared at Chris, making mental notes not to talk to him ever again.

Later after school, Emmaru, Ola, Chris, Kendra, Kyle and Jenna all stood outside together in front of the building. The Polish Mafia passed them. David seemed to be feeling mean today, because he shouted,"Trondzik to szmata!" He and his friends laughed and walked on. They all knew very well what it meant, because they heard it often when he shouted it to Ola. It meant "Acne's a slut!" He screamed it because Ola used to have a horrid case of acne, which was now reduced to some mild redness along with the occansional zit. Not that that would stop him. Ola kept her head low and told herself he did it because his friends make fun of her liking him. Her head argued with her heart.

"Pshh! Maybe he started out that way, but he doesn't give a flying fuck about you, and you know it. Why the hell do you let him walk all over you anyway! That never happens with anyone else!" screamed her head.

Her heart whispered softly,"But, he can't mean it. We were on really good terms! And, he looked at me a lot!"

Her mind laughed,"Sure, you WERE on good terms. And he LOOKED at you- woah, must mean he loves you! Listen, if he did this, he doesn't care. He never liked you, otherwise he would have been nicer. Fuck him. Get over him. Or you'll be miserable all your fucking life."

Draco Malfoy was eating lunch in the Great Hall, once again, impersonating Harry Potter fainting. Ah, thank goodness for Dementors. He wouldn't tell a soul, but he, too, had been scared. He ran into the Weasley twins' compartment, fear probably etched all over his pale face. Fortunatley, the red heads hadn't blabbed.

Anywho, Pansy was looking up at him adoringly, laughing with every two seconds. It was fake, Draco knew it. She was the only one laughing, besides that. Everyone's heads were turned away from him. They seemed to be talking about injuring a Gryffindor Quiddich member or two. Draco was full-on attention wise until it was time for Potions class. An easy, effortless class. He had done half his essay on the Draught of Living Death (and that half was meant for the garbage) and he would surely get an O on it. No problem. Dark Lord followers made each other look good. That is, of course, when one must outshine the other. This results many times in death. But Draco tried not to think about that.

In Potions, they were learning how to make the Nightingale Potion. It was a potion that if one drank, they would dream of a songbird for seven nights and days straight. They would wake up, graceful, relaxed and happy, though starving and thirsty. A potion as complicated as this was a N.E.W.T. level. They were Third Years, and the Gryffindors looked revolted when they learned how complicated the potion was. Draco merely smirked. Let Potty, Weasel, the Mudblood and the rest of them suffer.

By the end of class, Draco's potion was now pitch black and emitting gross scents. Hermione's was light pink, with a pale orange songbird flying out of it. It smelled like a mixed scent of roses and pastries. He checked the book. Yup, she had done it again.

Damn Mudblood know-it-all slut, he thought, full of loathing and malice. Proffessor Snape had seemed to think along the same lines, because he strolled over to her desk and said,"Hmph. Thank you for giving us yet another example of being a know-it-all, Miss Granger. Five points from Gryffindor."

Hermione now had red patches on her cheeks of embarassment. Ron and Harry had them too- butthey had nothing to do with embarassment. Ron looked like he was on the verge of his head exploding, while Harry looked murderously at Severus Snape, biting his tounge.

Draco turned around with a smirk of satisfaction. That is, until he caught a whiff of the potion. He couldn't help it; along with all the other smells in the dungeon, the scents were a powerfull force. Draco threw up his breakfast and yesterday's dinner in his cauldron.

When he brought his head up, there were now the sounds that were weakening him; the Gryffindor's loud jeers and laughs, the gasps and "eew"'s from the Slytherin girls, and the chuckles from the Slytherin boys. The two senses formed a type of force combined, and the blonde boy was down, out cold.