A/N Hey, guys, Taka here! I probably shouldn't be starting another story, but I did anyway because I'm stubborn, and so is my muse apparently. :) So here it is!

Disclaimer Harry Potter (c) to the ever so brilliant and most clever J.K. Rowling. Grace Amaura King & Professor Caldwell (c) Takara "Taka" Matsudaira.

Chapter One – "Detention with McGonagall"

Grace Amaura King was a nobody, but still a pure-blood, though she never believed in such ridiculous things; ridiculous things like blood purity. As a child, her parents had taught her that everyone was created equal.

She was a Seventh Year in Slytherin, and had the uncanny ability to draw out trouble wherever it may lurk in the corridors. She wasn't pretty, but also not ugly; she was "naturally plain," as dubbed by her roommate one Pansy Parkinson; her other three roommates were Millicent Bulstrode, Tracey Davis and Daphne Greengrass. The girls often times just left her well enough alone, if they knew what was good for them – especially after the war, considering the small, little fact that she was the only Slytherin to fight for Potter and his precious Muggle-borns – but there were those few occasions when Parkinson would stir up trouble just for the hell of it.

Parkinson had it in for her; it was only the second week back, and already she had detention thanks to the girl. But it wasn't all bad it seemed, because it looked like she'd be the only one serving detention with the Headmistress in the Transfiguration classroom that night. The room was practically empty when she walked in, handing McGonagall – who was sitting behind her desk, silently grading papers – her wand, and took a seat near the front of the classroom. She'd never find herself at the front of class during class, but it was a nice change of pace considering it was detention and not actual class time. And it was the perfect time to get to work on her homework without any distractions. McGonagall stopped what she was doing and looked up at her, nodding at Grace in silent approval, before getting back to her own work.

In Muggle Studies earlier that day, they were assigned to write a poem, about how they felt now that the war was finally over and done with. Grace dipped her handsome scarlet quill into her inkwell and began to write, but soon finding out that, writing about one's feelings, wasn't as easy as Professor Caldwell made it sound in class. Professor Caldwell was the new Muggle Studies professor; he had been hired in replace of Professor Burbage – Grace's favorite professor – after her unfortunate end. Professor Burbage was somewhat of an inspiration to Grace, she had never known someone to be so understanding, patient, and kind, if not a little odd in her own right. She missed her old professor greatly.

That was when inspiration struck.

She quickly dipped her quill into her inkwell and began scribbling furiously, scratching a mistake out here and there, because her hand was moving too fast for her brain to keep up. The only sounds being that of quill to parchment, and the occasional shuffling of newly graded papers courtesy of McGonagall, were the few noises in the otherwise quiet classroom.

Grace's writing hand was throbbing painfully and relatively sore by the time she finally finished and placed her quill back in her inkwell and leaving it there. She proudly smiled down at the finished product of her poem. Her work so definitely deserved an Outstanding, if not at least an Exceeds Expectations. Now she just sounded conceited, but she couldn't help it. She was really proud of how her poem turned out.

With her Muggle Studies homework now complete and off to the side of her desk, Grace had nothing else to do but wait until detention was over. So she took out her journal instead and began drawing; drawing always calmed her and came more naturally to her than anything else ever could.

She plucked her handsome scarlet quill from her inkwell so fast that some of the ink accidentally got on top of the piece of parchment that was in front of her, but she didn't care. All she cared about was getting started. She was afraid that she'd forget; drawing came naturally for her, sure, but her inspirations often times came and went, never staying for long. And before she knew it, they were usually gone before she even got started.

Soon after she'd finished, she was given back her wand and released from detention, with McGonagall staying behind as she still had papers to be graded. She saw the occasional student out of bed, but didn't reprimand them. She was Head Girl, and it was her job to put students in their places when they felt the need to break the rules, yeah, but she was just too tired to care tonight. She felt drained enough from the day as it was, without having to deal with students out of bed due to it being a Saturday night of all nights. She'd be surprised if she didn't see anyone out of bed.

The thought of bed made Grace walk faster down the stairs – skipping two steps at a time as she did so – and toward the Slytherin Common Room, where her bed eagerly awaited her. She jumped down the last step and was just about to turn the corner when she accidentally ran into someone. Or they ran into her. Either way, she didn't know. The corridor was dark, even with the nearby overhead torches flickering shadows across the walls, sure, but it wasn't hard to distinguish who she was.

Hermione Granger.

And she had tears in her eyes.

A/N And Grace Amaura King is born!

Reviews are much obliged! Flames'll be burnt to a crisp. ^^