Chapter 1

I am complex and

Fragile with torn paper wings

but I can still fly

I am not affluent.

I am not amiable.

I am not assertive.

And these are just the A's of the things I'm not. Nice has nothing to do with me. If you're looking for someone deliberately heroic, smart and popular, I'd recommend you the Gryffindor table, where you would find a pack of agreeable boys, ready to flash their buoyancy. Now, you might be wondering who am I…Don't mock me when I say that I've been wondering about this for quite a long time. It's a prolonged battle between the assumptions, as to whether it's me, stuck in the body of April Green, a practically invisible being to the rest of the world, or is me—April Green, spirited away?

Years of seeking out something near to good, I gave up a long time ago, to choose to be someone I know. Something irrationally undefined, a mystery existing since before time—space; invisible and void. Jibes still hadn't stopped, nevertheless. But they were fewer. I, for one, happened to fall in the worst of luck. You see, I've never quite been able to fit in, may that be the grotesque muggle world, a that I had to succumb being a timid child, or the ruthless wizarding world, having thrown me into a House of bullies. Yes. I was bullied by my own housemates. Three guesses who? And here I am, all alone and concealed the Dillusionment charm unsurprisingly being the first spell I most likely deemed to master.

The nauseating pressure of the exams have rained through and it's the sun of last day of the term—my 5th year—shining brightly in the sky. Thankfully (obviously) the library is deserted—almost—I can hear James Potter drawling about his undying love and devotion to Lily Evans somewhere around. Could that boy be any less subtle about his affections? I am the last person to gossip around (more like you needed friends to do that), and even I am aware of each of his recent antics. My mind reels off to a particular incident involving the lake, Defense Against the Dark Arts OWL exam and a certain Slytherin along with these two. At least I'm saved from the rest of the gang. I gingerly shut the heavy old book, securing its fading, tattered pages sadly tearing away from the edges. I inhale another deep breath, a smile naturally turning up my lips with the welcoming aroma of the rusty old smell issuing from the books. Nobody bothered to hover around, looking for someone to hex.

Hearing footsteps echoing my way, I hastily send the book back to the shelf, when—

"Brachiabindo!"

Vines slither around me, binding me to the chair, that tilts back dangerously, and I have to desperately lean forward for balance.

Sirius Black blows the tip of his wand dramatically, smirking coldly at my direction. Color drains my face as dread pools deep in my belly. How the hell did he find me!

"Trying to run away, Snivellus? Not very wise, was it? A Dillusionment charm to worm your way back with Evans…" Sirius tuts disapprovingly, and for some reason, the knot of stress unfurled into a gush of relief deep inside my belly.

I stiffen up once more, with every step he advances my way. He can't see me! Protego!

His smirk , realizing the Shield Charm. "Been practicing non-verbals, have you? Too bad, even that is not enough to save you, Snivelly."

In a flash, I'm hanging upside down, those smoky grey eyes on me, though indubitably unfocused. I grit my teeth, forcing all my will into a silent turmoil as blood gushes into my head, crafting me numb. He thinks I'm Severus Snape. I don't really prefer being a greasy lump, a tiny part in me still hoping to be acknowledged. Sirius smirks as I finally gasp, trying not to faint. I know those eyes, the eyes of a predator, watchful, waiting, for its prey to fall, to land straight into its clutches. He reaches out a long, his wand probing, probably so he could lift my invisibility spell. Almost impulsively, I jerk out of my cocoon of numbness.

Everte Statum!

Not losing the ten seconds while Sirius is knocked back, I steady myself back on foot again. Oh no, he doesn't looks too happy about being thrown back, and I am a sitting duck, a couple of steps away. But hey, he still can't see me, can he? A flash of red grazes a flying stray strand. Sirius Black is in action. He fires again, a spell I know not of, but this time, I'm ready. I levitate a nearby chair, not wanting to give in my immediate position. Almost effortlessly, he deflects the chair with a bored look on his face, sending it to crash against another table. The next thing I know, the books are flying, trashing around everywhere, anywhere. Clever boy. A giant, iron rimmed book thuds against my shoulders. I have to ignore the burning pain, because now, all the books, along with those grey, grey eyes that are on me, as one. It's show time.

Sirius is on move again, sending jets of varied hues my way (not to mention his monstrous books), his jaw set in a hard line. With a mute snarl, I dive behind a shelf, transfiguring his flapping gruesome books into a flock of twittering birds. Oppugno! I let a wave of triumph wash over my strained muscles. Sirius meticulously dodges a couple of birds before he transfigures them further in a pile of feathers. He wheels directly at me, brows crossed together.

My heart leaps when he blatantly says "You're not Snivellus". Did he recognize me? Nah, he wouldn't…I doubt he even remembers the time when we first met. I waited nervously in front of the barrier to Platform 9 3/4 . Waited for what? I neither knew then, nor do now. My mother was far from sober enough to see me off and my dad…they finally retrieved his body over the summer. Barely a few days before Easter, my form head called me in one evening, and surprisingly asked me to have tea. She only did this for the older forms, even among them, the pretty, favorite ones. From the tight posture to the pitiful eyes, it barely took me a moment to grasp that this wasn't going to be pleasant. "It's your father," she said. "He's been in an accident." I knew there was not 'accident'. My father was an Auror. He was probably on one of his missions to catch a random dark wizard, nothing like He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, mind you. But he didn't make it. Not this time. Of course I didn't cry in front of her. I merely nodded and excused myself. I barely passed on my final exams. I guess I deserved an F, for I hadn't even bothered to open them. The teachers must have marked me out of pity. I couldn't believe that he was gone. Until I met her. What would you do, if you find your mother in a pile of her own vomit, clutching one of the many spirit bottles lying all around her? I knew she wouldn't bother to get me home from the train station, so I took the bus, trying not to look as lost as I felt. The whole summer was a menace. Not quite often, I would find a different man join us in the kitchen next morning. I didn't understand back then. The nights were sleepless, for both me and mum; her, screaming exuberant moans, and me stirring left and right to get comfortable enough for sleep to kick in, hands clamping my ears.

So back to King's Cross station, I glanced up at the large clock for the umpteenth time, shifting feet to feet uncomfortably with a single dread: "Will I miss the train?" I was saved from further prosecution of my self-esteem by a tap on my shoulder. Cloudy grey eyes were the first to strike me among his handsome, aristocratic features.

"Trying to get past the barrier?" He followed my gaze. It was good to find someone less stupid. I would have lashed out if he mistook me for a muggleborn. My parents were magical, and I was aware of it since birth. But my present loneliness brought me out as worse than a muggle itself.

"I don't know how to get past them." I confessed. It was only right. I have never been through the barrier before, much less alone.

His grin fleshed out dimples through his smooth, pale skin. "We could dash in together, you know."

I raised my gaze up further to see a tall, beaky-nosed woman scowling at me, her lips pale, set in a thin line. The stout, balding man standing by her looked disapproving, but not as vicious. Some imaginary force made me nod, despite my indecisiveness, and boy, he wasted no moment in catching my hand to pull me away. Pull me away from all this madness, the malicious muggles, jealous of our kind, my withering mother, plucked and forlorn after dad's death, and my old life. No. I was not Cinderella, nor he was my Prince Charming. My life did not get easier by any means, nor did I and my mystery boy, which I later came to acknowledge—Sirius Black got any closer than the loops of opposing houses on a Quidditch pitch.

And now, he advances me, with a certain certainty, wand drawn pointing me, eyes vague, but organized. Ready to pick on every grain I dropped.

"WHAT IS THIS TERRIBLE MESS! DUELLING IN THE LIBRARY? I'M CALLING HEADMASTER!"

I allow myself to exhale in relief, while he's distracted my Madam Pince, the librarian. I can sneak out of here. It would be a piece of cake for me. I barely move up a few steps, when I feel a sudden tug deep in my belly. Guilt. I pulled him in. He attacked me, but not before he saw the book and the chair drawn. And he's not just 'anyone' for you, is he, my subconsciousness flashes a sly grin. Growling inwardly, I steady my wand again.

Fumos duo.

Intense grey smoke lather all through the library and Sirius, who had just begun tailing my steps again, looks around, perplexed.

I seize the chance to saunter towards him, and tug his arm. It takes him a moment to give in and allow me to steer him out. The library is already in a rush with other teachers too. I halt, causing Sirius to bump against my back, a ghost of his breath trickles the back of my neck before he steadies himself. Filch is racing towards the library with utmost immediacy that makes my eyebrow twitch up quizzically. He hadn't even bothered to notice us, plain in sight.

"This way." Sirius roughly yanks my hand, and I have to force my calves to speed up, so as not be half-dragged, half-yanked up the stairs.

I can't help but feel grateful for his quick wit. The library sits on the first floor and with the exams over, most of the students are out in the sun, mostly by the lake, enjoying their first of the leisure days before the next term. Upstairs would be a perfect place for us to hide before things calm down. By the time we reach the 6th floor landing, my feet are ready to give in, but his iron grip confirms his wish to go further, much to my dismay. Gasping, I bend low, a hand capping my knee, the other resting against a tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy on the 7th floor. I do not enjoy exerting myself physically, especially running. It makes me feel so pawnish. Like it's a hunt. And I'm the prey.

Still panting, but in low deep breaths instead of short furtive gasps, I hoist myself erect, only to skitter back and lean on the stone cold wall. At least the cold balms by fatigue.

"Very clever of you." I remark, barely a whisper, as I raise my eyes.

Almost instantly, I'm pinned to the wall, my arms outstretched.

"Who are you?" His acerbic tone resonates a sting in my chest. His face is deadpan, and even those lush tendrils that frame his face so casually aren't enough to not intimidate me out of my wits. Sirius Black knows how to be scary when it comes to it.

But I can't let him see me. Come to think of it, it horrifies me to imagine how things would turn out once he discovers me. A Slytherin alone and invisible in the library by the restricted section. He doesn't have to know that I avoid people on purpose. A Slytherin engaged in a fiery duel, all in daylight. A Slytherin girl who admires him enough to save him. NO!

Defiance shone through my features, but every last of my will buckled as his hands cupped my face, rough and aloof at first, but gentleness breaks through the coarse surface, once he recognized my soft features. I close my eyes with a sharp intake of breath as a single slender finger traces the bow of my lip. An unfamiliar sensation begins to bottle in, somewhere down there, and I have to resist the urge to pull him down, his hot lips smearing mine. But he is Sirius Black…and my mind tries its best to tug me out of my daze…his daze…does that really matters? A gentle hand combs through my short hair. It barely reaches my shoulders and I can't help a sudden ache of misery as his hand lingers right above my shoulders, barely touching. I reach up my tiptoes, so he can go down further. He chuckles. I open my eyes and thank my stars again that he can't see me. Even the thought of him staring me down, all flushed and wanting totally revolts me.

"There you are! I've been looking for you!"

He jumps back, startled, while I stay put, petrified.

"What is it Moony?" Sirius asks a bit testily. A tiny part of me springs up hopefully. Maybe he did enjoy our little…fling. If you could even call it that.

Raising a quizzical brow, 'Moony' says, "James sent me for you. He's landed into a detention with Lily for the rest of the whole term."

All I do is sink to my feet silently in hopes of Mother Earth to finally swallow me. What have I done!


A/N: Oops. Look like we're going to have quite flashy moments of Jilly in the next term. Stay put to meet the other characters. I don't feel a grudge against any character, except for maybe Dolores Umbridge, but this story is in POV of my OC, April Green. So please bear with it if she makes a nerve twitch with her judgemental notes. Also, a dark secret is going to be revealed.