PURE BLOOD

The Slytherin common room was mostly deserted except for a few stragglers who were awake enough to be up so late in the night. Trinity mindlessly strummed her guitar, focusing on finding a perfect tune for each person she saw. The door to the common room swung open and in stepped Draco Malfoy, the most arrogant boy Trinity had ever known. They called each other friends, but it was all a show, for the only reason they hung out was because of who their parents were. It was sick, really. Family poison had leaked into all of their veins, and none were ashamed to admit it. Trinity's only friend was Pansy Parkinson, and even she carried pure blood pride like a flag for all to see.

When Trinity spotted Draco, the tune she played became high, winy and flat, holding some interest at first, catching your eye, then turning you off. As if she had called his name, he glanced in her direction and nodded, but she simply looked at someone else. She knew it would get under his skin, but she knew he wouldn't do anything about it; he would act as though the exchange had never happened.

It was the first night back to Hogwarts. To the new students, it held wonder, secrets, and perfection; but to Trinity, it was nothing more than another place her parents sent her to get rid of her. Sure, she had loved it at first, and her parents seemed to love it as well, but then she learned the ugly, overbearing truth: her own kin didn't want a thing to do with her. Now it was just something to get over, to get used to, to dismiss.

The feast had ended an hour ago, and with too much food in their bellies, most everyone was dozing into dreams of a new start this year, promising themselves that they wouldn't procrastinate and would pay more attention and do better than last year. At the age of fifteen, Trinity had no real social life, so school was all she put her time into. Grades weren't a problem with her. The only promise she made herself was that she would be less secluded and more social; but it was a false hope in her mind.

"Excuse me," a voice came from nearby. "But you're really good at guitar."

Trinity turned to face a boy her age, a handsome, striking boy who had taken an interest in her. "Thank you." He had messy red hair and golden eyes that seemed to warm the room. Something about him struck her as familiar. "Have we met?"

"I don't think so, but I attended here two years ago. My name is Fang Lyon." His voice was nice, a lot like his eyes, deep and tepid.

"Pleasure to know you. My name is Trinity Englewood." She set her guitar aside and he took a seat in the couch closest to where he had been standing. Her eyes raked over his lean, muscled figure. Never before had a boy such as this approached her and acted so calm. So intrigued, so amazed, so aware.

"I don't think I saw you at the feast," Trinity recalled. Of course, she had to sit within a 10 feet radius of Malfoy, which to her was torture, so she had read a book under the table and nibbled on some grapes, oblivious to everything happening around her.

Fang laughed. "I was there, just avoiding Malfoy."

"I'm sensing just a teeny bit of tension."

"Yeah, he hates me," he said, triumph in his voice. "Only because I am related to the Weasleys. They are my cousins, and friends. But my parents are typical Slytherin parents. You know, hate the Mudbloods and the Muggles. Apparently the Weasleys count as one of those."

Trinity nodded. "The only reason I even pretend to stand Draco is because my only friend is hopelessly in love with him. Emphasis on the hopeless part. Or, rather, pointless."

"Yeah, he's quite the charmer. Would you ever want another?"

"Pardon? Another what?"

"Another friend."

Trinity hesitated. "Well, I don't know. Two friends in fifteen years. It's a little risky…" He grinned and her heart gave a strange squeeze. "Sure. One could always use a friend, I suppose."

"Excellent. Aren't you tired?" he asked. It dawned on her that they were the only ones awake now.

"A little, but I am as good as dead in the mornings."

"Then we have plenty in common, Miss Trinity." Fang smiled and rose. I did the same, my guitar in one hand. "I'll see you tomorrow?"

"If you can find me. Goodnight."