Chapter 2: The cure is chocolate. Or maybe not.

A/N: Chapter 2! Sorry, lately I've been suffering from Harry Potter and I'm a Celeb withdrawal. I couldn't do one without pining for the other so….

The train ride was long, so very long. The train countered along the track, boring me to death. I slept as long as I could, but when sleep floated too far from my reach, I was forced to participate in the gut-wrenching gossip the firsties in my compartment were having.

"Harry Potter goes to this school!" One would say.

"And he's single!" Another would add.

"And he's totally hot!" One would breath.

"Will he like me?" A fourth would question.

"MAYBE, he would like you to SHUT UP! I mean MERLIN, he could probably hear you on the other side of the train!" I eventually gave in to the urge to scream at them, and boy, should you have seen their faces. They were horrified, scared and ALL of that.

"What right to do you have to talk to me like that? Respect your elders girl." The 'leader', so to say, snapped at me.

"Elders? Purr-lease! I'm probably older than all of you." I said, resisting the urge to punch the little bas-sorry, girl, in the face.

"No way, your like half the size of me. Are you sure your even old enough for Hogwarts?" There they go again. Another dig at my height. Well, little missy, lets have a height off. I might be just a foot shorter than you!

"Actually, I'm a 3rd year, so get your facts straight." I mentioned, getting up in her face. By that comment, I may or may not have lost all the people on my side, seeing as they probably would want to make friends with people in their year, not a kid 2 years older.

"Really?" She asked excitedly. Talk about mood swings. "What house are you in? What's Hogwarts like?"

"Well…I haven't got a house yet. I've just transferred from Beuxbatons in France."

"Oh." She muttered dejectedly. It's not my fault! It's not like every 3rd year on the Hogwarts Express knows what Hogwarts is like.

I turned around in my seat, signalling that the interrogation was over. Bye bye, sleep tight, don't let the first years bite.

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I awoke to a feeling that chilled me to the core. The windows had frosted, or what I could see of it had.

"Someone's coming onto the train!" I distinctly heard one of the firsties tell another.

Dementors.

What else? What other creature could frost you to the bone whilst relieving you of your happy memories? Leaving only the worst?

And that was when I felt it. Just a tiny jolt, but one that indicated that the compartment door had been opened. And at such a speed, what else other than the afore-mentioned.

I knew it had been, right from the very start, but I still wasn't braced for feeling, hearing, seeing all them memories. Some of them weren't even memories, just a man, transforming into a werewolf, which caused great pain. Something that has never been recorded in the history of dementia attacks; I, too, felt the pain.

I heard myself howling and screaming, but it felt as though I had been detached from my body, I didn't know how to stop screaming. I felt feverish, sweaty, and in an abundance of pain that was ever-lasting. Vaguely, I heard someone running up the corridor, but the memory had changed.

I was being left out, at the care-home, but it was at my first, where one boy found it utterly hilarious to see me humiliated, hurt, or crying. This was the worst of my memories inflicted upon myself. It was the day when he had closed the mini van door on my arm, quite roughly in fact. On the day, it had broken my arm, and once again, I was howling in pain.

Then I stopped howling. I was still in pain, still feverish, but out of the corner of my eye I could see a silver wolf patronus chasing away the dementors. The man who had cast the charm handed me a bar of honey dukes chocolate. I knew chocolate helps after dealing with dementors, so I took the offered bar.

He helped me stand, and then led me to what I assumed was his compartment. He nodded at me to eat the chocolate.

"Eat it. It helps." He said. "What's your name? I'll need to tell Madame Pomfrey when we get to school."

"Abigail Lupin" I rasped. He gasped and abruptly stopped.

"Lupin? You can't be. I don't have a daughter." He asked in shock.

"Remember Petunia Evans. I'm hers. She said you didn't know about me and you had 'problems' so you couldn't take me in, so she sent me to a care home in France. I've been going to Beuxbatons for 2 years." I answered distractedly.

"You're 13?! Never mind, we'll talk about this more at school. Eat."

I nodded and bit the chocolate. It warmed me up immediately. I was just about to take another bite when I unknowingly stiffened. Mr. Lupin felt it.

"What's wrong?" He asked, stopping beside me.

Unable to answer, I fell to the floor, foaming at the mouth.

"A wolf attribute! How could I be so stupid! It works for me, so I'm guessing she isn't a proper wolf." Lupin exclaimed.

I was jerking and choking on the floor, loud enough for people to exit their compartments to see what was happening. Harry came running forward, Hermione and Ron hot on his heels. He looked horrified, but when he tried to come closer, Lupin stopped him.

"I need to get her up to the school." He said. "Poison."

I could feel myself being pulled into darkness, but I tried to fight it, like dads incessant mutters told me to. But I couldn't and the last thing I felt was my body flopping and my eyes closing.

Draco Malfoys P.O.V.

We were having a lovely chat about how utterly stupid Gryffindorks were and how we would have react if we had been sorted into the house. Crabbe and Goyle didn't understand the point of it and claimed they would have ate cake if they had been sorted into Gryffindor. Mine was I would have avada-kedavra'ed myself, Pansy's was that she would have kissed Blaise and Blaise (albeit horror-struck at Pansy's comment) was that he would have looked at Pansy (which apparently would kill him).

The conversation was branching to other areas, until something created an uproar in the halls, an iniquity promising humiliation or pain. High in the hopes of a good show, our small group of Slytherins eagerly made their way down the halls to the source of the sound. Once at the scene of entertainment, I was horrified to see a small girl (not yet sorted-maybe a Slytherin) jerking and foaming at the mouth. My friends (Blaise in particular) were laughing insensatiably, stupid jerks.

The professor who had been in Potter's compartment earlier was standing over hair, worriedly muttering something under his breath. He then spoke loud enough for people near him to hear, me being one.

"I need to get her up to the school," He said. "Poison."

Just that word uttered brought Blaise out of his hysterics and Pansy from her giggling fit. Crabbe and Goyle continued to grunt, but I don't think they understood. Blaise looked over at me, worry etched onto his face. I shook my head, no.

The shabby professor was muttering something to the girl, but just as he was tensing to disapparate, her body collapsed in his arms, the foaming at her mouth ceased, and her eyes closed. The man who's arms she was in touched her neck. I heard him say to Potter, "She has no pulse." Before disapparating. Granger and Weasley who also heard him started a murmured conversation with the-boy-who-lived.

Trying to tell myself that nothing serious had happened, I let slip a snide comment.

"Probably, just a disease she got off mudblood Granger!" I said, loud enough for everyone to hear me.

Some people (ok, everyone who wasn't a Slytherin, but some Slytherins too) growled at me, some like Weasley launched himself at me, being held back by Scar-head and Mudblood. Some Slytherin who share my beliefs clapped me on the back. I laughed. I laughed a callous laugh at some peoples antics. They were just too hilarious.

"SHE COULD BE DEAD, MALFOY! AND YOU JUST START MAKING HORRIBLE JOKES ABOUT ME! SHE HAD NO PULSE! IT WAS POISON! YOU ARE SUCH AN EVIL, LOATHSOME, UGLY LITTLE COCKROACH!" With that Granger punched me in the jaw. It hurt, it hurt like hell.

"You weren't calling me an 'evil, loathsome, ugly little cockroach' last night!" I joked. In return she trained her wand on my throat, digging it in harshly.

"Come on Hermione," Weasley saved. "He ain't worth it!"

The golden trio turned and began to walk away. Me and my friends laughed again. Come on! We're not all that evil. We still gossip, well Pansy does, and have laughs, and play that muggle bush-tucker trial game. What we didn't expect was that Granger would turn around and punch me in the gut. Well, she did. I was momentarily winded, unable to say anything to her retreating back.

My friends and I, once I gained my breath again, withdrew to our compartment. Resuming our chatter, we decided after the feast, we would play spin-the-bottle in the common room, but only if more girls joined, otherwise Pansy would be getting a lot of kisses.

The train halted-it was dark outside, darker than any other nights on the Hogwarts Express. Once exiting the train, the giants unintelligible yelling reached our ears. Shaking our heads, secretly smirking, we walked off towards the carriages.

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When we reached the carriages, they were once again being led by magic. All 5 of us got into one, and were immediately hauled forward by invisible forces.

"2-1 odd that that kid on the train gets into Hufflepuff." Pansy started the conversation, tossing her sleek black hair over her shoulder.

"Nah, too cute for that. Slytherin hands on." Blaise commented, his copper-coloured eyes boring into Pansy's blue ones.

"Fine, I'll take that bet. How much?" She asked.

"2 galleons."He answered.

"As much as I hate to admit it guys, she's friends with Potter. Gryffindor-5 galleons." I bet.

"Go on then."

With that ending the betting pool until further notice, they left the carriages and entered the Great Hall. They walked over to their table making wild gestures with their hands.

"Did you know Potter fainted?" I asked. "Hey, Potter. Dementors scare you? Need your mummy and daddy?"

Pansy laughed her barking laugh. Blaise continued the insult:

"They getting you down? Too bad, ain't it. That you don't have a mummy or daddy to run to." With that he laughed and they all walked away.

"Blaise, you made me cry, now. It's IS sad that he has nobody." Pansy whined.

"Come on. Whoever he went to probably hero-worships him!" I finished.

McGonagall led a line of first years to the front of the hall, directly behind her being the girl from the train. She may look a little white, but she survived.

A.N. I have no idea what house to put her in. If nobody answers this, then it'll probably be Gryffindor, but Ravenclaw and Slytherin seem quite appealing to. No offence to any Hufflepuffs, but she I just don't imagine her as one. Review, follow, please.