The feast went by grudgingly slow, and apart from the interruption of the apparent new ministry appointed teacher it was rather boring. And, although most in her house seemed happy about this change, all she could think about was just how much this woman looked like a toad covered in a nasty shade of pink.

After the final plate food had been cleared away, they were finally released to head to their dorms, the prefects slowly herding the first years towards the looming wooden doors. As she passed through the halls, the red headed twins she recognised as George and Fred, the one she had unfortunately been made to share a carriage ride with, walked past causing her to gave them a downright ugly glare. Fred, on the other hand, just replied with a smirk that both confused and angered her, but also made her cheeks heat up. Seeing the colour in her cheeks rising, his smirk turned into a Cheshire Cat grin making her huff and quickly stalk away from him.

"What was that about Gred?" His brother asked bumping shoulders with he himself. Odile had long since disappeared from his sight, but he still stared at the spot where she had once stood.

"I believe it was the start of a beautiful prankship Forge." He replied, making his brother smile.

"Ugh, did you see Potter? Flouncing around as if he owns the place. Well, not this year. Everyone knows he's gone mad and father says Professor Umbridge is going to do something about Dumbledore and him. And everyone can see that Potter is just-" Draco blathered on. She had long since tuned him out. But honestly, she thought, he acts like he's in love with the Potter boy.

"Excuse me?" Odile glanced up to see the whole common room was staring at her. Oh shit, had she said that out loud?

"Um... sorry."

"No, repeat yourself." She sighed, shut her book, and looked him straight in the eyes. If that little boy was going to talk to him in that tone of voice, he was going to get what was coming to him.

"Well, quite honestly Draco, you act like you're in love with the guy by the way you talk about him. It's always Potter this and Potter that. I mean, even you got to admit, you are kinda obsessive. Kinda surprising given your "hate" for all things Potter. If that's what you want to call it anyway." She answered bluntly. Looking into his eyes she could see the fire building in there. She merely stared back at him an aloof expression on her face.

"Who. The. Hell. Are. You?" She smirked, preparing to tear his daddy's boy attitude down.

"Odile Reisinger, great great granddaughter of the grand Julius Reisinger, one of the most powerful pure-blooded wizards to ever live. He revolutionised the dance world by originally choreographing the ballet Swan Lake. And my great great grandmother was the inspiration behind the ballet, given the fact she was one of the first most successful registered animangi. Oh, and one more tiny detail, my father happens to be your father's boss. Quite honestly, the question is, how don't you know who the hell I am?" He blinked several times as the girl's devilish smile grew at his dumbfounded expression.

"I-well," he stuttered red in the face, trying to collect his thoughts.

"And, although it's been lovely talking to you Draco, I'm afraid this conversation has gone on too long for my tastes. I wish you adieu." She inclined her head slightly before grabbing her book and heading towards her dormitory. The whole room watched her go, hips swaying ever so slightly in a display of dominance and confidence.

"Who was that American beauty?" Blaise asked in wonder before he got smacked in the arm by Draco. Pansy snarled at the girl's retreating back.

"Don't worry Drakey, we'll make her life a living hell."

As Odile sat at the table for breakfast that morning, she couldn't help but notice the stares she was receiving from her fellow housemates. Having been so used to living a life of anonymity, she felt rather uncomfortable at the attention she was receiving. She shifted slightly in her seat, before grabbing some oatmeal, sorry porridge, from the bowl sitting in front of her. Oh, what she wouldn't do for a bowl of grits and home fries right about now. Maybe some good ole' Roscoe's chicken and waffles. And seriously, some actual bacon, crispy and all. Although this British food wasn't horrible, she missed sweet tea, and sweet potatoes, and most of all, collared greens and tater tots. The food was always so lacking in fatty goodness. And Yorkshire puddings just couldn't compare to the hush puppies and Texas toast that came with ribs at the 4th of July barbeque. That was a point. No 4th of July, no Labour Day weekend, no goddamn Thanksgiving. How did the Brits live without pumpkin pie? She was seriously considering apparating to America just to get some Waffle House or IHop.

She was so deep in thought, she hadn't noticed the two people sneaking up from behind her. She stiffened as she felt two arms wrap around her shoulders on either side.

"Good morning-"

"Black Swan." She groaned, recognising the voices of the red headed troublemakers. She gave them a withering look, and they replied with smiles that were just a bit too innocent. She shrugged off their arms, ignoring the glares from fellow Slytherins being sent her way.

"What have I said about doing that? Besides, why are you at the Slytherin table? Don't you have better things to do?" They gasped, over-dramatic tones in their voices.

"What, don't you want to spend time with us?"

"Not particularly George." She replied with an eye-roll, as she continued to put brown sugar on her oats.

"Hah, jokes on you, I'm Fred."

"No, you're not. Fred's hair colour is a slightly different hue, and his nose is a little more prominent," George's eyebrows shot up into his hairline, wondering how she knew all of that, "Nice try though. Anyway, could you please leave? I've got a Potions test to study for." They stared at her in confusion, before shrugging their shoulders and getting up to walk away. However, before they left, George slipped an exploding bean in her breakfast while Fred distracted her by twirling a strand of her hair in his fingers. Odile scowled at him, and smacked his hand away, making him snigger. They meandered away, as to not seem suspicious, but awaited the girlish scream that would follow their prank. When they heard a strangled cry come from behind them, they spun around, shocked to see a fifth year covered head to toe in the sticky breakfast food. Upon hearing a slight cough, they looked to the left to see Odile sauntering away, hips swinging, but not before giving them an innocent smile that contrasted greatly with the devilish look in her fern eyes. Fred whistled lowly, watching her strut towards the exit.

"I hate to see her leave, but I love to watch her walk away."

"Freddie, you're too easy."

"What do you mean Georgie?"

"Huh, you really can't see it. Well, I'll make you a bet. I bet you ten galleons you can't get her to fall for you before you fall for her."

"Oh mate. It is on Georgie." Fred said to his brother a large smile gracing his face. His brother nodded, a similar impish smile spreading across hi mouth.

A/N- Is it truly a rom-com without a bet? Also, yes, I made Odile a big deal, except like, I also didn't. I also I just kinda wanted to mention something. I'm British-American. I live in Georgia (very much the South) but because my mother is English I spent a lot of my childhood in England so some English spellings may be used. Soz.

Aaaaand, I must admit a little white lie. Although it's true that Julius Reisinger did originally choreograph Swan Lake, his was a bit of a flop. The version you're most likely to see today is by the genius that was Marius Petipa, so yup. But it's still a fun fact. I'm a huge ballet nerd, sorry, blame my mother.

ALSO, THANK YOU TO THE GUEST REVIEWER

THANKS TO demisses AND waterfall66631 AND Enigmaticity FOR FAVOURITING.

THANKS TO Enigmaticity AND MadHattier AND Random2Friends AND demisses AND mjcameron AND waterfall66631 FOR FOLLOWING THE STORY!

OK LAST THING! Update schedule will be Monday, Wednesday, and Friday!

EDITED= 09/12/17