Gah! I'm sorry I haven't added a chapter in so long! It's application season and the torrents of forms and essays momentarily stripped me of my ability to be deranged and scribbly. Again, thank you all so much for the support! I'll do my best to make the strain on your eyes worth it! Chapter 3 ended up a bit longer than I planned…

XxoxoxoxoxoX

"You are going to Hogsmeade with Malfoy," Willow repeated for the twentieth time as I picked up my bag and started toward Transfiguration.

Once again, I returned her incredulous statement of the obvious with a curt nod.

"Are you sure we're talking about the same person? Because I don't think you understand what I am saying. The boy I'm thinking of is blonde, completely in love with himself, goes by the first name of Draco, and has two pet trolls named, I don't know, Rufus and Doofus or something."

"Their names are Crabbe and Goyle actually, but yes, that's the one," I confirmed with yet another bob of the head. "I left your table to talk to him, remember?"

Willow did not find my stab at humor to be particularly amusing. She gave me a sharp tug to the arm, seemingly oblivious to the large herd of students rushing past us. For a girl with such a feeble frame, her grip was surprisingly tight. "I don't like it, Ebony," she began in a rushed whisper. "Parkinson has that territory pretty thoroughly staked out. She'll claw your eyes out if you aren't careful."

"Calm down, Wil. He's throwing an early birthday, that's all. He probably only even asked me to come because everyone's throwing rumors around about yesterday to begin with. It means nothing, you hear? You are making a big deal out of nothing."

The girl seemed less than convinced. Chewing hard on her bottom lip, she searched my face, and, reluctantly, released her hold on my forearm. "Do what you want," she muttered, turning on her heel. "I'm going to be late for Ancient Runes. See you."

Before I had time to respond, she was gone, disappearing in the flood of students pouring through the hallways. Knowing better than to push my chances when it came to McGonagall's class, I continued on my way, struggling to ignore the nasty sensation growing in my stomach.

After pushing through a crowd of third-year Hufflepuffs and nearly falling on my face in an effort to avoid being pelted with day-old cauldron cakes Peeves had somehow smuggled from the kitchen, I made it to Transfiguration with less than a second to spare. Reluctant to waste time searching for my usual seat, I sank gratefully into the first chair I could find, too pleased with my own good fortune to worry about specifics.

A small yelp escaped from something beside me. Curious, I turned to see what sort of creature might be making such a strange sound and quickly found myself staring into the horrified face of Neville Longbottom. The color drained from my cheeks. In my self-absorbed daze, I had forgotten McGonagall's tendency to have the Gryffindors and Slytherins share test periods. To make matters worse, I was sitting on the primarily Gryffindor side of the class.

My frenzied attempt to switch seats was interrupted by the distinct sound of heeled boots in the front of the classroom. Professor McGonagall had officially begun her opening lecture. Slowly, I sank back down in my chair, my body tensed for an assault from either side of the room.

"Quiet down now," the witch ordered, her emerald robes sweeping behind her as she walked toward her desk. "As I am sure you are all well aware, I will be using this class to evaluate your performance on a randomly selected piece of material relevant to the art of Transfiguration. With this said, I have decided to test your aptitude in silent incantations. I trust you all to do an exemplary job, particularly those of you who did not feel it was necessary to stay awake for the lecture I gave on our last visit." McGonagall's spectacles flashed in the direction of Ronald Weasley, much to the Slytherins' delight.

A familiar hand shot into the air almost before the Professor had finished speaking.

"Yes, Miss Granger?"

"Professor, you don't want us to transfigure those jewelry boxes on your desk, do you? Because, well, there aren't really enough unless we break into groups."

"You are correct on all accounts, Miss Granger," the witch confirmed, her voice crisp with authority. "At the suggestion of some of your peers, the class will separated into pairs and receive a joint grade based on the combined efforts of both students."

"I call Hermione," I heard Ron whisper loudly as the black-haired boy beside him snickered with amusement.

"Ah, yes," McGonagall said, the grim line shaping her mouth curving upwards slightly. "To avoid purposely extorting your fellow classmates, Iwill put you in groups based on where you are seated. If there's a box between the both of you, you're partners."

With a wave of her wand, the jewelry boxes moved from her desk to the various tables placed around the classroom. I struggled to suppress a groan as one landing perfectly between myself and Longbottom. The boy made another strangled squealing sound.

"The rules are simple," the teacher continued. "Whichever of you is on the right will begin first and silently transfigure the jewelry chest you see before you into a box turtle. Your partner will then return it to its original state, and the pattern will be repeated a second time in reverse, with the one to the left re-transfiguring the chest, and the student on the right restoring it to normal. As it is a silent spell, I expect to hear minimal talking. If one of you is having difficulty, however, you may ask your partner for assistance at a five point deduction from your personal grade and a two point addition to theirs. I will be coming around the room to monitor your progress. Have I made myself clear?"

"Yes ma'am," the class responded reluctantly.

"Y-Yes," I heard Neville sputter beside me.

"Very well then. You may begin."

Longbottom and I did not move as the rest of the class took out their wands and began to furiously shake them at their respective wooden box. Hoping to break the stress, I tried for a laugh. "I didn't expect us to meet again so soon."

Neville paled with dread. "I'm sorry! I didn't know you normally sat here! I thought the back rows were deserted, and if I had a little bit of a head start to the door I might be able to see Professor Sprout before next class and…and…I'm really, really sorry!"

I shook my head, slightly frightened of the boy's anxious explanation. "It's fine. I don't normally sit here either. You're Neville Longbottom, right? I'm Ebony." I grabbed his hand and gave it a firm shake. "Let's do our best today, okay Longbottom?"

The boy stared at me, his expression somewhere between gratitude and suspicion. "Y-You…you can call me Neville if you want to," he muttered at last.

"Alright, Neville then," I attempted another smile. I was not foolish enough to think our partnership would bring us anywhere near friendship, but I could not give up an opportunity to prove I wasn't completely evil. "I think you need to go first."

The boy's large eyes fell to the jewelry chest sitting between us, and, his lips fluttering silently, he poked the box with his wand. With a wild vibration, a brown turtle head sprouted from its side, making little moans of protest as it struggled to break its legs through the wood it was still encased in.

Neville cringed at me nervously. "Gram always told me the world would be a better place if I just left Transfiguration alone. I'm really not very good…"

"Don't be so down on yourself. There, look over at Granger's for a moment," I said, gesturing to the girl as she worried over whether her perfect example looked too much like a tortoise. "Now, come back to ours, give your wand a little bit more of a figure eight flourish before you aim it, and imagine that the chest isn't really there and our turtle is."

Longbottom did as I told, his wand shaking nervously as McGonagall walked by our table. Then, with a quick movement of his lips, a turtle sat where our box had been, a metal latch attached to its shell and its shape still slightly blocky.

"Better, Mr. Longbottom," McGonagall said with a slight nod. "Much better. Your turn, Miss Ravenway."

I nodded and pulled out my own wand. Transfiguration was far from my best subject, but I had always excelled at putting transfigured objects back to normal. With a deep breath, I made a figure eight through the air and pointed my wand at Neville's box turtle, my fingers clenched so hard around the wood that I could almost feel the dragon heartstring beating in protest. I practically collapsed with pleasure as the little reptile gave way to my will and changed back into a jewelry chest.

"Good," the stern witch said. "Now change it back again."

My internal celebration was brought to a staggering halt at the sudden reminder that my test was not yet completed. Slightly less confident now, I did my best to imagine the wooden storage case giving way to a turtle once more. Making the reverse motion with my wand this time, I focused all of my energy on the tiny jewelry box before me. My second attempt was not quite as successful as I had hoped, and the turtle that appeared was covered in the same wood-grain pattern as the mahogany he was fashioned from.

After a quick evaluation of my work, McGonagall allowed Neville his second turn. This time, the boy needed no second attempt and successfully turned the poor beast back to into a lifeless box of wood.

"The top is curved slightly," the woman noticed critically as she moved away from us. "But it is more than acceptable. Well done to the both of you."

Neville stared past her in amazement, his eyes wide at his own accomplishment. "I did it," he whispered to himself. Then, as though realizing I was still standing beside him, he turned his attention back to me. "Thanks for helping me…Ebony."

I shrugged off his thanks, but I could not quite hide the embarrassed pink of my cheeks. Praise was not exactly common among the Slytherins, and I found myself struggling to come up with an appropriate response. "I didn't do anything besides remind you of what you already knew."

The boy looked like he was about to object, but his argument was silenced by a short spasm of fake laughter from the other side of the classroom.

"Look, Draco," Pansy's distinctively screechy tones were easy to identify even before I noticed her eyes glinting maliciously in my direction. It appeared that she had somehow managed to secure Malfoy as her partner, and, despite her best attempts, the blonde boy was still managing to give her the cold shoulder. "Funny that Ravenway should want to sit over with the Gryffindors, don't you think? It almost looks like she and Longbottom are making friends."

My stare did not move from the pair fast enough, and against my will I found myself immersed in the cold grey gaze of Draco Malfoy for the second time that morning. Much to my surprise, the boy's thin lips curled with amusement rather than disgust. "I doubt it. Ravenway doesn't think friends are important. Longbottom owes her a favor; she's probably just reminding him to keep his end of the bargain."

Parkinson looked just as astonished as I felt. "W-Well, you might be willing to trust her, but I don't. She's keeping secrets, Draco. She's—"

"Want to know something even funnier than Ravenway and Longbottom?" the boy said coldly, looking away from me and raising a fair eyebrow, "Because I honestly can't imagine anything more amusing than someone like you doubting my opinion. Tell me, do you think you're smarter than me, Pansy? Or is it just that you have better judgment than I do?"

"Draco, I — th-that is — of course not! I didn't mean it like that! I…I just meant…"

If I had thought the look Pansy gave me was vicious, it was nothing to Malfoy's venomous glare. "Potter is only a few tables away. Why don't you give him a slice of that 'victory cake' you made last night? As a matter of fact, share it with all the Gryffindors!"

"Pl-Please Draco, I already told you a m-million times that I-I…" the pug-faced girl's voice broke and, with tears in her eyes, she stood up and rushed out of class, ignoring McGonagall's order to return to her seat. Draco watched her leave with an unaffected expression on his face, his wand twirling vaguely between his fingers.

Torn between a sense of pity and satisfaction at Pansy's broken-hearted state, I turned back to Neville. He appeared to have been listening in as well, and his round face lowered with humiliation. "I'm sorry if you sat next to me in order to learn about Harry or Quidditch. Please don't be angry with me, I…I really don't know anything. Ron or Hermione are the ones he's really close to. I'm just…well, a nobody."

I shook my head. "Relax, Neville. You're not a nobody, and you don't need to apologize so much. Honestly, I don't care about any of that," my whispered confession was so quiet I was surprised he was even able to hear it. "Pansy is right, even if she's only saying it to make Draco hate me."

I could not be sure of exactly how Longbottom planned to respond, but his reaction was interrupted by the end of class. With a strangely guilty appearance, the boy grabbed his bag and started toward the door. "Sorry — wait, no, I shouldn't apologize, sor — I mean, I really need to go see Professor Sprout before next class! Bye Ebony, and…um…thank you!"Looking flustered, the boy gave one last wave and quickly slipped away.

I smiled at the strange hand fate seemed to have dealt me, and slowly started to pack my own bag. I shook my head at the detailed notes I had taken from Intermediate Transfiguration. All that wasted time at the library for an exam that had solely reviewed silent incantations. It was no wonder no one else had seemed concerned.

"See you next class, Ravenway," I heard Draco call he as sauntered past my seat. "Cover for me if I'm late, alright? I forgot my textbook."

He did not wait for a response, and I did not expect him to. With a sigh, I put my bag over my shoulder and joined the mesh of Slytherins and Gryffindors making their way to next class.

Pleased that I would be able to travel the halls at a more relaxed pace this time around, I took my time working through the large mass of students. The worse was over, and Defense Against the Dark Arts was next. I nearly laughed aloud. Willow was right; I really did worry too much over little things.

"EBONY RAVENWAY!"

I stopped dead at the sound of such a furious voice screaming my name, as did most of the other students making their way through the wide intersection. Pansy Parkinson worked her way through the crowd, her face contorted with pure hatred. An empty circle seemed to be forming around the two of us, and there was a unique tension in the air. I looked around desperately for Malfoy, Willow, even Neville. There was not a recognizably friendly face to be found, and, what's worse, not a single professor in sight.

The girl laughed shrilly and threw a book at my feet, her smile almost mad with glee. I recognized it at once. Home Life and Social Habits of British Muggles, my Muggle Studies textbook. "I don't know how you managed to trickmyDraco, but you won't be able to fool me! Stay away from him, or I will make you beg for Azkaban. Do you hear me, Ebony?! Approach him even one more time and I swear you'll regret it!"

I heard Pansy's piercing threats with perfect clarity, but my throat was suddenly too dry to respond. My mind went blank as I stared down at the simple little textbook. How had she found it? I was always so careful to bury it at the very bottom of my trunk… Had her real motive behind leaving class been to look through my things?

"Aw, what's wrong, Ebony? Kneazle got your tongue?" Pansy cried mockingly, taking out her wand and pointing it purposefully at my face.

With the threat of curses being shot through the air, the crowd around us backed away further. In desperation, I found my voice. "Pansy, please, there must be some sort of misunderstanding. I'm not trying to—"

"Don't give me any of your stupid excuses, Ravenway! People like you are the absolute worst of our kind! The Malfoys might have been on good terms with your parents, but Maurice and Morana are dead now!" Pansy seemed to draw strength from the way her words left me gasping for air, and dug further, "Oh, don't look so sad! I imagine they're glad to be, knowing that their only daughter has grown up to be a stupid, disgusting, Muggle-loving, little wart on the back of true purebloods. They probably died begging for the Dark Lord to kill them! Anything to avoid knowing they created something like you!"

My body shut down, and for one terrible moment I could imagine my parents on their hands and knees, begging to die rather than face the shame of claiming me as their own. Before I could stop myself, I drew my wand.

Pansy was faster. "Flagrate!"

"EXPELLIARMUS!" I gripped my throat as the sound of my spell echoed throughout the corridor and Parkinson was knocked forcibly against the wall, her wand flying from her hand. The fiery sparks of her curse were driven off course by the sudden attack, leaving me with nothing more than a shallow slash across the cheek.

"Nice one, Harry!" I heard someone say behind me.

Confused, I turned and found myself facing Harry Potter, his wand drawn and his jaw clenched with fury. "Accio!"he managed, summoning Pansy's now harmless weapon to him and snapping it in two.

"Harry!" Hermione Granger protested. "I know what she did was uncalled for, but you can't just break someone's wan—"

"She shouldn't have opened her mouth," the boy said dangerously, throwing the broken pieces to the floor. "There's never a reason to tell anyone that their parents would rather die than be with them..."

I stared at the boy before me with wonder. Apparently I had not been the only one attempting to disarm Pansy. It was no wonder that my spell had sounded so odd. Slowly, the crowd dissipated, leaving my fellow Slytherin an unconscious heap on the floor, and me alone to face Harry Potter, Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley.

"Are you okay?" Harry asked, his green eyes staring into my face. "You're bleeding."

"It's nothing," I said too quickly, touching my face. It would take a lot more than a cut across the face to make me worthy of speaking to Harry Potter.

"It's not nothing when you're burned to the point of bleeding. C'mon, I'll take you to see Madam Pomphrey. She'll have you fixed up in a second." He turned back to his friends, "You two go ahead without me. I'll catch up."

"N-No, really! I can go myself!" I wiped the blood from my face with the back of my hand, trying to ignore the sickening clenching in my stomach. I had never been able to handle the sight of blood very well.

"Then I'll come as a witness." Harry said with a grim smile, picking up the Muggle Studies textbook Pansy had thrown at my feet and leading me toward the Hospital Wing. "After all, they say that your enemy's enemy is your friend."

"She's not my enemy. She only attacked me because she thinks I'm trying to steal Draco from her," I explained softly.

"I had no idea Malfoy was so popular," Harry remarked dryly. "It must be his great personality."

I smiled despite myself, momentarily forgetting my place.

The Boy Who Lived looked at me with an expression that almost suggested kinship. "I'm sorry I didn't do something sooner. Hermione kept trying to wrestle the wand out of my hand."

My smile disappeared. "Why does everyone keep apologizing to me? I should be the one saying sorry to everyone else! Pansy is my problem, not yours."

"Not to offend you, but you aren't alone, and I'm not just talking about Parkinson's opinion. We both lost our parents to Voldemort, and, if that burn is bad enough, we'll even be able to compare scars." He laughed, "Are you really a Slytherin?"

"Yes," I lowered my eyes. How could he ever compare the way he lost his parents to the way I lost mine? How could he even look at someone like me and not know the truth? Couldn't he see that his kindness was only proving how ugly I really was?

I was glad to escape him as we arrived at the Hospital Wing and Madam Pomphrey rushed me inside to be patched back to good health. After pumping Potter for information and confirming his story with my own, she quickly sent him back to class.

Before she could manage to push him back out the door, Harry gave me one last hopeless smile. "Trust me, she'll have you better before you know it. I hope to see you around, Ebony!"

And suddenly, nothing else mattered. I did not care that Pansy Parkinson was going to make my life miserable, or that Draco Malfoy had defended me from her. Hogsmeade, Willow's warnings, and my own worries disappeared behind one impossible, glittering fact. Harry Potter had said my name.

For the first time in my life, I wondered if choosing Slytherin had been a mistake.

XxoxoxoxoxoX

There is so much I want to complain about with this chapter, but I'll try to keep it to myself. I worked hard to keep Ebony from coming off as a Sue, and I think (think, mind you) that I did alright. I really didn't feel as though I could call this a rendition of "My Immortal" if I even went so far as to scrap the love triangle, so I tried my best to tweak it into something with conflict, one-sided affection and even (do I dare suggest it?) a bit of depth. Hah, I won't bother to suggest the next chapter is coming anytime soon, but I will say I'm already at work on it. Once again, your opinion IS important, and any praise or criticism is appreciated. Thank you all so much!