I'm back! I'm going to wait for some more reviews and then put up a poll for Celia's pairings! Sorry if this took longer than usual; I was just waiting for more reviews.

Snape: Care to explain why I'm here again?

Me:(cheerfully) Nope! I just feel like you're a fun person to drag along in these conversations.

Snape: Excuse me?!

Me: Okay, I'll do the honors. I, Nicoisawesome, DO NOT OWN ANYTHING. Well, Celia is kind of mine, but I have handed her over to Snapey. Rowling owns all except Celia.

Snape: Thank heavens for that. Hurry up and do the review replies.

Me: Okay, Okay, no need to get grumpy.

Snape: I

Me: Anyways, my review replies: To guest thanks and I'm still working on the length. To other guest, thanks, I'm trying to keep it, what did u call it, A-mazing! I'm having fun writing this!

Me: Onwards!

Snape: …

Celia's POV

Naturally, I couldn't care LESS about what greasy-haired, 'ole Dad thought about me going to the library, but I couldn't have him rampaging along the halls screaming my name.

I crossed the room and shut the bathroom door, taking in the reflection in the mirror. A black-haired, black-eyed girl stared back. My hair was glossy from Dad, obviously, but I had Mom's curls. Don't go and think of pretty princess curls right away; I meant curls as in frizz.

"Stop it. When have you become a beauty addict?" I muttered to myself, pulling my hair back to a lazy ponytail and leaving the bathroom. (AN: Yeah. I realized how girly the clothes and hair descriptions were, and I can just imagine a boy dying of boredom reading this. Don't worry, I'm not that into clothes descriptions. It just shows personalities sometimes.)

I had to wait for Dad to come back, so I sat cross-legged in his room, peering around curiously. I hadn't noticed he had volumes of books on the shelves, and before I knew it, my feet were up and running. I took a well-cared for book on advanced potions and spells. Flipping it open, I leafed through the pages. I didn't practice the ones that seemed hard or caused damage, but I did practice the easy harmless ones.

"Is there a reason you're sitting on the floor reading my books?" I jumped and looked up. Dad towered over me, one dark black eyebrow raised dangerously.

"Yes. Can I go to the library?" I shut the book and stood. Fudge. I wasn't nearly as tall as him. He looked down at the book and frowned. I eased it back into the shelf gently, then stared him down. That's one thing nobody ever beat me at.

He broke eye contact first, and I pressed," Please? It's so boring in here, I can't stand another day reading about stupid love potions!" There wasn't a whole book on love potions, of course, but a few pages.

Dad's mouth quirked up into a small smirk, and he queried," 'stupid love potions'?" I nodded firmly and planted my feet on the ground. "If you won't let me go, I'll find a way. I'll alohamora the door down and ask Draco to take me!" Sorry Draco.

"Draco? You met him?" Dad cut me off smoothly. "That's a good idea. When Draco has his free period, I'll have him take you to the library and keep an eye on you."

I frowned. "We're the same age!" I protested. Dad didn't reply, only turned away.

**************************One hour Later******************************

I re-tied my hair and skidded to the door. There was Draco, blond hair smoothed back with what looked like a whole can of gel spray, dressed in green robes.

"Hey, Bathrobe Boy." I greeted him. He scowled, but motioned for me to follow. I waved half-heartedly back at my dad and left.

"Bathrobe Boy? I meet you for one day, let you sit on the train with me, escort you to the library, and you insult me?" He cast an irritated glance at me.

"Yes." I knew he wasn't mad at me, so I didn't bother apologizing.

"It had to be Bathrobe Boy. So original." He turned a corner and I caught up to him.

"Why, thank you ever so much." I bowed.

He copied my tone. "It's my pleasure, My Lady." I laughed and caught a small smile from him.

"I was sorted. Slytherin." I tossed out absent-mindedly. He smirked and walked a little faster. "I'm not surprised."

"What? Why?" I matched his pace.

He shrugged. Hiding something, no?

"Remember, stay close." Draco warned me as he opened the door to the library. His last few words were hushed as we entered.

"What? I can take care of myself!" I protested, hissing. Except I tripped, and he caught my hand. Smooth. That will totally prove my point.

"Right…" He pulled me to my feet and smirked. I snuck a grin at him. "Gotta catch me first." I took out my wand and, of course, muttered, "Aguamenti." At his face. I didn't wait for the yelp; just ran for it. Well, I ran for it for about two seconds.

I bashed into someone, and I groaned. "I am so sorry!" Blinking, I realized it was a frizzy-haired girl. Twins! Except she didn't have black hair. And she wasn't smiling. Oops.

"It's fine-why aren't you in your robes?" I helped her up, rubbing my head and wincing.

"Oh, I'm, uh, new here. I got sorted just today, but I'm going to be a regular third-year in a few days." I apologized again, but she waved it off. "I'm Hermione Granger. What are you here for?"

I flushed. "Well, I read all the books in the year, so I wanted to come here for more information. Honestly, this is all really interesting-Ugh. I sound like a bookworm."

Hermione brightened. "It is fascinating, isn't it? Come on, I need to introduce you to my friends."

She dragged me over to a table, and I'm not being prejudiced or something when I say this, but I was thoroughly surprised her friends were all boys. She plopped down next to them with a thick book, and pulled out a chair for me. I sat slowly. They stared at me, and I fidgeted.

"Harry, Ron, this is…?" Hermione glanced at me. I jumped in. "Cecelia Snape." Hermione's mouth opened in a perfect "o", and my mind showed me an image of cheerios as the boys made similar expressions. I was losing it. Cheerios?

"You're a Snape? Are you Professor Snape's niece?" the redhead asked me spitefully. I forced a smile. "No, I'm his daughter."

I once heard someone say every time there is silence, an angel is floating over you. If that's true, then the angel above us must have poured and brewed herself a big cup of tea before leaving.

"I'm Harry Potter. This is…Ron Weasley." The jet-black haired boy offered, taking a sharp breath.

"Hi." I smiled and raised my hand to shake his, then thought against it and lowered my hand.

They looked at me as if waiting for a reaction for a while, then Harry exhaled a deep breath, looking raggedly relieved.

"What?"

"Huh?" Harry looked confused.

I folded my hands together, and explained slowly," Well, you offered your name, and then you waited for something. What was that about?"

Hermione gasped. "You don't know who he is?!"

I furrowed my eyebrows. "Um...should I?"

All three pairs of eyes widened. "He's Harry Potter!" Hermione gaped at me.

"I know...he just...told...me." I replied, confused.

With a swift brush of her hand, Hermione lifted Harry's bangs to reveal a small, lightning-shaped scar. "'Mione!" Harry protested, and shoved her hand away.

"Okay. He has a scar. I'm sorry you were injured? Sorry; I'm not taking the hint here." So he had a cool-looking scar. Yay...?

Hermione threw her hands in the air. "He's the Boy-Who-Lived!"

I raised my eyebrow. "So...what am I, the Girl-Who-Apparently-Died?"

"He's done more than you ever will! Git." Ron frowned at me with distaste. Woah, woah wait. Back up. What did I do? Hermione nudged him, thinking I couldn't see.

"What house are you in?" Hermione piped up, breaking the silence. I replied instantly. "Slytherin."

"I told you guys she was no different!" Ron hissed at Hermione and Harry.

"Hey! What's wrong with Slytherins?" Yeah, insult my dad, and then insult my house.

"They're slimy, greasy, arrogant gits. All of them grow up to be Death Eaters or something worse." Ron glowered at me.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Note-to-self: try to ignore self-craving to eat Death." I said sarcastically. What the heck was a death eater?

"Nobody likes Slytherins. All the mean gits go there, where they can actually talk to each other without caring." Ron crossed his arms. Now who's the git? Enough was enough.

"It was good meeting you guys. See you around, Hermione. Sorry for crashing into you." I got up.

I turned around, and saw a dripping wet Draco standing there. "Should we be going?" I asked him, smirking as he furiously squeegeed the end of his robe collar. He nodded nervously. "I promised your dad I'd get you back soon, and we're five minutes late." Then he hissed something to Hermione, who glared.

I nodded. "Just wait a sec. Ron." Quick as a mouse, I pulled out a small package and cast a charm on it. "Here." I tossed it at him and twisted my face up in an innocent, happy expression. He caught it, surprised, and I turned away, following an irritated Draco.

"Look, I don't-I mean, we don't-I mean, Slytherins don't hang out with, uh, Gryffindors." Draco informed me, swiping at a bead of water hanging on the tip of his droopy, messy hair.

"Why not?" I asked him, tucking a strand of loose hair back into my ponytail. He rolled his eyes and increased his pace. I skip-walked along.

"Gryffindors are filthy, arrogant, ugly, brats." Came the short annoyed response. I smirked. "So biased, aren't we?"

Draco opened his stereotypical mouth of his to protest, but before he could get a word out we arrived. I said goodbye and naturally he had to make me more nervous by wishing me luck.

I took a deep breath. He doesn't care about you at all. He won't notice. I told myself, and suppressed the pang in my stomach. I placed a hand on the dark door and gave a firm push.

The door opened dramatically, and Dad looked up from his paper. "You're late. Do you know how-" He stopped, and his expression flickered so quickly I thought it had been an illusion. "You're back. Hurry next time. I'll be back with your dinner." He said finally. With a sweep, he left.

I trudged back to my room, dragging my feet. My room was a pale periwinkle, and the floor was a clean glossed wood. The magic of charms, I thought to myself dryly. I sat on the bed to practice spells, but I made two mistakes on one spell I had mastered days ago, and completely failed a simple charm.

Why? Because I wasn't focused on that. Ron Weasley's voice echoed in my mind. All the mean gits go there, because it's where they can talk among themselves with anybody actually caring. And then Dad's cold, uncaring demeanor.

Then why had he said those words that made my mind nag, Does he really not care? Those unfinished yet so distinct words swirled in my head. I wish I was clueless sometimes, but I'm not. I knew what he was trying to say, and it confused me to death.

Do you know how worried I was?

I really don't like you, Ron Weasley.