Harry sat alone that night, while rain thundered on his window. He lay on his velvety four-poster bed, under his soft clean covers, staring at the ceiling, contemplating the day. His curtains were pulled around his bed, closing his view to anything besides the small enclosed area. A lone candle was on his night table, the flame sputtering, and wax dripping down it. Harry knew it was late. A faint shadow of light was beginning to show itself, brightening up the murky night. Harry had not had one wink of sleep that night, and he knew that nothing should be keeping him up like this. It had to be at least four in the morning, but somehow, Harry's thoughts were not muddled by his exhaustion. He closed his eyes, and the scene replayed again. He could not get his mind off it. Something was making him uneasy, something that he could not rest until he found out why. Why had his teacher- one he barely knew- had such a face of regret after not being able to talk to him? Surely, she must have had something to do, whether it might have been planning out a new lesson, or marking essays, she must have had something that needed to be completed.
Harry was completely puzzled. He had never seen that woman before Hogwarts, yet she must have seen him before. Where though? Never had he seen her at Diagon Alley, a place she must have visited. Not once in all the years he had spent wandering around the magical shops had he seen her. It wouldn't have been hard to spot her; her strange hair was a shade that Harry had never seen before. It was a type of a reddish brown, a coppery colour. And her features, they held a bewildering familiarity that made Harry squeamish. He had seen those features before, but he did not know where. He could match up these sharp features with a face he had seen once. But whose face it was he could not recall...
Harry then pondered her odd relationship with Malfoy. To be on such good terms with him she must have been a pureblood, or at the very least, a half-blood like Harry. She didn't seem interested with the dark arts in the least. Her classes were devoid of any favouring on her part to the forbidden arts that the Malfoys had clearly practiced. Killers, and cold blooded people, were the sort of things you'd expect anyone in, or tied the Malfoy family to exhibit. It was plain to see that Jason did not harbour any of these things. In fact, she seemed to be the polar opposite of what the Malfoys acted like. She was kind, always happy and up for just about anything. But it also seemed that she and Malfoy were close. Too close. The answer always danced out of his way every time he was close to figuring it out, a new piece of knowledge would come and disrupt his thoughts.
Right now, Harry was tired, slightly hungry, and his mind would probably not have another coherent thought until Harry had some rest. Harry lowered himself onto his plump pillow, and his eye lids drooped, and Harry thought no more.
*Frowns*
That was too short. And, really, it was just a filler, I'm figuring out what I should type up next.
Anyway, keep reading & reviewing!!! :D
Lexi1901.