It's the moment we've all been waiting for...

Sort of.

Max glared at the mahogany chest at the end of her bed. She picked up a potions book and shielded the chest from her face, or rather shielded her face from the chest. Max sighed and leaned over to move it to the ground, wondering why it had been brought out in the first place.

Satisfied, Max lay back down on her bed. But wait, what if somebody saw it? What then? Max felt it was exposed when not in her sight. She leaned over and picked the chest up, putting in on her bed. There, now she could read in peace.

Max couldn't, though. It was too distracting. So she was forced, completely forced, to open it.

--

The lock clicked as she unlocked it, opening it up. She stared affectionately down at the paper, the pencils, the erasers. It was all her work. All her work sense she was five. On the top were drawings of places, animals, sunsets. Those were the recent ones. There were about five that were from about seven years ago until now. She hadn't drawn that much since she was in Slytherin. If anybody found out it would be social suicide. If you went past those five pictures you found the drawings of people. They were before Hogwarts, pictures of her father, what she thought her mother would look like, and him. There were thousands of those. Max quickly hid them near the bottom. If anybody were to find one of those… Max didn't even want to think about it. All the pictures were just black and white, but you could tell who everybody was, what everything was. So, suddenly, Max had the urge to do it again. Not here, she thought. So she locked the chest, grabbed it, and walked off.

The pencil sped across the paper, like it was dancing. Max was it's instructor, telling it how to be beautiful. She was sitting on the roof, drawing the grounds below. She was just working on Hagrid's hut, and personally, it looked great. She smirked at it, refusing to smile. She couldn't sink that low. I mean, it was just drawing, what was wrong with that? Everything she thought. Rolling her eyes she began to shade in the hut, making it look real.

"I didn't know you drew," Max's head snapped to the trap door where she saw Harry bloody Potter standing there, staring.

"How long have you been there?" Max demanded.

"Long enough," Potter said. Max rolled her eyes.

"Stop trying to be mysterious, because it's not working," Max said.

"So, you draw?" Potter asked, ignoring her last comment.

"No," Max said bluntly.

"It sure looks like you do, because that picture is amazing, and look, there's more. Wow, Max, these are amazing," Harry said, reaching down to pick one up.

"Stop! No one said you could touch those," Max said, grabbing his arm and pulling it away. She removed her hand in disgust, smirking at the red mark on his arm.

"Stop lying. I know the truth now," Harry said. Max rolled her eyes, furious.

"Why does everyone assume they know everything about me? It's really just silly, because none of you know anything at all," Max said in a fake sweet voice.

"So now I'm everybody?" Harry said, raising an eyebrow.

"No, you're not the only one. Your nobody. Why are you even up here?" Max questioned him. Harry shrugged.

"No reason," Harry lied. There was a reason. He had seen her there on the map and wanting to see what she was doing up there all alone. She didn't have to know that, though.

"Then go," Max ordered. Harry shrugged again and turned around.

"Fine."

"Oh, and Potter! You won't tell anybody. Or else," Max demanded. Harry looked at her, her stern face betraying hate. Then he saw it again, in her eyes was that thing he recognized, they pleaded with him, begging him. He understood.

" I know nothing. I promise."

--

Max froze, furious. Did he think for one second, just because of that she would let him get away with it? With seeing her venerable? No, he wouldn't. Max stopped herself. He didn't know anything, in fact, he knew nothing about her, so saying what he said, "I promise," did nothing. She would still keep an eye on him, though, just incase he remembered. Max shook her head. She was being stupid. Of course he wouldn't remember. She was being stupid and over dramatic. Then again, anything that included Harry Potter was about ten times more dramatic then it should be.

I knew drawing was a bad idea.