In the time of the Order of the Phoenix, a mysterious transfer student from the United States of America comes to Hogwarts. With hair to rival Hermione's, and a tongue to rival Draco's, the suspicions and tensions rise in Professor Snape's classroom. And we thought Dolores Umbridge was the problem...

This story will be told in many different parts, in many different times. It will jump from the years at Hogwarts to the years after the war, and it'll be up to you to figure out the puzzle.

Ella 16

"So are you two even speaking now?" Daphne asked as they made their way to their dorms, leaving Draco, Pansy, and the other Prefects to their work of introducing the new batch of First-years to the Slytherin Common room.

Ella sort of rolled her eyes with a sort of shake of her head as they made it down the deep and narrow stairway, further down into the dungeons, deeper underwater. Their dormitory was at the near-bottom of the stairs, which seemed to go on forever. "Look, I mean, we are, but I'm mad. Okay?" Phoebus, who was perched on her outstretched wrist, gave a sort of keening sound in agreement.

"He seemed sorry," offered Milly, who was leading the way down with her wand lit. Her tabby cat, Christiana, had already gone ahead, seemingly racing the four witches down.

"Everyone knows his family's involved with the Death Eaters. It's likely he was trapped from writing you, Ella," said Tracey, her golden waves looking rather dull and brown in the dark. "Maybe don't be so hard on him?"

"Of course they are," said Ella, stroking Phoebus's chest feathers with her other hand, "but that doesn't mean Draco is. Not everybody has to do what their parents do, especially in this day and age—America fought and won a whole war with you guys over that."

"But you're going to be a Potioneer," argued Daphne, absentmindedly pulling her long blond hair free of her green hairclip. "Like your mum."

Ella rolled her eyes and looked up at Daphne, who was a few steps above and behind her. "My mom only served as a Potioneer for a couple of years before I was born. After that she ran a rescue for injured magical creatures; and raised me, which was a full-time job."

"Do you think Draco will let you work if you two marry?" asked Milly.

Stopping dead on the stairs, the American sneered. "What do you mean, "let me"?"

The girls all stopped and seemed to go silent in the realization that Ella was unaware of something that they all were aware of. Finally, Daphne flipped her hair and crossed her arms and said: "Listen, I get that you don't know how we do things around here, but these are the facts: Pureblooded Witches that marry rich and powerful Wizards—like Draco—don't have jobs. They just don't. They stay home and manage their stately manors and raise their children. They get to live the life of luxury. Only a fool would doubt that."

Aghast, Ella made a rather ugly sound of disapproval. "Um—excuse me, what year is this?!" she shrieked. "How is anybody okay with this stuff today? How are you guys all okay with it?"

Tracey and Milly sort of exchanged glances, but didn't say anything. Daphne continued.

"Draco comes from an extremely traditional Pureblooded family. If and when you two marry, it's not like you'll be expected to work. You'll be too busy with other things. It's not like Draco's going to let you neglect your children or the manor or anything else like that with potions."

Quick as a cobra, Ella snapped her head around to face her. "The question is not—nor has it ever been—"who is going to let me", it is "who is going to stop me?""

Daphne rolled her eyes and sneered. "It's worked just fine for the Wizarding World for the past eleven centuries—it's not like you can change that," Daphne replied, ever the ambassador for British Pureblood customs.

Ella stopped on the stairs and gave Daphne a rather bone-chilling grin. "Really?" Flipping her far-more impressive black curls, Ella continued down the steps, speeding her pace to walk next to Milly.

"For the record," her corpulent friend began, smiling at Ella, "I think that if anyone can change the world, it's you."

A smile came upon Ella's face. "Right?" she agreed. "Anyway, I don't see Draco and me getting married any time soon."

"Well, no, you have to wait until you're at least nineteen," spoke Daphne, matter-of-factly. "That's when you officially state betrothals, after you've had a Coming-Out. You can, of course, proclaim your intentions beforehand, should you so choose."

"'Proclaim your intentions,'" growled Ella under her breath.

"Do they not do that in America, Ella?" Tracey queried.

Shrugging, Ella sighed "Maybe. I don't know. Probably not."

A pause. "Well, what's American Pureblooded Society like?" Tracey pressed.

Ella shrugged again, visibly annoyed. "I guess I really wouldn't have much of a basis for comparison, would I?" She sighed. "It's honestly the only life I've known. I don't know if I could describe it. Not like British society, I guess. We're more…progressive?" The girls listened as they passed other doors on the stairs, still walking further and further down. "If a Witch wants to work, she just does it. Nobody really thinks anything of it… I mean, you have the option, I guess, to stay home and do nothing, but not many do that. Everyone's involved with something. So, essentially, if you want to be in the Society Pages…you have to be social. You have to be seen doing something." She blew a rather low sigh through her full lips. "Are arranged marriages really still this much of a thing nowadays?"

All four of her friends nodded, a gradient of blond and brown, bobbing up and down in the dark dungeon. She felt rather emotionally exhausted at the thought of the entire concept of an arranged marriage, though she sort of guessed that she would have a lighter version of that for her own life. Of course, her family would have to approve of any possible husband she might bring home, but she never imagined it being like this. At most, she imagined her father's business colleague having a not-hideous son who would suggest going out to dinner with her, but that was the most she'd ever thought of it. With her grandmother now parading her all over the UK, it was truly making Ella nauseous.

"I can't believe you're even questioning it, honestly," said Daphne, crossing her arms. "You'd think that the Witch who's managed to snag Draco Malfoy would be more gracious."

The American quirked an eyebrow in confusion. 'Snagged?' Thought Ella. That was a pretty damn generous term for what he was, all things considered... Sure, he seemed sorry for everything, but with as capricious as his affections seemed as of late, she wasn't about to call what he was "snagged."

"You're lucky, Ella," said Tracey, linking arms with her. "Draco's so handsome, rich, and he's the only son of the most-powerful wizarding family in the country. He's really the best anyone could hope for, even if they are headed by Death Eaters."

"Yeah. I'm Cinderella and he's Prince Charming," Ella deadpanned.

"The Malfoys are very powerful," agreed Milly with a nod. "Should the Death Eaters—" she gulped "—somehow prevail and take over the new world order, you'll be well taken care-of, at least. Pureblooded Witches like you will always have it easy."

That was the thing, wasn't it? Purebloods would always have it easy, no matter what. Daphne and she were the two Purebloods in their shared room, and Milly and Tracey were half-bloods. Ella would always have a say above what her friends would, and that was just the way it was. The whole thing was like being in one of those stuffy old romance novels, honestly, and the Victorian era was not one Ella cared for; too many rules. She was truthfully so sick of the entire thing that she was half-tempted to ditch Draco for the evening entirely; let's see how he liked being kept waiting…

As they came to their dormitory door(finally), Ella stopped and stood in front of it. "Guys, can we just not talk about this anymore? I'm mad at Draco right now and that's that. I don't want to talk about him tonight. From this point in the evening, I would like to make this room a Draco-free zone. We can talk about him in the morning, but for now can we just…I don't know, talk about our summers? Literally anything but Draco? Or marriage? Or romance? Unless it's about a romance blossoming for one of you, I do not want to hear about it? D'accord?" The girls all exchanged glances and eventually nodded. Satisfied, Ella closed her eyes with a grin, sighed through her nose, and opened the door. When she opened her eyes, she was joined by her three roommates in a sharp gasp.

Flowers—fucking flowers—were blooming, climbing, cascading all over her medieval four-poster bed in an ocean of purples and blues, pinks and reds. Red morning glories vined up the mahogany posters to draw the eye towards the silk green canopy, which was heavy from all of the bushels of cabbage roses and waterfalls of clustered gillyflowers, draping coral honeysuckles and cascading forget-me-nots. Slowly, Ella came closer and found bursts of red amaryllis which seemed to grow out of the cracks of the stone floor, next to gorgeous striped tulips of every shade. Purple hyacinths lay in an abundantly generous bouquet on her pillow, arranged with purple-pink heliotropes, white violets, all wrapped in tendrils of ivy.

Phoebus circled the room with his outstretched wings, landing at the foot of the bed, looking rather picturesque among the blooms. When she picked up the bouquet, she saw the tiny sprinklings of yarrow flowers between the larger blooms. She shook her head in disbelief, and her lips crept into a smile, which then became a laugh. "You've got to be kidding," she whispered to herself. "You found Mid-Atlantic white violets…" Her fingers delicately touched the blooms. "I guess you weren't kidding when you said it was going to be full-over with flowers…"

"Who—?!" gasped Tracey, coming closer, examining the arrangement with her mouth agape. "Was this Draco's doing?"

"No, stupid, Peeves decided to leave Ella an arrangement of flowers—of course it was Draco!" snapped Daphne. "But how did he get down here first…?"

"He's a great Wizard," cooed Milly, her plump hands tentatively reaching for one of the morning glory blossoms before quickly withdrawing them. "How romantic."

"Funny colors, though," Tracey commented, motioning to the purple flowers near the red ones. "You'd think he would go for a monotone of something…"

"He didn't choose them for the colors," said Ella with a grin as she inhaled the sweet aroma of the honeysuckles. "He chose them for what they mean."

"Naturally," agreed Daphne, flipping her thick blonde hair. "Purebloods used to communicate entirely with the language of flowers, in the Victorian era." She sat on her own bed and took her shoes off, trying her best to seem unimpressed. "Or are we not talking about him, still?"

Ella laughed to herself. "No, we can talk about him, now," she replied, her fingers brushing against the blue petals of the forget-me-nots. "I'm not as mad, anymore."

"Well?" asked Tracey, whose bed was next to Ella's on the other side. "What is he saying?"

"Forget-me-nots mean "I love you,"" said Milly, who then grew red when the other three glanced at her. "Sorry, it's just…they do." Ella smiled as Christiana batted at a tulip. "No, no, Christiana—don't do that!" Milly scooped her cat up in her arms.

"Not exactly," said Ella. "The coral honeysuckles mean "I love you" and the Forget-me-nots mean "true love." She bounced backward on her bed, and when she did, tiny globes of light burst from the blankets in a thousand stars across the ceiling, fading away and falling like snow, which caused all of them to squeal and giggle.

"Go on!" begged Tracey. "What else?"

"Well…" Ella kicked her shoes off and gripped the bouquet to her breast as she pointed up towards the canopy. "The honeysuckles and forget-me-nots are obvious, and the cabbage roses are the "ambassadors of love", as they say…along with the gillyflowers—which mean "your beauty is everlasting and I'm forever faithful to you, even in adversity"—all are hanging over the canopy, which probably means… 'I am showering you with love,' blah blah blah…" Milly and Tracey swooned. Daphne tried her best to look bored as she rolled her socks down, but Ella could tell she was secretly a combination of jealous and impressed.

"What do these mean?" asked Milly, pointing at the red flowers all up the posters, and down at the bed's legs.

"Red morning glories," Ella began, "mean 'attachment.' The red amaryllis is a tropical flower from Brazil, which—when presented—means that they think the receiver is of a proud and splendid beauty…" Ella flipped her hair, feeling a little more than chuffed. "…and the striped tulips means he thinks I have beautiful eyes, which I do, but it's nice that he thinks so…" She felt her cheeks going a little red. She inhaled the bouquet in her hands, the perfume filling her lungs, her very soul. "And these are all a very important message, probably the most-important of all…"

"More important than all of those other things he just said?" gasped Tracey. "I told you! You snagged him! You're going to marry Draco Malfoy! My roommate is going to be Mrs. Draco Malfoy! Can I be a bridesmaid?"

"Guys, c'mon—"

"Oooh, Ella's in looooooove—" teased Daphne. "Look, she's blushing!"

Ella hid her face in the bouquet. "Shut up!" she moaned. Phoebus cawed and flapped his wings.

"Don't be embarrassed, Ella!" cried Tracey, who then sat on the bed next to her. "Come on, what do these mean? I'm dying to know!"

"Yeah what do they mean?" begged Milly, Christiana struggling to get free from being cradled in her arms.

Ella opened her mouth to speak when the door flew open, a looming, broad-shouldered figure appeared in the doorway. A greasy-haired Witch came in, and the both Phoebus and Christiana went silent at her presence. Her jaw tightened as her black eyes darted all around at the flowers.

"What is this?" she growled.

"Guten abend, Brun-hilde!" said Ella, her tone as sweet as the flowers she was surrounded by. "How was your summer?"

Pansy Parkinson stomped slowly into their dormitory, her eyes practically burning through the blooms. "What. Is. This. Mess?"

"Mess?" Ella gestured above at the canopy. "You mean to say that you've never seen an elaborate magical flower arrangement before?"

"Mind your attitude, Zamora," she barked. "I'm still your Prefect. You had your chance." She seemed proud of herself, thought Ella, who stood up, bouquet in hand, and sauntered to meet her in the center of the dorm. She smiled sweetly.

"I turned being a Prefect down," Ella stated, which caused quiet gasps among her roommates. "Herding Slytherin first-years and staying up after-hours to be a glorified hall monitor? No thank you! That'd be like herding cats. But good for you on being cool with taking my leftovers." The girls gasped; there was murder in Parkinson's eyes.

Pansy sneered and snapped her wand at the flowers. "Clean this up at once, or else. I'll not tolerate this slovenly mess on my watch."

"Oh, Pansy, let it go," said Daphne, from her bed, who seemed more exhausted and unwilling to witness a fight than to truly pick a side. "The flowers aren't breaking any rules."

"'No magical decorations and personal paraphernalia' is a rule—"

"That was when Umbridge was Headmaster!" argued Tracey, standing.

"These were a gift. Draco left these for me," stated Ella, "and I intend to keep them up for as long as the enchantment lasts. If you have a problem with that, I suggest you take it up with him."

The greasy-haired witch snorted. "And you expect me to believe that he snuck into the Girls' dormitory to construct this monstrosity?" As if on cue, a folded paper crane flitted through the open door. Ella opened her hands and caught it quickly in her fingers.

"Speak of the Devil," she said, grinning. Pansy growled and opened her mouth to scream at Ella, but Milly quickly stood up.

"Stop it, Pansy," she said, tears in her fat eyes. "I-I'm sick of this. Leave Ella alone. I-I-I'm sick of you b-b-bullying her around."

"How dare you speak to me that way?!" shrieked Pansy. "I am your Prefect!"

"You're bullying Ella and we want it to stop," said Tracey, shakily coming up at Ella's side. "You've had it out for her since she first came here. The exchange program is meant to make friends, not enemies."

"Shut it, Davis, or I'll write you up, too."

"Hah!" blasted Ella. "I would love to see you write me up to Professor Snape. In fact, I dare you. Go on. Write me up. Write Tracey and Milly up, too, for coming to my aid against your totalitarianism. See what happens when you write me up for there being a gift of flowers from my boyfriend on my bed when I got to my dorm after a long summer of being apart. Please. Please, do it. I cannot wait to see what happens when you pull that."

The tension could be cut with a knife. "Get. Rid of this." Pansy finally snarled, turning on her heel and walking out, slamming the door rather hard.

"Jawhol, mein herr," whispered Ella, jokingly saluting. Turning and looking, her two half-blooded friends' hands were shaking, their faces red and white all at once. Ella had been shouting for herself her entire life; she supposed it never occurred to her how hard it might be to stand up to bullies for others. With the bouquet in one hand and the paper crane in the other, she wrapped her arms around her friends and hugged them all tight. Milly and Tracey were both shaking. "Thanks, guys," she whispered, and her friends hugged her tighter.

Daphne sort of groaned, and all three of them turned their heads to see her lounging on her bed. "Uh-oh," said Ella. "I think Daphne's feeling left out of our group hug." Tracey smiled. Daphne's face changed with a creeping horror of realization of what was about to happen. "You know what that means…"

"Don't." Whispered Daphne.

"Group hug!" A wave of brown, blonde, and black with flashes of purple came flying to Daphne's bed as all four of them piled onto the tiny four-poster in shrieking laughter. "Guys-guys—careful, my flowers!" laughed Ella, landing her head on Daphne's belly like a pillow, while Tracey settled by lying down next to her and wrapping her arms around Daphne's shoulders. Milly sat at the foot of the bed, smiling. Ella took her paper crane and opened it.

"What's it say?" asked Milly.

On the parchment, Ella found a sort of stick-figure-esque drawing of a curly-haired girl in a crudely-drawn black dress dancing with a smiling boy. Underneath the dancing stick figures was Draco's handwriting, which read "10 o' clock?" Ella smiled and inhaled the bouquet again.

"Well?" asked Tracey.

Ella sat up and smiled. "Oh, nothing. Nothing at all." She winked at her friends and stuffed the crane in her pocket. She inhaled the flowers once again, resolving to let go any anger she might be feeling, at least for the night.

"Boring," sighed Daphne.

"The less you know, the less you can tell Brun-hilde when she comes to call again. Trust me, it's for your own safety."

"The flowers, then?" asked Milly, smiling tentatively. "At least tell us what that means."

Ella grinned and plucked a pink-purple heliotrope. "This one means "devotion"—" she placed the flower on her lap, then plucked an ivy leaf "—and Ivy usually means "fidelity", too, specifically the wedded kind—" Tracey gave a very dramatic, swoony sigh as the purple hyacinth bloom came next from her bouquet "—purple hyacinths, specifically, mean to say "I'm sorry, please forgive me, I'm so sad about what I've done"—" and finally she plucked the white violet "—and, finally, the white violet, means "let's take a chance on happiness.""

"That's so romantic," sighed Milly. "I wish Draco was my boyfriend…" The three of them looked up. "I-I mean, not that I'd ever try and take him from you, Ella—I mean that I—"

"Oh, relax," laughed Ella with a wry grin. "If Draco were that easy to steal then I couldn't very well call him mine, could I?" What a funny thought, mused Ella. That Draco was hers. This was going to get difficult should they continue passed their graduation date, of course, especially if her grandmother wasn't going to come around. The Malfoys and their less-than-desirable political history weren't ideal, of course, but any wizard that could work up this much of a show in such a small amount of time certainly was worth a real attempt. Ella truly did want to believe that Draco was different, that he could break free of all of his hatred and prejudice that the Death Eaters stood upon. Well, that was a conversation for another evening.

Standing, Ella stretched and inhaled her bouquet once more, simply insatiable with the perfume. Instead of keeping it alive, Ella hung it upside-down on one of the posts of her bed so that it would dry. Silently, she dug through her trunk and pulled out her potions kit as her friends watched.

"What are you looking for?" Daphne finally asked.

She opened one of the drawers and pulled out a tube of sparkling blue-black powder, held tight with a cork. If you were to watch it closely, you would notice gold flecks of what looked like shooting stars swirling inside in a gentle lull, almost like waves.

"An alibi for all of you," she said as she held her breath, opened the phial, poured a bit into her palm and blew a great cloud of black-blue-gold-sparkling glitter-smoke towards them. Ella quickly corked the tube and covered her nose and mouth with her sleeve. When the glittery dust settled, all three of her friends were passed-out in a drunken pile of open-mouthed breathing, snoring loudly. Satisfied, Ella smiled at her latest invention, which she was calling Polvosueno, an extremely potent sleep powder that gave you vividly pleasant dreams. If she could do this at sixteen, just imagine what she could do next year…

Ella's dance studio was dark, the only light coming from the glowing kelp of the merpeople's lanterns, which could be seen faintly through the enchanted windows. She pulled out her wand and cast "Lumos maximus" into the center of the room, where the chandelier hung. Light filled the room, cast along all of the mirrors, reflecting the clean stone floors and steps, and the wooden section of pine that was polished for dancing. She was alone.

Frowning, Ella came down the stone steps to the white pine dance floor, her dancing shoes clicking and echoing all around. All at once, all of the torchlights were lit, and when she turned, she saw Draco standing by the piano, complete in a white bow-tie and pristine dress shirt with tastefully jeweled buttons going down the front of his dress robes. A field of white violets covered that old piano, and surrounded the dance floor in bouquets. He smiled that trademark grin and Ella couldn't breathe.

"You're late."

"Fashionably so, I hope," replied Ella, using every bit of her will to not melt into a puddle on the floor; her knees felt about as structurally sound as a crème caramel. "At least I look good," she said, gesturing to her hair, which was curled into a stylish sweeping wave, complete with a crown of the white violets and the cabbage roses.

He eyed her up and down, walking towards her slowly. The skin on the back of Ella's thighs went prickly with goosebumps with every one of his steps. He took both of her hands in his and kissed her at the junction of her jaw and neck. "Happy anniversary, darling. I'm glad you decided on the black dress."

"Considering it's the one that you drew, I figured it was a safe bet." She was trying to be charming and seductive, but she desperately feared she would collapse at any moment. Ella hoped that the sounds of the lake through the windows were enough to drown out the thumping sound of her pounding heart.

Draco smiled and circled an arm around her waist and planted a kiss at the corner of her mouth, close-lipped, chaste, but loving. "This is the one that changes, isn't it?" he asked, his other hand tugging a bit at the ruffle of her skirt.

"Yeah…" A beat. "But I'm afraid I don't have anything stored on this dress to match you right now," she said, gesturing to his perfectly pristine dress robes.

"That's alright," he said, pulling out his wand. "I've got that covered." He pulled away and circled her, Ella suddenly overcome with a rush of adrenaline. "Now, what's that charm you use to create your clothes and shoes?"

A beat. "Bibbity bobbity boo?" she said. Draco quirked an eyebrow as he mouthed the spell with confusion. "It's this charm I learned a long time ago… Why?"

Smiling, Draco took a few paces away from her, circling larger and larger. "Two years ago, the TriWizard Tournament came to Hogwarts, and with it came the Yule Ball. I was a fourth-year, and I took Pansy Parkinson as my date…"

"Well, that explains a lot," muttered Ella to herself.

"…And since I've met you, all I've wanted to do is buy you a beautiful gown and take you to a ball." Ella's heart skipped a beat; Draco stopped right in front of her, about ten paces away. "Now, how do you do it?"

"Um…" Ella gave a nervous sort of laugh, trying her very best to keep her composure, and brought both of her arms out. "Like this." She swung both her arms out, then up, bending at the elbows, and then forward to a point. "It's like you're a conductor at a symphony. And you have to think really, really clearly of what you're trying to make, and keep that picture in your head, no matter how long the magic takes… You have to concentrate. Hard." Almost unsure of her own words, she laughed again. "What are you up to?"

Draco was smiling through a very serious look in his eyes. He was looking her up and down from every angle. "Trust me?" he finally asked, presenting his wand.

The short answer was "no." Many Witches feared heights or snakes, where Ella feared trusting others. Her father once told her that the simple fact that she was aware of this trait in herself was a sign that she, ultimately, wanted to change it. Loving someone was an act of trust, mostly that everything will be alright, and that certainly nobody would die horribly and leave a loving and heartbroken family behind….at least, that's how Ella viewed it. She sometimes wondered if she'd ever get over her mother's death. For now, the short answer was "no," and this had nothing to do with the handsome and charming wizard standing in front of her—it was all because of the person that she was, and that wasn't fair to Draco.

Look at him. Just look at him. He was so handsome and so charming. He really was everything a Witch could hope for. Oh, sure, he had his hang-ups and his emotional constipations, a bit of a temper…but who didn't? And who was Ella to talk about having a temper? At his core, he was so, so good; and he was trying so, so, so hard. If he could take a chance and be brave, especially under Death Eater influence (if the rumors were true) then she could, too. She touched one of the white violets in her hair gently, asking for its strength.

Ella took in a breath through her nose and closed her eyes with a smile. She let out a long breath through her lips and nodded. "Yes. Okay. I trust you." Draco raised his wand. "Just—" he paused "—not yellow." He smiled.

"Perish the thought of yellow on you."

Her heart skipped a beat as she closed her eyes, clenching her fists with anticipation.

"Ella." She opened her eyes. "Spin around. Don't make me do all the work." She gave a tiny laugh and slowly began to turn.

She looked up to the wall of mirrors, using her reflection to spot herself as she slowly twirled. "Bibbity bobbity boo!" she heard Draco say, and sparkles of green came swirling in lilting waves towards her. As she turned, the spell clung to her black dress, and came all up her torso, all down her back and legs. She began to twirl faster and the lights from the spell grew brighter and brighter, glowing from green to silver to gold, with the grace of a perfect design. Finally, she raised her arms and twirled in a big one-two-three pirouette with a laugh and a ring of gold light came bursting out from the spell to reveal what Draco had created.

Ella gasped as she looked down at the gorgeous ballgown draped on her body. The body of the dress was a gorgeous nude color—an actual nude, too, and not that weird pink color that never looked right on her tan skin—perfectly caramel, perfectly tanned, looking just the right shade on her sun-kissed arms. It was sleeveless with a classic Queen Anne neckline and dainty cap sleeves that layered and ruffled just so with gorgeous beaded lace. Lace? Oh, yes—layering over the nude silhouette, which was full and flowing, was the most beautiful beaded lace Ella could imagine, all in Slytherin green, going down to a scalloped edge at the floor.

Finally, Ella looked up at the mirror; she almost didn't recognize herself. She was herself, of course, but not the version of herself that she would normally be. Lace, as a fabric choice, was utterly feminine and old-fashioned, but the bold shade of green suggested growth, nature, financial security, even healing. The basque waistline made her torso look lean and long. In this dress, she was magnificently elegant with a touch of innocence and purity that made Ella feel like royalty; perhaps this was the way that Draco saw her?

"Well?" Draco snapped her out of her daze. She realized that she must have been staring at herself for quite some time.

"I-I…" she stumbled, noticing even more details in the lace the more she looked. "I can't speak."

Draco pursed his lips, impressed with himself. "I didn't think that was possible."

"Oh shut up," Ella said, lifting the skirt to see her black dancing shoes. She clicked her heels three times and they transformed into their signature sparkling green color. "There. Much better." When she turned her head to look at Draco, she noticed how satisfied he looked with himself. "Getting it right on the first try, hm?" she commented. "Good job." Ella was impressed with herself, as well, for how calm she was being.

"I take it you like it, then," he remarked, gazing at her reflection.

"It's beautiful," she whispered, unable to tear her eyes away from the mirror. "My hair doesn't match, though," she said, picking at her loose curls that were woven with roses and violets.

Draco gave a tiny laugh and looked at the flowers in her hair. "At least I know you got them," he said. Ella almost told him about the grief that Pansy gave her about them, but decided to not spoil the evening. She gestured to her beautiful gown.

"We're all dressed up with nowhere to go."

"Nonsense," Draco replied. "We're going to a ball." He walked to the center of the room, right underneath the old chandelier.

"We can't leave Hogwarts," Ella protested. "They put that barrier up all around the school."

"Who said anything about leaving Hogwarts?" He flicked his wand at the pile of old musical instruments lying near the piano. The violin came to life, as did the old piano, plucking out a few notes; the violin tuned itself as Draco walked and opened the sheet music, setting it on the stand. Some of the torch lights dimmed and some glowed brighter, changing the whole atmosphere so much so that she barely recognized her makeshift dance studio.

Impressed, Ella smiled. "You figured out how to use it all," she said as the violin tuned itself.

"It wasn't hard," Draco said, arranging the music in a pile that was easy to turn. "My mother used to use a similar charm when I was first learning the organ."

"Ah, and here I was thinking I was special…"

"You're special and you know it. Now…" Draco turned and the piano swelled and came to life with a beautiful and familiar tune. Ella couldn't help but smile at its sound, her soul filling with a joy that was so ethereal it almost seemed unreal. Draco came to her and offered his hand. "May I have this dance?"

Rolling her eyes and smiling ear-to-ear, Ella shook her head in disbelief and put her hand in his. "Sure," she giggled. Draco smiled and lead her to the center of the dance floor. The music swelled and he took a step forward, and she took a step back, then to the side, one-two-three-one….one-two-three-one… Oh, he was such a spectacular dancer.

"Well?" Ella noticed that she'd closed her eyes as they were dancing, lost in her own little world. "Am I forgiven?" He spun her around and caught her back into the waltz, then lifted and the right times and caught her again in his lean yet strong arms. Ella couldn't help but laugh.

"You are well on your way," she said as he spun her again, her gown blooming in a perfect circle like a flower.

The clock struck midnight.

"Ella."

She wasn't certain if Draco was actually saying her name out loud or if she was just hearing it in her head. They were so close, tangled in each other's arms, dancing cheek to cheek slowly in the middle of the room. There she was, nestled in the crook of his neck, her left arm swung around his neck, her right hand clasped in his; Ella hadn't ever been so happy. I'm going to use this memory to cast a Patronus, she thought to herself. She felt his breath on her ear.

"Ella, my darling."

"Hmm?" She mumbled into his pressed collar.

"It's after midnight."

"So?"

"So we should go back to the dormitory."

She closed any possible microscopic gap that there was between their bodies. "No," she whispered. "We should stay here and dance until dawn." She felt him laugh quietly through her chest. He wrapped his arm tighter around her waist in a hug and gently planted a kiss on her neck, which caused a rush of goosebumps all up and down her arms and legs. Draco brought his head up and kissed her ear.

"Are you having a good time, then?" he whispered into her hair.

"The best," she whispered back.

He pulled away a bit. "It's about to get better." Ella was smiling, but she frowned in question and shook her head.

"I don't know how much more I can take!" she sighed, dramatically raising her hand to her forehead. Draco laughed.

"Sit," he suggested, motioning to the piano bench.

"I don't want to wrinkle my dress," she protested. Draco paused, then smiled and nodded.

"Very well," he said, standing still and taking both of her hands in his. "I'll say it standing." Ella's heart leapt to her throat, and suddenly felt extremely sobered. Draco suddenly looked very serious, and he stared at her hands for a long time. Ella wanted to listen in on his thoughts, but quickly dismissed the notion as soon as it entered her head. Be patient, she reminded herself. He's been through a lot. Poor guy. When he looked up with a pleading glance, scared and unsure, she took in a breath and gave a warm and reassuring smile.

"Take your time," she said. Draco smiled. He needed to hear that,she thought. He took a deep breath in and out. Ella squeezed his hands in reassurance. "It's only me," she soothed, which caused the young wizard to laugh in a spurt.

"'It's only you'," he capered. "It's only Ella goddamn Zamora."

Ella's eyes went wide; her jaw dropped with glee. "I've never heard you curse before!" she whispered excitedly. He smiled and leaned his forehead against hers, squeezing her hands tighter. She closed her eyes and felt his brow furrow against her own; Ella felt him, his insecurities and his fear, his true desire to let down those walls. Poor thing, she thought briefly. No, he doesn't want to be pitied. Just understood. Draco's breath stifled, and she felt his hands go clammy.

"You…" he whispered, his breath hot against her lips. She wanted him to kiss her, but she waited a year for that…she could wait another five minutes for him to say what he needed to say. "You are…" He sighed, and she felt him smile, glow from within. "I have never felt anything like this before."

Ella smiled, right down to her toes. "As long as we're opening up…?" He pulled away and smiled at her; his face was so earnest, so genuinely ready to listen. "I am…" Ella gulped. "I have never been so happy and so terrified." His lips were smiling, but his brow was knitting in concern. "It's just… I don't know what's going to happen next, and tonight has just been so perfect that I'm terrified of what this next moment will bring. I'm scared of what you're going to say." His hands gripped hers tight, as if he was trying to will her fluttering heart to calm.

"I'm scared of what I'm going to say, too," he said.

"That's not comforting."

Draco smiled. "I suppose not, no." A beat. He closed his eyes, took in a breath, and opened them again. "I need you to listen." Ella nodded. "There are things happening in my life right now that I can't talk about, not to you, not to anyone. I need you to accept this before we go any further."

Ella frowned. "Why?"

Draco gulped. "The less you know the better," he answered. Though Ella frowned, she slowly nodded. "I've had lots of time to think about this. It's very difficult for me to say. I need to know that you'll be with me in the end." Ella wasn't sure to say, mostly because she wasn't sure what he was talking about. He took a step back, just enough to seriously look her in the eye. "Ella, I want to be with you once all of this is over. I want us to be together." She couldn't stay silent any longer.

"I don't understand. We're together now…how do you mean differently?" There was a silent struggle behind his gray eyes. "It's just…you're still my boyfriend, right?"

"Of course," he said.

"And I'm your girlfriend."

"Yes, of course," he agreed.

"So…? I don't understand what's complicating things here. We both consent to being together. Let's just be together."

A beat. "I'm afraid it isn't that simple. Not yet." His grip on her hands became tighter, almost uncomfortably so. "There are some very dangerous things going on right now, with me and with my family. I know you don't want to be involved and I know your grandmother doesn't want you anywhere near me." His voice cracked. Ella took her hands from his and put them both on his face.

"Go on," she soothed.

Draco smiled and took both of her hands from his cheeks, then kissed them each. He took his Slytherin ring off his index finger and gently slid it on the ring finger of her left hand. The ring was too big at first, but it seemed to slim itself down to snugly fit on her finger, likely from an enchantment of some sort.

"I intend," he began, gripping her hand tight, "to honor you and protect you as best I can, and when all of this is over, I intend to propose marriage. I fully intend to provide for you and give you everything that you could desire, to respect your wishes. I ask that you take this ring as a token of my love."

Ella's insides tensed; her heart began to pound so loud that she was certain the veins in her temples were pulsing. The room began to spin. What the fuck, am I having a stroke? "Love," she croaked. Draco laughed.

"Yes. Love. I love you." Ella couldn't breathe.

"I—I, um…" She cleared her throat. Draco frowned. "I… I…" She pulled her hands away. "Listen, there's something you need to know about me." Don't tell him. Don't fucking tell him about Neville."I just…" Draco's facial expression showed that he was clearly growing both impatient and more hurt by the moment. "No, it's not that—listen. I…" She tried. She couldn't.

"Ella," Draco began, slowly. "I love you." Stop saying that, you prick! "I love you and I want you to be my wife when the War is over." Oh my fucking God I am going to projectile vomit all over you—does nobody get that I'm not ready for this?! "So? Are you going to say anything back to me?"

A beat. "I love you, too," she said, too quickly to really get the taste of what she was saying on her tongue. "I really do. A lot." Draco smiled, glowed. "It's just…this is scary. Everything you are saying right now scares me. A lot. I'm afraid that you're in some kind of trouble and that something horrible is going to happen." He paused; Ella saw a glimpse of something in his eyes that vanished just as quickly as it came.

"Trust me?" he asked, grinning that grin.

The short answer, still, is 'no.' "Yes," she lied. He wrapped his arms around her, tight.

"Then trust that everything is in order." Ella couldn't. Something awful was about to happen, but she couldn't bring it out of him tonight. She let out a sigh. He was asking a lot; Ella wasn't ready, but by the time they graduated, maybe she would be.

"I'll wear the ring," she said, and Draco gripped her tighter, so tight that her reservations were squeezed away, if only for a moment. "Just…promise me you won't shut me out," she said, pulling away gently, his arms still wrapped around her waist. "Promise that when you need help from me, you'll ask for it. Deal?"

He smiled. "Deal." And he kissed her.

WOW! This chapter was different, with many scenes all in one go. It's nice and long, and we see hints of where things start, where things end...lots of hints going around. Oh, yeah, LOTS of hints...the plot is thickening, no?

Huge thanks to HeartofAspen for my faithful reviews that I truly enjoy, as always. Things are going to get messy soon, but we'll see why it makes sense later.