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CHAPTER 10

I am the last in my dormitory to get out of bed that Saturday morning, and I lie there, savoring the solitude. Just a little bit of green-tinted light manages to find its way through the curtains around my bed. The idea of being under the lake once bothered me, but it keeps the sunlight out pretty well. So I guess I shouldn't complain too much.

Waking up early or late is the only time I ever get to be alone anymore. All those years I spent in solitude left me craving companionship, but now that I've spent a week constantly being around people, I can say that wanting companionship was such a bad idea. I just want to be alone. So when I finally force myself to roll out of my warm bed, I take my time getting dressed and ready for the day. I just want a few more minutes by myself.

By the time I make it to the common room, almost no Slytherins are around. Right, the Quidditch tryouts. I told Draco I would be there. I cannot lose his approval this quickly, so I begin running. Tempted as I am to stop and just sit by the lake in peace for a while, I cannot. Draco expected me to be at the tryouts, and even if I arrive late, I will be there.

And just as I feared, the tryouts have already started by the time I make it to the pitch. As discreetly as I can, I make my way to the where most of the Slytherins seem to be sitting, and I take a seat with them, just far enough away so I will not need to talk to any of them.

I can only imagine that this will be quite a boring few hours, and I don't want this time to go to waste.

I begin practicing Conjuration once more, this time attempting to Conjure a Quaffle, hoping that maybe it will be easier than Conjuring a wooden chair because this is much smaller. I am only about ten minutes into my practice when someone takes a seat next to me, and my curiosity forces me to look over at the person who decided to sit right next to me rather than anywhere else, considering over half of stands are empty. It is someone I have not yet met, and she is smiling at me. "Do you need something?" I ask.

"Am I interrupting something?" she asks kindly.

"No…just…trying to learn Conjuration," I say.

"I'm Astoria Greengrass," she replies. "We're in the same House, but I don't think I've introduced myself."

"No, I'm new this year, transfer from Durmstrang," I answer. "Charlotte Rodgers." I wait a second before asking, "You're Daphne's sister?"

She sighs. "Allow me to apologize on her behalf for being part of Pansy Parkinson's group of followers."

"She and I have never really spoken, but I appreciate the gesture either way."

There is a short moment of awkward silence before Astoria finds another topic of conversation. "So you and Draco seem to be friendly. Anything there?"

I smile. "I don't know. I just met him. Maybe. He accepts me for who I am, which hasn't been done in a while. So that's nice, I guess."

"And just who are you, Charlotte Rodgers?" she asks conspiratorially.

"That's a subject for debate recently."

"Sounds messy," she says cheerily.

"A bit, but I guess it'll be okay."

"Gryffindors are losers, Gryffindors are losers," the Slytherins around us begin chanting.

"Quidditch is a big thing here, I'm guessing," I call over the chants.

"You guess a lot, don't you?" she laughs. I offer her a weak smile. "Yeah, the Houses get into, and that probably actually causes the rivalries to get out of hand."

"Why is it so popular?" I ask.

She shrugs. "It's tradition. Everyone wants to see their House win the Cup at the end of the year. That sort of thing." I look away and twirl my wand around in my hand. "So. Conjuration. That's a…difficult branch of Transfiguration for a fifth year, isn't it?"

"I'm not a normal fifth year. I've had loads of time to work on it."

For the next half hour, Astoria and I talk about Transfiguration, but we stop talking when the Gryffindors begin filing off the pitch, one girl looking sickly. "I missed what happened," Astoria says, "but it looks like something's happened to her. They'll probably be carting her off to the hospital wing." I watch as two redheaded boys help escort the girl up to the castle. "You were in the hospital wing earlier this week, weren't you?"

"Yeah, a stray curse hit me. It wasn't anything important." Hopefully the tone of my voice will keep her from asking any further questions on the subject.

For the rest of the Quidditch tryouts, Astoria finds various topics to talk about, ranging from professors to owls to the fire that constantly burns in the Slytherin common room to the founders of Hogwarts and why each House has what colors, and I learn something important: Not all Slytherins are dreadful people.

Quidditch still bores me, but watching the tryouts was not nearly as terrible as I had originally feared. Astoria migrates away with the other spectators when the team retreats off the field to change into clean clothes, leaving me alone. Or at least that's what I think. As I walk away from the stands to wait for Draco away from the pitch, a voice proves that I am not as alone as I had thought. "Who are you?" it asks me. "Are you new here?"

I turn to see two identical redheaded boys crawling from some hidden place under the Quidditch stands. Unfortunately I am unable to see the place where they had been lurking. "I could ask you the same thing," I dodge the question. Honestly, I'm not even sure which one asked me in the first place.

Unless my eyes deceive me, these are the same two boys who took that Gryffindor girl to the hospital wing.

"We've never seen you around before," the one on the right says. Their brown eyes watch me closely. It unnerves me, but I am determined not to show it.

"Well, I believe I can say the same about you," I reply. "Then again, I don't creep around the Quidditch pitch often. Do you?"

The one on the left smirks and answers, "That's not entirely what I meant. What I meant is that I don't think we've ever seen you at Hogwarts. Well, other than random sightings this week of course."

"Then shouldn't that be a simple answer? If you've never seen me before, obviously I must be new here."

"You're not making it any easier for us to figure out who you are, do you know that?" the left one says to me.

I cross my arms in front of my chest. "Well, I don't know you, do I? Why should I tell two of you who I am? The two unnamed redheaded boys, who were sneaking around the stands, doing Merlin-knows-what, I might add—what makes you think I want you to know who I am?"

The quieter one, the one on the right, glances to his brother. "She may have a point, you know. We haven't properly introduced ourselves to her yet." He smiles at me. "I'm George."

"And I'm Fred," the other adds.

"The Weasley twins," I state.

The one called Fred smiles. "Our reputation precedes us. Now, who are you exactly?"

"Charlotte," I answer.

"Got a last name, Charlotte?" Fred asks.

"Not one that I'm going to tell you any time soon. I don't know you, remember?"

"But we just told you who we are," George points out.

I roll my eyes. "Are you going to tell me what you were doing hiding behind the stands?"

"Probably not," Fred admits.

"Then I will probably not be telling you who I am."

"As members of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, it is beneficial for us to know who will be joining the Slytherin Quidditch team," George says.

"And comical to throw a few of them off their game," Fred adds with a wink.

My eyes jump from one of the twins to the other before I quietly remark, "You…you do know that I am Slytherin, right?"

For a second, they seem dumbstruck, but Fred recovers quickly. "A Slytherin who doesn't seem positively horrid? This is a new twist." Well, I guess it's not much of a recovery really, but until just a short while ago, I, too, believed that all Slytherins were nasty and horrid.

"We're not all dreadful, you know," I state defensively.

"Yeah, Freddie, not all Slytherins can be a Draco Malfoy," George comments.

Fred throws his head back in exaggeration. "Ugh, could you just imagine if the whole lot of Slytherin House was like Malfoy? I believe I would leave Hogwarts altogether."

"I'm…you…" I have to look away and laugh quietly. They have a point about how horrible Draco can be, especially with his negativity toward everything here at Hogwarts and his hatred of Muggle-borns, but I don't want them to know that. "You know I'm dating Draco, don't you?" Am I dating Draco? I don't know, but the flustered looks on their faces make my lie worth it.

"How were we suppo—"

I cut Fred off, "Here he comes now."

Draco walks over to us. "There are some Slytherins you haven't met that I'd like to introduce you to," he informs me. His eyes land on Fred and George. "Weasleys. What were you two doing here?"

The twins laugh. "We were just leaving," Fred says. And together, the two of them saunter off.

Draco laces his fingers through mine and we begin our journey back to the castle. "They weren't bothering you, were they?"

"They were slightly annoying, but I'll get over it," I answer. "I doubt they spend much time around me now that they've insulted my House and my…well, you."

His question comes quickly. "They did what? What did those two weasels say about me?"

"It's not a big deal." I nudge him a bit. "They don't seem worth the trouble."

"They're not," he agrees. "They're disgusting blood traitors, their whole bloody family. And that father of theirs—Arthur Weasley—he disgraces the reputation of wizards everywhere with his infernal fascination with Muggle objects. He's the laughing stock of the Ministry."

"Oh."

"Don't speak to them if you can find a way to avoid it. They'll bring you down to their level."

Another Slytherin starts our way, and Draco seems to brighten a bit now that he is off the topic of the Weasleys and blood traitors. Once the boy gets close enough, Draco says "Charlotte, this is Graham Montague. Montague, this is Charlotte Rodgers."

"Pleasure," the Montague replies dully. "You didn't try out for the team. Do you play Quidditch?"

"No," I laugh. "I was only here to support Draco."

He huffs impatiently. "Whatever you see in the tryouts cannot be spoken of with any other House. Not the new team members, not any of the formations you think you might have seen. Got that?"

"Yep." Then the kid speeds away from Draco and me. "He must be great at parties."

Draco smiles. "That's who Montague is. He's been appointed Captain, and really, he doesn't do well with the stress."

"I believe I would have given up the position."

"Give up being captain of the Quidditch team? No, no, you don't do that at Hogwarts."

"Why not?"

"Because it's a privilege," he answers.

I nod, not entirely understanding why someone would keep the position if it was that stressful. "Sorry I was late."

"It's no matter," Draco assures me. "You showed up eventually, and that's all that really counts. Did I see you talking to Astoria Greengrass?"

"Um, yeah."

"Watch out for those Greengrass sisters," he says, "especially that younger one. They're close to being blood traitors."

Daphne's close to being a blood traitor? I wonder why she spends so much time with Pansy if she's not that prejudiced. Perhaps I should try talking to her.

Conversation dies when Crabbe and Goyle rush over to us. Apparently neither of them feels comfortable without their king leading them around. "It looks like it might be a good year for us," Crabbe says.

"Yeah, we've got some talent," Goyle adds. "That Quidditch Cup is as good as ours."

Though Quidditch does not interest me in the slightest, it is nice to see Draco finally talking about something here at Hogwarts positively rather than complaining about it. We stop at the Great Hall for lunch before we head back to the common room, but they only talk about Quidditch. So I remain quiet, trying to figure out just how long it will take me to finish the abysmal homework these professors keep assigning.

It's early in the morning when I awaken on Sunday. I creep out of the dormitory and sneak away from the Slytherin Dungeon. The Black Lake is where I once again run into the Weasley twins. I sigh inwardly. No one else should be up this early. This is ridiculous. This is my time to be alone, and they are ruining it.

"Morning, Charlotte whatever-your-last-name-is," Fred greets me.

"Why are you out here so early?" George questions.

"I could ask you the same thing."

"Well, George asked you first," Fred says. "Answer us, and we'll answer you."

"How do I know you'll hold up your end of the bargain?"

"You'll just have to trust us," George states.

I look between the two of them. "You know, I don't trust you, and I don't think this is very important, to be honest. So I don't think it matters that much."

"Wait, you don't trust us?" Fred asks, completely aghast and falsely offended.

Laughing, I turn to walk away. "I've heard enough about the two of you. So no, I don't trust you." Then I start away. Their footsteps pound after me, but I do my best to ignore them. Besides, I'm actually sleepy, despite what I thought earlier. It's too early to be awake. I'm safe here at Hogwarts; I can sleep later if I want to. I'm no longer in danger of being slaughtered while unconscious. This is something I need to remember more often. Hogwarts is safe. I am safe.

I am safe.

"Wait!" Fred calls. He and George have caught up to me and are now walking on either side of me. "I'll tell you what we were doing."

"That doesn't mean I'll necessarily tell you why I'm up this early." In fact, I don't really want anyone to know that I don't always sleep much at night. How would I go about saying that? I don't sleep because the never ending fear of being the mother to Voldemort's spawn haunts my dreams and so I am afraid to sleep and let my guard down because what if he comes after me and I am not prepared to fight back even though fighting Voldemort will do me no good and the thought of it causes so much anxiety that sleep evades me. I can't say that.

"That's okay, I guess," Fred says. "But just know that friendship is a two-way street, so eventually you'll have to talk to us."

"Who said anything about being friends?"

"That was rude," George replies.

"Moving on from that—I guess you really are a Slytherin—we're creating some useful practical jokes," Fred says.

"You know, to entertain people while here at Hogwarts," George jumps in.

"Would you like to test some out?"

"I'm okay, thanks. Again, I don't trust the two of you."

"Just what has Malfoy said about us?" Fred answers.

We enter Hogwarts, me leading the way, Fred and George following. I'm making my way back to the Slytherin Dungeon. "That you're blood traitors, so you can't be trusted."

"And what do you think about that?" George asks.

"Yeah, are we really that bad?"

I look away from them, now questioning what Draco said. I know Draco is prejudiced against anyone who is not a pureblood supremacist, so why did I just take his word for it when he said not to trust these two? "I don't know."

How am I supposed to get back into the common room without these two learning the password and getting in with me?

"So let me get this straight," Fred says, his tone suddenly serious, "you don't trust us because the pureblood supremacist Draco Malfoy told you not to?"

We come to a stop in front of the door to the Slytherin common room. "I make my own opinions for myself, thank you."

"But you don't trust us?" George asks.

"Why does it matter? We don't even know each other." For the first time in my life, I am blessed with a stroke of luck, and the common room opens. "And I intend to form opinions for myself in time." I duck into the common room around a group of second years that opened the door.

Then I dash to the fifth-year girls' dormitory, where I lie back down for the next few hours.

Draco is in the common room with his friends when I finally get up for the day. And for some reason, he insists on being by my side to tell me all the details of Hogwarts. So together we spend most of the weekend by the Black Lake and roaming around the castle. Fred and George do not approach me when Draco is near.

Draco and I are finishing up our homework in the common room later that evening when he asks, "You had another run-in with the Weasley twins, didn't you?"

"What—what makes you think that?" I reply as I put the finishing touches on my Astronomy essay. I really should have gone to that class rather than skipping with Draco.

"When I was showing you around the castle, they kept giving me this look," he answers, rolling up his parchment. "And it wasn't their normal resentful look. It was…more severe."

"Yeah, I had a run-in with them this morning," I admit.

"If they're bothering you, I can get Crabbe and Goyle to help me put a stop to it," he says calmly.

"I can take care of myself." The son of a Death Eater telling me he could protect me rather than harm me. If only Voldemort could see him now.

He nods. "Well, we're here if you need us."

"I'll keep that in mind."

Draco smiles. "So this Vanishing Spell in Transfiguration—can you help me?"

I would give my left leg to see Lucius's face when his son asked me for help with Transfiguration spells. "I'll give it a try, but I've never really been good at teaching things to others." That's only a half-lie. I've never been good at teaching things because I have never had a reason to try teaching anything to anyone.

"You're going to suggest that I read the book, aren't you?" he laughs.

"That was my first thought."

He sighs. "Will you at least sit with me while I read the chapter?" His gray eyes are pleading.

"Fine." The two of us stand up and move toward the sofa in front of the fire. I snuggle close to him, and we throw our feet up on the table in front of us. Now that I have the time, I begin attempting to Conjure something again. This time I do not start with a chair like those over at the tables, and I do not try to Conjure a Quaffle either. No, I am starting with something even smaller: a quill.

The first try—nothing. The same goes for every time I try to Conjure the quill for the next ten minutes. I huff at my inability to this. Perhaps I should take my mind off Transfiguration. My eyes wander to the fire, that constant flame that seems to mock me because why can't my life be as constant as it? "Draco, how does the fire stay burning all the time?"

He lowers his book to his lap. "I…I don't really know. It's Hogwarts. Things just happen here." The boy looks at me and smirks. "Why don't you try reading a book to find out?"

"What book do you suggest?"

He grins. "I have no idea." Draco begins reading the Transfiguration book once more, and I look back to the flame. Perhaps I could find out in Hogwarts: A History if I ever decided to pick that book up again. Or maybe I could just ask one of the professors. No, that is entirely out of the question.

I look back at the flame, longing for my life to be as steady as that fire. So far the only constant in my life is Hogwarts and Draco. Perhaps that's all I need. Someone to care about me, and a place where I can be safe. It shouldn't be too much to ask for, but I feel as if I am asking for the world.

Once again I go back to Conjuration. And once again, I fail to even Conjure a quill. Nearly five minutes later I am tempted to give up completely when I feel it. The tip of my wand glows for a moment, and then it appears. A quill. Sitting on my lap. One that hadn't been there a moment before. A jolt of excitement surges through me, and I begin hitting Draco's leg to get my attention. "Draco!" I breathe. "Draco!"

"Charlotte, I am trying to read, as per the instructions of Professor Rodgers."

"Draco!" I still manage to keep my voice down. Finally, Draco sets his book on his lap. "I Conjured it!" I hold the quill up. "I Conjured it!"

He tosses his book onto the table at our feet. "You're Conjuring things and I can't even vanish something yet. Professor Rodgers, please help me."

I begin laughing. "You don't understand. I have been trying to Conjure things for months now."

He gives my hand a comforting squeeze. "Congratulations!"

His eyes are pleading again. "All right, I'll help you."

"You're a lifesaver, Charlotte Rodgers." He kisses my cheek.