I was softly rubbing my lower back, appeasing the ache that resided there. I had a knot, a bad one. Maybe it was from the stress, but most probably, it was due to the fact Nott had thrown me in a bookcase. That prick, he enjoyed it too.

I tried to hold back a wince but failed miserably. I looked into the mirror, watching with worry the purple bruise that was forming. I sighed. What I wouldn't do…

"Hailey? You okay?" my thoughts were interrupted.

"Fine," I responded coldly, trying my best to pretend I couldn't feel pain in this very instant when, let's be real, it was the only thing I felt.

"Would you like me to check?"

"Go away."

"Well, well, well, look who it is," Montague said when the door flew open. I turned as I heard the bell of the shop go off, staring with anticipation and surprise as I saw part of the Slytherin Quidditch team.

"Marcus?" I asked, raising a brow. I had spent the day being happy-friendly with the girls from the Gryffindor Quidditch team, though I think I should call them by their names, since we're now 'friends' or something of the sort. Marcus had said something about being friends with the girls first, seeing as that was, according to him, the most difficult part of the job. Clearly, he's never tried to be friends with Weasleys. They might not be great with magic but… and even then; I don't think it applies to the elder redheads. Percy's a pretty smart guy isn't he?

"Hello princess, everything been going the way you've been hoping?" Marcus gave me his usual smirk.

"No." I turned away from him, pretending to be occupied with the items on the shelf. "But I guess that's expected when even your friends lie to you about going on vacation to Greece."

"I didn't mean to offend you love, but I really need you to do this one thing for me," Marcus simply responded, rejecting any of the blame I was trying to push onto him.

"The strats I know. I've already told you it's not that simple." I pinched the bridge of my nose.

"That's exactly why we're here princess!" Adrian smiled and hugged me from behind. "We're actually here to help, can you believe that?"

"Actually I can't, "I pushed away from him and crossed my arms in front of my chest, resting my weight onto my left leg. Slytherins don't help each other, they gloat in the glory and shame the weak, I'm well placed to know that.

I hummed lowly, and moved to the next shelf of Quidditch related items, which were of no use to me, or interesting in the slightest. And yet I was capable of pouring my entire attention to them as if they were the most interesting things in the world. I guess when you want to get away from someone you're capable of anything, huh?

"See there's one problem with the Gryffindor pride, they're weak to others in need. They have this incommensurable need to help those who have less than they do." Marcus trailed behind me, way to close to my liking.

"Since when do you know how to use words like 'incommensurable'," I asked, not even looking back towards him and trailing my fingers along a small wooden bat exposed before me. Suddenly, Marcus grabbed my wrist and tightened his grip, forcing me to look at him.

"Listen here princess," his voice was full of venom. "You better be a good little girl and do as you're told without thinking too highly of yourself. I ain't mean, but I could be, you know that right?" His voice made my entire body shiver with what I could only shamefully describe as fear.

"Apparently you're pitiful enough to attract their attention, or Wood's at least," Theodore added on the same frightening tone, although it had much less impact than Marcus. I would have glared towards him but I was lost in Marcus Flint's eyes. What sort of sex appeal he lost with those monstrous teeth of his, he made up for with his eyes. So deep and shiny with pride, beautiful eyes really.

"H-how would you know?" I managed.

"We heard a conversation between him and his lapdog Bell," Montague added, reminding me that I heard very little come out of his mouth throughout the year. We weren't particularly friends, but he was part of Marcus's gang so I had assumed I would see a lot more of him; but no. He was a pretty discreet guy actually, which no one seemed to care about as long as he remained a good Quidditch player.

"See princess," Marcus lowered my wrist, still holding it whilst his other hand went to my waist, pulling me towards him. I placed my free hand on his chest, body tense as he continued to whisper in my ear: "We care about you."

With a voice like silk, I believed his lies.

"W-what do you want me to do?"

"Play the victim love, make them pity you. Make them feel so bad about the way you're being treated that they'll want to make you feel better. Oliver will be an easy thing to do, he already thinks like that…" Marcus explained calmly.

"But the Weasleys," Montague argued, looking towards the primary interested. "They'll be a bitch to convince." Well he had a mouth to him didn't he?

"I can fix that," Theodore offered suddenly, a smirk onto his lips. Marcus pulled away from me and nodded.

"Do what you need to Nott."

"Wha-"

I wasn't allowed to finish my sentence as Theodore Nott pushed me harshly into the bookcase behind me, making a few of the article fall beside me. I tried to contain my emotions but the surprise took over, and I let out a pitiful yelp of pain. I looked surprised towards Theodore, whom I could tell with that horrible smirk on his face, was greatly enjoying how his day was turning out to be.

"Stay down, it's better for you," Theodore warned me. I simply looked at him, powerless. They all grinned, laughed and walked out, only leaving Marcus and I together.

"Remember what I said, you have a be a victim." He said in my ear before standing back up. "Watch your step, traitor."

I know the others had seen it, all of it. It was so clear that it was staged, and yet they believed everything. Every word and every action.

"Hailey!" Katie rushed towards me, helping me to stand.

"Are you okay?" Angelina asked right after. I winced as she put her hand on my lower back, making her remove it immediately. "Sorry!"

"I'll be fine, I'll be fine," I kept repeating, trying to reassure both them and myself. I knew I wasn't going to be, I wanted to cry all the tears in my body. And as one pierced the barrier I thought I had created for myself, I watched as the Weasley twins approached me, with almost worry in their eyes.

And then I felt it again, the anger, the guilt, and the inexplicable desire to do everything possible to get things to return to the way they once were.

The door opened against my will, and my tear stained gaze locked onto the person I wanted to see least: George Weasley.

"I told you to leave," I spat, lowering my shirt immediately to cover my tummy and back and pulling my legs towards my chest. He sighed and leaned over me.

"I want to help," he said slowly, grabbing my arm. I forcefully pulled away from him.

"Don't touch me!" I was angry. "You don't want to help, you're just trying to make yourself feel better about being an ass!"

"Hailey."

"You should make up your mind! One day you tell me to fuck the hell out of your house and the next you feel bad about me getting shunned by my only friends, simply because I'm being forced to stay here, with you," my words were like venom, I knew that. But there is always a limit to the amount of crap you can take before you explode in beautiful thunder of insults and hatred. I had reached that limit. I was very good at taking on emotional abuse, but physical, that wouldn't do. And when you mix both, it's a recipe for disaster.

George looked at me, almost emotionlessly but didn't answer.

"You hate me," I continued. "You don't even who or what I am, what I want to be, what I aspire to be. You know nothing, nothing but your own stupid way of thinking. I hate you! I hate your house! I hate the fact that I'm stuck here with you people whom can think about nothing else than those stupid Houses. We're not in goddamn school! Why should it matter whether I'm Slytherin or not? You wouldn't give me this much crap if I came from BeauxBatons would you?"

I was crying, and what's worse it that I was aware of it. I couldn't do anything, not a damn thing. The anger was turning into sadness; sadness in front of my own weakness, my own incompetence and my soon to be mistakes. I was aware of it. I was aware that doing exactly was Marcus wanted was bad and yet I wanted to do it. I wanted to be bad, I wanted to be something other than just the Slytherin wasn't supposed to be there. I wanted; I needed to prove myself.

And then I did what I never thought I would do in front of George Weasley. I told him the truth: "I never asked to be put in Slytherin you know? It's just the way things are. I adapted."

After my little outburst, after the surge of adrenaline flowing through my veins, I suddenly felt little, scared and almost naked in front of this boy I barely knew. My eyes shifted to the floor. I heard shuffling and suddenly felt something warm onto my cheek, brushing away the tears. My head was pulled back up, but I kept my eyes shut. I didn't want to cry anymore, but I couldn't seem to stop.

"Hailey," the voice was calm and comforting. "Please look at me."

Reluctantly, I opened my eyes only to stare in the worried ones of the redhead before me.

"Please don't cry. I'm sorry."

I stayed, frozen, eyes locking into George's and his hand on my cheek. I didn't know what to think, nor what to say. I was feeling uneasy and yet so comfortable at the same time. I swallowed with difficulty and continued to stare at him.

"G-george?"

He suddenly pulled away and stood back up, passing a hand through his hair. He stayed for a second, looking away from me, before turning around and walking out.

I was left alone, with a confused feeling in the pit of my stomach, a bad pain in my lower back and a feeling like I had just shared a moment with George goddamn Weasley.