The walk back to the common room was a vague whirl of snow and stone corridors. My consciousness was focused on trying to understand what happened. A girl was seemingly possessed because of some crazy package. Because of… me? But I didn't know. I never intended to hurt her – I didn't even know what was in it, or hardly what I had been doing. Still, I was the agent. I had willingly volunteered (sort of) myself for the job. But did my lack of knowledge justify my actions?

And what about Draco Malfoy? It was his paper package. Yet, as much of an assbite as he was, possessing people didn't really seem like his style. Besides, what would he have against this girl? I didn't even know if they ever had any contact whatsoever. Could he possibly have not known?

But what about that crazy warning? Pretending that nothing happened, telling no one about it was kind of a stretch. Could he have known? Was he expecting that to happen?

Fuck, man.

"Draco," I said before he entered the portrait hole. He dropped the foot he had lifted in mid-step. "Did you know?"

"Know what?"

"That would happen."

"To who? Katie Bell?" I nodded. "No, I didn't know it would happen to her."

"So it wasn't that thing you made me put in the bathroom?"

"I guess not."

His back was to me – I didn't know how he felt, if he was lying.

"Then," I added, as a last question. "Will she be okay?"

There was a twinge of regret in his voice when he spoke again. "I don't know."

I left it at that. He climbed into the portrait hole, hand on the back handle. "Are you coming in or what?"

"You go ahead," I muttered glumly. Shrugging nonchalantly, he pulled the portrait door close, leaving me alone in the corridor.

Seriously, that was it? No "let's do this again sometime" or "thanks for the awesome time we had"? Or, oh, I know – how about, "sorry for getting you into a shitload of trouble"?

I crossed my arms across my chest and grimaced at the portrait hole. Rude.

I walked away from the common room entrance, my head bowed. The image of the poor girl caught in mid-air put both a sickening feeling in my stomach, and a cold shiver down my spine. I wanted to get out. I wanted to go home. I needed to be back home, unless I wanted to die a painful death here in this unfamiliar place. And I needed to stay away from Draco Malfoy.

But it seemed as if he hadn't known, hadn't meant that to happen to her. It had even sounded like he'd felt a little sorry for her. Yet, the element of panic escaped him at the scene of the terror – that, in itself was strange…

I was so immersed in my thoughts that I didn't notice the pale hand that shot out from my left. It grabbed my by the collar and, in my shock, I let out a high shriek – even this, though, was cut off by the other hand being clamped over my agape mouth. For a split second, I resigned myself to death.

"Blake!" A voice hissed into my ear.

I quit struggling and looked up into the speaker's face. A pair of green eyes shone down at me.

"What the fuck was that for, Harry?" I demanded angrily, yanking his hand away from my mouth. I thought my comment would be met with a sheepish apology, but all my assumptions seemed to be formulated wrong.

"What did he do to her? What did he do?" The serious, grave look on his face told me now was not the best time to mess with his moods.

"What? Who?"

"Draco Malfoy!" He nearly bellowed in frustration. "What did Draco Malfoy do to Katie Bell?"

So did he assume it was Draco too? But perhaps it was his personal vendetta to the mysterious blonde boy.

"What do you mean?"

"Come on, Blake! You were with Draco in Hogsmeade. Tell me what he did to her!"

For reasons still unknown to me, I began to feel somewhat defensive on Draco's part. Maybe it was because I didn't just know something, but I had played a part in it, no matter the fact that it was a minor role.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I said coldly. "But Draco Malfoy had nothing to do with it."

"But it was him. He's a Death Eater."

"I don't even know what that is," Even the phrase sounded frighteningly taboo. "But I was with him the whole time. He didn't even come near that Katie Bell whoever."

"He didn't have to, to have something happen to her," He snapped. "I know it was him. And I'm sure as hell he's a Death Eater."

"Maybe you've been mistaken," I suggested.

"You said so yourself, Blake. You saw the tattoo," His voice fell to a hoarse whisper. "You know he's a Death Eater."

"No, I don't!" I shot back. "That could have been anything. I might have just – it doesn't mean he's… whatever that is."

"But it doesn't make any sense otherwise!" He cried, frustrated.

"Look, I'm sorry about your friend, but Draco really had nothing to do with it." I think.

Harry Potter's shoulders slumped. He shook his head.

"But it doesn't make any sense," He repeated.

"What happened, Harry Potter?" I asked quietly.

"It was a curse. Katie Bell was cursed," He shook his head. "Some sort of darkly bewitched necklace."

"How did she come across it?"

"No idea. Some package, I'd expect. But she wasn't meant to keep it. She said she was supposed to deliver it."

"To whom?"

"To Professor Dumbledore."

Woah. Harsh. I knew a lot of Slytherins hated him, but enough to want to curse him with a piece of jewelry? Completely below the belt, man.

"So, will she be… okay?"

"I don't know."

He fell silent, his expression saddened. I didn't know what to say – everything had grown completely awkward and awful.

"I'm sorry I scared you," He mumbled.

"It's okay. Just don't do it again or I'll cut off your balls," I joked weakly. He cracked a small smile.

"I'll be keeping that in mind."

"Well, I have to go. I have to, you know," I shrugged. "Sleep off the trauma.

"I'm sorry you had to see that, Blake." He shook his head.

"It's not your fault," I assured him.

No, it's not your fault, Harry Potter. It's mine.

An hour later, I entered the dim common room, my teeth chattering from the cold. Before I rounded the corner, however, my ears picked up a quick and intense conversation. I strained my senses to comprehend what I was hearing.

"… Katie Bell girl was just a minor setback," It was Draco's cold voice, sounding very irked.

"That minor setback could have had you expelled!" The familiar voice of Blaise Zabini had lost its jovial, mocking tone. Now, it was filled with worry and a great amount of agitation.

"I had it all under control," Draco shot back.

"Oh, yeah, definitely. That's why she was hanging thirty feet off the ground, looking like a rabid, possessed maniac."

"I told you, things just didn't work out. But I have it all under control – You just stay out of my damn way."

"Alright," Blaise replied coolly. "But tell me first what Blake Asher has to do with all your little plans."

"Nothing. She's just a pawn."

Ugh. Well, you can be the queen in a little skirt, Draco Malfoy.

"Seems a little more than that," Blaise commented.

"It's not. I just needed someone inconspicuous to plant the package."

So what happened to that girl wasn't some freak accident. And Draco didn't just know something – he had everything to do with it. And I, according to him, was the stupid pawn.

"But you have to watch out, Draco. She's not as stupid as Crabbe and Goyle. You have to quit messing around with her or she'll find out. Besides," Blaise warned. "You probably don't want to give her the wrong impression. Or are you really even trying?"

"Meaning what, exactly?" Draco snapped testily.

"Meaning I'm still trying to work out why you told Theodore Nott to stay away from her," Blaise said, never skipping a beat.

"That," He snorted. "Was not a conversation meant for your ears."

"I know things beyond my safe little bubble, contrary to your beliefs."

"If Theodore Nott gets in the way, let's just say the master plan won't happen," Draco said gravely.

"What does that have anything to do with-"

"It doesn't. I just need a couple of errands done, okay? Just stop getting in the way

already," And I heard Draco storm off into the boys' dormitory, his footsteps fading into nothingness. I decided at that point that It was safe enough to emerge, clearing my throat.

"Asher," Blaise greeted, missing the air of someone who had just gossiped about me. "Where have you been?"

"Walking," I answered vaguely. "Where's Draco?"

"Sulking in bed, I would imagine," He chuckled. "Not smart to disturb him, I reckon."

"Oh. Shame, what happened to that Katie what's-her-face, am I right?" I ventured in, sounding nonchalant. For a moment, I thought his posture went rigid, but nothing else expressed it was more than a reaction to a bone-chilling gust of wind.

"Yes, shame. But things like that will pass in a week or two."

"Do you think she'll be alright?"

"Yeah, most likely," He ran a hand through his hair. "But perhaps we should stop discussing a sensitive, depressing topic. Have you got any plans for the break, then? Going home?"

"No," I realized I didn't even know where I would be going, if I had to.

"Then you're staying for the break?"

"Yeah, I guess, why?"

"That's great. How do you fancy a little shindig?"

"Shindig?" I echoed. "Like, a party?"

"Yes," He grinned. "Exactly like a party."

"You're inviting me to a party? At this date and time?" I snorted. "But why?"

"Unfortunately," He sighed. "My beautiful girlfriend happens to be returning home for the Christmas Break, and I need a partner for this party. I'm obviously not going to go with just any girl, so…"

"I'm thinking you think I should be flattered."

"I do, I really think you should," He smirked. "Is that a yes, then?"

"Will it be fun?"

"Hopefully. If not, don't worry," He patted my shoulder. "I'm sure things will rise up to your standards eventually."

I didn't bother asking what mean, mocking things this comment implied. Instead, I just conceded. "Yeah, okay. Is Draco going?"

He snorted. "The man's got plans of his own. Can't be bothered with a dumb party."

"Yeah, he doesn't seem much like the party animal type."

"Oh, he was. Once," He shook his head. "Then he got himself into a shitload of – the point is, he won't be going."

"That's a shame."

"Oh, don't worry, Asher," He chortled. "I won't let any scary, possessed Katie Bells come near you."

I watched him walk to the stairs leading to the dorm, my face somewhat between a suppressed glare and an amused smile.

"Oh, and Blake," He added as an afterthought, one foot on the first step. "Try to wear something appropriate for the occasion. Okay?"

With that, he walked up into the boys' dormitory, leaving me alone in the cold, empty common room.

Saturday, eight o'clock rolled by, and I was down in the common room, staring blankly at my reflection in the windowpane. Despite Pansy's recent (disastrous) attempts to glamorize herself in odd, slightly frightening fashions, I had to admit that her "gift" (as she termed it before she left for the holidays) was quite the shocker of the day. I ran a hand down the shiny lavender skirt around my waist, the smooth fabric tickling the skin on my fingers. My hair hung around my face, for once, in thick, loose curls. Feeling a little overdressed, and perhaps a little awkward, I adjusted the flimsy shawl around my shoulders.

Blaise descended from the boys' dormitory, fixing the tie around his neck in a professional, carefully practiced manner. A collective sigh may or may not have escaped the third year girls sitting by the hearth. He approached me, an eyebrow raised critically.

"I had to do a double take. I can hardly recognize you," He said dryly. "You never told me you were a real girl."

"It must have slipped my mind," I answered back in the same tone. "So you tell me why we're both wearing skirts?"

"It's not a skirt," He snapped. "These are proper dress robes."

"Sorry. Don't you just rent a tuxedo?"

"Pitiful muggle clothing. I'm ashamed of you," He frowned. "This is what you call real class."

"I won't argue, then."

"Shall we?" He offered his arm; I took my time staring at it uncomfortably.

"Why are you suddenly unveiling your inner gentleman?" I asked flatly.

"It's a force of habit. If you'd rather I dragged you by the ear, I could to that as well…"

Awkwardly, I looped my arm through his, and we trooped out of the common room. Only a few people in similarly-themed attire passed us, but they were all whispering about how this party would be the talk of the school for days.

"Is Slughorn really that popular here?" I wondered.

"No, of course not. Crazy, fat dingbat's just waiting to keel over and die," Blaise chortled unabashedly. "It's just that his students are. Popular that is."

"What?"

"Slughorn's got a stupid little club where he, ah, collects all the famous students in this school. Take Potter and that McLaggen kid, if you must. Barking mad, it is, but it's got some perks, I'll admit."

"You're implying that you're part of this club?" He nodded smugly in reply. "And how did that happen?"

"My mother, Blake," He rolled his eyes. "Happens to be an extraordinarily famous witch because of her beauty."

"So you take from your father, then?"

He threw me a contemptuous glare. "Still not too late for me to haul you in via ear pulling."

I made a face. But honestly, though, Blaise wasn't all that bad. In fact, upon closer, much more objective observation, he was, indeed, rather attractive.

"So that's it? You got into the stupid club because of your hot mom?"

"Please don't talk about my mother like that," He sighed tiredly. "Like I said, it's stupid, and kind of pointless. But it does have its occasional benefits, I'll admit."

"Is Draco part of the club?"

"No," He said slowly.

"Is that why he's not going to this party, then?"

Nonchalantly, Blaise stopped walking outside a small wooden door, through which heavy bass music pumped. The party was directly through that door, but we lingered outside for a while.

"Why are you so interested, Blake?"

"Is it going to benefit you if you know?"

"Not in the slightest."

"Then why ask if I'm so interested?" I challenged. He snorted.

"I know what you're thinking, Blake," He shook his head. "You think he's hiding something from you. I get it, I know. Well, I'm not going to deny it. But I'm warning you now, Blake, don't get mixed up in the stuff that's going on. He's hiding it for a reason, and if he hasn't told you, then you best keep your nose out of it."

"But you know what they are," I pressed.

"Again, I'm not denying it," He shrugged. "But that doesn't mean I'll tell you."

"Look, I'm not asking for a blow-by-blow heart-out confession from you. I just need to satisfy my curiosity. Just to make sure I'm not going completely insane."

"I'll tell you this much," With a hand gesture, he urged me forward, and we leaned into each other. His face was so close to mine I could almost see the heat transferring. Pale pink lips moved with so much precision, it was mesmerizing. "If you want to stay alive, stay away from Draco Malfoy."

My cheeks turned a brilliant shade of red, but that didn't seem to bother him in the slightest. His long fingers trapped my face in his grasp, and his ice blue eyes bore into mine.

"I suggest you fall in love with someone else, Blake Asher."

But as if it never happened, he released my cheeks and straightened up, fixing his tie. I could do nothing but stare, mouth agape, at him. He offered me a roguish grin, like he was completely unaware of what had just occurred.

"Shall we?"

"Miss Asher!"

Slughorn approached me, his fat belly bouncing off like three people in his way. I waved jovially at him, putting down my glass of punch. "Hello, Professor."

"Splendid, absolutely splendid to see you here, my dear. And you came with…?"

"Blaise Zabini, sir."

"Good, very good!" He chortled. "Enjoying yourself so far?"

"Of course, sir."

"Well, don't be shy, you are most welcome here," He prodded his sausage-like fingers to the snack table. "Have a treat! Dance with someone – oho, it's Mr. Potter! Welcome, Harry!"

Harry Potter walked up to us, holding a pumpkin tart. A big smile crossed his face upon seeing Slughorn – evidently, they were tight.

"Good to see you, m'boy! How are you enjoying the party so far?"

"It's wonderful, sir." Harry said cheerfully.

"Splendid! I was just telling Miss Asher here to come and have a little dance. Have at it, eh, Potter?" He chuckled. Harry managed a weak smile. "I must be off, then. More party guests to entertain – some, I don't even know myself! You two have fun!"

He waddled off in the opposite direction, leaving me alone with Harry and the punch bowl. Loud music continued to play from elusive speakers around the vast hall.

"So who brought you?" Harry asked.

"Blaise," I answered. A flicker of irritation crossed his face.

"Something going on between you two?"

"You know there's nothing," I snorted. "Blaise hasn't been much more dangerous than a snickering, teasing monkey, with half the brains. And who did you come with?"

"Luna Lovegood," He answered glumly.

"Who's that?"

"Fifth year. Ron's sister's friend. She's a bit…" He chose his words carefully. "Erm, odd."

"Odd? Well, but do you like her?"

He snorted, then pulled on another sober expression. "No, unfortunately the girl I fancy, she's off limits."

"From another house?"

"No. Forget about it, it's really complicated. Besides, it'll never work out, because she's with someone else already." He seemed to be distracted, then nodded at something behind me. "Heads up, it's Zabini."

Blaise was quickly weaving through the crowd, approaching my position. Instantly, Harry and I distanced ourselves, to avoid another accusation of fraternization with the enemy.

"Hey, Asher, come sit with us. Nott and some of the others are planning to head out for some more potent drinks," He eyed Harry for a brief moment. "By the way, Potter, Snape's looking for you. Perhaps to complete another ten detentions you owe from last month. Happy holidays, then." With that, he took my arm and dragged me away from the punch bowl. I groaned in protest.

"Will you stop," He hissed. "Being completely stupid and sticking around Harry Potter? People might assume the wrong things."

"Well, where were you when I decided I needed a decent companion?" I snapped.

"Talking to Theodore Nott," He answered unabashedly. "Who, I think, wants to talk to you."

"Oh, no," I waggled a finger. "You are forbidden, I repeat, absolutely forbidden to take on the role of meddling matchmaker. Especially not with that arrogant Theodore Nott guy. Or I will cut what is left of your manhood off and feed it to… to a dragon."

"We have no dragons, you twit," he rolled his eyes. "And hanging out with a snobby Theodore not is definitely a damn sight better than hanging out with Harry fucking Potter."

"And yet, I suppose hanging around harry Potter is a billion times better than hanging around Draco Malfoy?"

"I told you, Blake!" He spat frustratedly. "You cannot, I repeat, cannot get with Draco Malfoy. "

"Woah, I never said I wanted to!"

"Then quit liking him!"

"I never said that I did!"

You know that saying, "speak of the devil, and the devil will appear"? At this moment, it would probably be best to replace the subject of the sentence with "Draco Malfoy".

Because, boy, did he ever appear.

"Get your filthy hands off me, you squib!"

Not necessarily in the most graceful, cool fashion – in fact, it was pretty much the opposite. His collar came before the rest of his body, gripped by the zombie-looking caretaker, Argus Filch. The way in which he was dragged was particularly undignified.

The whole room fell quiet. Every head turned to stare at him in shock and confusion. He looked disgruntledly at Professor Snape, in the middle of the room, then to an exasperated Blaise who swore under his breath. Then, he looked at me. Unknown to myself, I reddened.

"Blaise," I hissed. "I need to use the ladies' room."

"The what?" He mumbled distractedly.

"The – oh, nevermind."

Slughorn pushed his way to the front, looking like a half-tipsy mess. He eyed the irritated, guilty look on Draco's face, and the expression of gleeful triumph on Filch's.

"What's all this rubbish then?"

"Professor," Filch rasped, barely able to contain his joy. "I found this student wandering around the corridors of this floor. Think he's up to something, hm?"

"I'm not up to anything!" Draco growled, violently yanking himself away from the caretaker, who sneered.

"What're you doing, sneaking around the corridors, eh?" Filch demanded.

"I was just-" For once, he seemed flustered and at a loss for words. "I was just trying to gatecrash, okay? Are you happy?"

Filch bared his ugly, uneven teeth at Draco, as though threatening he'd take a chunk out of the boy's face. Luckily, Slughorn was quick to intervene.

"It's quite alright, Argus!" He waved his fat hand quickly. "Let the boy be. Mr. Malfoy is most welcome to share the holidays with us!"

"Actually," Snape interjected wearily. "I think it would be best if I had a little chat with Draco. If you don't mind, Horace."

"Not at all, Severus."

"Come, Draco," Professor Snape said, his tone clipped.

"Yes, Professor," Draco spat angrily. Together, they swept out of the hall, all eyes on them. The great door creaked shut, and it was only then that the buzz of conversation resumed.

"That was kind of weird." I observed. Blaise exhaled loudly through his nose.

"Right," He snapped. "Where was I?"

"You were saying something about Draco Malfoy, I think."

"Oh. Well, never mind it, then," He said absently.

"Then can I go to the bathroom?" I asked, a sheepish smile creeping onto my face.

"Yeah, whatever," He sighed. "Could you hurry up, though? I feel like going. This party's a total drag."

"I'll be back," I promised, then walked out the door, into the dark, cold corridor.

Okay, don't judge me. I'm not a regular stalker-slash-eavesdropper. But seeing as what had happened had really just happened, I thought this was a more special case. I just really needed to put some of my innate curiosity at ease.

I pulled off my noisy shoes and, carrying them, tiptoed through the hall, ignoring the freezing surface of the stones. I felt like my breathing was amplified tenfold. My skirt was rustling in the wind like a paper bag. If I were a spy, I'd be totally fired.

But, hey, I got somewhere.

A low and intense conversation permeated the chilly silence. Even though it was carried out in whispers, the anger the words carried was thick, and too evident.

"… Mother asked me to protect, you, Draco," Professor Snape said in an icy tone. "I will not break that promise."

"I don't need your protection!" Draco spat. "I have it under control!"

"So it seems."

"You're talking about the Katie Bell girl. I told you, I had nothing to do with it."

"And yet all suspicions point to you?"

"Well, I didn't do it! And stop treating me like a child."

"You aren't ready for this. Please, Draco, stop what you are doing. I beg of you," Snape's voice took on a strangely anxious edge. Draco scoffed.

"No, you just have to stop getting in my way."

"Then let me help you." Snape offered.

"I don't need your help!" Draco retorted. "I don't need anyone's help! I need to do this alone."

"But you cannot achieve this alone."

"I know what you're trying to do!" Draco suddenly exclaimed angrily. "You're trying to steal all my glory!"

"Please, Draco!" Snape chastised him.

That was the last thing I heard before the door to Slughorn's party swung open, and light scattered through the darkness. The defined silhouette of Blaise Zabini stepped out from the doorway.

"Asher?" He called out, sounding annoyed.

In an impulse, I departed from my station and hurried over to him, my face feeling warm and uncomfortable.

"Sorry," I panted, skidding to a halt in front of him. He eyed me suspiciously.

"Why are you barefoot?"

"Foot ache," I lied. "You'd have one too, if you'd been standing on heels all night." I slipped my shoes on.

"Are you drunk?"

"What?" I stared. "No!"

"You haven't been throwing up in the bathroom, have you?"

"Of course not!" I rolled my eyes. "I haven't drunk anything the least bit alcoholic."

"Only checking," He shrugged, then took my waist, just as a proper gentleman might have.

"Do I detect a hint of concern, Blaise?"

"Careful, Asher, your head is on backwards."

"Thought so," I snorted.

As we walked off, I risked a quick glance back at the once-occupied corridor. But all I saw was an open maze of stone, that held mere darkness.