I pay another visit to the Gryffindor common room that night to talk to Harry.

"What's wrong?" he asks as he spots my serious, non-malicious face.

"I've been thinking about the plan."

"What about it?"

"It's…over-accomplished. I know you shouldn't fight fire with fire - although, I never listen. I just want to set everything straight again," I explain.

"Abort mission?" he asks, his lower lip puckering in a slight puppy pout.

I smile at his childishness. "Yes, abort mission."

"Why do you want to do this?"

"You're a friend. I don't want you to get hurt by Malfoy. I'm totally stressing already. I don't want to worry about the plan or you. I also don't have to worry about getting Malfoy jealous - he's jealous enough already."

"I guess so." He pauses. "I'll miss his angry face." We laugh.

"This was fun. I'll see you around, then."

"Yeah."

With nothing else to say, I walk out. I'm still stressed. I go for a walk to the Black Lake to clear my head and then gather my thoughts again.

I sit beside the Lake, the glittering stars above being my only companion. I let one thought lead to another: the good times with Potter, Malfoy jealous of us, me jealous of Pansy, how I hate Malfoy, and lastly, the good times of mine and Draco's short-lived relationship.

I contemplate everything that has happened since I got on the train this year. I decide to simply trust my heart and hope for the best from now on.

An arm snakes around my shoulder and I jump in surprise.

"Relax," a cold voice reassures smoothly. "It's only me."

"That's reassuring," I say sarcastically, turning away from Malfoy.

"Come on. That was great acting these past few weeks."

"It wasn't acting, moron," I lie.

"Right," he says, disbelievingly. "I know that you never meant anything you did and said since you saw me with Pansy."

"I meant everything."

"Oh, really?" he asks sarcastically with a mischievous grin plastered on his face.

"Really."

"We'll see about that, Simmons."

I swing my head around, suspicious. "You're up to something. What is it?" I've known him since we were kids, so I always know when he's up to something.

"What are you talking about? I'm not up to anything." Surprisingly enough, he sounds pretty convincing, but I know him well enough to know that he is most certainly up to something.

"I don't buy it."

"Not selling." He smirks like he thinks he's hot shit and stands up and walks away, leaving me to wonder what was on his sick, twisted, perverted mind.