I'm extremely sorry for the mega-long wait. But here now is chapter eleven.

– chapter eleven –

Halloween

He was late again. Robert hated it to be the last turning up, but somehow he never got anywhere on time. How he had got to classes mostly punctual the last five years he had no idea.

Running as fast as he could he turned into the last corridor and – of course, how could it otherwise be for one single time – collided with somebody coming towards him. The person hissed in pain, then a thud told him he or she had made contact with the hard floor, probably on his or her bum. Breathing hard, Robert bent over to help this person up, muttering apologies.

The other one didn't take his offered hand.

Wondering, Robert looked down to see who he had run into. It was a girl, her long black hair, which he knew was usually straight, straying in every possible direction, her school uniform crumpled. She didn't say anything, but her eyes pierced his with such intent – not hate, at least not among the most prominent emotions he saw – it was hard to look away. Robert could lose himself in her eye colour, a misty grey.

'Look, I'm sorry. I wasn't looking. But I'm quite in a hurry, so if you could –'

'That's the problem with you,' she interrupted him and stood, alone, dusting off her clothes. 'You're always late, Hitchens. And if you'd been in the last meeting on time, you would have known we rescheduled the time of today to half an hour earlier. Then you would've at least stormed into the room in the middle of the meeting. But no, you run into me – after it's already over.'

'I… What? Why did you reschedule?' He looked confused.

'Because.'

She turned to leave, to let him stand there alone, but he swivelled around and grabbed her wrist. 'Wait. That's not an answer.'

Another piercing look was shot in his direction, but this time it only contained purest loathing. She hated him and dared Robert to let go of her, otherwise she wouldn't guarantee for whatever might happen. But he wanted answers and therefore wouldn't let her go before he had them.

'Look, I –'

'Spare your spit,' Robert was interrupted again, this time by another voice, a male one. 'And let go of her, Mudblood, or I'll have to help.'

Robert heard the warning tone in the sentence; nevertheless he held onto her wrist a fraction too long, it seemed, for he suddenly felt the tip of a wand against his temple. He didn't know what curse or jinx the other would use, but knew that Savaric Orwell could get really fiery – not only literally meant. That was why he disconnected his hand from her wrist.

The wand vanished shortly after, hesitating a little. Robert saw Isla Black shooting Savaric a meaningful glance, then turning around the corner and out of sight. Now he was alone with the pure-blood. And he was afraid.

'You know, Mudblood –'

'My name's Robert Hitchens,' he spoke up in a brave manner he didn't really feel.

'– I won't be that nice the next time you corner my girl. Understood?' Savaric's brown eyes shot him a look that, if eye contact could do that, was intended to kill Robert.

'Understood,' he mumbled to get rid of the Slytherin.

With a malicious sneer, the taller youth stepped away and followed his betrothed.

--

I couldn't concentrate. The figures in front of me moved around, trying to beat my opponent, but I didn't know what I was doing. It should therefore be no wonder that I lost, the second time in only ten minutes.

'I don't suppose it would do any good if we continue playing?'

Questioningly looking up, I saw Savaric sitting opposite me. I even had missed the fact that I had been playing against him.

'Probably not.'

'Care to fill me in?' He took the figures and packed them away before closing the chessboard.

'Actually… no.' I couldn't explain why I just said that, only that I felt inexplicably daring and not in the mood to discuss with Savaric things I had to think about.

An angry glittering in his eyes told me before his words that I would have to be careful. I knew this, but I just didn't seem to learn that Savaric could be very dangerous, for others as well as for me. Or, I might argue, I just didn't want to learn that lecture.

'Why is that? And since when do you not tell me everything that bothers you?'

I self-confidently looked him in the eye. 'Because I just want to be left alone right now. I need to think and having you talk to me is only interruptive.' Throwing all caution I had promised myself to exercise towards Savaric out of the window, I stood, turned to leave and said over my shoulder, 'And you don't need to threaten others only because they talk to me. I wouldn't be allowed to have a conversation with anyone this way, except you.'

The look on his face told me that I had gone too far and that he would have me pay for that cheek.

--

Robert had luckily met a fellow Hufflepuff who told him about the meeting's results. He knew that he would have to be punctual next time, otherwise the committee would throw him out, despite the fact that most ideas for the Halloween party had come from him. But since the Slytherins had such influence within the committee, he knew that Orwell would move heaven and earth to get rid of him. No matter if the party in the end would suffer without creative ideas.

A quick look at the nearest clock told him that it was already time for dinner. But Robert had no appetite. He decided to enjoy the last warming rays of sunlight and stepped out of the oak front doors. His steps led him to the water's edge; he removed his shoes and socks, then sat, letting his feet dangle in the cool water.

Pondering over that crazy afternoon, he never heard soft steps nearing to where he sat. But when he felt someone sit down on the old tree trunk next to him, he looked up, coming out of his reveries. It was her again, only she looked a bit… different. He knew why when he noticed her paleness accentuating her already porcelain cheeks.

'What happened?' he asked, worried.

She dismissed it with a wave of her pretty manicured hand and mumbled, 'None of your business. Keep it that way.'

'But –' Robert tried to interject, but she shot him a short look that let him fall silent immediately. He wondered if all those meaningful looks and gazes were a pure-blood thing.

'I'm not here to discuss. I wanted to ask you something.'

Perplexed he stuttered, 'Okay? Then ask.'

The girl breathed deeply several times, as if to gain courage, then looked straight ahead, not meeting his eyes. 'Tell me about your family, your life,' she demanded rather than asked. 'Where do you come from? What's it like to be a Mu— to be you?'

Of all possibilities he had never thought that she would want to know what she now had asked.

'Eh… I…' He was too stunned to speak properly. 'You know… I…' She shot him an unreadable look and he tried anew. 'I… see, Isla, I –'

'That would be Miss Black to you,' she said.

'Okay, Miss Black, why do you want to know about my life?'

'That's none of your business either.'

Her haughty demeanour was getting onto his nerves and he would have liked to reprimand her for it. But he knew what results that would have.

'So? You starting sometime?'

Not knowing why, he plunged into a detailed description of what his life was like and felt. He told her everything, not even stopping to dig into the fact that his younger sister was deadly ill – and that magic could be the only way to save her life.

--

Midnight had long been gone, but he still lay awake. The scene that evening at the lake's shore played itself over and over again in his memory. She hadn't shown any sign of laughter or emotion, but she had listened intently. And after he had finished she had gone, without a word of goodbye. She had simply walked away. It had been a… strange experience to say the least.

Robert turned over onto his stomach, intending to finally fall asleep, but again her face came into his mind and he once again noticed her paleness. Why had she been this ghostly white? What had happened to let her come to him? And what, in Merlin's name, had urged her to ask him about his family and life? He knew he wouldn't get an answer, not from her or anybody else for that matter. And wondering about it would definitely not help him get some sleep that night. So he rolled over onto his back and stared at the canopy above.

He couldn't get rid of her image.

Sighing with defeat, Robert got up and slipped out of the dormitory, his pillow tucked under his arm. He would nestle himself into one of the armchairs around the common room's fireplace, hoping that the small crackling fire could do what the darkness of his dorm hadn't – lull him into sleep.

--

Next morning came and Robert still sat, wide awake, in the cosy armchair, his eyes gazing off. It was in this state his housemate found him.

'Don't tell me you've been up the whole night.'

'I have, Ranulf,' he mumbled without taking his eyes off the mantelpiece.

The sixth year Hufflepuff Prefect sighed dramatically, 'I asked you not to tell me.' Exasperated he threw his arms over his head, only to let them fall back down afterwards.

'Sorry.'

'Is it a girl?' Ranulf sat into an armchair next to Robert's, stretching his legs away from him.

'The most beautiful and mysterious one I've ever seen.'

'Let me guess… eh…' He leaned his head onto his hand and closed his eyes, feigning thinking.

'Isla Black.'

'Ah…'

Silence crept between the two youths, the fire long fizzled out.

'That'll only bring you a lot of trouble with Orwell.'

'No need to remind me.'

'Only here to help my friends and comrades survive a lost war.'

Robert finally looked at him, his eyebrows raised suspiciously. 'Has anybody spiked your juice? You're utterly unhelpful today, Ranulf.'

The spoken to grinned. 'My intention.' That earned him a smack with Robert's pillow, which soon developed into a wrestling match with both of them laughing jollily.

--

Throughout the next two weeks Isla Black never gave a sign of recognising him in any way. During classes or the Arithmancy club she never spoke a word to him, not even looked in his direction, even when they worked on the same project or in the same team. That was what Robert did in her stead; he cast her lots of long looks, which earned him another two talks with Orwell – although, in both occasions, the Slytherin did the talking and Robert had to listen, given the fact that he had no other choice due to being pinned to the wall by Orwell's strong grip.

An improvement in her behaviour came after the next Halloween party committee's meeting.

Robert hadn't been thrown out and banned from the planning process because, for the first time in his life, he had managed to arrive earlier than just on time or only a few minutes too late. The other committee members had been happy to keep him, only several Slytherins were silently sulking; Robert could see it in their faces. But Orwell would never try anything threatening when dozens of witnesses were around – it could ruin his reputation.

Isla kept silent, as usual, and wrote the meeting's notes, only throwing him unreadable looks whenever he thought of another spectacular idea of how to make the upcoming Halloween party a worthwhile event for everybody. So far he had suggested making it a costume ball (inspired by the traditions of the children out of his neighbourhood), had organised offers from several musicians, had planned out the food and drink supplies as well as having introduced several interesting and funny games the students could be kept entertained with.

It happened when everybody had filed out of the door and Robert was the last. Or at least he thought he was. Over in her corner Isla still stood, watching him over with a strange, long look. It sent cold shivers down his spine and he couldn't move.

'I've done a bit of research,' she started to talk, without any reference to the thoughts racing through his mind. 'From what I learned it seems that Muggles are quite… decent.'

Robert noticed her fractional hesitation before saying 'decent'. But he didn't acknowledge it. Why was she saying this?

'I guess I should grant them at least a bit intelligence. They have invented some quite remarkable things. Without magic.'

He threw her a small smile, not knowing where her words were going to lead.

'I apologise.'

So far he had stared over her shoulder at the wall to not have to look at her but her last words brought him to make eye contact with her. 'For what?'

This time she threw him a small smile.

'For ever calling people of your birth a Mudblood.'

--

He rumbled up his hair, he felt so frustrated. And whatever he tried, it didn't work out. Sighing in resignation, he folded his arms upon the table and let his head sink onto them, his chin resting atop the thick book that lay open in front of him.

'I assume you could need a hand with that.'

Robert looked up without lifting his head. In front of him, across the table's surface, stood Isla. She wore her hair down and it beautifully cascaded down the left side of her face like a waterfall; her schoolbag hung draped over her right shoulder. Her misty-grey eyes held no emotion, and whatever she was thinking that moment – he couldn't read it.

Slowly lifting himself into an upright sitting position, he shrugged his shoulders in response, then motioned to the vacant chair to his left. She sat down and pulled the tome towards her to read the instructions Robert had pondered over.

Minutes ticked slowly by, the huge clock at the wall in the library noisily counting down the time. The sounds the other students made and their talking vanished into the background; it was only him and her, alone, sitting together at one table.

Feigning interest into the text of the book, reading it upside down, he observed her in secret. Her long, slender fingers slowly turned page after page, pulled another book towards her and opened it to uncover its mysterious content. It didn't look like those fingers were working, but rather moving in a fascinating, complex dance across the pages.

'Staring at my fingers will not help you write this essay, Hitchens,' her sharp tone penetrated his mind and he quickly looked up at her. Although Robert knew her eyes could hold a lot of emotions – or at least he hoped they could –, he found nothing of it there right now; her gaze was icy cold. He mouthed a quick apology and bent over his homework again.

Isla stared at the top of his head. He was so… different than her fellow Slytherins, but nonetheless a boy – or young man – with teenage hormones from time to time taking over the control over his body and mind. The Slytherin pure-bloods were raised to behave like gentlemen, not daring to touch a girl of their midst before wedding – even if it meant to personally suffer from chastity. The only exception from this rule she knew was Savaric, and this had only been because he had asked her father for permission to have her before their wedding.

Remembering her birthday several months back, warmth crawled into her cheeks, but she willed herself to not blush in front of a Hufflepuff. She quickly looked over to him to see if he had noticed anything, but for once he did what he was supposed to do. He comes from another background, was raised differently, she thought. And she didn't mind; she had to admit that she rather enjoyed having him around, talking with his uncomplicated self. It meant a change from the stiff and tense air waving through the Slytherin common room. And it allowed her to feel… free.

'Would you mind lending me your quill? I've broken my last one and need to buy a new one.'

'Of course.' She grabbed her bag and rummaged through its contents, unearthing one of her favourites quills. She eyed it fondly, but then reached over the table to hand it to him.

They worked mostly in silence, Isla only sometimes pointing out a mistake. She was really good in Potions and always received top marks, whereas Robert was becoming a lost case. He had been lucky to have been accepted into the NEWT class, but what Professor Doherty taught in sixth year was beyond his logic. His marks were one of the worst.

Usually Avice Greenwood, a fellow Hufflepuff, would help him out, being the only one beside him of Hufflepuff house having managed to get into the advanced Potions class. But since Avice lay in the Hospital Wing with a bad cold, he had to fend for himself.

'If you intend to stab that sheet of parchment with the quill, go on. Don't let me disturb you with that.'

Realising that he dotted his "i"s harder than necessary, he grinned apologetically and tried to do it a little bit softer. Out of the corner of his eyes he noticed Isla shaking her head and sighing in defeat. She mumbled something that suspiciously sounded like 'Boys!'

With pleasant and happy feelings flapping within his stomach, Robert finished writing his essay within an hour, afterwards handing it to Isla to read it over, not trusting his common sense to have kept to the assignment. But she had no negative comments to give, so he hoped he would, for once, receive a good mark for it.

Shooting a quick glance at the library clock, Isla stood, packing her things up. 'I have to leave. They'll surely miss me by now.' Robert didn't dare to ask but he had a good idea who she meant with "they".

She had already taken five steps when he remembered that he was still holding her borrowed quill. 'Wait! You forgot this.'

Isla stopped and looked back over her shoulder. 'You may keep it.'

Looking stunned, he didn't even thank her.

--

Halloween night came, and with it the big party. The committee had finished the party preparations a week beforehand, and Robert had finally found some last-minute time to finish his costume. He had chosen to go as a dwarf, and he still had to make the pointed hat and buy a beard and some shoes. Luckily there had been another trip to the village before the party night so he had been able to get everything he had still been missing, including a new set of quills. The one Isla gave him he held in honour, not using it too often as not to break it.

Standing in front of the mirror, Robert turned from left to right checking that everything sat correctly. He looked acceptable he decided and left his dorm rather hurriedly seeing that he was late again.

In the Great Hall the headmaster, Professor Kasteros, was already giving his party welcoming speech. Robert slipped in through the double doors and then quickly looked around, finding himself a still vacant seat at his housemates' table. On his way over to his friends he saw the most unusual costumes. Pride and joy raced through his veins; he was sure that this Halloween would go down in Hogwarts' history.

Not far from the Hufflepuff sixth years' table were the Slytherins seated. Robert immediately noticed Orwell and his friends. They were wearing robes of lords. And they behave like them, he thought, sending their table a dark look. None of the Slytherins noticed it though.

Suddenly food appeared in front of them. The dishes looked as delicious as always, and Robert started eating, conversing with Ranulf who sat next to him. Later, when all the plates had been cleaned, the headmaster flicked his wand, replacing the tables and chairs with comfortable sofas and small refreshment tables. This left enough space for dancing which started immediately.

The musicians started playing a quick, happy melody. The first pair entered the dancing parquet, and Robert noticed that it were Orwell and Isla. Her long dark hair was pinned up in a crown-like fashion, and the skirts of her dark red silk dress swirled amazingly when Orwell twirled her around. They looked good together, Robert had to admit, but he didn't like to see them being this close. A knot formed in his throat, and slowly envy rose, leaving a sour aftertaste on his tongue. He gulped several times but the bitterness still lingered. He decided to get himself something to drink.

Most of the evening, Robert was distracted by lots of people when they talked to him or invited him to join in their games or small competitions. He laughed a lot and enjoyed himself immensely. Only once his thoughts wandered back to Isla when he glimpsed her on the dancing parquet. But a firm shake of his head chased them away again. Under no circumstance he wanted to spoil the party for himself.

It was nearing midnight when Robert excused himself from the group he stood with to get another drink. He found a refreshment table that wasn't besieged by crowds of thirsty students and made to refill his cup.

'I would never have thought about you to be this caring.'

Robert slowly turned his head and saw the princess standing next to him; her grey eyes scrutinising his fake-bearded face. In her pretty hand an empty cup waited to be filled again. He grabbed the ladle once more, filled his cup and offered her the drink silently. She accepted, handing Robert her empty cup. Robert filled that cup for himself.

'Wouldn't you when your sister was ill?'

She didn't answer, but left the refreshments' table, steering to empty seats in the nearest corner. With a short look back over her shoulder she invited him to follow. He did as she wished.

'Maybe,' she whispered, after both had sat for several moments in silence. Her gaze was zoned out.

'I'm sure you would.'

'I'm a Slytherin.' Her haughty demeanour had reappeared.

'And that changes matters how?'

Her silent look told volumes he didn't want to see. Instead he leaned back and let his gaze wander over the assembled crowd, dressed and multicolour-painted. A lot of the students as well as several professors were dancing to the song the invited musicians were playing, the others mingling in and about, talking, laughing and joking.

'I'm not like you.'

'So far I've noticed.'

Isla tried to make eye contact and when she had, she snapped, 'You do know that your answers are going to cost you your precious neck?'

Robert returned her fathomless stare unperturbed. His logic told him to be careful with what he said and did, especially with Orwell in close distance. But his heart told him that she was not lost yet. Her interest in him and his world showed that she was willing to discover what lay beneath the beliefs she had been raised with. It would be a long and hard way, but one worth going.

'I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable,' Robert apologised and stood, intending to leave. He had to get away from her.

Isla, on the other hand, had different intentions. 'Shut up and sit down again, you idiot,' she snarled, grabbing his arm with her hand and yanking him back down next to her. 'I'm not going to tell Savaric about our talk.'

That surprised him. 'Why not?'

'Because…' she hesitated, licking her lips nervously. Robert stared; her tongue looked sweet when darting out of her mouth the way it was just doing. 'He wouldn't… understand,' she finished, bringing his attention back to her words.

'Why are you putting up with him then?'

She rolled her eyes in exasperation. 'For your information, just in case that it hasn't reached your ears yet: We. Are. Betrothed.'

'It may be a reason, but it's no visible obstacle. You can always leave him –'

'– and get punished by him and my parents? Oh, joy, what a suggestion,' she exclaimed sarcastically. 'You have no idea what I leaving Savaric would cause. I can't risk that.'

'It's your life –'

'– laden with responsibilities,' she whisper-shouted and washed away the comment he wished to phrase with a finger pressing onto his lips. 'I'm sorry, but I can't. Nothing will change that.' She stood suddenly, looking down at him. 'I better get going. Goodnight, Bob.' Within an instant she was gone, as if she had already learned to Apparate.

Robert just stared at the spot she had last stood. She had called him by his family's nickname.

And at her final words her eyes had looked sad.

As always, thanks to my beta, mudbloodproud.

Also, thanks for reading, and why not leave me a review to tell me what you thought?