Dean blindsided me. I cried and he seemed a little shaken by it, but I'd fled. I hid in my room for hours by myself. The walls gradually grew more orange with the setting sun until it was just dark and I still didn't want to budge from under the covers. The door opened and Fay came in.

"Hey, are you okay?" she asked. "Dean told me about the breakup." She crept close to my bed and tried to find my face which was hiding under the covers. "It'll be okay Parvati."

He'd said it wasn't because of me being a Half-breed freaky Vorix Seer, but had said that my hiding it hadn't helped. But I couldn't shake the feeling that at least subconsciously it had been part of the reason. No one could ever love me. Vorixes never marry for "unknown reasons" the book had said. What if it was simply because no one wanted to marry us?

I felt Fay's hand on my blanketed shoulder. "You missed dinner, but I brought you a piece of pumpkin loaf. It has icing on it." I emerged from my cocoon. From the look on Fay's face I knew I looked like hell. I took a bite of her offered treat. At least that dulled the hunger pains a little. "I'm sorry Parvati. It'll be okay though you know. Don't be sad because of a boy. They're all stupid. Especially ones who would break up with someone like you."

I appreciated the support but I knew she was wrong. I was damaged goods in all kinds of ways. Living with battle trauma. Had no idea what I was going to do with my life. A freak with a condition that was going to make it difficult to be around people. If I got close to anyone I'd constantly ruin their mood with my dire predictions. I clung to Fay tightly and poured my eyes out for the umpteenth time that day. "What if he was my only chance?" I asked in my hoarse voice.

"What do you mean?"

"What if no one else wants to be with me."

"Don't be silly Parvati."

"I'm serious. Once they know the truth, who'd want to be with me?"

"Parvati, of course there are guys who want to be with you. You're beautiful and smart and talented. So what if you can see the future, we're Magical remember, lots of us are total weirdos."

I didn't believe her, but it was sweet that she tried.

I had to leave the room for breakfast the next morning, I couldn't skip classes. I looked in the mirror and tried not to cringe at the puffy eyes. I just had to pick myself up and get through the day. As I was leaving Hermione asked if I was okay and then offered to walk down to breakfast with me. I appreciated it.

At breakfast Fay was missing for her early morning Arithmancy lesson, so I sat between Hermione and Neville, as far from Dean as I could manage. I listened to the conversation around me trying to choke down a few pieces of toast. At some point Neville started telling me about a Herbology project he was working on, and nervously aware of my recent breakup and depressed demeanor, kept up his ramblings for about ten minutes.

Finally I interrupted him with a question, "Neville, didn't you help Harry figure out how to breath underwater during the Triwizard tournament?"

"Oh yeah, I told him he could use gillyweed."

"How does it work exactly?"

"You eat it and you kind of grow gills for an hour or so." Great, then I could look like the freak I was on the inside.

"Where did he get it?"

"Snape had some that Harry 'borrowed'."

"Is it easy to get?"

"It used to be expensive, but a blight wiped out almost all the crop the last two years, and I haven't been able to find any at all. Hopefully this year's doesn't fail, I was hoping to get some to finish the project I've been working on." Neville went on to tell me all about how he wanted to study the attractiveness of gillyweed as a mating habitat for magical insects.

After he was done I asked, "That's fascinating, is there really no gillyweed you could acquire? If Snape had some maybe Longwood does?" He looked happy at my sudden keenness in Herbology.

"Well, some potioneers still have some dried gillyweed, but I'd really need a live sample to do my research."

"But the dried stuff would work to do the gill-growing thing?"

"Oh yes."

"Fascinating," I said to him.

"Plants are, aren't they?" He sounded so genuinely pleased that I couldn't help but giggle a little. I happened to catch Dean looking away looking displeased. What did he think I was flirting with Neville or something? Well I couldn't care less what Dean Thomas thought. Funny how quickly that changed.

That day in Potions we received our marks on our Polyjuice Potion, and for the first time I'd scored full marks on an advanced brew. It bolstered my spirits a little. Professor Longwood allowed those of us with full marks to keep a sample, with a warning to use it responsibly. I knew it could be incredibly fun, but I wasn't sure what I was going to do with it yet, so I tucked it into my bag for another day.

As I cleaned up my desk, I volunteered to put the remaining ingredients back in the common store cupboard. I lingered for a while, searching for gillyweed to pinch, but found none. At the end of class I looked at the door to Longwood's private storeroom, and considered asking him for some gillyweed. But he would inevitably ask why, and since he knew my circumstances, I figured he'd guess my intentions and stop me from going to the Black Lake, or worse insist on escorting me.

I wanted to go back despite what had happened last time. Actually now that Dean had broken up with me, I was feeling reckless, and willing to do anything to learn the truth about myself. I would need to get my hands on some gillyweed, I'd be better prepared this time. At some point, I'd have to come back to this room and try to break into Longwood's private cupboard.

I had one more quite unpleasant task to do that day. We were to spend today's lesson in History of Magic conducting more in-depth interviews with our subject. In fact we were supposed to have been interviewing each other outside of class over the last month or so, but we hadn't done it. A draft of our report was due in a two week's time, and I was far behind. I was going to fail.

"So are you going to go first or should I?" Malfoy asked me. His hair had grown long enough to be tucked behind his ears, though it wasn't down to his shoulders yet. It looked messier this way then when it was shorter and slicked down. "Why do you look like death?" he asked offhandedly. "Taking late night dips in the lake?"

I had been looking at Dean who looked only at his partner though I'm sure he knew I was looking at him. I was only at the next desk. "Shut up Malfoy," I said, though not particularly angrily.

"What's wrong with you?" he griped. "You're always in the world's worst mood. Is it because of your, you know, fishy problem?"

"God damn it, Malfoy, can't you shut up," I hissed. I badly wanted to punch him in the face again.

"All right there, mood swing, are we going to work on this project or not?" he asked. Dean laughed at something his partner said. It stung to see him smiling so easily. "All right this is ridiculous, how am I supposed to do this project with someone that refuses to talk. I'm having Fields give me someone else."

"Everyone else is already partnered up," I responded.

"Well, maybe he'll let me pick someone not in this class, I'm not failing this assignment because of you," he closed his book, and stood up and I panicked just a little. I didn't need to be in more trouble with the Bulldog.

"Malfoy, sit down."

"I don't think so princess," he starting walking away.

I grabbed his arm, "I'll talk, come on, just sit down." He dislodged my hand and sat back down. Now Dean was looking. Just in time to watch me make an ass of myself.

"Fine, what's up with you anyway?" His eyes were narrowed in frustration.

"I'm just a little distracted. Dean and I broke up," I admitted. I knew I had to say something and practically everyone already knew.

"Oh," he uttered and remained quiet for about ten seconds. "I guess I'll have to take him out of my report after all."

"Malfoy..." I gritted my teeth.

"Was it cuz of the other guy at the lake? I told you Patil, that sort of thing is tacky," he chuckled.

"Malfoy, stop it."

"What was it then, he cheated on you?" he asked casually, like it was nothing. It unsettled me. I hadn't considered it, but in my vision there was someone else eventually. What if there already was? No he would never, he just wouldn't. But isn't that what every stupid girl said until she found out for sure?

"No, and even if he had it wouldn't matter. We're done. That's all," I said with a bit of a faltering voice. Malfoy actually took pity on me and didn't come back with a nasty rejoinder for a whole twenty seconds.

"Was it the half-breed thing? Did it freak him out that you were a freak?" Malfoy asked.

"How dare you!" I gasped out and tried to push him off the bench. He grabbed both my arms and pulled them down to the seat of our shared bench, trying to hold me in place.

"Easy there, want to get us both in trouble again? You've already had like a dozen detentions this year," he said, and he was right. I had.

"Well then just stop it," I wrenched my hands free and looked down at the desk trying to compose myself.

"I was just asking, you know in case you wanted to talk about it or something. I am like the only one who knows about your little secret, just trying to be nice," he said, dumbfounding me. I think my jaw dropped open.

I scoffed, "Why would I want to talk to you? You are not the only one who knows, I do have friends you know. And you and I are not friends. We're not. You're the enemy. You're vile, and I hate you. I hate all of you." My words should have stung, they hurt me just emerging from my throat, but Malfoy looked unperturbed, serene even.

"Well then, let's just get on with the assignment," he said. I felt so bitterly disappointed, with myself, with him, with Dean, with everything. Needless to say we managed to make very little progress the rest of class.

Later that week I had tried to escape by going to the pitch to practice my flying. I was tired of being depressed and angry, seeing Dean every meal and half my classes, and seeing the pity on everyone else's face. I whipped around the pitch chasing the snitch. I let it go again and flipped my broom upside down, counted to twenty, flipped my broom horizontally a few circles, and then chased it again. The fading light was allowing a cold to descend that nipped at my face. A few minutes later I had caught it again and worked up a sweat in the process. I looked up and noticed I was no longer alone on the pitch. Flint was mounting his broom, a sleek new model, and flew up to me holding a quaffle.

"Mind if I practice down at the other end," he asked.

"I'll tolerate it," I tried to joke, but realized I had started to blush thinking of how I'd exposed myself in front of him down at the lake. "I'm sorry about what you saw last week."

Now he turned red. "No, don't worry, it was nothing," he stuttered and I giggled. "I don't mean it was nothing, obviously it was something," I was laughing loudly now, "I mean it was no big deal," he forced the words out.

"Okay fine, to make amends I'll let you have part of the pitch, but how are you going to practice on your own?" I asked.

"Just launch the quaffle at the posts."

"Want me to play keeper?" I offered. I harbored a soft spot for this particular Slytherin. Maybe it was because I'd seen him at his most vulnerable (and he'd seen me at mine), and he seemed so sweet and soft-spoken. Nothing like his captain. Maybe he could even be converted away from the dark side.

"Sure, why not. Thanks," he smiled at me.

I was not a very good keeper. The force with which Flint could launch the Quaffle sent me and the large red ball through the goal posts on at least two occasions. Flint laughed hysterically as I fell for another one of his feints. I was finding a newfound respect for McLaggen.

"I'm not really sure this is any more challenging then practicing by myself," Flint commented.

"You're hilarious," I said. "Come on, I'm getting better, take a few more shots." I managed to deflect two of five from passing through the hoops, and threw my hands up in victory, such as it was. Flint just shook his head at my pathetic showing. It was completely dark now so we landed our brooms. There were no lights at the pitch, so it was just the two of us, with a little bit of moonlight to try and pack up our gear. As we left I chose to exploit our familiarity a bit.

"Michael, what happened. Why did those people beat you up before?" I asked.

He was silent but did answer me this time. "My brother Marcus, he was a Death Eater, but he didn't want to be I swear. He had to, our father died, and so he's the eldest Flint. If he hadn't joined, it would have seemed like we had defected to the other side."

"What's wrong with that?" I asked, trying not to be angry.

"Our father was a Death Eater, we would have been hunted down. Marcus didn't do anything too bad, he managed to dodge most of those duties. Because there were so many people that did worse, they were more of a priority last year, and he got off with just a reprimand, no time in Azkaban. Some people weren't exactly thrilled with that."

"Who?" I asked and he hesitated.

"Some people from the family of a Quidditch player he got thrown out of the league last year. The guy was so devastated, he well, hurt himself. He'll never be fit to play again."

"That is sort of horrible," I said.

"I know, but Marcus is my brother, and I saw what he went through. He didn't have much of a choice. Either way, they've had their revenge on me."

"Have they? They're satisfied? They won't try to hurt you again?" I asked skeptically.

He just shrugged.

"You should report them," I suggested.

"I think we've done them enough harm, don't you?" he responded, and I studied his face which was awash in seriousness and guilt, and I didn't know what to say. Everything was so messed up and complicated, that I couldn't see what was right anymore. More troubling to me immediately was his dark hair.

"Michael, I need you to cut all your hair off."

"What? Are you trying to change the subject?"

"Just shave it all off for me."

"Why?" he was super-confused and a little weirded out.

"It's a long story, but it's really important that you do it."

"Wait, is this about your vision about a Slytherin getting slashed in the woods? Because it won't work. When I cut my hair off, it just grows back."

"What?" How the hell did he know I'd been the source of that prediction.

"Blaise Zabini told me," Michael said as he walked and I stopped dead.

"What? How the hell does he know?" I was panicking. Oh gods, this must be Malfoy's way of getting back at me. I was such an idiot to think he could keep his trap shut.

"I'm not sure, but don't worry, I haven't told anyone or anything, he told me it was a secret."

"A secret that god knows how many people know!" I responded loudly. "Where's that stupid little weasel?"

"Who?" Flint asked.

"That lying little captain of yours, where the hell is Malfoy?" I was livid.

Flint took me down to the dungeons where I had to wait, very impatiently while he disappeared down a hall to find Malfoy. I spent my time wisely plotting exactly how I'd kill him in the most painful way possible. But nothing my brain could think of distracted me sufficiently from my own impending doom once the whole school knew what was happening.

A few minutes later Flint, Malfoy, and Zabini appeared walking towards me in the hall. I felt outnumbered, but desperate like a cornered animal. "I can't believe you told them Malfoy."

"Told who what exactly?" he responded disinterestedly. Flint started saying something but I spoke right over him.

"Don't you even start with me," I said crazily wanting to lash out at him, but knew I was outnumbered and likely to cause very little damage with my wand, so went for a kick to the knee, which sadly he predicted and managed to avoid before turning me around and pinning my arms to my sides in a tight hold. Curse my female body, so easily man handled. I badly wanted to be strong enough to rip his throat out.

"Gods control yourself Patil, I only told Zabini that someone had seen a vision," Malfoy said. "You just confirmed for him who."

"Actually I guessed a long time ago," Zabini spoke up with the detachment of someone who harbored an academic interest in all those things that were matters of life and death to the rest of us. "I'm one of four people in your Divination class remember? You always have private lessons with Firenze and were fighting with your boyfriend about keeping secrets. I figured out you were a seer ages ago. When Malfoy told me about the prophecy, I just put two and two together. But I do have a question, how come Malfoy described the prophecy as a picture instead of a poem, like usual?"

Oh gods, I felt like such a fool. How did I even think it'd be a secret. Firenze was right. Why did he always have to be right. I went limp in Malfoy's arms. I couldn't speak. I wasn't ready. Not for this. Not for answering everyone's questions. Not for publicly acknowledging who I was and what I'd done or more precisely, not done. Oh gods, not yet.

"Use your feet Patil, I can't let go of you because you're not supporting you weight, you'll fall over," Malfoy said bringing me back to myself. I stood and thought of running away, far away and never coming back. "There's another thing you should know, I was just about to go find you. It's going to snow tomorrow." I did crumple to the floor this time.

A few seconds later, I drew my wand and tried to cast a spell on Flint's hair to turn it blond. It changed back to brown within seconds. Curse me to hell.

Dear Padma,

Too much is wrong to put down in this letter. Wish me luck.

Parvati