Chapter 11: Charmed? I Think Not...Well, Maybe...

Leia's Pov:

A long dark corridor, a tall winding stair, a ragged breathing from behind. I walk along with no control as the creature follows me. I know what it wants and I know I must submit or face the dire consequences. That is why I do not run. But why do I not stop and face my destiny, face what I know I was meant to face all along? I do not stop; I do not turn around. I will not let the creature have its way. I will not submit. But at the same time, I can't completely pull away. I am too afraid of what rebellion would bring. Too afraid of breaking free. What if I fail? What if I cannot stand on my on two feet alone? What if...what if...

But then I stop walking. I tell myself it is I that will control my life. I will have power and control over what I do, what I say, what I think. I turn around to face the creature. It reaches out for me, but I back away out of its grasp. It snarls and lunges towards me. I freeze when some unknown force overcomes me and keeps my feet planted. Whether it be fear, shock, or simple stupidity I cannot say...

Beep beep. Beep beep. The alarm rings and wakes me from a troubled sleep. I had a dream, a dream I would rather not think about. But it's early, breakfast won't be for another hour, and everything is already packed up for my classes today. There is no reason for me to get up just now. I lie in bed under the warm, safe blankets and stare at the invisible ceiling. Night still fills the room; the sun is not yet up. I think back on the dream...well, nightmare actually...

The creature never took hold of me; I awoke before it could. But I can feel the sweat on my forehead. I am shaking from head to toe. It did not seem so frightening while it was happening, but now when I reflect upon it, I am scared more than I have ever been before. The dilemma from the dream mirrors my own dilemma in real life: who do I side with, what do I do when faced with impossible choices, where do I go when I reach the fork?

Hermione's question struck a chord last night, as did Harry's and Ron's. Originally, I thought it would be pretty cool to be a vampire. Sure, the existence had its downfalls, but then again so does my human existence. But as I lie here I wonder if it would not be better to stay human. I am afraid of such a drastic and eternal change. Besides, I cannot stand to kill any of the traitors or foes my father wishes dead. How do I expect do be able to kill innocent people to quench my thirst? Will I be strong enough like my mother to drink only animal blood? Even my mother has given into temptation sometimes. When my father wants her to kill someone, she does not simply use Avada Kedavra; she kills, she murders in the fashion of the vampire, draining the life from her victims slowly and allowing them to see their life pass before them and float away on a deathly wind.

I sigh aloud and roll over onto my side. I stare at the numbers on the clock until my vision blurs. I consider Harry's final question and my open and vulnerable answer. I wish to make my father proud, but I know not how to do so without living up to his original expectations. He is not easily pleased - this I know. But the more I consider the matter, the more afraid I am of the life he wishes me to have. Can he not take me as I am? Am I not strong enough or brave enough or powerful enough or loyal enough for him? Does he want perfection? That is what I fear he wants and that is why I fear I can never please him. For what is perfection? Just a feeble excuse to exclude everyone. Just a way to make every being in the world feel inferior somehow. Everyone has a fault, a dark secret. There is no perfection. It doesn't exist. It is merely a figment of his imagination, a fabrication of his cold and avaricious heart.

I glance at the clock: 6:30. I suppose I should get up, I think as I slowly throw back the covers. I pull on my bathrobe and head to the bathroom. Soon, I have the shower warming up, everything ready to go. I get in and stand there, letting the water pour over me, easing my nervousness and calming me. I think back on last night; I can't recall most of it. All I remember is those final questions, those final words, those final looks...Then I start to remember some of it as I slowly become more awake and alert: conversations about Quidditch, a cupcake being shoved in Ron's face, talk of the mounting deaths in the wizarding community…

I get out of the shower and get ready for the day – our second day of classes. I look at my schedule. I groan audibly when I see that I have double Herbology today. I have never liked the subject. The only plants I like are those I don't have to study. However, I am mildly pleased with the prospect of having Charms first. Charms cannot be too difficult, I think as I put on my tie. I'll be able to breeze through that class. Maybe my confidence is a little high and inflated, but perhaps that can only help. I am quite excited about Divinations. From what Harry and Ron told me, the professor is a fraud, but I will hold my judgment until I see for myself. Besides, it is not the professor that really matters - it's whether or not you actually have the patience, the energy, and the calmness of mind, spirit, and body for it - in other words, the Inner Eye (which is just a name to describe these characteristics).

I hear Hermione stir and, to avoid any awkward conversations about last night, I quickly grab my things and head off to breakfast. On my way down the stairs between the fourth and third floors, I look down to sift through my satchel when it occurs to me that I may have forgotten something. In that short instant, I run right into someone. There are utterances of surprise from both of us as I lose my balance and start to topple down the stairs. A hand catches me as I fall and it seems to be the hand of the other victim of this hallway accident. I grasp the rail as I regain my balance and look up to see none other than Draco Malfoy.

"Oh, it's you," we both say simultaneously. He glares down at me from a step or two above mine, no doubt remembering our meeting on the train.

"Watch where you're going next time, Gerwin," he says, making his accusation clear. I return his annoyed glare.

"Well maybe if you weren't so busy fawning over yourself in the mirror constantly, you might have seen me and been able to move out of my way." I turn to leave him standing there, but his words stop me in my tracks.

"At least I have something good to look at when I look in the mirror."

I turn to face him again. "Am I supposed to take offense at that?" He merely shrugs.

"It was meant that way. But I suppose if you wish to disregard it, I can't stop you. That may be your only redeeming quality."

This time it is I who is at a loss for words. I open my mouth several times, but no words come. I eventually give up trying and consider it a lost cause.

"Piss off, Malfoy," I say, annoyed by my loss for words and his cauldron full of them. I hurry off to breakfast, his triumphant laugh ringing in my ears. When I reach the sparsely populated Great Hall, I don't bother sitting down. I grab a stack of buttered toast and a napkin and leave for the school grounds. Maybe the fresh air will calm me down and do me some good.

The air is brisk and cool, too much so for the close of summer. But ever since my father's return to power and his alliance with the dementors of Azkaban, the dementors have been multiplying, covering all of England with a cold mist, and a dark atmosphere has taken hold of many places.

I walk over the green, dew-covered carpet that seems to flow over the grounds like a great river in the wind. My feet soon carry me to the lake. I lean against a tree and slowly eat the toast I have brought.

What a strange life I have led. A vampire for a mother; a Dark Lord for a father. My own family's history as mysterious as the pyramids of Egypt. I have studied magic every waking moment of my existence, except when I was playing Quidditch and enjoying the exhilaration it brings. My father has put such expectations on me that I can barely breathe for the weight of it. Yet even still, I am happy. Even with war raging around me, I can smile with the knowledge that I am making my father proud. With every spell I perfect, every potion I master, I prove more and more my worth to him. As long as he is happy with me, I can be happy with myself, too. I know he won't be truly satisfied with me until I can live up to his original expectations, but unless he complains aloud to me, I will not let the fact that I am not quite there dampen my spirits.

The only things I wish I could suppress many times are my emotions. They are so troublesome. Anger only gets me into trouble. Fear hinders my efforts to accomplish anything. Joy and satisfaction make me blind and overconfident. Hate always comes back to haunt me. And love...well, love is too confusing and too dangerous for me to allow it to overtake me...

Draco's Pov:

"Piss off, Malfoy," she says, sounding quite annoyed. I laugh as she walks off. She is an interesting character, no doubt.

I smile with the knowledge that I just achieved some semblance of revenge for how she humiliated me on the train. That was completely uncalled for and most uncivilized. What did I ever do to her? I never even met her until two days ago. Maybe my father is to blame. After all, she did mention knowing him or something like that. I'll have to ask him next time I see him. Or maybe I'll just write him. I am already on my way to the owlery to send a report to the Dark Lord on what is going on here at Hogwarts. That would be easier, certainly.

Perhaps she has some sort of celebrity complex like Potter and thinks she's too good for even a hot pureblood like me. I can't believe Gryffindor got her. Now they have a professional on their team. There has to be some rule against that somewhere. Of course, if she was on Slytherin's team, I wouldn't be complaining, nor would I be worried about breaking any rules. But let's face it! I'm a Slytherin and this is Gryffindor we're talking about. What a bunch of wimps and teachers pets those Gryffindors are. I hate every single one of them...well, all but one. She is different than the others. I don't have much consequential evidence, but I just know somehow. It will be interesting to see how she gets along here.

I reach the owlery and call a small brown owl down to me. The smaller and darker it is the less it will be noticed. I tie my letter onto the owl's leg and whisper the address to it. It flies off into the morning mist, taking the Dark Lord my message. It was a normal dispatch for the most part, except for one new piece of information that I think will interest him. It read:

My Lord,

No new activity as of 3 Sept. 1997 at 7:15 A.M.

Two new faces at the school: a professor and a student - mother and daughter.

Names: Professor Gerwin (vampire; first name unknown as of this date, but will try to find out ASAP) and Leia Gerwin (Quidditch player; Gryffindor; claims to know Lucius Malfoy).

This loyal subject to keep you informed when new information arises.

Your obedient,

DM

Satisfied that this latest dispatch will reach him without any complications (though most would consider it to be overconfidence what with the Ministry of Magic and the Order prowling about to think a letter will no doubt make it to its destination unhindered and untouched by any other living soul), I pull out a clean piece of parchment from the pocket of my robes and dip my quill in ink. I quickly pen a short note to my father.

Father,

I wonder if you know a certain Leia Gerwin. She has just arrived at Hogwarts and has entered the seventh year - a Gryffindor. She claims to know you. Please forward any information you have or can find on her to me so that I may be better equipped to fulfill my duty to Him.

Your son,

Draco

I grab another owl and send it off with the letter. Then I head down to breakfast. Crabbe and Goyle haven't arrived yet. Thank Merlin for small favors! I think as I sit down next to Blaise Zabini. He and Tracy Malone are busy chatting so I don't bother saying hello. It's always better if I don't interrupt their conversation. Blaise has had a crush on Tracy for two years now and he only just asked her this summer if she would go out with him. She said 'yes' of course and now they're never out of each other's sight.

"Mornin', Draco," a voice mumbles groggily from my right. I turn and see Crabbe and Goyle sitting down and immediately beginning to stuff themselves. They have to be the biggest idiots I've ever been associated with. But let's face it: they will do anything I ask them to, no questions asked. What more can one ask of such people?

"Morning," I reply, the lack of interest quite obvious in my voice, though they don't seem to notice, as usual.

"So what do you think of the new DADA teacher?" Goyle asks, nudging me in the arm. "Hot stuff, eh?" I grimace.

"Goyle, you are disgusting sometimes, really! She's twice your age," I say as he chuckles. Either he meant to gross me out or he has something else on his mind. The latter is more probable; Goyle never thinks enough to plan anything.

"But I'll bet you think her daughter is hot." He and Crabbe guffaw at this - that is, until I hit Goyle in the back of his head so hard that he falls face first into his oatmeal. Now it is my turn to laugh.

"What makes you think I'd like any mudblood lover?" I say, rather than ask.

"Mudblood lover? Who's a mudblood lover?" someone asks as they sit down across from me. It's Pansy. Damn, can my day get any worse. I don't answer. Maybe if I annoy her enough she'll leave me alone. "Draco, I asked you a question," she whines. I sigh audibly.

"No one, Pansy," I reply with annoyance.

"Well, obviously someone is or else you wouldn't have said anything." She doesn't seem to take the hint: I don't want to talk about it. Because I know that if I do, I'll stick my foot in my mouth and say something I'll later regret and - wait a minute! That's it!

"You're right, Pansy," I say matter-of-factly. She looks smug. "We were talking about how hot that new mudblood-loving Gryffindor, Leia Gerwin, is." Pansy makes a face and immediately shuts up and starts to mope. Perfect. That was the result I wanted. Maybe now she'll stop hanging off of me and following me everywhere I go - at least for today. No doubt she'll have forgotten all of this by tomorrow. I used to like her, actually. I liked the fact that she thought of me like a prince or god or something. She practically worshiped the ground I walked on. But as the years rolled by, for her it became a kind of obsession and for me it became an annoyance, like a fly that won't stop buzzing around your ear.

Pansy doesn't speak to me for the rest of breakfast. However, in the case of the two baboons on my right, I am not so lucky. They never shut up - making crude jokes, making fun of the other houses, etc. A really idiotic way to pass the time, if you ask me. And of course they want my opinion on everything. Well, not really my opinion, but more like a semi-appreciative laugh following every stupid joke they make. I don't laugh at some of them and when I don't Crabbe pokes me to get my attention and Goyle tells the joke again and again until I laugh. They have to be the most annoying duo in the school.

Finally it's time for class. Luckily, neither Crabbe nor Goyle is in my first two classes - and neither is Pansy. I quickly leave the Great Hall without a word when it's time to go and head off to Professor Flitwick's Charms class. Charms always seemed to me to be a kind of "fluff" form of magic: not really what you would use in a duel, which makes it almost impractical. House elves can do any housework or cooking that would require charms such as the ones we learn in class.

When I get there I find almost every seat taken. One quick look around and I can see that only three Gryffindors are in this bell (Neville Longbottom, Lavender Brown, and Seamus Finnegan), along with five Ravenclaws (Mandy Brocklehurst, Padma Patil, Lisa Turpin, Anthony Goldstein, and Brian Chambers), four Hufflepuffs (Susan Bones, Hannah Abbot, Megan Jones, and Ernie Macmillan), and three Slytherins (Millicent Bulstrode, Blaise Zabini, and I). Notice that there are mostly girls here, Like I said before: "fluff magic".

I sit down in one of two empty seats in the back corner of the room (both of which are right next to each other). The bell is just about to ring to signal the start of class when someone comes rushing into the room, sounding as though they are out of breath. I look up and see Leia Gerwin walking over to sit next to me. I immediately think how odd it is that she would choose to sit by me when there are other seats open, but then I remember that there are no other seats open. I smirk as she sits down. She looks like she sprinted to class. She looks over at me and glares.

"Wipe that smirk off your face, Malfoy, before I do it for you," she snaps, annoyed.

"Feisty this morning, aren't we?" I say in a mocking tone.

"I'd watch out if I were you," she replies with the same tone as before. "I'm quite tempted to cut out your tongue right now. Don't press your luck." I consider responding, but think better of it as Professor Flitwick calls the class to order. He briefly explains the charm we will be reviewing today - the cheering charm - and then he pairs us up to practice. As luck would have it, Gerwin and I are partnered together. She turns to me and sighs audibly.

"We should start then," she says, sounding tired and preoccupied.

"It might do you some good," I observe, much to both her surprise and mine. She raises one eyebrow and gives me a slight smirk.

"Aww, Draco," she coos mockingly, "I didn't think you cared so much about me." I punch her lightly in the shoulder and she laughs. When I don't say anything, she pulls out her wand. "Let's get started." I nod. I pull out my own wand.

"You first," I say, wanting to get it over with. "You do know what you're doing, right?"

"Really, Draco, I'm insulted," she says in a hurt tone, though the smile on her face tells me otherwise, "don't you trust me?"

"No," I reply, "not really. I've never seen you do any magic before. All I know about you and your magical training is that you have a talent for potions and you know a lot about vampires. I don't think that qualifies you as an expert on cheering charms."

"Touché." She smiles a brilliant smile that nearly knocks me out of my seat. Wow, she's gorgeous. Wait. What am I saying? Did I just say a Gryffindor was gorgeous? I have flipped. I thought being attracted to her was just fluke, a misunderstanding that came about before I knew that she would be one of them. But even this knew-found knowledge doesn't seem to have affected my view of her.

Actually, Leia is pretty talented at Charms, too. Her cheering charm leaves me feeling quite elated and confident. Mine, which I executed perfectly, has a similar effect on her. We finish earlier than most of the students, many of whom have forgotten how to do this charm since we learned it at the beginning of last school year. The cheering charms still hovering around us minimize the animosity between us. As we talk about the trivial things in our lives, I begin to wonder if it is possible that we could be friends. I know, I know. She's a Gryffindor, but I am still drawn to her. Maybe she just does that to people. I wouldn't know. I have never met anyone quite like her before. I have known plenty of girls who were attractive and witty and clever, but never any with such alluring qualities as she has.

"So, Leia, what's it like playing on a professional Quidditch team?" I ask.

"It's quite fun and very exciting," she says, her mood brightening even more. She obviously loves Quidditch; either that or she just loves the spotlight. Who knows with celebrities? "But there is a lot of work involved. We usually have a pretty busy schedule."

"Are you still going to play with the Royal Renegades this year, on top of school?"

"Yes, I am. Dumbledore and I are working it out with Russ, the team captain. He's pretty flexible and has already told me that I don't have to make it to every practice. He's going to tell me when I absolutely need to be there and when it is optional - in case conflicts arise."

"Are you going to play on Gryffindor's team then?" I ask, almost dreading the answer.

"I'm planning on it," she replies. "I have to try out first, but I want to. I never miss a chance to play Quidditch." She smiles. "Do you play?"

"Yeah," I say and she looks pleased by the news. "I'm the seeker for Slytherin."

"Seeker? Wow, impressive." She does look impressed. I smirk at the thought. "Although I personally would not want to be a seeker. I much prefer being a chaser," she adds. I nod.

"I couldn't see myself as a chaser," I say.

"I'm glad," she puts in, smiling. I tilt my head in slight surprise.

"Of what?" I ask.

"I'm glad we have at least this much in common without having to be rivals. We can each be proud of our own accomplishments in our positions and we need not compete to see who can best the other."

"I see..."

Flitwick calls for attention, interrupting the conversation. He reminds us of the key elements of the cheering charm, including the fact that it doesn't wear off until an hour or so later. Leia and I have already been under its influence for half an hour. I can still feel it coursing through my veins, a wave of happiness washing over me. It is a strange and alien feeling. But perhaps it is not all to do with the charm.