A/F: Okay since I've gotten no feedback from the last chapter—well, I'm just going to push on through to the next. Hopefully break out of this funk I'm feeling. I don't know—I just want this story to move to some of the points I want to hit. GARHHHHH. BTW: Half this chapter wrote itself. I got to a point that I wanted but like the big parts—yeah. They came out of nowhere. So let me know if my characters are straying too off point. I'm just trying to create depth and for some reason I'm second guessing every single one of them.

"Argh!"

"Any words to go with your indignation, girl?"

"You never cease to charm a woman, Pritchard. No—there are no words to go with my indignation because I'm too upset to form words. My eyes are all fucked up from this stupid concussion. Aren't potions supposed to make all your ailments disappear?" I groaned, chucking my paintbrush into the small canister of water and falling back so I could sit and examine my work. The current piece (watercolor) was coming along great. I'm trying different mediums of the same subject. So far I have one pastel, one colored pencil, and one charcoal of a small portion of the tree-lined lake. This one could very well be the best medium so far—if everything wouldn't stop going fuzzy on me. Stupid concussion.

"Potions only speed the process, girl. If you went to your courses you would gain such intelligence," Pritchard snapped. I turned to look at the stuffy medieval man.

"Honestly—your people skills astound me. Plus I don't need to go to class to be the top of the class," I declared dryly.

"They're almost as good as yours are, girl. And I find that very unlikely."

"Will you quit calling me 'girl', Pritch? I do have a name." I snorted, unfolding myself from the ground and heading over to the bookcase. Maybe if I walked away from all the lines and angles and shading things will be better. Just give myself a break. "Anyways, it's been a few days shouldn't the process be all sped up by now?"

"Go to class and find out?"

"Where's Fey and Corkrin? You're annoying me," I shot back, turning away to face the painting.

"Going on with their lives elsewhere in the castle, I suppose. Maybe if you spent more time out of this room, you would know that."

"Again, I repeat my annoyance. I should just ask the room to move your painting."

"You're not a barrel of fish yourself," he grunted. I blinked at him.

"That's the most stupid expression I think I've ever heard. Fish aren't something fun or even of substance. The point is I don't want to show my face. I don't want to go to class. I don't want to go to practice. I don't want to see people. People annoy me. People break my barriers and I say stupid shit that I shouldn't have ever said! Blood loss or not!" I snapped, all my words tumbling from me in quick succession. Pritchard just blinked at me as I sunk down into the nearest chair possible. It wound up being a straight-backed wooden number that I usually stored my shit on, but it served the needs.

"Well if that's not a revelation of character, I don't know what is," Pritchard sniffed. I roughly wiped my eyes and blinked away the silver dots that danced in space. The tryout has been storming in my mind for the past couple of days. We were already hitting October, already almost mid-week since. I've been here a full month and things weren't getting any better. Worst of all I was getting weaker. My defenses were crumbling. I told someone they gave me purpose. Fucking purpose! How vulnerable could I be?! Pretty damn vulnerable, obviously. Not only did I let a guy cradle me somewhere but I told him that something revolved around him.

How more stupid—how more innocent, could I honestly get? So in order to completely save face, I've made myself completely MIA. I don't go into the dormitory until after everyone's asleep, and then I'm gone before they wake up. I get my meals while everyone is in class and I spend all my other time in my studio (as I've begun to call it). It was the stupid list that sent me running. I close my eyes and still see it:

Gryffindor Quidditch Roster

Keeper: Callen Parks

Chaser: Adder Ryan

I was two hundred percent certain I wasn't actually going to get the spot on the team. Yeah I kicked complete ass in my try-out. I mean I blew everyone out of the water. It was blatantly obvious, really. But it was also blatantly obvious that none of them wanted me on the team. I watched the people go before me. I saw how hard they went on them compared to me. I knew they wouldn't want me on their team. So why am I? I was just showing up to shake things up. I didn't think that I would become required to see these people up to five times a week.

I didn't think anyone would actually want to put up with me? But, then I get my ass handed to me by a pair of bludgers and I become incapable of taking care of myself. And of all the people there—who volunteers to be my fucking 'knight in shining armor'? Fred fucking Weasley. Weasley! I thought there was a mutual hate running between us? I thought everything was clear. It's clear to me! I mean, it should be clear. But if it was so clear, then why was my mind so foggy? 'Effing concussion.

"Miss Ryan, you look very ill," Pritchard declared, making me jump. I looked blankly at him for a moment before shaking myself.

"I just—I just have a headache. I think I'm going to go to the Medic's and get something for it. This should've all been gone by now. I just—I'm just—"I trailed off, feeling the air leave me. I thought solitary confinement would be better—easier? But it's not. It's just more difficult because now I have nothing but my art to keep me from over-analyzing why he would go out of his way to help me. And why I let my defenses down when I was around him. And why I was so utterly and completely stupid. Usually art is a good distraction but that's not even working. "I'm going. I'll be back later."

"Try staying out longer! It'll be good for you," Pritchard called as I slammed the door shut behind me. That man needed to get a life other than mine. Wandering the halls has become easier—especially since I've timed classes and meals perfectly and now that I know my way around. I can make it about without running into anybody but the stray ghost or painting. I'm sure McGonagall is blowing her top trying to locate me. I haven't shown up to five days of classes (including last Friday). That's gotta sound some sort of alarms in a place like this.

I was just rounding the third floor corridor where the Hospital Wing was located when I heard approaching footsteps. I felt myself freeze up, like a stupid deer in headlights. I haven't talked to a real person in days. I'm not mentally prepared to deal with this. I contemplated ducking behind the statue of Horris the Hunchback, but then I got a grip on myself. I'm Adder Ryan—I don't effing hide from people. What the hell was this castle doing to me? Oh for the love of everything magical, of all people to find me frozen in the spotlight.

"Ryan?" Weasley questioned, stopping in his tracks. His right arm was covered from hand to elbow in garish pink spots. I was too busy eyeing his paint job and wondering who exactly I needed to congratulate for a great hex to notice that he was swiftly closing the distance between us. He stopped a few inches in front of me and began to prod my face with his fingers.

"What the fuck are you doing?!" I squealed, slapping away his hands. "I'm not looking to catch whatever STD is covering your skin there!"

"I'm just checking that you're really here. You've been completely missing for the past few days and I want to make sure you're not a ghost or anything. That happened before. I long time ago a basilisk got a girl in a bathroom and she stayed here as a ghost. Still haunts the girl loos. Might wanna make friendly with her since your count of human contact is what? None?" he rambled, tugging lightly on a lock of my hair. I swiftly punched him in the arm. He flinched on contact, but to be honest it didn't look like it hurt him much.

"Do I look fucking translucent to you?! Honestly, are you really that stupid?" I spluttered, looking at him in pure befuddlement.

"No—just checking," he shrugged, bringing up his infected arm and surveying it. "I should probably get this checked as well. Felix Felicis gone absolutely bonkers."

"What is your problem?" I questioned, taking a quick step back. Fred looked alarmed for a moment before looking down at the amount of space between us. I took another micro-step backwards. I suddenly felt myself flush all over and dug my fingernails into my palms. This was—this was weird, to say the least.

"I just—" Fred started, scrunching up his nose slightly. "Look. We're teammates now. So I figured we might as well not hate each other. Though you didn't show up to practice last night so are you even accepting the position?"

"So you're just deciding for me that we're going to get along? I hate to break it to you, Weasley—that's a two way decision and frankly I'm not looking for that. I'm looking to stay on a one way street, thank you very much," I snapped, narrowing my eyes slightly.

"I'm not following your metaphor," Fred giggled. I wanted to hit him. Where does he get off thinking we're friends all of a sudden? So he carries me a couple hundred feet and all of a sudden we're building sand castles on the edge of the Black Lake? What the actual fuck?

"Back off. I'm not looking to be friends. I'm not looking to even be friendly! I'm looking to be left alone," I announced, my voice rising with every word until I found myself yelling the last syllable. Fred looked completely flabbergasted as I pushed past him and through the great double doors of the Hospital Wing. I deposited my bag on a spare bed and was just raising a fist to knock on the door to Madame Fey's private quarters when a there was a shout behind me.

"Oi! Ryan! That's bloody uncalled for! No need to scream at me!" Fred bellowed, storming into the room. I flipped on him, the anger over everything building in my veins. I was pissed that he caused so much emotion to build up inside of me. I don't even know what I was feeling. I wish that he would just leave me be so I could figure out why I my mind was so—so fucked up (well extra fucked up) in peace! "I was just being nice!"

"What have I done to make you believe that I wanted you to be nice to me? In fact I believe I've made it perfectly clear to you, and to everyone else, that I don't want to be even spoken to?!"

"I bloody get that! I think everyone get's that, Adder! Everyone gets that you're miserable. Forgive someone for trying to figure out why!"

We stood there for a moment, in an epic stand-off but still across the room from each other. It looked like we about to partake in a wizard's duel but no wands were drawn. The only thing that seemed to be firing across the room was words. Who does he think he is? I didn't ask him to care!

"What if I don't want anyone to figure out why? What if that's none of your damn business, Weasley! I can leave this school now and not leave an impression on a single one of you! Haven't I made the point clear? I want to leave here without any friends. I don't make friends. I don't want friends. So I'm going to tell you for the last time Weasley, leave me the hell alone! Oh and tell Kent I'm not coming to any practices. They're not my style. I'll see you all at the games—that's all you need to see of me. I'm sure it's more any of you wanted to see of me!"

And I stormed out of the room, not actually running until I reached the end of the corridor. It's not surprising that I left with my mind foggier than which I came.

Fred

What the hell just happened? I mean really, what just happened?! I spent the last couple days resigned to try and not want to murder Ryan, for the sake of the team. We needed a good dynamic and if I could semi-get along with Callen then Adder shouldn't be very difficult either. So when I finally see her for the first time in what, a week, I finally have the chance to put my internal promise to action and I end up even angrier with her than ever before! I let a small frustrated grunt pass my lips as I jerkily kicked at the air. She was the single most frustrated human being I have ever met.

"Fighting the invisible Nargles now?"

I froze mid-kick and pivoted on one leg to examine who was behind me. Roxy was standing awkwardly in the entryway—tugging at the ends of her (still purple) hair. I'm surprised she just didn't hex me when I wasn't paying attention. I got one when the prank first happened—but nothing since and I've been adamantly refusing distribution of the antidote.

"You've been hanging around Aunt Luna too often," I sighed, flopping backwards on one of the beds. "Still haven't figured out the hair?"

"Shut the hell up, you twat. I know you did it. Dominique said you were here with a pink arm, which you deserve by the way, and that you would have the solution. Now give it here. I'm sick of looking like some deranged flower," she snapped, wandering farther into the room. "What were you all worked over about anyways?"

"I, erm, got in a fight with someone," I coughed, digging into the pocket of my robes and tossing her the small spray-vial. She caught it in one palm and shifted awkwardly on her feet.

"Kelly?"

"No," I sighed, covering my face with my hands. Kelly—well she was, Kelly. And things were—they were great? I suppose? They were just—well they were there and they were going and that was it. I couldn't put my finger on it. I honestly couldn't. It wasn't going bad. It was just being and existing and I'm trying to figure out if that's good enough. It could be my flight radar going off. I'm quite like that with birds. "It was Ryan."

"Wood?"

"Yes—he just apparated here to have a fight with me and then went all the way back to the game he's currently training for. Even though you can't apparate in this castle because this whole thing makes sense," I deadpanned, staring at the ceiling.

"No need to be sarcastic, now. Weren't you spewing about the common room that you were going to get along with everyone for the sake of the team? Something about keeping the cup your last year here?"

"Yeah well that didn't go actually according to plan, did it?" I groaned. "She is the single most frustrating person on the face of the earth. More frustrating then you, you brat. And that's difficult to achieve believe me."

"Oh har, har," Roxy deadpanned, perching herself on a bed across from me. "Why don't you just ignore her? Or prank her? That seems to work when I'm annoying you. I mean I wouldn't have bloody purple hair if that wasn't the case."

"Yeah—it's not exactly that simple Rox. I'm afraid that bird would actually castrate me if I attempted to prank her. And as for ignoring her—I just—I'm trying."

"Try harder, twit. And stop being such a female with your emotions, you're gross."

"Stop snogging that pathetic excuse for a boyfriend then?"

"Yeah—nice comeback. Change the subject," Roxy squeaked, when I sat up to raise an eyebrow at her she had a pink tinge across her cheeks.

"He good to you Rox?" I questioned quietly. Roxy looked down at her intertwined fingers and shrugged.

"It's a bit too soon to tell—eh? A week and a half in? I'll let you know though, yeah?"

"Please do. I've been waiting for the day I get to kick some blokes arse," I laughed.

"Right—that's so you're style, Fred. You'd probably charm their pants to their hips so they couldn't go to the loos," Roxy snorted, as she dug in her bag. "Anyways—Mum wrote. She added a postscript for you. Said if you don't write her soon she'll come down here and embarrass you at breakie."

"Yeah—okay. I'll send one off when I send the letter for Cameron and Ryan. And thanks for that pants idea—it's brill," I declared as she tossed me the letter and made her way out of the room. She held the vial over her head as she reach the doorway, shouting her thanks for it over her shoulder. I contemplated calling her back and giving her the real antidote—considering that the one I gave her would make her hair an uncontrollable afro upon contact but then decided I'd been too nice to her for the past four days. Instead I took the time to look around the empty Hospital Wing. It's rare for it to be so empty and for the matron to be out of the area. The spots on my arm were beginning to itch so I figured I'd better hang around until she returns, rather than go about my business with them intact.

I meandered about, opening side table draws in search for something to entertain myself with, when my eye caught sight of a lone bag on one of the beds. Furrowing my brow I made my way over, pulling open the drawstring to search for some identification. The bag seemed to be charmed with an Undetectable Extension Charm and was filled with everything under the sun. Changes of clothes, notepads, tins of rattling items that I could only assume was quills and ink. I shoved my arm down deeper and felt the recesses of hair brushes, lippys, nail polish bottles. Whoever owned this bag could probably live from the contents of this bag for a week, maybe more.

My fingers brushed upon a worn leather cover. Fisting it, I dragged it through the rest of the contents until it was free from the tangles. Oh—well the owner of the bag is now perfectly obvious. The book was bigger than a normal notebook and bound in soft brown leather, the covers tied together with a black satin ribbon. On the bottom edge a name was embossed in perfect cursive: Addison Giselle Ryan.

Huh—it's strange picturing that name with Adder. It was softer then her inherent personality. It was weird and foreign to her. I knew I shouldn't. I frankly wouldn't want someone looking through my marketing journal without my permission. But when Adder was actually in public, which wasn't often lately, she was rarely seen without this and one of those skinny black pencils in her hand. So I went against my better judgment and yanked the bow apart, letting the worn binding fall open in my lap.

The first image took me by complete surprise. At first glance I thought I was looking at a photograph but then I noticed all the sketch lines surrounding it. It was a drawn picture of a girl that I would think was about thirteen. She looked strikingly like Adder—but less angry. She was smiling, no laughing, with her head thrown back and hair messy in her eyes. Next to her was a withered house elf—a large mixing bowl in hand and a crooked smile on her face as well. It was captivating and rather magical.

Gently I flipped through the pages, being extra careful not to smudge the lines of her pictures. There were a lot of the house elf and the girl and some of a plump woman that reminded me of Grandmum. There were a few half finished ones of a woman. She was regal and rather posh with a steely look to her eyes. She looked scarily like an older version of Adder herself but the hair was sketched in as black as the pencil lines themselves. I almost dropped the book as I came to the next portion of pictures. First off it was Kaylie—her legs tucked under her bum and some of her hair falling out of her ponytail as she read. There were even a few different angles drawn. Then came a rather scarily accurate portrait of McGonagall in her formal best, from the Welcome Feast I'm assuming. I grinned, quickly turning the page to see what person would be next and really dropped the book.

Smiling up at me from the ground was a page filled with me. Me smiling up at myself in a bunch of different portraits. Though each was a smile they were all different, in some way. All unique. I slid to the ground and cradled the sketchbook in my lap—tentatively turning to the next page. A full body sketch of me lounging over an arm chair in the common room. A profile of me in the Great Hall. It was ridiculous—the amount of me in this book. Yeah as I went through there were others but most of the time there would be a new one of myself. I didn't know whether to feel flattered or creeped out, so I settled with confused.

Confused was a good adjective to describe my feelings now. It was almost like I was seeing a new side of Adder that she didn't want anyone to see. It was like I could see a bit of vulnerability she was trying not to show anyone. Her lines spoke of loneliness somehow. Like the only way she got to see these people were in her sketch book and not in real life. I don't know whether they made me feel lonely or whether she was really the lonely one. It was a side that I found myself wanting to see more of.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?!"

I let out a gargled shriek and jumped up in complete alarm. Adder's face was bright red as she stood behind me with her jaw slightly open.

"Did you look through that?!" she shrieked her voice at an unnatural octave. "You looked through my sketch book?!"

"I didn't know your middle name was Giselle," I managed to get out. "Interesting middle name. Mine is Arthur in case you were wondering. After my Granddad."

"Nobody looks through that!" she exclaimed, completely ignoring my nonsensical rant about the origin of my middle name, stalking over and ripping it from my hands.

"I don't see why. They're brilliant, Adder. Really," I stuttered as she clutched the book to her chest. "You're really quite good."

"It doesn't matter whether or not they're good! You weren't supposed to see them! Nobody sees them! My art is private! It's the only place I can escape to and you've completely ruined it!"

"I'm sorry—really, I am," I stuttered, slightly frightened at her persona. This wasn't the hard Adder that I was used to. This Adder was slightly unhinged and growing quite hysterical at the thought of someone intruding into her world. She wasn't quite on the verge of tears—she was actually quite the opposite. The fury seemed to be rising up inside her, unable to release itself so it decided to make her go completely barmy. I took a tentative step towards her, testing the waters a bit. She seemed rooted in her spot—her book clutched to her chest and her eyes narrowed slightly at me. "There's a lot of—well there's a lot of me in there."

"There's a lot of things you weren't supposed to see! Merlin—can you be even more of a fucking pain in my side?! Why can't you just keep your nose out of my business," she exploded—taking a step closer to me and jabbing me sharply in the chest with the tip of her wand. When did she even draw that thing? She glared up at me, her ice blue eyes fairly sharp and inquisitive. I noticed now that she had probably the longest eyelashes I'd ever seen on any female—whatsoever. I didn't realize how unnatural and odd her constant scowls fit on her face. Her features were feminine and regal. She had sweeping cheekbones and the plumpest lips I've ever seen. It almost shocked that I forgot how striking she was in such a short amount of time. I spent so much time trying to despise her she had morphed in my mind.

"I would seriously consider stop looking at me like that if I were you. Most people don't come out for the better when they grin stupidly at me like that. I swear—you've taken one too many bludgers to the head if you can't realize that I'm more furious with your existence now then I've ever been in all the endless waking hours of knowing you!" she ranted, jabbing me in the chest at certain points of her speech. Her wand sparked, singeing my school jumper lightly.

I couldn't even respond. I don't know why I was set on mute. I don't know why her yelling at me now didn't gyrate my nerves like it would've done yesterday. It was like she had flipped a 180 and in my mind. It was like I was seeing her differently. She wasn't just this person hell-bent on making everyone as miserable as she was. She was this person that didn't quite know how to manifest her misery.

Quickly and gently I grabbed her face in my hands, letting my fingers slide through her hair and my thumbs brush against her jaw before I blanketed my lips over hers. The feeling that stirred in my stomach almost hurt. But not as much as the curse she blasted me with that knocked me completely off my feet and into the wall behind us.

A/A: Like I said—COMPLETELY WROTE ITSELF! I planned for part of it to happen, it was a main point I wanted to hit. Didn't know it would happen in this chapter but it did. And then the end happened and I kinda sat there wondering what the hell happened. Also I'm getting a bit iffy with Adder—she's starting her downhill climb for me. But I think that may be her spiral naturally as a character, I'm not sure. The explanations for why she's so utterly fucked up will come soon.

I swear—one Fanfiction that I wrote when I was like fifteen; I started the chapter thinking it won't go that specific route and at the end the main character ended up kidnapped. Yeah—things happen and I'm just as blown away as you guys are. So I think things will take route this way and I think I know what will happen now. More drama, for certain. I'm trying to add more humor in there—but I'm honestly like not funny. So when I try, I fail. But I'm going to try for you guys. I'll have more bromance to come with dear ol' Freddy and his BFF and possibly more romance (maybe not too soon) and some cool brotherly/sisterly/cousinly moments. So yeah—please, please, please tell me what you guys think!? Mostly so I don't have to be pathetically asking you guise every chapter.

Forever yours magically,

Emily