A few weeks later, I headed into town alone for the first Hogsmeade visit of the year.

Liz had offered to let me join her and Xavier, but I had declined. I already felt like the third wheel enough with them. I didn't have any interest in sitting across from them in the Three Broomsticks, watching as they snogged each other's faces off.

Last year, when the two of them would go off on their own on these visits, I would go find Hagrid in the Hog's Head and listen in amusement as he told drunken stories and reminisced with Aberforth about days long past.

Figuring that there was really nothing else to do, the Hog's Head was where I found myself heading on that sunny, September day.

I wasn't paying much attention to where I was going as I strolled along, hands in my pockets, humming a Celestina Warbeck tune that was (unfortunately) stuck in my head.

"Watch where you're going!" a female voice snarled.

I stopped walking and looked up, finding myself face to face with Colby, the former Ravenclaw who'd I'd once gotten into a fight with in the school corridor after hearing her call Vic a whore. That had been two years ago. I hadn't seen her since the end of that year, when she had graduated.

But now here she was, standing right in front of me, the same bitchy look in her eye. "You almost walked right into me," she snapped.

"Sorry," I muttered, ducking my head and trying to walk past her.

Of course, as luck would have it, my path was once again blocked, this time by Timothy Nott, the Slytherin who seemed to get a kick out of sexually harassing me.

I sighed, as I stared at the two of them. This was just abso-bloody-lutely fantastic. My two favorite people in the world. Right here in front of me.

"Hey, love," he said, kissing Colby on the cheek and flinging his arm over her shoulder.

"Hey, baby," she cooed, snuggling into his lanky frame.

"Wow, couldn't you find a man your own age?" I asked.

They both turned to stare at me. I cringed a bit, but held my ground. "He's still in school. Couldn't you find someone to date who's, you know, actually an adult?"

"He is an adult," she replied coldly. "He's 17. He'll be 18 in a few months. That's only two years younger than me."

I hoped that they never procreated. I couldn't imagine the awful, bullying children the two of them would produce together.

"You jealous, Dom?" asked Timothy, a cruel smile spreading across his face.

I felt the familiar queasy feeling in my stomach that I experienced every time he spoke to me, every time he stared at me with that look of his. The look that made me feel so… violated.

I smiled coolly. "Well, it was lovely seeing the two of you, but I better get going."

"Not so fast," said Colby, sticking her arm out to block my path. I stared at her perfectly manicured nails for a moment, wondering whether I should push her out of my way and continue on. But I thought better of it and stayed where I was. Who knew what kind of pain she could cause me with those bright red nails if I disobeyed her.

"What?" I asked, my teeth gritted.

"Is your sister still dating Teddy Lupin?"

"Why the hell do you care?" I snapped. Of course, I already knew the answer to this question before I even asked it. Everyone knew that Colby had always had a huge crush on Teddy.

"I just think that he could do better than her," she replied.

"Oh yeah," I said, rolling my eyes. "He could do so much better than the girl he loves more than anything else in the world and who loves him back just as much. What is he thinking?"

She just glared at me.

"Who do you think would be a better choice for him? You?" I gestured toward Timothy. "You already have a boyfriend, remember?"

She glanced at him, with a look that almost made it seem like she wished he wasn't there.

He didn't seem to notice.

"Besides," I continued, "you already had your chance with Teddy. Everyone knows that you fucked him in the Prefects' bathroom when you were in your fifth year and he was in his seventh."

The look she was giving me seemed to perfectly represent the expression: if looks could kill.

"But then he dumped you after… what was it that he told me?" I paused, pretending to think. "Oh, yeah, now I remember. He dumped you after he found out that you had slipped him a love potion."

Timothy pulled his arm away from her and took a step back. "A love potion?" he asked.

"So what?" she snapped at him. "That was years ago. So you can relax, I didn't slip you one."

"Oh, don't worry," he said. "I didn't think you did. I wouldn't consider myself to be anywhere near in love with you."

"Well, then come back here," she said, grabbing his hand, apparently not bothered at all by his harsh words.

He yanked it back out of her grip. "How fucking desperate do you have to be to do something like that?" he asked. "Merlin's beard, Colby. A love potion? Seriously?"

She turned and glared at me. "You're a bitch, did you know that? How dare you tell him something so personal about me!"

"No, I'm glad she did!" he said, turning around. "At least now I know to stay away from you," he added as he began to walk away.

"Timothy, wait!" she called.

He ignored her and continued walking, disappearing around a corner.

"Bye, Colby," I said, as I too began to walk away, leaving her standing there. Alone, angry, and boyfriendless.

"Nott, wait up!" I shouted, running to catch up with him.

He turned, a surprised look on his face. "What?" he asked, quickly masking it with his usual sleazy grin. "You here to cheer me up? Make me forget about Colby?"

I wrinkled my nose in disgust. "No, I actually wanted to ask you about something. Something you said to me about a week ago. It's been bothering me."

"What did I say?" he asked.

"Oh, just something about Vic being a slut, me being a prude, and Louis being a faggot."

His eyebrows shot up in the air. "So?"

"Well, the first two are pretty the type of things you always say. But it was what you called Louis that caught my attention."

I remembered stopping in my tracks when he said it. I had passed him in the corridor in between classes and he had started taunting me. I'd been planning to ignore him like I usually did. But then that word came out of his mouth and something clicked. Everything Louis had been doing in the past year. Skipping class. Ignoring his friends. Failing his classes. Maybe it wasn't just some moody teenage phase. Maybe he was trying to come to terms with something. Something major. Something that would affect his entire life.

"I need to know why you called him that. Were you just making stuff up or do you actually have a reason for doing so?"

He stared at me. "Why does it matter?"

"Because I just need to know if you really have a reason for calling him that. Do you really think he's gay?"

He shrugged. "Yeah, I really do."

"But why?" I asked.

"I dunno. Good gaydar, I guess."

I sighed. That wasn't exactly concrete evidence.

"Why don't you just ask him yourself?" he asked. "He's your brother."

"If he wanted me to know, then he would have told me." I paused, frustrated. "He must not be. Why wouldn't he have told me? There's nothing wrong with it. Contrary to what idiots like you, who use words like that, seem to think."

It occurred to me that maybe I shouldn't be telling Timothy Nott all of this. But by that point, I just needed to someone to rant to. And Timothy, surprisingly, seemed to be listening.

"Well," he said, "there may not be anything wrong with it, but—"

"Then why would you call him that word?"

"I was trying to get to you," he replied simply, smirking slightly. "Although," he added, "I didn't think you'd take it quite this seriously."

"I've been looking for an explanation for his self-destructive behavior for so long," I said. "And this might finally be it. I just don't understand why he couldn't tell me."

"Well, like I was saying before, "said Timothy, "there may be nothing wrong with being gay, but the Wizarding world may not think so."

"What?" I snapped, exasperated. Why was he still talking to me? Why was I still talking to him?

"How many openly gay witches or wizards do you know?" he shot back.

"I… erm, well…" I stammered, thinking hard. There had to be some. Then it hit me. Of course. How could I forget? "Albus Dumbledore!" I exclaimed triumphant.

"He wasn't exactly open about it though, was he?" asked Timothy. "That information didn't even come out until after he died."

I sighed. He was right. The Wizarding world wasn't exactly a prime place for a gay teenager. If Louis was really gay, it was no wonder he was acting the way he was. Poor kid.

I looked back up at Timothy, still slightly bewildered that we'd been able to have an entire conversation that didn't consist of him trying to get me or Vic in bed with him.

"I need a drink," he said, tugging his hand through his dark hair. "Thank Merlin I'm of age. A butterbeer wouldn't cut it right now." He looked me up and down, his sleazy smirk back in place. "Care to join me? I'll buy you a firewhiskey."

"No, thanks." I replied coolly.

He shrugged. "Suit yourself."

I watched as he turned and began walking away, in the direction of the Hog's Head.

"I know your secret," I called after him.

He turned around, eyebrows raised. "My secret?" he replied, looking amused. "And what secret would that be?"

"You're not actually a bad person," I replied.

"And how do you figure that?" he asked.

"A few days ago I saw you yell at some Slytherin boys who were teasing a little Hufflepuff girl. You even picked up the books they'd knocked out of her hands and handed them back to her." When he didn't respond, I kept going. "And then today, you seemed perfectly willing to offer me advice about my brother."

"You caught me," he drawled, still looking extremely amused. "I'm not a monster who enjoys bullying first year girls. I don't practice Dark Magic in my free time. I don't have a shrine to Voldemort in my basement. Everyone just assumes I do. You don't know what it's like. You're a Weasley. When people hear your last name, they stop and whisper. But they whisper good things. Things about heroes, and saviors, and Harry Potter. People whisper when they hear my name too." His amused expression was gone, replaced by one filled with anger. "But there's only one word on their lips. Death Eater." He spat the word bitterly. "Everyone knows that the Notts were some of Voldemort's earliest supporters. And they'll never let me forget it."

"Why don't you just try to prove them wrong? Maybe your last name isn't why people have a bad impression of you. Maybe it's your attitude."

"Sometimes," he said, "it's just easier to be the person that everyone already thinks you are. People are very willing to accept that you're exactly the kind of person that they expected you to be. But they're a lot less willing to change those expectations. Nobody actually sees other people for who they truly are. They just see them for who they assume they are. So why should I even bother? I'm a Nott. This is how we are. I can't change it. So I might as well just accept it."

"That's really sad," I murmured.

He shrugged. "I'll survive."

I just looked at him. I'd always assumed he was just some one-dimensional bully with a brain the size of a flobberworm's. Boy, had I been wrong.

"Now I really need that drink," he said, sighing. He looked at me, this time his expression was smirk-free. "My offer to buy you a firewhiskey's still open, in case you've changed your mind."

I shook my head. "Not today," I said. "I'm just gonna head back to the castle."

He gave me a small smile. It was perhaps the first time that his smile didn't make my skin crawl.

"Don't tell anyone about what I said," he called after me, as I began walking away.

"Don't worry," I said. "I wouldn't dream of revealing the best of you."

Later that evening, at dinner, Liz asked me how my day had gone. "Did you find someone to hang out with in Hogsmeade?" she asked.

"I wasn't there for too long," I replied. "But I did have a lovely conversation with Timothy Nott."

She snorted loudly. "Haha, very funny."

"I'm not kidding."

She looked at me skeptically. "You can't be serious. Timothy Nott?"

"I'm completely serious."

"What in the world did you talk about?"

"I'm not at liberty to say," I told her.

She glanced over to where he was sitting at the Slytherin table. "His aura has a lot of black in it."

"What does that mean?" I asked warily.

"It means he's keeping a lot of secrets," she replied.

"You know," I said, "I think that might be true. Maybe there's something to be said for this aura rubbish after all."

That night, while I was lying in bed, Timothy's words kept flashing through my head.

Nobody actually sees other people for who they truly are. They just see them for who they assume they are.

Was that true?

I thought about Vic. Was that why I thought that she was such a selfish bitch? Because that's what I had convinced myself that she was in my mind.

I rolled over and squeezed my eyes shut. Today had been a strange day. I just wanted to sleep. All this thinking would just have to be put off until another day.

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