The deafening echo of thunder rang through the night, the clasp of thunder that followed, igniting it with a fierce white-gold glow.

Lia sat trembling on her broomstick, as water dripped down her hair, dribbling into her eyes. She blinked rapidly, endeavouring not to lose her vision despite the fact that the pitch was riddled with fog and the rain fell so heavily that she could barely see a few metres in front of her.

It was the first match of the season. Gryffindor verses Slytherin, and she played as one of three Chasers.

It was rather unfortunate that she had absolutely no idea what she was doing.

It was also rather unfortunate for Flint, since, due to the fact that nobody could barely even recognise who was who, her clumsy flying around the pitch had no effect on Harry, Fred and George's skill whatsoever.

It was awful.

And for a moment, she contemplated dropping down straight to the ground, slamming the broom that Malfoy had bought the team to the ground, and stalking off.

She flew around frantically, trying to find the Quaffle with her eyes. She vaguely saw a broad, hulking figure, that she identified as Adrian Pucey and tore towards him.

"Grab the Quaffle!" he yelled as he spotted her. He flipped around in his broom to avoid the Bludger that was hurtling towards him, and threw the ball with one hand towards Lia.

She dropped it.

"Fuck."

Pucey was not impressed. "You were barely three metres away from me!" he roared.

"I'm sorry!" she hollered back, raising her voice over the echo of thunder, "But, I didn't want to bloody be here in the first place."

"Stay out of my way," he spat back, and prepared to fly after the soaring ball.

"Gladly."

She urged her broomstick down, thinking that it would probably be safer if she was closer to the ground, and the fog lighter. The clouds indeed cleared up the lower she went, until she was actually able to have a vague idea of where she was and what was happening.

In the corner of her eye, she saw a wave of blond hair. Draco Malfoy was sitting on his broom, punching one arm up in delight, in his other, he held a small, gold object, that fluttered, and then fell slack in his grasp. Was that …?

Her eyes widened. It appeared that Malfoy had finally been able to beat her brother, and capture the Snitch before him.

Lia had to admit that Malfoy was rather talented at Quidditch, probably owing to the fact that he had practised far before his Hogwarts years. Ordinarily, he could have been the best in the year, perhaps the best in the school, but he paled in comparison to Harry.

That sparked a thought – she looked around. Where was Harry? It was so unlike him to be so far apart from the snitch, not with his stellar eyesight and swift reflexes.

Then she saw him. And she saw them.

A crowd full of dementors were hovering beneath her brother, the black clocks rippling in the wind again, as they had that time on the Hogwarts Express.

Harry was falling.

Falling.

Faster and faster, dropping down from the sky, his broomstick blown away in the wind. He was limp, unmoving, and Lia realised that he must have been unconscious.

The problem was that they were at least fifty metres up in the sky. If he tumbled to the ground, the results would be dire.

Lia wasted no time. She wasn't sure if her mind was working, because afterwards she didn't remember thinking at all – it was more of a gut impulse that drove her to fly after Harry.

She could have just pulled out her wand. She could have just used a simple movement charm. But of course, in her haste, she forgot everything.

"Harry!" she yelled.

She pressed her broom down, pleading with it to go faster, to move smoother through the air. But she had never been good at flying, and the blasted thing wouldn't obey her commands. If anything, it seemed to go even slower.

Lia wasn't sure what sparked her to do what she did next.

Frustrated and scared beyond belief, she leapt off her broom, and then she too was free-falling down.

She realised too late what she had done. "Fuck," she swore again.

She pressed her arms by her side, and forced her legs together, so that she was dropping in the form of a vertical needle. The air resistance acting on her lessened, she fell faster, and then she was grabbing at Harry's arm.

Which didn't help anything.

They were still falling.

Lia tried desperately to grab her wand out of her pocket, but her hands were numb from cold, the fingers shaking too much to undo the buttons.

She cursed. She was an idiot. And now they were both going to die.

"Lia!" Malfoy yelled. "Damn it!"

And then he shoved the Snitch into his pocket and dove after them. As Lia plummeted, her face tilted up towards the sky, she saw that Malfoy was growing closer, and even she had to admire the skill and ease at which he rode the broomstick.

"Grab onto Potter!" he bellowed, and Lia looped her hand around her brother's arm.

Malfoy reached down and latched his hand around her robes, grabbing a fistful of fabric. Lia was suddenly thankful that she had done up the buttons so tight, for they stopped falling, and Malfoy hanged onto them, Lia extended out as if she were a rag doll, her hand gripping onto Harry, so that all of them were connected in one long chain of limbs.

She sighed in relief. So they weren't going to die after all.

She thought too soon.

The broom wobbled, even as a Nimbus Two Thousand and One, it was unused to handling the weight of three people. It gave another shake, and promptly splintered in half.

They fell again.

This time, it was Malfoy that cursed.

As the ground grew closer, the three of them still propelling downwards, Lia closed her eyes and braced herself for the impact that was bound to come.

At the last minute however, Dumbledore raised his wand and they immediately slowed down, as if a parachute had been attached to their backs. Despite that, there was not enough time for them to come completely to a stop.

She slammed to the ground, and the world went black.

When Lia regained consciousness, she found that she was back in the Hospital Wing once more. This had to be the what? Third time, that she'd been there. Her hair was glued to her forehead, the sheets crumpled up around her chin. A glass of water rested on the small table next to her, and she gobbled down the contents, parched.

She found that Malfoy was awake too, and piercing her with his gaze once more.

"What happened?" she asked.

"Harry fell," said Malfoy, looking bored. "You decided to leap after him. I chose to save you, and we almost died in the process. It was all very dramatic."

'What? Wait, what?" Her mouth opened in shock. "What the fuck. Malfoy? You dived after me? You tried to save Harry! What?"

"I didn't do it for him," he grumbled, looking offended.

"Why?" she asked. "You haven't actually lost your mind have you?"

Malfoy shook his head. "I wasn't going to just hover there and watch you splinter into little pieces, Lia. We're friends. Besides," he frowned, "I didn't realise that the stupid broom would fracture."

"I don't believe it. But you're a dick, Malfoy! You don't … don't save people like that."

"I told you. I didn't think the broomstick would break. Anyway, I'd caught the Snitch. We won, by the way. So I had nothing better to do."

Lia was still staring at him with shock.

"I'm not a hero."

"I thought that much was obvious," she said. "You're more the villain type."

He snorted.

There was another grumble in the room, and she saw Harry stirring, he was lying in a bed that was placed directly opposite from her own. There were flowers and chocolate and cards placed beside him. It made Lia's glass of water look a bit sad in comparison.

"What happened?" Harry asked.

Malfoy sighed in exasperation and began his explanation again.

"You saved us? Why?"

"How many times do I have to say this? I didn't do it for you Potter." He paused. "Besides, I was thinking of how bad it would look if I just stood there and let the Chaser and Heiress of Slytherin fall to a bloody death."

Harry was frowning as his eyes shifted to Malfoy, then to Lia, and back again, his head whipping about so rapidly that Lia thought he would sprain his neck.

There was a long silence.

"I don't like you, Malfoy," Harry said finally.

"What a shock."

"But … thanks," he muttered, looking sour.

Malfoy's eyes widened. "Now that is a shock."

"Thanks for thinking of Lia," Harry grimaced. "I-I…" He seemed to be choking on his words.

Malfoy looked positively disgusted. "Potter," he snapped, glaring. "We're not going to have a fucking heart to heart. So shut your bloody mouth."

They were released from the wing after the weekend passed.

"Flint!" Lia yelled. She had been looking for the Slytheirn Quidditch Captain ever since she had finally gotten out from the hospital.

He looked over at her, breaking off from his conversation with the horde of Slytherins.

"Lia," he said. "You're kicked off the team. Unanimous decision. Pucey's been ranting all week about how you couldn't even catch something as big and obvious as the Quaffle."

She sighed in relief. "Thank god … And here I thought that I'd have to hand in my letter of resignation."

"Your what?" asked Flint, frowning.

"Nevermind."

The following days passed by in a blur. The weather grew colder and darker as the bitter winter approached. The sky grew gloomy and obscured with melancholy, bulging storm clouds of rain. The only upside to it, was the snow that drifted down like bleached petals falling from a cherry blossom, so pure that they seemed to elevate Lia's spirits.

"Christmas!" Tracy shook Lia out of her trance. She had been peering out the window at the sleet-capped landscape again. "It's Christmas!"

"Wonderful," she replied, not looking too excited. She'd had another one of her nightmares the night before, and was trying to shake the images from her mind.

"Who pissed on your bed today? It's Christmas! Be happy! Come on, open the presents. Bet you'll love what I got you!"

Tracey shoved a parcel at her, it was wrapped with glossy red paper, topped with a neat green bow. Lia unravelled the wrapping on the outside, to find another cardboard box inside. She raised an eyebrow at Tracey.

"Open it."

As soon as her hands tore apart packaging, she saw what looked like a scrunched up bit of plastic inside. Before her very eyes, it grew larger and larger in size, like an inflatable toy that just been blown up.

In seconds, it transformed into what appeared to be a rather hefty enclosure, with the plastic hardening into almost glass-like walls that formed into a rectangular prism.

"It's a cage, see," said Tracey. "For Cleo. Wait til I show you what it can do."

She pressed at a button on one side, and the cage immediately shrunk back down into a flat sheet the size of a book. "It's collapsible! Handy, huh?"

"Thanks," Lia said, grinning. She picked her snake up, pressing the button, and gently placed Cleo onto the soil floor inside. The snake gave a happy hiss, and ducked down into a hollow log. "I think she likes it."

She picked up another present, a smaller one, that was slightly hidden in the corner. "Who's this from?"

Tracey shrugged. "Carol gave it to me. She said she found it on a table, and it's addressed to you. No idea who sent it."

Lia glanced at it, suspiciously. "Wonder if it's a prank?" After a moment of prodding it, she shrugged and removed the sage green wrapping. A tiny slip of paper fell out:

To Lia,

For your necklace.

That was all it said.

"Woah. Beautiful," Tracey said, peering over Lia's shoulder.

Lia turned the gift around in her hands, she almost felt bad for placing her slightly grimy fingers on the charm, afraid she would mar the unblemished surface. It was made from a burnished sterling silver, a curling snake positioned in an upright figure eight shape, its head coming out from the tip where the two circles touched. Instead of two cavities for eyes, there were two minuscule diamonds, shining so brightly that it appeared as if the snake was really staring back at her.

"Put it on!"

Lia unfastened her mother's pendant that she now wore even when sleeping, and slid on the charm, it hung there, matching perfectly with the citrine gemstone already dangling off the chain.

"It's pretty," Lia said, admiring it.

"I wonder who bought it?" said Tracy. "It must have cost a fortune. The note's not signed." She grinned. "Looks like you have a mystery admirer!"

Lia scoffed. "Funny."

A few weeks later, Lia trampled through the grassy yard, towards Malfoy, her expression radiating with bare-controlled rage, like a volcano preparing to burst.

"Malfoy," Lia hissed, seething. "You just had to go and tell your father about Buckbeak, didn't you? You know he's going to get executed right? And it's all your fault. You're going to be responsible for a death!"

His expression contorted fractionally. "I didn't voluntarily tell him - your parents automatically get notified if you've been up at the hospital wing. And, besides I thought you were going to save that beast with your testimony or some crap like that."

"I tried!" She threw her arms up vexation. "They wouldn't freaking listen to me! I swear, everyone one of those judges in that trial must be arrogant, ignorant fucking toe-bags. I hope that their lives are as short as their dicks must be!"

Malfoy shook his head. "And you wonder why they didn't listen? You should get a leash for that mouth."

"Shut your mouth. I told them all about how it was all your fault for provoking Buckbeak and how everyone was told not to insult it or look it in the eye, but of course Malfoy was an idiot and he decided to wreck everything and lose his mind and do whatever the hell he wanted!"

"I'm sure they took that well."

"You know what they said?" she roared. "They said that I was being irrational, and then they asked me what happened next, and I told them how I pushed you to the ground. Then bloody Lucius Malfoy goes and shows them pictures of my arm post-Buckbeak. And he's all like she's obviously still confused, and how Hagrid had brainwashed me so much that I was blind to the fact that he almost caused me to lose my life! What a load of absolute bullshit."

"Look, Lia. The Hippogriff is pretty dangerous."

"It isn't!" she groaned. "Not if you respect the rules. I don't understand why you always have to go around screwing things up, Malfoy."

"Hey," he looked affronted. "I saved your life the other day."

"No you didn't, the broom cracked, and we would've died if Dumbledore weren't there."

"I slowed you two down, so that he had enough time to say the spell."

"He would've said it anyway. He's Dumbledore."

"The fact is Lia, you owe me."

She narrowed her eyes. "What the hell do you want now, Malfoy?" she grumbled.

"The same as always ... I want you to call me Draco."

"That again? Why?"

"I simply like Draco much better than Malfoy." He grinned wickedly, and leaned closer towards her. He whispered in his ear, "And also, I love it when you say Draco. It rolls off your tongue, very ... seductively."

"Oh piss off!"

She shoved him away roughly.

"You owe me, Lia. And look, I was pretty alright to Harry at the hospital wing, wasn't I?"

"No."

"No, Draco," he said.

"No, Malfoy," she retorted.

He sighed. "Why do you have to be so bloody stubborn!"

"Because," she spat. "You're a stupid, mean, conceited bully!"

"Well that's very rude, isn't it."

"So is calling someone stubborn!"

"I won't call you stubborn anymore, if you call me Draco."

They had exchanged a long, tense look.

Lia groaned. She was getting very, very, very sick of this crap. "Will you stop bothering me all the time, then, if I call you ... Draco?" She said the name with revulsion.

Malfoy smirked. He looked like the cat that got the cream. "Promise I will," he said.

Lia sighed.

"Fine," she instantly felt as if she would regret accepting. "Malf ... Draco. I swear to god though! If you annoy me one bit, it's back to fucking Malfoy for you!"

"I thought you said that I always annoy you Lia."

"More than usual, then."

He smiled then, a real genuine smile. Lia remembered how she had once thought that his smile was creepy, like Norman Bates, but this one, this white toothy grin, sent tingles up her back.

She stared.

The bell rang suddenly, Lia gave a little jump she surprise, and reached down to grab her satchel topped full of books and quills and ink.

"We have to go to class," she muttered. Before waiting for Mal-Draco to reply. She stomped off, letting her hair hang loose around her face so that it covered the pink blush that she knew was flaming on her cheeks.

What was wrong with her?