Disclaimer: The Potterverse belongs to Rowling


Bridget had to force herself to attend breakfast the next morning, known that she might have been a bit overdramatic the day before. Hopefully at least the teachers would have been worried about her and it was necessary to let them know she was alright.

All eyes were on her as she walked towards the end of the Slytherin table, a place that would welcome her in ways none of the other houses could, in ways she didn't want to be welcomed. She kept her head down, using her long, blonde hair as a shield for those who watched her. She'd avoid them all and eventually they'd stop talking about her. Eventually all of this would have to end.

"Are you okay?" Draco asked, falling into the seat next to her. She looked up at him with a smile, having forgotten that her cousin was still there for her, a friend no matter what she'd done.

"I'm alive," she told him, shrugging. He frowned then, his grey eyes darkening a shade.

"Potter got detention for what he said to you," he informed her smugly, happy that his enemy had gotten some sort of punishment. Draco had hated Potter before, but it had reached a whole new level when he started acting like a jerk towards Bridget. She had things hard enough as it was.

"I can't believe I let this happen," she mumbled, shaking her head. "I was so stupid."

"It's not your fault, Bee. You-Know-Who-"

"It's not that," Bridget interjected. "I mean, it is, but," she trailed off, gazing wistfully out the windows. She could see the grounds, still calling her name, and yearned to escape from the suddenly claustrophobic feel of Hogwarts. It was funny. She'd wanted to be back here so bad before, but now that she was here it was not at all like she remembered it.

"What?" Draco questioned, drawing her attention back to him.

"I can't believe I let myself get close to Potter with this strange idea that a friendship would work out between us. I should have known this would happen."

"You couldn't have known. Potter is stubborn and thickheaded. He doesn't take the time to really get to know a person. He never did with you."

Bridget shrugged, finding the whole situation funny, in a strange sort of way. Harry hated everything about her, the little that he took the time to know, so much that he rejected her completely. He wanted what was left of her dead, never wanted to see her again.

And yet, despite all of that, Bridget's love for him had not wavered. It hurt worse than she could have ever imagined to be in this state, but she couldn't make herself hate him in the slightest. When she looked at him she didn't see the guy who had told her he wanted her dead; she saw the guy she'd laughed with, gotten to know so easily, and shared many bickering moments with. She saw the guy that waited for her every morning to make sure she was on time, the guy that was there for her when she lost her best friend, the guy that had kissed her back that strange, altering, night.

She saw the guy that hugged her on the train, promising she'd be okay. She'd felt so safe that day, in his arms, so happy to be with him and she hadn't even realized she'd loved him yet.

That was gone now. All those promises, broken. Nothing to stitch them back together now.

"He didn't have to. I was the one who went out that day. I could have stayed in the house and-"

"And what? What's so special about Potter anyway that it matters so much to you?"

The question struck Bridget like a whip, for it was so similar to the one Voldemort had demanded, so similar to the one she never should have answered. She stared at her cousin in confusion and hurt, her mouth open slightly as she contemplated this.

"After class we'll talk some more, but I have to go," she said, suddenly getting up. As she did her eyes traveled to Harry and her body stopped moving mid-stand to watch him.

He was laughing, a beautiful look on his face, at Ron who was probably busy doing something stupid again. She couldn't hear his laugh through the crowds of the Great Hall, but in her head it rang loud and clear, a sound she longed to hear again. She remembered how nice it had sounded with hers, mixing like a melody to go with the smiles on her faces-

No. She couldn't think about this anymore. She needed to forget about him. Shaking her head, Bridget continued to walk, promising herself that after today she would forget about him, or at least stop focusing on him. She could never stop loving him, but there had to be ways to make this less painful.

After a day of sulking she'd move on and nobody would ever have to know she was in love with Harry Potter, aside from her father and Dumbledore. She wouldn't even tell Draco, wouldn't mention what happened that day ever again.

Besides, there were other things to worry about now.

Like Azkaban.

--

Harry sat in charms, scribbling on his notes with boredom. Bridget had shown up for breakfast that morning, relieving Harry of any excessive punishment. She was alive and well, though didn't look too happy as she slithered back to Malfoy.

Things had returned to the way they were supposed to be, with Harry not paying attention in class and Ron making a fool of himself in front of a dubious Hermione.

"Ms. Riddle, what is the incantation for the friction charm?" Flitwick questioned.

This was not to say, of course, that Bridget wasn't still around. Because she was and just because she'd been brought down a few notches did not mean she got any quieter.

"No idea, sir."

"Five points from-"

"I don't have a house, sir," she told him, smirking. "But I bet if you take enough points away I'll melt."

"Ms. Riddle, where are you going?" Flitwick demanded, befuddled as Bridget stood and began walking towards the door.

"Where does it look like I'm going, sir? I really don't know if I can take class anymore, or this school, for that matter."

"Then maybe you should leave," a student said. Bridget met his the speaker with a fierce glare, not even knowing his name. He shut up then, turning back to the front of the class.

So Bridget left.