"Hi," Hermione said breathlessly, flouncing down the Great Hall where Drusilla and Harry were sitting, comparing notes or something like it on Trelawney's class earlier. Drusilla, for one, had been discharged early this morning when Madam Pomfrey found her to be much better--not that she was that ill anyway-- "Sorry I'm late." She put her books down on the table and slid into the seat opposite the two of them.

Harry, for one, didn't much notice her, to Hermione's amusement--he was much too busy looking at Drusilla, who was scribbling like crazy into her little notebook. At her voice, Drusilla looked up--causing Harry to switch his embarrassed gaze to Hermione--and grinned. "Hey. Witness me doing my homework. Not last minute."

"Hi Herm." Harry joined in, his sparkling cerulean eyes glancing around, realizing that her other half was not around. "Where's Ron?"

"He'll be coming soon, he's got something to do with McGonagall." she replied, sorting through her books. "Feeling much better now, Dru?"

"I wasn't ill in the first place. Just had a little headache, that's all."

Hermione looked a little taken aback at the defensive edge in the other girl's voice before Drusilla hastily added, by way of explanation. "I spent one whole day putting up with Madam Pomfrey, who thinks I've gone off my rocker."

"Oh." Well, in that case, she had valid reason. Drusilla gave her an apologetic smile and bowed her head to copy furiously again.

"Hey," Drusilla spoke up after a while, her voice sounding a little muffled. "You stuck two Mars here."

Harry turned to look at his map. "That's correct. It's the whole alignment and blue moon thing."

"Oh. Okay." she looked sheepish. "A bit off today."

Hermione looked up just in time to see Harry shoot an affectionate look at Drusilla--which she completely missed--and her suspicions were confirmed. Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, was in love.

With his friend, no less.

"All right, done!" Drusilla shut her book triumphantly and wiggled her fingers to get the feeling back into them. "Thanks alot, Harry. Wouldn't know what I would've done without you."

"Don't thank me," he deadpanned. "I'm as bad in Trelawney's class as you are, what with her still seeing my death in teacups and crystal balls and everything."

"You shouldn't stay in that class, you know." Hermione told them, shaking her head. "Divination is a rubbish subject, with no solid proof to back the whole thing up."

Drusilla sighed. "You know I suck at most of the subjects, Hermione."

"You're good at Transfiguration and Arithmancy." she pointed out.

"Yes, but I need at least four other subjects, too. Snape's killing me in Potions, I'm barely scraping through in Professor Flitwick's and Professor Sprout's class...and Care of Magical Creatures...no matter how high I get, that subject doesn't really count, does it?" she looked very discouraged. "And at least Trelawney likes my aura enough to give me good grades."

"Divination's not so bad," Harry said quickly, and Hermione shot him a knowing look. He had been complaining about Divination-well, as much as Harry can complain, anyway--but had obviously stayed on to accompany Drusilla, since she was so bad at so many subjects. He'd even put up with Trelawney's morbid predictions of his future--or, according to her Inner Eye--lack thereof, and Hermione was amazed that Drusilla had not noticed all these little things yet.

"Since when do you say that?" Ron demanded, coming up to them with his sister, Ginny, in tow. She was a pretty little thing, really, but a lot on the shy side. Ever since the fiasco with Tom Riddle's diary a few years back, she'd retreated into herself, and Drusilla--apart from Harry and the rest, of course--was the only one in Gryffindor who made friends with her. All the other Gryffindors seemed to think mildly that she was a strange person, and her crush on Harry was no secret.

They're very compatible, though. Drusilla thought absently as she smiled at the younger redhead. And even better, she's Ron's sister. No danger there.

"Well, I uh--" Harry looked embarrassed and was scrambling for words as Drusilla made a seat for Ginny so she could sit next to Harry. She missed Harry's crestfallen expression as Ginny shot her a grateful smile and slid in between them.

"Hi, Harry." she said shyly.

Harry, being a gentleman, simply smiled back warmly at her. "Hi, Ginny." He looked at the table, which was already filling with food. "Are you hungry? Strange how it's lunchtime already."

Drusilla filled her plate with the carved-up pieces of beef at the centre of the table and began cutting it up into little pieces, falling into conversation with Ron and Hermione. It was then that she looked up--for no reason at all, really--with the nagging feeling that someone was watching her.

And indeed, someone was.

And that someone was Draco Malfoy.

And what made her distinctly uncomfortable was that he wasn't simply just looking at her out of the corner of his eye or anything, he was very openly staring at her. She felt the meat settling heavily in her stomach as she gazed back at him, her chin tilted a little higher, daring him to keep eye contact.

To her annoyance, he simply smirked at her in that arrogant manner of his and kept staring.

Damn you, she thought, feeling a warm flush creep up her cheeks yet again. When would she ever stop blushing in front of that silly git? Damn you.

Damn the fact that he was so handsome, simply sitting there and staring at her insolently, looking so alluring and dangerously beautiful that try as she might, she could not possibly tear her eyes away. What had started as a staring competition was now a mutual admiration of each other. Strange how none of the Slytherins or Gryffindors had noticed yet.

Heat raced through her veins and dulled again as he broke eye contact, still in his relaxed manner, and turned to Crabbe and Goyle. Drusilla cursed him. How could he stay so cool when she was already yearning for him? She tamped down the errant emotions and fixed her gaze on her plate. That was it, she was not going to think about him. Not in that sense. It was all so...wrong.

Wrong because it all felt so right.

Knowing that she was not going to get food to her stomach now, she rose and excused herself. Well, at least she could go ride Aeglos now and expend some of that--ahem--energy. Most probably, Aeglos was out wandering somewhere--he had always refused to be locked up in a stable like normal horses, but then again, he wasn't normal. Aeglos was a wild horse, born to roam the lands. It was lucky for Drusilla that she had managed to persuade him to roam the lands near Hogwarts so he needn't be so far away from her. It was chilly out, and as she left the warmth of the Great Hall, she wrapped her red and yellow scarf around her neck to keep warmer.

Turning a corner, she gasped when she almost bumped into someone there.

A very special someone who went by the name of Draco Malfoy, that someone she was trying so hard to purge out of her system--it was just a bloody kiss, for God's sake!

Her breath got caught in her throat when she realized that he was simply leaning against the wall, his pose relaxed and totally unruffled. He looked up at her and smirked. "Thought you'd never come."

She took a tentative step back, her eyes wide. "How-how did you get here so fast?"

"I've got my ways," he said vaguely, and left it at that as he pushed off from the wall and sauntered towards her, perfectly aware that she was already reacting to his nearness. Hell, he was already reacting to hers. In the chill of the corridor, he could already feel her body heat, sense that she was beckoning to him already, and it drived him nuts. All the crap about being a Malfoy and how love was a technical impossibility for people in that bloodline did not matter to him now. Not when he was around her. Did she even know what she was doing to him?

And for most part, part of her charm was that she did not know.

Deciding to play with her for a little while, he absently fingered the soft material of the scarf. It seemed so much rougher when compared to her skin. He let his fingers drift to her cheeks, and he caressed it like a lover would. A soft blush appeared under his fingertips, and then and there, she was beautiful.

So beautiful...

Her eyes were lidded, and she whispered. "Please stop this."

Impudently, he leaned closer and whispered in her ear, inhaling her fresh scent that reminded him of summertime. "Do you want me to?" his voice was roughened by the passion surging within him. He brushed her soft ringlets back and his tongue flicked out, caressing the pointy tip of her ear. To his pleasure, she whimpered and her hold on him tightened. Before she knew it, he had her pressed against the wall, providing no avenue for her escape.

"My, my." he whispered in a low, seductive undertone, planting a soft kiss on her eartip. "Our little Elf is sensitive here."

She gasped a little at the contact and immediately tried to break away from him before it was too late, but he held her firmly in place, not allowing her to escape. Deciding that he'd toyed with her enough and reaching the end of his tether, Draco tilted her chin up and kissed her.

It was a strangely gentle kiss, and Drusilla was taken aback for a moment. Who knew he could be so gentle? One hand snaked around her waist, and another at the back of her neck, positioning her so that he could kiss her even deeper. Her lips opened to his questing one almost immediately, and it was then that the passion took over them. The gentle kiss became fiercer and fiercer, growing in feeling and lust. His hand had slipped into the sweater she was wearing, trailing small, hot circles on her back with his fingers.

She almost cried out at the sudden coldness that hit her bruised lips when he trailed his own down her neck, skillfully undoing the scarf and unbuttoning the first button on her blouse. She felt a warm heat surge through her entire body, and she pulled him closer. He sensed her yearning and his lips returned to hers, all their thoughts abandoned for the moment.

All that mattered were each other.

Her lips, her face, her fingers, they were so soft...seductive silk that inflamed his senses, driving him over the edge as he drank in her kisses eagerly, feeling her hands tracing looping patterns on his chest...his cold heart was warmed at her skin pressing against his, and in that moment, he knew he was falling...

Falling into something he could not come back out of.

And he did not care.

Once more, the kiss turned rough, searching...dominating. And this time, she submitted, letting him mark her as his own. But it was not long before she responded, her touch burning like a brand on his skin, the scent of her seeping into his veins, into his heart, marking him, branding him. He would never be free of her anymore.

She was his, and he was hers.

Finally, they pulled away, and he rested his forehead against hers, his breathing ragged and uneven, but he was...strange enough, feeling content just about now with the world, the first time he'd ever felt that way around a woman, even the ones he had bedded. Her deep blue eyes were mesmerizing, and then and there, he felt his long-time effort of building up a cold wall between him and everyone else, the formation of barriers, of nasty insults to keep everyone away from him, crumbling like a cookie. No matter how much he tried to salvage it, he could not hold on. He could not bear to push Drusilla away, he did not want to. He saw the hidden promise in her eyes, the gentle warmth that caressed his cold and dead soul, the realization that she was in love with him. It was as if she understood him, revived a part of his heart that he thought was long dead. He felt...alive.

But he was afraid. His old man had drummed it into him that emotions were weaknesses, they were for losers who would not be able to achieve great things in the real world. Yeah, but look at him now, a snide voice in his head whispered. He's doing 'great things' now by rotting in Azkaban.

Emotions were weaknesses. Drusilla is my weakness. I cannot let her become that.

Drusilla saw the hesitation in his eyes, and her fingers touched the side of his face almost tenderly. His arms were wrapped tightly around her, pressing her against him, as if willing her to mold against him and never let go. So many things were answered in the last few minutes.

So many things were clear for her now.

She was in love with Draco Malfoy.

He stiffened, and his arms slipped away from her. Drusilla's eyes widened at the gesture and looked into his silver-gray eyes for any kind of answer. She froze when she saw that his eyes had resumed that usual iciness, his perfect mouth curled up in an all-too-familiar, disdainful sneer.

"Good to know that underneath all that innocence, you're such a slut." He threw the words at her and brushed off his clothes as if they were dirty. Draco forced himself to look her in the eye, and he could feel his heart shatter together with hers. Because there was pain.

Pain in those beautiful blue eyes. Pain like nothing he had ever seen before in any girl's eyes.

Pain he never wanted to see again.

His fumbled words had quite clearly cut into her with a knife-edged intensity. His words, spawned from fear of the unknown, had hurt the only woman he would ever, ever love.

It has to be this way, he told himself. I'm a Malfoy. I'm a Slytherin. This cannot possibly work out. I cannot love her.

I cannot.

Ignoring his heart's plaintive cries to return to her, to take back all his words, he turned away and stalked off, not wanting to look her in the eye once more, because it might break his heart once again. He had to say those words, to hurt her as much as possible. To hurt her as much as it was hurting him inside so that she would run far away from him. So that he would forget her. Forget his moment of weakness. Forget his weakness.

He was Draco Malfoy.

He would love no one. In that moment, he felt as if he had died once more. And Drusilla joined him.

***

"Good God!" Hermione exclaimed later that night as she saw Drusilla trudging into the Common Room, trailing layers of dirt in her wake. Her clothes were muddied as was her face, and her eyes...

Her eyes were uncharacteristically red-rimmed and puffy, and it looked as if she had been crying. Hermione's annoyance faded to deep concern as she took one step towards her foster sister and best friend. "You went riding in this weather? Why are you crying?"

Harry half-stood, dropping his quill on the assignment from McGonagall he had industriously been working on for the whole of that evening, his brow furrowed in concern. He saw none of her filthiness, he saw none of her disheveled robes. All he saw were her eyes. Her innocent, dancing eyes filled with a dim pain, dulled and almost dead. He only saw that she was dreadfully unhappy. "Drusilla! What happened?'

All that came out was a choked sob, and she fled to her room--sixth years were lucky that way, at least they had their own private rooms--leaving the three of them to stare at each other in bewilderment.

****

A nailbiting half an hour later, it was established that Harry would go in and find out what was wrong, because his gentle disposition and polite manner made him the perfect candidate. Also, he was the one who had the crush on her, and it was only decent of Ron and Hermione to both try to get them together--according to them, it was a perfect match--but they said nothing of this to Harry, of course. They simply pushed him towards her door and vigorously insisted that he was the one to go in.

And so he did, half of him feeling strangely unsure of himself and how she would react to his presence, another half wanting to just gather her in his arms and make her pain go away. He did not know what exactly was wrong, but it didn't matter. The girl he had fallen in love with was sad, and that was what ultimately counted.

Tentatively, he pushed open the door. Faint candlelight flickered against the walls, and the faint hint of steam wafted to his nose. She had taken a hot, steaming bath not long before, and the lingering scent of her soap still clung to the air, pleasantly refreshing.

"Dru?" he asked softly, his eyes adjusting to the dim light in her room, which was further proof of her unhappiness. Drusilla never dimmed her room's lights. It was either brightly lit or turned off totally. He remembered her mentioning that she was a fussy sleeper, actually. She could not sleep when a light is turned on, no matter how dim, and he had always found it rather..odd.

But not tonight. He found her sitting on her bed, cross-legged and already in a simple white nightdress. Her hair was back to her usual ringlets and spilled all over her face, the flickering light casting long shadows over her pale face. There was something different about it, though. Her face now...glowed a little less, if that was the word for it. She was not crying now, but simply looked worn.

"Dru." He stated, not going past a gentle and tentative tone.

She did not look at him, instead, looked down at her hands. "Hi Harry."

In those few moments, he watched her struggle to gather herself, and he felt a small twinge of bittersweet pang for her when she looked up with a strained smile. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

He crossed over to her. "Why not let's do something for you first," he suggested. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Nothing much." She said hastily, and it was supposed to be true. Malfoy's words were not supposed to hurt like this. He had insulted her so many times before, why was this time so different?

Because you love him.

And what made it worse was when she saw the flash of fear in his eyes before he resumed his cocky and insufferable self again. She had seen, and she was confused. What did it all mean? Why did he purposely hurt her like that? Why did he say those things to her? Why did he look at her like he hated her so, when a few moments before, his eyes had told her that he loved her? Why?

It's not supposed to hurt like this.

To his credit, Harry did not say anything; he simply sat down on edge of the bed next to her. Drusilla found that she could not look him in the eye, not when his piercing, comforting gaze was on her. He would understand, she knew. But somehow, a little voice at the back of her head was nagging at her not to. If she actually told him who caused it, she was afraid that Harry would personally pull out Draco's spleen from his nostrils.

Which was a bad thing.

Because Harry could be expelled, she reasoned. Nothing to do with Drac-Malfoy whatsoever. Nothing.

To her surprise, once she really thought about it, she wasn't angry. Not by far. The more befitting expression would be disappointment. Or hurt. Or confusion. Somewhere along those lines. Love's not supposed to be like this, is it?

There was a long silence, and it was obvious that Harry was not going to go away like she half-expected him to until he had a semblance of an answer from her. Or something. The look in his eyes plainly said that he did not expect something as much as an answer to what she was going through, he was just going to be there for her. He wanted her to have some kind of reaction, or something pertaining to that. An answer was just a bonus.

"I-I don't know what I'm supposed to say." she said softly, uncertainly. "It's not like I've been through something like this before."

"You don't have to say anything that you don't want to say. I understand." He told her gently.

Her next words took him entirely by surprise. "It'd be simpler if I could just hate him. I think he wanted me to. I think it made it easier to be the bad guy of the story." Her laugh was harsh and bitter. "No feelings, no emotions, no weaknesses. Only hate." she paused, and this time, it was charged with her sorrow and his heartbreak. "He was just afraid to love." He was afraid to love me.

A large part of Harry wanted to demand who it was, who was the bloody git who had the fortune of holding her heart in his hand, and the callousness and stupidity to stomp it into pieces. A bitter edge of anger rose within him, and he tamped it down. It was no good for her to see him angered, to see him jealous, and he did not want to upset her more than she already was. A small portion of him was gleefully happy that the one she fancied had not returned her feelings, and it hinted that he had a good chance, the other, larger portion mostly felt guilty and sad for her, because above it all, he wanted her to be happy. Happy with me, an errant thought raced through his head.

Drusilla glanced at him, momentarily confused at his reaction. For once, behind his round glasses, his normally calm blue-green eyes were angry--she could still see it no matter how much he tried to conceal it-- his fair, strong face was set in a grim line, his calloused hands--used to years of snatching at glittering gold Snitches in mid-air, were clenched into fists. "Harry?"

He seemed to snap out of it immediately, his posture relaxing when he caught her watching him. His cheeks looked strangely pink, and Drusilla was more mystified than ever. Was Harry running a fever? Here she was rambling on and on about the problem she would never fully reveal to him and he was sick.

"Are you ill, Harry?" She reached out a hand to touch his forehead, and he immediately ducked back to avoid it. In the process, Drusilla had leaned too far forward and with a small sound of surprise, lost her balance, if not for Harry catching her wrist just in time to prevent her from falling into him and probably knocking him off the bed.

Her sudden nearness knocked him off guard, and he had a chance to stare into her eyes, to admire the smoothness of her face. For a moment, he had an overwhelming urge to stroke her cheek, to feel the silky softness that her skin seemed to suggest. He wanted to touch her lips with his own, to watch her sapphire blue eyes flutter shut like delicate butterflies as he kissed her...

"Wow," Drusilla hurriedly remarked, pulling her wrist away from his comfortably warm and gentle grasp. Something strange had fluttered between them for a moment there, the look in his eyes... she had no idea what just happened, and decided to leave it at that. "You've got nice reflexes."

The odd moment was over, and Harry looked a little awkward. "Uh...thanks. Must be the years of playing Quidditch." he flashed her a smile, and her heart was momentarily warmed. He was always so good to her, giving her without question or hesitation what she asked him to. His homework, the Invisibility cloak she had to borrow for an urgent errand, and lots of other things.

Come to think of it, he was the one who had never failed to be there for her. Ron and Hermione were always in their own little rosy world of love, more often than not leaving her and Harry alone--unintentionally, of course--and she supposed that it was from there that their friendship developed. He was a great person, a truly rare catch of a man. Nice and polite, he was unassuming and was always a gentleman. Harry was always willing to help his friends when they needed it, and he was especially well-mannered--Drusilla was always most impressed with that fact because he had grown up with the awful Dursleys and had--thankfully--not picked up any of their bad habits, staying as pleasant and as kind-hearted as ever.

Not many people these days--Muggles and Wizards alike--could say that about themselves. She was glad to have a best friend like him. And Ginny had good taste.

He opened his mouth, and no sound came out. He tried again hastily, and nodded. "Y-Yeah. I'm feeling very well, thank you. I just uh, I need to get some rest. It's late."

"Of course. Good night, Harry."

"Good night to you, too, Dru." he smiled warmly at her before getting off the bed and heading for the door. Drusilla watched his slender--a little on the skinny side--figure for a moment, then said, "Harry?"

He turned immediately. "Yes?"

"Thank you."

"Whatever for?" He was pleasantly surprised.

"For uh, listening to me." Well, at least he listened as much as she told him, she figured. And the fact that he did not prod her for more details like Ron or Hermione most probably would, made her thankful that it was him who entered her room in the first place. "And for not...asking questions."

"I'm always here for you, Dru." He promised, an unreadable look in his eyes as he slowly shut the door. I can make you happy.

***

"So?" Hermione demanded as soon as Harry stepped out of the room. All the rest of the Gryffindors save for the ones who had Quidditch practice a little later that night had retired to their respective bedrooms for the night, leaving only the three of them in the Common Room--the rest of the team had just gone to their rooms to change into their Quidditch robes. Harry had a strange look on his face, and they wondered what was wrong.

"Dru's in love." he said simply. "Out of it, actually."

"What? She loved someone and didn't tell us?" Ron was shocked.

"Did they go out?" Hermione questioned curiously.

"I guess so. But it seems like he uh, dumped her. Or something." His eyes flashed, and he said in an unnervingly calm tone. "If I ever find the bastard, I'm going to--"

Hermione put a hand on his shoulder and shook her head. "Now is not the time for this, Harry, and you know it." She paused and looked over at him. "You've got a chance."

Harry started in surprise and stared at her. "What?"

Ron grinned and patted his back. "Oh, come off it, Harry. Your crush on Dru isn't a secret anymore. It's just that that girl's too thick to see it."

He sighed, and his cheeks turned pink, a rarity for him. "I don't know, Ron, Hermione. It's just that sometimes, I wish that I could just put her in my pocket or something, like a Snitch, so that she doesn't run away from me , but I know that it isn't how it works."

"Are you going to give up, then?" Hermione questioned.

"Of course not," he told them, and there was determination in his eyes. "As long as she isn't married or anything, I've still got a pretty good chance, haven't I?"

"Then you've got to do something about it then," Ron encouraged. "Send her flowers or something. Console her and do the romantic things guy usually do to get girls."

"She isn't exactly a...girl." Harry pointed out delicately. She's not like other girls, that's why I like her.

"Right," he replied impatiently and threw up his hands in exasperation. "An Elf girl. They're all the same! Romantic gestures and gifts, that's what gets them."

"Romantic gestures and gifts?" he frowned, thinking. He'd never really done a romantic thing for any girl before, and he didn't quite know what exactly to do.

"Flowers, little trinkets, sweets--her favourite ones from Hogsmeade, walk her to her classes, romantic things! By Merlin, Harry, do you know how to chase a girl or not?"

"It's not as if you know," he replied, a little crossly. Which was true. Ron and Hermione spent three years skirting around each other before they finally got together.

Ron turned beet red, and hastily said. "That is not the point here. The point here is you and Drusilla, not me and Drusilla."

"I-I really don't know how to get around this..." he admitted.

"You've got to stop being so shy, especially around the girls you like." Hermione pointed out. Hell, so many girls were falling at his feet in total adoration, and it was alarming that he was still a little shy when it came to his adoring masses, too. "Being shy isn't going to get you anywhere."

"Yeah, show some courage as if you're fighting Voldemort."

Harry looked irritated. "Drusilla's not Voldemort, Ron."

"I meant figuratively!"

"Team!" Wood bellowed, emerging from Jessica's room with his clothes rumpled and his voice strangely husky--no one really wanted to know what he was doing inside, of all places--"PRACTICE!!" And if it was possible, he did not seem as energetic tonight as he had been all other nights.

"See you guys tomorrow," Harry told them as he whisked up his Firebolt in one fluid movement and patted down his Quidditch robes. "Good night."

"Have a nice time practicing." Ron told him, giving him a small wave.

Hermione simply shook her head. "Wood's gone insane."

***

"Hi Hagrid." Drusilla smiled faintly as the friendly half-giant opened his door. The gamekeeper's bushy eyebrows rose in surprise.

"Well, hello Drusilla. What are yer doin' here?"

"I can't sleep, so I decided to head down here and see how your pets are doing." she hesitated. "Can I come in?"

"Of course," he flung open the door with a wide grin. "You're always welcome. I was just surprised is all. Where are yer friends?"

"Harry's playing having Quidditch practice, Ron and Hermione are off doing couple things by themselves, and I'm lonely." She admitted.

The half-giant patted her head in a friendly manner. "When yer bored, Drusilla, you're always welcome to come here. Buckbeak misses you."

"Ooh," she said, delighted at the mention of the Hippogriff that had been returned to him when Sirius Black had his name cleared after Voldemort was vanquished, which meant that he need not run from the law anymore. It was indeed a very good piece of news for Harry, who no longer had to live with the horrid Dursleys. "Can I see him?"

"O' course," he led her to his back door and opened it, revealing Buckbeak snoozing near the pumpkin patch. He twitched a little, his legs tucked snugly below his large frame, and there was a faint snoring sound that indicated that the large Hippogriff was asleep.

"Beaky!" Hagrid exclaimed, rousing the creature from sleep. "Look who's here to see you!"

Buckbeak groggily got to his feet and opened one eye lazily, then straightened up again when he got a clearer view of who it was. Drusilla stepped forward and looked it in the eye, and the Hippogriff bowed.

Hagrid grinned. "I'll be in there now, yer have fun taking care of Beaky! He's been lonely nowadays."

"All right, Hagrid." She patted Buckbeak's neck lovingly and spoke softly to it. Hagrid had always liked her because she seemed to have a way with animals, especially dangerous ones, and was able to get them under control with a whispered word or two that he did not catch, and he chalked it up to her strange legacy as half-elf and half-wizard. She was really very useful to have around in the class when a particular student or two were busy trying to provoke his pets.

"Quel elelle au', Buckbeak." Good to see you again, Buckbeak. she patted its head, and it nuzzled its beak against her shoulder, sensing her hidden emotions at once, and liking it when she spoke Elvish to him. Drusilla knew it enabled the creature to see her soul, such were the nature of her kind. "Lle rangwa coramin." You understand my heart.

Then she remembered that he was the Hippogriff who had attacked Malfoy when he was in the third year, and she couldn't help but smile vaguely. "Things were so simple then," she said softly, speaking in English now as she absently stroked him. "There was only hate between us. He would torment us, Ron would hit him, or actually, Hermione did." her smile widened at that thought. "And that was it. No more further contact. She felt a hot prickling at the back of her eyes, and her next words got momentarily choked in her throat. "Why did he make me love him? Rhach coramin!" Curse my heart!

It was her damned heart that had started all these. It was a way of life for Elves, for whomever they have given their heart to, it was near impossible to tear themselves away from that person. An Elf's love was constant, unending...

Her love was Draco Malfoy.

She had unknowingly given her heart to him when they kissed. And he had not taken it, and instead threw it in her face with icy hatred in his eyes. She had felt his fear; it pressed against her like a dagger on her skin, over her heart. It pained her to know that she could not reach him. And right now, even as she contemplated her life, it all seemed bleak and empty, and she was once again reminded of her friends' mortality. She was going to spend her lifetimes wandering through this world alone while her best friends died of old age.

She was never going to die.

And she could not deal with that. When her friends die, would they go with a curse on their lips, cursing her for her youth when they themselves were old and suffering? Could she deal with watching the world around her ebb and wane, not being a part of it anymore? Now it was easy for her to live in the moment, everyone was still young, she was still a baby--by an immortal's standards--and knew nothing much of the world, albeit a little more than normal people.

So what was she going to do when the seas and mountains fell? Would her life still have meaning then? What would she do when Draco was gone from this world? Would she join him in death?

So many questions...so many regrets... I wish I was born a mortal.

Childhood living is easy to do

The things you wanted I bought them for you

you know who I am

You know I can't let you just slide through my hands

Wild horses couldn't drag me away

Wild horses couldn't drag me away

I watched you suffer a dull aching pain

And now you've decided to show me the same

No sweeping exits or off stage lines

Could make me feel bitter or treat you unkind

Wild horses couldn't drag me away

Wild horses couldn't drag me away

I know I've dreamed you, it's a sin, it's a lie

And I have my freedom but I don't have much time

Faith has been broken tears must be cried

So let's do some living after we die

Wild horses couldn't drag me away

Wild horses couldn't drag me away

Wild, wild horses couldn't drag me away

Wild, wild horses we'll ride them someday

A/N: Sorry if it's a little long-winded, I was feeling very angsty today : -) Please review and tell me if you like it! This chapter doesn't dwell so much on Lord of The Rings, really. I'm just trying to make the entire scene at Hogwarts seem real enough. Wonder if the whole Harry-Drusilla-Draco thing seems a little OOC, though.