Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, no one can! Harry Potter is a free spirit, make love, not war!!!! Ok, so maybe someone does own him, still not me though, J.K. Rowling rings a bell. However, Andrea and Ro (Romulus) are all mine, mwahahaha
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Harry and Andrea headed down the corridor. They had been talking since they left Defense Against the Dark Arts. They would probably be late, they would probably be yelled at, they would probably loose mounds of points for Gryffindor, but they probably wouldn't care. They finally headed down to the dungeons and stumbled into the classroom carelessly.
There stood Snape, looking very mad, and the carefree feeling was sucked out of Harry as quickly as it had come.
"Ah, Mr. Potter, so nice of you to join us." He surveyed Andrea up and down
"Potter…er…girl, sit down," he ordered.
"What is your name," he said, staring straight at Andrea.
"Andrea Lupin"
His eyes suddenly turned colder
"Romulus' girl," he hissed
"Uh, yeah." Her eyes darted around trying to find something else to look at.
"Well then, Lupin," he spat the name out, "I suggest you come to class on time from now on."
Harry could see the corners of Snape's lips curl up, he obviously took great pleasure in ordering that name around.
They had to make a healing potion, and Harry was unfortunately teamed up with Neville… again. Seamus had been paired with Andrea and would have been doing fantastic, if Andrea hadn't kept staring out into space… yes, much to the dismay of Hermione, another wasted mind had been added to the ranks of the Gryffindor house. The rest of the day passed quickly enough and they finally settled into the common room for the night. Ron and Hermione were finishing their homework and Harry was watching Andrea writing in what appeared to be an odd, large, rather ornate, leather bound sketchbook. It looked old, like books he had seen in the far back of the library, not like something that you would just buy at Flourish and Blotts. It was delicately leafed in gold, and had countless buckles to keep it closed, and in the back, what appeared to be several compartments for keeping quills, brushes and ink.
"Where did that come from?"
"Uhhhhh, my stuff…"
She kept writing.
"It's yours?" Harry knew he must have sounded a bit stupid, but then again, he felt a bit stupid.
"No, I saw it in someone's room and decided; breaking and entering, theft, what's a little felony if u only live once?… of course it's mine."
"Right… of course," he smiled awkwardly, "it's just, an odd looking sort of book is all… nice though."
"Thanks."
"so what is it you're writing?" Harry tried to peer over the page but she quickly tilted the book towards her.
"Music, at the moment, but I write a lot of things in here… sketch some things too."
"Could I see one maybe?" Harry leaned in closer.
"Sure, why not, oh, but first, could you show me your memories? That'd be great…" ah, sarcasm, the great defender.
