Fuel and Matches.

One Two Three

'I'm so sad today.'

Xylia smiled. Or was it more like a superior twitch of a thin line called mouth?

'Smiles... Because...'

Thinking, Gwendolen muttered something for herself: something of a test.

'Talk to the demons, Gwen.'

"When I was six, my uncle fell off a roof," said Xylia out of the blue, fingering on Gwendolen's copper blazed mane.

'Damn test... I laughed until my stomach hurt. I'm not going back, though. If you do it, do it, and no mistakes.

And then I mistook her hand in mine for something beautiful.'

"My mum said to me, 'It doesn't matter'," Xylia continued, ignoring the nerve that twitched under Gwendolen's right eye. "And I didn't really like my uncle, anyway."

'If I told her I love a girl like a girl should, would she be angry? Would she leave me?'

"About a month ago, mother asked me why I never play anymore." Xylia peered up at Gwendolen from the bench under the white willow tree. "I don't play anymore because she wants to hear."

'And now she thinks "But I want to play..."'

Gwendolen stared at the pale girl. The last rays of sunlight on her cheeks seemed to turn them to olive from grey sick green, and now, at last, she looked beautiful.

'I can't. I'm so sorry. I have to do it the wrong way or else they'll come and take me. But they will anyway.'

"What are you thinking of Safernos?" Xylia's brows perked up. She hugged herself from a non-existent cold breeze, and flipped her hair, as if it was eye catching or something.

'Take me, maybe.'

"Nothing," the younger girl sighed and sat down with slumping shoulders. Xylia poked her side, and she straightened up again, smiling wryly.

Xylia stared hard at her. "You never think of nothing, I know that. You always think, even though you are a Hufflepuff. You're strange."

Gwendolen barked a laugh and turned to Xylia's remark. "Oho."

"Yes."

"That's not true." Her hands played nervously, sadly, around the fray of Xylia's robes. It was getting chilly outside and the garden was curiously empty. Gwendolen looked up, met her eyes. "Sometimes you just wonder..." She spoke slowly, but Xylia, never late to miss anything, looked away and smirked.

"Shut up. I'm not really interested."

'If I could see my reflection in her eyes.'

...Show some pity.

I want her.

I don't know her.

I can't see her...

Xylia got to her feet and looked down at Gwendolen. "Slytherins are never interested," she said, and patted Gwendolen's head. "-In the likes of you."

And then she left her, waiting, alone on the bench under the white willow, gazing after her with a peculiar longing, that scared even Gwendolen herself.

'Do you believe in imaginary love?

I do. But only because I don't believe in the real. Never had, never wanted. I'm lying. You know it may be called desire. Why am I pathetic, still?

And here comes Lupin and Black.'