Silver Eyes

And Other Such Badly Titled Things

By: FreakyHotGeek

Note: Eh… my… gawd! I did NOT expect this much of a reaction with reviews! To be honest, I was going to feel lucky if I got ONE! Oops… a few of you noticed my little blip with the description of Blaise… I think we'll just say this is OOC? Or AU, one... Lol… I guess I got a bit carried away with my imagination… happens all the time. –sigh- Anyhoo, special thanks to my first five reviewers, Mrs.BoogerSnooger, Niveneh, The Elven Sisters, juicebump88, and Lilybet Edyvean (Youch, criticism! Thanks for the pointers!) Cyber cookies for all!

Disclaimer: If I owned Harry Potter, do you think I'd even be bothering with this clearly insane and slightly untrue to the characters (I'm sorry, Blaise! T.T) story? Case in point, I don't own it.

Chapter Two

Hello again, Hogwarts

I have to admit, being in a compartment full of Slytherin boys isn't exactly what I expected. I don't know what I was expecting, exactly, and truth be told I'm a little afraid to know what it was. But what I got was…

"So, what year are you?" Blaise asked.

I've only been in your bloody potions class for the past six years, you dunderhead. How quickly they forget… "Er… sixth year," I mutter.

"Oh, right," he says, sounding incredibly proud of himself. "I remember you from Potions class. You're—"

I wait for him to finish. To tell me the rumors I already know are being spread about me. But he doesn't. He doesn't get the chance, because Draco Malfoy smells the conquest first.

"You're that girl everyone talks about all the time. Honestly, Blaise, you'd think you'd remember. If I recall… we helped a few of those rumors along."

I color. I expect this of him, of course. But Blaise seems nice. Oh, what was I thinking? A Slytherin? Nice? Those words clearly are not meant to exist together without the assistance of the word "not".

"Er…" I sputter, hating that I sound so daft, but unable to really do anything about it.

They stop trying. Not that Malfoy really ever started.

Time goes by so slowly when you're wishing you could pluck up the courage to start a conversation, to ease the awkwardness around you. I should have known better than to come in here in the first place. Not only are things not going to change, but they are Slytherins. I'm a Gryffindor. We aren't meant to get along. It's just the natural order of things.

For some reason, I feel my hope sinking unbelieveably. And then—

"We should get our robes on," Draco says, and even I detect the wickedness in his voice, the suggestion. I think I may have vomited a bit. But to actually respond to something so horrible? What's a girl to say, except for…

"Oh… erm… I… um…"

Wow. Not exactly the response I was hoping to choke out, but it is a start. And then I wonder what will happen if I don't speak up. And that's enough to keep me going. "What I… er… What I mean is, all right, I'll find an empty compartment," I say all in a rush.

"It speaks," Malfoy says, mocking shock. "Do alert the media."

Do dry up and get a life.

I just walk out of the carriage, robes in hand, the whole time thinking I should just never go back, just find a nice, empty compartment and sit there instead, a book in my hands as usual, my only companion.

And something, something small but still there, pushes me back to that same compartment. I don't know why it is my actions never seem to match my thoughts, but I'm cursing that fact the entire time I wait for the door to open back up. At length, Blaise's head appears and he says, "Okay, it's safe. We think."

I don't dare to wonder what there is to think about. It's not as if it matters. I'm probably never going to see these boys again, not in the same way. They'll pass me in the halls, maybe remember for a moment that they shared a compartment with me, and then fan the flames of the rumors in the wintertime.

I have never been more relived, or more disappointed, to see Hogwarts. It looks the same as always, which is why, I think, I let out the breath I hadn't known myself to be holding in a sigh. I had somehow been expecting it to have changed. A sign that I, too, could muster a change. But no such luck on either front.

The instant the train stops moving, I stand.

"That eager to get away from us?" Blaise asks. I feel myself blush.

"It's… it's not really like that…"

Draco Malfoy rolls his eyes at me, and I wish I had the courage to hex him within five inches of his life.

"Well go on, then, don't let me stop you," Blaise continues, a smile playing about his lips. I feel my cheeks growing hotter.

I want to leave, want to run, but at the same time I'm rooted to the stop. Every grain in my body is screaming for me to get away… screaming for me to stay exactly where I am. In the end, I settle on smoothing my robes a bit and standing there. I don't like the feel of eyes upon me as people pass, probably wondering what I'm doing in this carriage, if they can even figure out who I am.

I have passed five years of my education content with sitting in the shadows. Or rather, pretending to be content with it. I wonder now if the entire time I haven't been screaming for someone to break whatever chains I'm holding myself down with.

I take a deep, deep breath, and then I say, "I'll see you around, maybe," before I stride out into the hall, into the sea of meaningless faces. I can never pick them apart when there are so many. It's not as if any one person has treated me especially different from any other.

The carriages that take us to the castle have always scared me a bit. Of course, with all the reading I do, it's only natural I'd know what leads them. But not being able to see such a thing… that's never settling, no matter how much you tell yourself it's there.

I hop into the first carriage I see, and it's blissfully empty. That's the important bit; get there first so you don't have to feel like you're pushing yourself on someone else.

I end up sharing with two loud, annoying, and very young boys, who are, by the looks of them, in Hufflepuff. And by the looks of them, I mean ridiculously clad with matching yellow hats.

Naturally, I don't mention the fact that they look stupid in their hats. In fact, I don't even muster the courage to say a hello when they hop in, groaning.

The carriage rolls up to the front door, and I hold my breath again. The boys step down, and, thankful to be rid of them, I relish the moment alone, though later I know I'll be begging to spend not another moment in that same solitude. It would become a constant, and I hate that.

But presently, I've got the concern of making it to the Great Hall without a fluke to occupy my mind.

I try to breathe steadily-in, out, in, out. It isn't working, but at least saying the words consecutively in my mind that way helps to keep it from going stray. As long as it's focusing on one thing, it can't possibly find something new, and much less safe, to focus on. At least, I hope not. But with my mind, one can never quite be sure.

I catch another passing glance of the Boy Who Lived. Despite myself, I always notice it when he's there. It's sort of a reaction I have… a sort of funny radar for people who attract far more attention than I do. He's chattering away with some friends of his. But then, when isn't he?

I sigh again and follow my peers into the Great Hall, to begin the painful and tedious process of finding somewhere to sit at the long Gryffindor table…

End note: Yes, this is a sort of cliffhanger. Yes I am that evil. Please review! I must admit I was a bit scared I would somehow not mange to keep everyone's interest… prove me wrong?