Full Summary: Cordelia Merope Riddletransfers toHogwarts after her many years of attending Durmstrang. While she is there, she finds she is often contradicted due to her last name and her secrets...Amis all the confusion andangst,a serpent catches her eye..

(Cordelia Riddle)

I went up the lavish stairs with the first years. Not that I was a first year of course. My first year at Hogwarts had occurred at the age of sixteen: in other words, right this precise moment. Eleven year olds crowded around me, eyes wide with a mix of fear and curiosity. Children were staring at me. I looked like a tiger in a pack of wolves. Yes, that's what I am, I thought, a lion in a pack of wolves. Heat continued to rise and lower inside of me, trying to make way to my head.

A boy smiled at me mischievously. I was used to it. I had been smiled at before. No big deal. I had everything. But I had – at the same time – nothing. Normally I would have smiled back, but embarrassment – no scratch that: I was never embarrassed… but pride stopped me. The anxiety was to much for me. I looked away from the boy. The boy was about my age and had silvery blonde hair which fell on his forehead messily and extremely pale skin. I watched him study me, his grey eyes gliding up and down my figure in the most mysterious manner: almost as though he could see what was within me. He was wearing a green and silver robes and the way he walked: as though Hogwarts was as good as his. I watched him as he walked ahead.

We entered the Dining Hall. Candles hung from the ceiling mystically. I heard a gaggle of junior girls speaking of romantic star-splattered nights and dates. I gagged. But a pang of guilt came over me for I had been a leader of just such a group in Durmstrang, my former school.

I made my place in the group of freshmen. Some boys eyed me suspiciously. I ignored them. This action was immediately greeted with almost absurd neediness. My, my, I guess there isn't much of a difference between Durmstrang and Hogwarts after all, I thought.

I felt the eyes of the whole school drift upon me. Some eyes were filled with jealousy, other with admiration, others with pure confusion. What's that tiger doing in a pack of wolves? I heard them thinking and whispering and taunting. But what did it matter? What did it matter if they were thinking it or whispering it? They were always taunting the miserable words. I thought this silently, like a dignified and spoilt child, which - as I think upon it now, I really was.

The headmaster awoke me from my thoughts. He stated a silly speech of some sort of which followed cheers and applause. With exceptions from one table which condescendingly conversed amongst each other. I noticed that Blonde Boy (that is what I decided on calling him until I discovered his name) was sitting at that very table. That instant, I knew – I was absolutely sure – that that was my table and that in no more than a few hours, I was going to sit at that table. After all I always got what I wanted. All Riddles always do.

(POV: Draco Malfoy)

"Alex Zigomi – Ravenclaw!" The last name rang in my ears. And still no one called the girl I had seen before.

I eyed that very girl now. She had high cheek bones and bee-stung lips, her shoulder blades were high and direct. She had blue eyes. A navy blue that was nearly impossible to look away from. Her black wavy hair reached only below her shoulders and her skin was tanned.

I tried to catch her eye, quite unsuccessfully. I wasn't used to being given so little attention. Frustration ignited inside of me.

"Now students" the headmaster pronounced regally, as though trying to charm a couple of infants. "This year we are blessed to have a new exchanged student from Durmstrang this year – Cordelia Riddle!" He pronounced her last name with such emphasis that you almost unable to hear her first name – Cordelia. (Pronounced: Core-D-lee-ah.) (Author's Note: I got the name 'Cordelia' from the Latin words: cuor de lia. I t means "My hearth is Lia's.") A few Gryffindors gasped

Cordelia stepped on the podium, sat on the chair, put the Sorting Hat on her head, crossed her legs, one about the other, and waited.

She held her chin high with such dignity, that we all swelled with inferiority. I swelled with desire. I was one of the many.

(POV: Cordelia Riddles)

I put the hat on my head.

"Interesting, interesting," the hat muttered to no one in particular.

I was growing tired of this already.

"You are clearly used to getting everything you want - everything you want!"

Cheers followed this comment. Everybody understood what he meant by "everything".

That was it. I had had enough.

"Well, since you seem to know me so well, why don't you tell me this: what do I feel like doing to you? What exactly?" I said, showing my mockery so clearly that you could practically see it.

The hat flustered in anger. Traces of red consumed his cheeks. The students, seeing that I had put the hat aback, took advantage of the moment and started snickering. The noise was deafening.

"Careful, Cordelia Merope" (I shuddered at the mentioning of my last name) "Riddle," the hat hissed quietly, so only I can hear, "I know more about you then you expect."

I froze the instant I heard my middle name being spoken.

"Slytherin!" the hat shouted.

Chapter 3

(POV: Draco Malfoy)

The Slytherins clapped wildly.

People scooted over closer to her as she sat at the table; it hadn't even been a day and already her popularity had soared. I tried to find something to say, something to catch her attention. But she had already made herself a plate of salad and had started eating it.

I noticed there was an unusual amount of noisy whispers amongst the Gryffindors – and vaguely, I thought why.

They're on to me, I thought.

I didn't think of it long, but instead started pouring the sight of Cordelia, as though I wasn't going to see her everyday for the rest of the winter. Pansy, who was sitting so close to me, noticed my silent admiration towards the newcomer and began glaring daggers at her. But Cordelia gave her no such attention, making Pansy clench her fists in anger.

"Who's your father?" I finally asked. Riddle. Where had I heard that name before?

"He…died."

"Oh…" I said blandly, not knowing the right words to say.

Much suddenly a string of light headed towards Cordelia, from the back. Without warning, she jumped out of its way and so, it was quite logical that the hex (assuming that's what it was) hit me.

Pain began its outstanding fury on me. I felt hands pulling me down to the floor. The hands wrenched at my lungs, at my hair, at my fingers. The lack of breath made me dizzy and, quite sadly, my sight had left me. I heard screams of confusion play in the Hall as I resisted the hands. Finally, I reached the ground with a loud thud. I felt the presences of students surround me and a cool, female voice instructed "stand back." She wasn't talking to me.

"Excuse me? Who are you tell me to stand back?" I recognized the voice. I cringed in disgust.

"Who are you to be the cause of injury on this boy" (boy – the woman had called me a boy) "or even worse, his death, Panty?"

Tension rose amongst the students.

An eternally annoying and exasperated voice answered: "First of all: who do you think you are? You can't tell me what to do! Second: my name is Pansy Parkinson! And third – I am his beaux!"

"We'll see, darling," the same voice said condescendingly, replying to the "And third…" Pansy had made. "Anyway, the boy" (I cringed) "can't breathe."

Another voice, presumably Snape's: "I'll go get make the potion, Dumbledore."

"No, that'll take too much time. What we need…" the voice was sly and rather slow…" is a little mouth-to mou –"

"No! That completely out of the question – "

But she was already at it.

I don't remember anything else.

(Cordelia Riddle)

Professor Snape brought Draco to the Hospital Wing haughtily, looking at me from the corner of his eye nervously.

I suddenly felt someone jab me in the back. I turned around to see Pansy, rolling her eyes at me.

"What was that for?" I muttered, rubbing my back.

"For hitting on him," she answered.

"What? He wasn't even awake!" I said incredulously. I tried to change the subject. "So where exactly are the dormitories?"

"Like I'm about to tell you," she answered, with the air of one who had just said the wittiest thing. "Anyway, who do you think you are? You've been here for less then a day and already you're off controlling everybody!'

"Unless you've failed to notice, I've only controlled people who needed controlling."

"Draco didn't need controlling."

"Yes, but you did," I decided to change the subject. "So… about those dormitories."

"I still haven't the heart to tell you," this was unambiguously the smartest and best comeback I had heard her come up with all day.

"Oh my God," I said, "you have a heart?"

Parkinson stomped off, rolling her eyes the whole way. I watched the way she walked. It reminded me of a cross between a one-footed duck and a superficial poodle.

I turned around. A woman of the age about sixty stood in my way. Ah, yes, Professor McGonagall.

"Yes?" I asked.

"Do you realize how much trouble you're in?" she asked. It was a rhetorical question, of course, but I had a persistent urge to answer.

The hell with it, I shrugged.

"Yes."

"Then how much?" she tested.

"Not a lot," I answered.

The teacher looked for the appropriate response to this statement. I wasn't necessarily breaking the rules, I knew. And I knew that there had been others who had done much worst in Hogwarts.

"Your punishment will be sleeping in the Hospital Wing until Malfoy gets better," McGonagall said. And with that she left.

I turned around to see a boy my age about the size of a baby whale.

"Uh, hello?" I asked him. Drool hung off the boy's mouth. I gagged. He had a hungry expression on his face. But I had no idea for what, though; he was looking in mid air.

"Do you know where the Hospital Wing is?" I asked.

"Uh, yeah, I'll take you there."

He attended me up the moving stairs and in I pushed the double doors and entered the wide room. Nobody was there except Draco, lying at the far corner. A chair was pulled out next to his bed where I sat down. I placed my head on the side of his bed. I had expected a nurse or a doctor to be at the 'Hospital' Wing but none came. I fell asleep… it had been a tiring day.

When I awoke I found Draco staring at me expectantly.

"Oh…I'm so sorry –" but he cut me off.

(POV: Draco Malfoy)

"Don't be," I interrupted, smiling.

"Oh, well, um, do you know where the dormitories are?" She asked.

"I'll show you tonight," I said, wondering whether I should hurt myself purposefully so she might come back and see me tonight.

"How are you?" She seemed sincere.

"Actually, I feel a cramp on my back," I said.

"Is there anything I can do?"

"No…thanks."

"I'll get going then," Cordelia said, getting up. Half way out the room she waved back. "See ya, Draco."

-&-

I followed Cordelia up the staircase. It was about ten o'clock, after curfew and I had not a clue of where she was going. The only room up there was the…

Cordelia stopped in front of the Gryffindor Common Room. She whispered something to a portrait, and much to my surprise it swung open and let her in. At this point I was fuming with curiosity. In her excitement she left the portrait-hole open. I went through the door quickly, so not to be discovered. But it was all useless; she wouldn't notice me anyway. She was to busy having a lip-locking session with who but the-boy-who-lived. Fury rose inside of me. Envy consumed my every emotion.

"Well, well, what's this?" I cleared my throat derisively. Potter stopped his "session" reluctantly.

"Yes, Malfoy?" he said, annoyed.

"Well. What do we have here?" I ignored him.

"Two people having a bit of fun; what is it to you?"

"Let's get to the point quickly," I challenged, "but to do that, she has to leave."

"And go where, may I ask. You're the one who should leave, if anybody leaves at all: you're a complete third party in this," it was Cordelia who spoke this time, and immediately I understood who had snogged me yesterday, and who had spoken to Pansy so mockingly. But here she was, already into the arms of Potter,

I punched Potter. It had seemed like the last resolution, to be honest. Now I realize what a mistake that was.

Cordelia shrieked loudly.

"Shush!" I pressed my hand before her mouth so she was unable to speak. "Do you want us to get caught?"

Cordelia shoved me away and knelt down to check down on Derek.

"Do you really care for him that much?" I asked incredulously.

"Well, I was snogging him, wasn't I?" she said as she stood up. "He's fine. But you won't be" she threatened.

"What are you going to do? Flirt?"

She grabbed me from the collar with implausible strength and pushed me out of the common room. I tried to escape from her command but nothing I could do that would free me.

"What do you think you're doing?" she asked.

"You're asking me that?"

"You're stocking me" she said plainly.

"Oh, so now you get it."

"Shut up, Malfoy."

"Ooh….Now I'm scared," I taunted.

"I said shut up!" she was close to yelling. I finally freed myself from her grasp. I put one finger under her chin and raised her face so that it was facing mine; I was taller.
"And exactly what could you do to me? Ha! I'd be surprised if you could do anything at all!" I couldn't help but feel that I was repeating the same taunt again and again. I was losing my touch.

She slapped me. I felt a burn race across my cheek and slowly I felt the spot she had hit. It was newly-dry and rather skinned, but not enough so anybody would notice it tomorrow.

"If you tell anybody about this – absolutely anybody – about this I will…well, you'll see soon enough – now leave!" Her cheeks were flushed and she was staring at me witheringly. I wasn't scared of her. But I no longer had anything to do here. Besides, there was something inside of me that forced me to, as she put it, leave.

"Oh, yea, I'm not going to tell on you! Because you didn't just tell me to shut up a few minutes ago and I didn't see you snogging Harry Potter!" I said sarcastically.

She smiled villainously. "Exactly."

I stepped down a step, and heard someone else behind me do the same.

I turned around. I wasn't the least surprised to see Cordelia standing behind me. "What? Came to say sorry already? " I said to Riddle.

"Malfoy!" she reprimanded, "I'm surprised at you! You know me better then that! I just need to the way to the dormitories."

"You really have some nerve believing I'll actually tell you where the dormitories are when you insulted me and dared to slap me, "I said.

"Fine. If you won't tell me where the dormitories I'll follow you there," she said childishly. I was annoyed for to very clear and obvious reasons: a) her tone and b) there was logic to what she said. The only way I could stop her from following me was by hexing her. And when Filch found helpless Cordelia on the floor she would start crying and tell him her part of the story, the one he was most likely to believe:

"I was lost…I didn't know where the dormitories were… and when I asked Malfoy for help, h-he turned on me…" ( sob, sniff, sob) "All of the sudden he came while I was in the middle of the corridor and startedhexing me…It was so sad." ( sob, sob)

I went back on my merry way, feeling my cheek continuously. I knew only to well that Riddle was behind me.

I was outside Science class, a few minutes to early. Harry was with me. We spoke of nothing concerning the night before. He probably forgot what happened anyway.

Snape opened the door to his classroom. I and Harry were the only students to come this early. We took separate seats and pretended we didn't know each other. A few minutes later a girl came and sat next to me. I had seen her once or twice before: she had smiled sweetly and quite sincerely. Pansy was often with her.

"Hi. You're the new girl, right? My name's Cynthia Crow." She said. She was rather petite with emerald eyes and hazel locks.

"Oh, hi… my name is…" I said not knowing what else to say.

"I know. Cordelia Riddle, right? Everyone is talking about you!" She exclaimed.

"Are they?" I tried not to look pleased.

"Yep," Cynthia said just as Draco came in.

"Do you like him?" I questioned.

Cynthia blushed. "I… guess…"

"Why do you like him, though?" I asked, tossing my head in Malfoy's direction,

"Shhhh! don't do that! He might hear us!" Cynthia turned ten different shades of red and green. "Anyway, the answer to your question is just another question: what's not to like?"

"I dunno – maybe it's that dorky haircut or that condescending way he walks… Or maybe it's the way he could never get enough of himself and, yet can't mind his own business!" I answered.

"Is that it?" she was sincere. Slyly she whispered, "There are rumors that he likes you."

"I don't see why not... I'm absolutely gorgeous," I wasn't whispering. Malfoy looked at me irately.

"Just stop talking."

Class started and a few other people started sitting next to us. Blaise Zabini and someone called Dean Thomas. All during class they acted all "Jessica Simpson" on me. They said the phrase "oops…silly me," a lot. That stanza looks bad enough on Simpson, but on them? The only person that could speak that sentence without looking bad is me!

"Oh, how do you get this thingy to be pink?"

You put the pink dye!

"Where do you put the eel eggs?"

In the potion, duh!

"How to you cut these lizard tails?"

With your knife!

While Professor Snape droned over how incredibly important potions were, Dean gave me a note. It read:

Come with me to The Leaky Cauldron this week?

P.S. don't tell anybody about this!

I wrote a note back:

Aren't you dating the weaslette?

He answered:

That shouldn't stop us…

I felt like vomiting. This Brandon guy must have guts– they had to if they wanted to publicly humiliating by asking me to escort him, but also commanding me not to tell anybody about it? As if!

Snape finally took the burden of the note from me.

"What's this? A letter from Thomas? My, my, what a surprise! And it's for Cordelia!" Snape mocked," passing notes in class…ten points from Gryffindor… now lets see what it says: Dear Cordelia, why do you like Harry? He thinks he's so cool. Dump him, I say! As much as I agree with this, Thomas, I must take fifteen more points for flirting during class," (he was making up a new version of Thomas's letter) Snape continued, "How about you make up for it by coming with me to the town Saturday. Signed, Dean Thomas. I must say, you were quite strait forward on your part, even for you! Three more points!" Several students snickered, including me.

Thomas turned as red his girlfriend's red hair. "That's not true! That's not what it says!" Thomas blurted.

"Five more points for public outburst," Snape was obviously enjoying himself.

"But that's not what it says!" Dean turned to Harry. "You believe me, don't you?" Harry shook his head. Dean faltered. He ran out the class – or almost outside the class.

I put my foot out so he could trip on it. He did. It seemed as though it was all done in slow motion. Brandon fell slowly…without even a thud.

"Oops…" I whispered silently. But not silently enough.

Blaise hooted happily. "Ha! Serves him right!" Cheers from the Slytherins followed this comment.

My hard and almost murderous potions class at Durmstrang finally paid off – I got through making the potion. Then I helped Blaise. After awhile I realized that he was totally weak and easy to manipulate.

"I heard you're captain of the quidditch team this year," I started trying to make conversation. He wasn't too concentrated on the sheet, I noticed, so I figured it would be okay. But one more look at him I realized his focus was about five inches below my chin (blush). I tugged at my shirt front and cleared my throat.

"Oh…yea… real fun…pudding is good…?" He said, clearly lost in a "day dream" (I wonder what of?). I restrained from laughing. It would make him feel terrible… poor guy.

"Excuse me?" I said instead, pretending not to have heard what he had just said.

"Oh," he said. He said the same thing again but as though he had just understood the most complicated math problem in the world, and the whole time the answer had been under his nose: "Oh!"

I laughed sweetly and he seemed to blush…aw. "Um, I heard you were Captain of the quidditch team? How is it?" I asked, knowing the answers perfectly.

"Oh, its fine. Tryouts are tomorrow," he said.

"Is that true? Who do you positively know is accepted, whether their tryout are sucky or not?" I whispered in his ear, taking one glance at Malfoy - he was staring at Elm enviously (I felt a tug of happiness sweeping over me) - and another at Harry (the prat was doing the same). I knew there had to be someone - someone with significant and importance. My eyes drifted to Malfoy.

Blaise smiled. "Why?"

"Just wondering…" I said thoughtfully.

"Well if you really want to know… nobody and are you trying out?" he asked suddenly.

Draco, I thought, I should have known…anyway, anything he can do, I could do better.

"That depends…" I gently stroked his hand. "Am I accepted?"

"That depends whether you're trying out."

"Did Malfoy have to tryout?"

"Yes!"

"But can't you make an exception? I mean, it is me we're talking about," I smiled mischievously.

"Alright, alright! Are you willing to give the Captain a present?"

"What is it?"

"Money can't buy it. Are you sure you could afford it?" He asked.

"Is that a trick question?" I questioned. So he whispered something in my ear. I heard his breath tickle my neck. I had no problem doing what he wanted me to do. My only problem was Harry. He was looking at me warningly. But it wasn't like I was going to do anything wrong…just a peck on the cheek. I smiled at him.

I pressed my lips against his cheek.

Jaws dropped. In fact, I saw a girl writing all this down. Harry was glaring at me…awww; don't you just love it when your jealous boyfriend does that?

But jaws practically fell to the floor when a young woman with a slim physique and blue eyes wearing a black shawl came to the entrance of the room.

"Lia?" She asked in a cool voice, directed to me.

"No, she's not here right now – you just missed her," I answered.

(Tara Riddle)

"How long ago did she leave?" I asked.

"If you really wanted to be a good sister, you should've been with her ten years ago," she answered.

I immediately recognized her as my sister. "Ah, there you are, Lia. I was looking everywhere for you!"

"Excuse me?" she answered, her blue eyes were shining happily. In a split second I saw her composure fall, her eyes brim with confusion and uncertainty… But in a blink of an eye everything was in its original place. So I simply compensated that it must be a trick of light or just my imagination, and quickly forgot about it.

"Oh, stop it! You'd think I knew my own sister!" I said, significantly. Behind Cordelia was a handsome young boy with blonde hair and gray eyes, probably about her age. He was looking at Cordelia with a greed and jealousy, but at the same time the hurt expression he was carrying was pitiful.

"Ah, Tara. Have you come to regain your sisterly duties you had rejected so many years ago? – guess I just want to remind you that you're a little late for that," she was playing, gambling with me – everyone was another toy and somebody else to play with.

"Oh, look at you, all grown up. I remember when you had those big puffy red cheeks and-"

"Tara!"

"Uh, I'm sorry sweetie - am I embarrassing you?" I cooed. Laughs could be heard.

Her eyes brightened in disgust. "My, you've grown old," she looked at my black shawl in disgust with her nose twenty feet in the air.

"What did you do to your hair? I hate it –"

"It used to close in on my face-"

"It did not –"

"You have a zit right there-"

"WHAT?"

"Just kidding!"

Suddenly Dumbledore, the headmaster appeared at my side. He cleared his throat as to declare his presence and said "Professor Riddle, or should I say, your sister has offered to take Professor Binn's place, as he had just retired a few hours ago:"

"WHAT?" Cordelia began in hysterics, tears producing in her eyes.

"Oh, don't cry –"

But I realized she wasn't crying, she was laughing, and tears of frenzy were now rolling down her cheeks. "But that's impossible!" (she paused to laugh) "Tara doesn't know anything! She can't even remember what she had for dinner last night!"

"I bet you don't remember either," I said to my self-defense.

"I do too. I didn't eat anything!" She was still laughing.

"Oh. But it's true," Dumbledore said wisely.

She stopped. "Professor," Cordelia called me. "May I speak to you in private?"

Professor Snape was oblivious to the current events.

Two hours later

(Cordelia Riddle)

I thought about what had happened this morning as I the Dining Hall for lunch. I wasn't angry with Tara, just confused. I saw Malfoy with a bunch of friends (including Blaise), but I ignored him much to his disappointment. Cynthia was waiting for me at the corner of the large table, along with two other girls.

I sat in between the two girls and immediately Cynthia introduced us.

"This is Millicent Bulstrode and Trinity Ivy. This is Cordelia Riddle."

"Oh, hi, Cordelia" Ivy said her lips lifted in a smile.

"Hey," I spoke, while gracing Blaise with my stare.

"Hey, did you know there were quidditch tryouts tomorrow?" Ivy looked at me critically: I knew she was deciding whether I'd be good enough to be placed on the team.

"BOO!" a scream came from behind me and I, Michelle, Pansy and Cynthia, and Trinity shrieked, including other people. I turned to see Tara. She was laughing and she wasn't alone.

Finally, the parading teacher stopped laughing. "You know, Cordelia," she eyed my untouched plate of food, "you really should eat, like that," her voice was rising, as if preparing me for the big blow. "Like that, you could grow big and strong!" Laughs boomed in my ears. And when they finally stopped, I could still feel my cheeks burn.

"Very well, m' dear," I said, and took a slice of pie and smeared across her robes.

"Oh, you think that's funny, don't you?" she said as she picked up a whole pie and by the looks of it, she was going to throw it at me.

"You wouldn't," I dared her as I looked at the gigantic pie.

"You want to take your chances?" she challenged. I whispered something in her ear, and she laughed. She gave me the pie voluntarily and without warning, I through it strait at Malfoy, for fun, and for, maybe, revenge.

I could hear laughs for a million miles around.

Harry walked up to me. "Meet me at ten tonight, on the seventh floor."

After Curfew

I knew what he was going to do. Dump me, right? So what? I went through the marble halls. Harry had told me to meet him near the seventh floor or something. And in two minutes that where I would be.

I could feel my eyes burn but I quickly remembered that I was just with Harry for fun… I think. I could fear my blood rise in my throat and made a mental note to get back at the Ginny Weasley there on after. She was in one of the poorest families in the school, Ivy had said. Harry was snogging – surprise, surprise – Ginny. Bastards.

"Well, is it isn't tweedle-dee and tweedle-dumb," I hissed sarcastically.

"Oh. You finally made it. I was starting to worry," Ginny said her voice in a sardonic tone.

A Weasley was mocking me!

I had made up my mind: I was going to make her wish she was never born.

So, what better way then to slap her?

She felt the skin that had been blessed even to be touched by my hands. Her hands trembled in rage but she did not react. I walked away, my work done.

"Turn around, Bitch"

"As you wish," I whispered. I turned around and faced the idiot. Antagonism filled me. It was too much for me… nobody ever cheated on Cordelia Riddles. I punched his nose. Before the Weaslette could do anything to stop me, I hexed her.

I went on my hands and knees just to see the brats suffer.

I trapped my high heel over the-boy-who-lived and said; "still alive, baby?"

"My, my. This was fun," a voice drawled from behind me. I turned around. The voice was coming from no other then Malfoy & co. (containing of Pansy, Blaise, etc.)

"What?" I demanded.

"You put on quite a show. But I never imagined you had a grudge against them," Draco tilted his head towards Harry and his friend. "We would have been on better terms if I had known."

"You were spying on me?" I breathed, my pride vanishing. I had no privacy, none… it dawned to me that nobody really cared about me. They only cared about what I did and said.

"Why of coarse, and we took pictures too," he revealed a camera from under his cloak. "But tell me, what were you doing last night, you seemed to be having such fun then. But it only took one day, for him to—"

"You told them?" I tilted my head to his friends.

He walked up to me. I, pitifully, was laying on the floor, over The World's Largest Prat.

"Nobody – ever – tells – me – what – to – do," he then looked at me – must I remind you I was lying on the floor? – And ordered "get up."

"Or else?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Would you rather stay on the floor?"

"I'd rather die then be told what to do by you," the words slipped off me tongue like water.

He was about insult me in someway, I knew, but before he could, tears fell off my lashes and on my cheeks. He looked at me in a surprised manner, as if he had never seen someone cry before. He signaled the rest of them to go, although they looked at him curiously, and Pansy angrily.

"Get up" he demanded.

"No," I said tears still assuming shape in my eyes, and then falling.

He rolled his eyes in annoyance and got down on his knees. "Get up."

I didn't answer but I never got up.

"Do it."

"Shut up Malfoy."

"Not very friendly," he mocked aggressively. "We should go back to the common room," he said, changing tones. I sniffed, trying to forget all about Ginny and Harry. I figured that if anyone that I had been practically trying to murder them no proof, they were as well as liars.

"Oh, uh, yea, it's getting late," he commented.

We walked back silently. My voice had abandoned me when I needed it most. But even if it would magically come back to me that instant, I knew, my words would leave me just as well.

We arrived at the common room – and I don't remember anything else.

Morning

(Draco Malfoy)

I hated her… I hated her…and yet…yet, yet…

We were in the common room, on the couch. She had been overcome by exhaustion and had fallen on the couch as soon as she had seen it. Sunlight fell over Lia's face. She was still sleeping. Her hair was frazzled and her cheeks were still flushed from the night before. I noticed a silver chain around her neck. I came closer to take a closer look but, to my misfortune, Cordelia woke up.

"What time is it?" she mumbled. Her eyes were half shut, and she had an air of those who were speaking in there sleep.

"About seven fifteen," I answered.

"Mmm… wake me up at ten, will ya?" she muttered.

"Your first class is History. Your sister is teaching that class."

"Even more of a reason to miss it," she jumbled.

"You can't miss ANY of your classes, you should no that by now," I said, my patience running thin.

"Fine. But I won't like it."

History Class

I gagged…there stood two traitors having a snogging session right in class. Ginny's brother and a girl called Lavender. Professor Riddle arrived in class. She laughed.

"I see Weasley has a new friend!" she joked. Weasel made a jolt back and Brown turned red. Several students sneered, but they were all expecting a punishment.

"That's not fair! You didn't give detention, and you didn't take points off and…" Cordelia stood up and continued with all the possible punishments the couple deserved.

"And why should I do that?" Riddle asked once Cordelia ended. Ginny nodded.

"Because…that's not aloud in class," Cordelia suddenly turned shy.

"I'm sorry, but may I remind whose class this belongs to?" Riddle asked, while many friends of Lavender cheered.

Cordelia sat down, now with confidence. "So you're saying snogging is aloud during class?"

And before anybody could stop her, she did something that made my toes go numb.

She immediately separated herself from me, sobbing.

"Draco, we can't…" She started out of class, in a desperate state. I ran out the door after her.

"Class dismissed," I heard the teacher say behind me.

"Lia," I yelled. She didn't turn.

"Lia!" I saw Harry running after Lia as well, close behind me. "I'm so sorry – I hadn't meant to – "by that time I found it almost my duty to knock him out. I accidentally – on purpose pushed myself against him, causing him to fall. "

I chased after Lia, panting as I did so.

Finally Lia stopped. "We can't… It would be just too weird."

"Why?" I asked stubbornly.

"Because… It just is," more tears were leaving a trail on her high cheek bones and lips. I noticed her bee-stung lips were trembling.

"Why?" I insisted.

"Stop being such a baby. Because…" she bit her lip. In an instant her eyes had turned from the electric navy blue it had once been to a softer baby blue, but it was only more mocking.

I grasped the meaning of her shallow words in a second. I wished I hadn't. I wished I had understood when she had started running, so no words would be involved. Words hurt. My fourth grade teacher had always said "sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me". Some teacher she was. But with time I realized that bruises and scratches will always recover, but words could manipulate, they could hurt. Sting even. And Cordelia knew that - she knew that a person's pride could be their weakness.

She took her sleeve and brushed it across her face to dry the tears reprehensibly.

"I hate you," I whispered, hoping to wound her.

"I highly doubt that. But just for fun, lets pretend you do so I could say this: I hate you more, Draco. Just the thought of you makes me want to hurl," a false and poisonous smile was playing on her lips.

The words brought sharp pain through my veins – I felt my lungs wrench and twist. I pushed my hands to my ears to stop from hearing her voice.

"No…" I whispered, instantly regaining myself, just to prove to her she couldn't hurt me. I stared into her eyes for a split second before she turned away. She had seen me fall – she had seen me throbbing and done nothing. She had pretended nothing had happened.

She walked away. I hated her. I did. But the fact that I loathed her only pained me. It didn't change her or what she did or thought. She was congealed and protected by her ignorance. She was spoiled by this false sense of defense. She was so – there's just no other way to put this – stupid and unaware because of this so-called security. A cruel smile was playing thickly on my lips as a desolate and wretched thought made way in my mind: this unawareness could kill her.

(Cordelia Riddle)

I sat in my dormitory and absorbed my surroundings. It was an elegant, spacious and round shaped room with furnished hard wood floors and beautiful paintings.

"Lia?" a sweet innocent voice was calling my name. Yes, yes, I said to myself, not opening my mouth. "Lia!" Someone was shaking me.

"Yes?" I opened my eyes. I felt nauseas. I saw Cynthia, her eyes traveling on me.

"How are you?" she whispered.

"I've been better," I said, fighting the urge to tell her everything. How I thoughts invade my head against my will. But I fought the temptation.

"Draco told me what you did to him, He was looking pretty sad-"

"No, no. Please don't, Cynthia. I know I look like a horrible person, but I have my reasons," I pleaded.

"Just tell me what happened, and I promise I won't take any sides and I won't tell anybody," she said, stroking my hair in a motherly manner. I told her what happened – I told her what happened but I didn't tell her why.

"Alright," Cynthia said when I finished. I was happy with this comment. I really was. Nobody had ever said "alright" to me. Never had anyone uttered a simple word to me, never mind an honest one.

"Lia?" she said hated everyone, especially me. How I feel like dying. How terrible and sinful after awhile, as she folded a pair of pants and placing it neatly in a drawer. Most people in the first class dormitories would use a maid to that, including me. But Cynthia was a charming lady and the only reason I hadn't called a servant to do my dirty work was because I wanted to seem civil in her eyes.

"Hmmm?"

I looked out the window. I let myself imagine, think. I lightly touched the glass with the tip of my finger – my senses pricked up when I touched the glass. The mirrors were on the glass window, giving me a starting sensation for some unknown reason. Then I went and looked down the window, giving me a vibrant commotion. I bit my lip, a gesture Tara had told me made me look oh-so adorable. I smiled as I looked at my reflection, but frowned when I noticed that the floral print pajamas made me look my grandmother. I took out a silk, pearly white Ralph Lauren robe. I slowly changed into that. I had never tried it on before the present time. I looked at myself in the mirror again. The flimsy material hung to every edge and bend that I held. The robe ended above my knees but I figured nobody would notice, since today I had seen Michelle in what looked like a swim suit. Nobody did notice in fact.

I slowly made my way to sleep.

-!-

I made my way to the quidditch field. People stared at me. News has traveled fast, I thought. They looked at me, both enviously vilely. They didn't like me – not a single part of them was in the least fond of me in the most minimal way. Not anybody, not Pansy, not my friends, not Potter or Ginny. Yet, when they looked at me, admiration flung in their eyes. No, nobody liked me, nobody wanted to like me, but they all wanted to be accepted by me, be seen with me, they wanted to be me. And this suited me all very well, if not for a small detail: Malfoy. He didn't see me the way others did. He simply couldn't. Why? Why did he, of all the people in this school, have to see me – or try to see me - for who I really was? Why did he want to know?

I finally arrived in the field, standing tall – trying my best to try to forget the events of this morning and failing miserably.

People stared at me expectantly.

I knew what they were thinking. What the students were thinking. What they wanted. They wanted the quick-witted, gutsy Cordelia I had taught them I was. They wanted information, rumors; they wanted to see me fail. Strangely, this was what I had been asking for all along. Familiarity. This was what I was used to right? But for some unfamiliar object, it was not.

My eyes traveled to my surroundings. It waswhat a quidditch field should look like. Grass on the ground, and posts on the top. A trace of blonde caught my eye. Who else but Draco had to ruin my perfect moment alone? But I wasn't really alone. They were always watching. Sod him.

(POV: Draco Malfoy)

"No, I will not touch your biceps, Gregory – it's just not right!" I responded Greg Goyle's plea to feel his, well, biceps.

"Oh come on! Look at the way it bulges! At the way it moves and drifts…" he trailed off in a tone of fondness, continuously looking back with worry at his loving bicep. I had had enough already.

I tried to ignore Goyle's poetic description of a messed up muscle and looked around.

"Not much competition this year, Pansy," I turned around to see Pansy stroking Goyle's bicep, quite mesmerized.

"Something's fing wrong with this place," I muttered.

"You should really feel it, Draco, you'll be surprised of how," she gave Goyle what was supposed to be a dark and mysterious look (to the grave misfortune of the nearby onlookers, however, she had only succeeded in looking constipated), "it's really strong."

"Fine! I'll touch the fing bicep if we'll drop the bloody discussion, alright?" they nodded, quite enthused. I shut my eyes tightly reached for his…

"Oh, golly, you were right! It is quite hard!" I said, my voice coated with sarcasm. (Although, I think it necessary to admit it actually was hard!)

"See? I told you! You should really be open to trying new things, Draco, it might get you places," Pansy was unaware of my sarcasm.

I noticed Riddle, on the field, on her nimbus, on the verge of getting accepted for the team, ignoring me.

I shall repeat the last part just making a larger emphasis: ignoring me. Ignoring a Malfoy!

Anger rose in my chest and I felt it choke in my throat. She was so damned happy, swinging in the air, flying, the wind hitting her face and blowing her hair back. And I, sitting here with the two most bloody pathetic people in the world (without the exceptions of Harry Potter and his friends, who were also somewhere singing merry tunes and "Oh, joy!"), feeling another man's bicep. There are two things wrong with that sentence: #1 is "sitting with the two most pathetic people in the world" and #2 is the part where I feel "another man's bicep."

But sadness filled me, more then any amount of humor could ever overthrow.

And suddenly, when I thought my life was absolutely hopeless, came hope – and its name was Tara Riddle.

(Cordelia Riddle)

I was surprised when Tara came. I waved at her, but she didn't notice. Or maybe she tried not to notice – but who cares? – Same shit anyway. She walked up to Draco and full forwardly snogged him. Biotch. I bit my lip again, sucking the inside of my cheeks, and then biting the inside of my cheeks. Detestation boiled inside of me. I imagined it was me in her place, sitting on his lap… but I replaced it with the image of Blaise.

And I made the image become reality.

(Draco Malfoy)

I shook Tara off me. But then I looked at Lia, and I noticed jealousy burning in her dark blue eyes, and the thought of revenge reached my head in the most iniquitous manner.

I looked at Lia. She was everything I was not. She was jesting where I was serious, she was compliant when I was resistant, she was rough when I was soft, and she was superficial where I was honest. We were both proud; but in so many different ways.

Her eyes had a mocking stare attached to it. But I had seen what was underneath that haunting expression she was somewhat insecure. And I was sure, that beneath her dark eyes was a layer of hidden tears – that had been kept from the world for so long that it had become a permanent feature in Lia's life.

I knew for a fast that Lia wasn't interested Blaise. She had only gone to him because he was my friend, and she was seeking but revenge – no matter how many people got hurt in the process.

Cordelia's lips were still trembling. She chewed on them, hoping the quavering would stop. But as hard as she must, she was unable to stop it. Blood dripped off her mouth: I must admit, though, she looked like modern-day vampire.

My head swam in self-pity and misery. Envy consumed me. I had been betrayed by everyone – there was nowhere I could turn. I looked at Goyle – I rolled my eyes – he was looking at Ivy.

Blaise was ignoring me purposely. Abhorrence was all that was left of me. Or was it annoyance? Yes…that's it…it's annoying, I'm annoyed, I thought comfortingly.

Tara was tense. She seemed scared… as though she was expected to be arrested any minute. The Riddle Sisters had a funny resemblance. They both had high cheek bones and blue eyes and dark tanned skin – but they were so different. It was as if they had different parents.

Two days passed and all I ever heard about was Cordelia and Blaise. They had become the talk of the school. Even Pansy (who has currently founded the "I Hate Draco Malfoy" club – a huge success might I add) couldn't help but have a girl-crush on Lia. At the moment, Lia and Blaise sitting at a couch across from mine in the library. Lia was doing this funny thing where she put her mouth across Blaise's neck. How inappropriate.

Three Days Later...

Slytherin versus Gryffindor: I hears roars project from the bleachers. Wind hit my hair while I clenched my fists. Cordelia seemed to be in her element. Every goal we had made had been her cause. We were still losing though. We were tree whole points away from the Gryffindor's team. I chased the snitch, my fingers burning from the cold. The tips of my fingers felt the gold metal. There – almost caught it – but Potter was the one caught it, in the end – not me. I heard cheers – but they weren't for me, as I noticed afterwards. Lia hung upside down on her broom, and Blaise came over and snogged her, while he was right side up. Now they were simply laughing as Lia (also laughing) tried hard to get out of Blaise's controlling grasp. We all know how it ends: Blaise gets what he wants and Lia gets what she wants. Everybody's happy. Everybody but me. The quidditch game ended and only I had lost.

I changed clothes and went to see Cordelia in her locker room. It was after the match, and we had lost. I noticed (as I entered the room) nobody else was there. I shouldn't have been there either, seeing as this was the girls' locker and I was a boy.

I found Lia in a corner wearing nothing but an ebony camisole and a pair of knee-high tights with a long tear across the side. Her hair was exceedingly untidy and her lips had a fresh diminutive cut with blood still squeezing through the edges of her flesh. I had never seen her in such a state.

Cordelia still hadn't noticed me. And when she did become aware of me – after a few minutes of staring in the mirror -she made no sign of embarrassment or recognition. She made no contact, smirk or smile. She was still criticizing herself in the mirror, judging every muscle and bone she contained, and at the same time muttering particularly condemnatory words. Finally she turned to me.

"What?" she asked coldly.

I shook my head. "Nothing."

I was about to leave, asking myself why I came here in the first place.
"Hey!" a voice said confidently behind me. "We could be friends with benefits."

I turned around, facing Lia, face-to-face.

"Yes?"

She pulled my tie I was wearing so that I was even closer. I felt her breath on my neck. I kissed her.

Or she had snogged me. I don't remember clearly. It had happened to soon, to quickly. I felt her hands trail down my back. I felt the salt of her tears (yes, she had ended up crying between our little session) travel down her face and then on mine. I had felt her lips tremble. But I chose to ignore it – I had a biting desire choking up inside my stomach.

I had a thin urge to leave her there, stranded and rejected. And that urge almost won too. I separated myself from her slender figure. I looked at her eyes: blue and – at the moment – questioning. She seemed defenseless, troubled.

"Draco?" she asked.

I would never forget her voice. Years later I would always remember the grief and sadness that was composed in it. She had been pleading that day – one of the few days I had managed to see her vulnerable, exposed even.

I wanted to help her. I really did - But at what cost? Tonight we would be together, gut what about tomorrow? The day after? It would be all the same to her – but what about me? I would live with a constant longing, every moment; my grades would lower, my social life would prove useless after spending a just few hours with her and I would fail miserably in life – but she? She would continue to live her life, everyday, without a second thought of me or the pain she had brought me.

"Draco?" she asked again. "Did I do something wrong?"

"No – n-no...of course it isn't. . ."

"Then what is it you want?" she asked again. If not for her subservient tone, the bluntness of the words would anger me.

What was it I wanted? Superiority, importance. I decide what to tell her. "Treat me like you treat Blaise."

My words took an immediate reaction. She pushed me against the wall and pressed her lips to mine. Her mouth followed my jaw-line and down my neck. One movement led to another.

"Let's go to the lake…" she mumbled.

"What?"

"I want to go for a swim…"

"We could get caught."

"I doubt that."

"Why?"

"Because I feel like going for a swim, okay? Now cut the crap and let's go."

We went to the lake, just like she asked.

"Now what?" I said. But she didn't listen. She started unlacing her camisole. I felt it was the gentleman thing to do was help her take it off. She agreed (or so I think).

She took her skirt off (which she had put on to leave the locker room) and swam inside the water. I caught a glimpse of the silver chain hanging around her neck, and maybe a sight of dark, tattoo-like thing on the side of her thigh – but one second later, it was gone.

I took my shirt off as well and splashed inside the water.

(POV: Cordelia Riddle)

I went and swam towards Draco. A wave pushed me down, under the water. He rapidly lugged me up and pushed me against him. He hugged me full-heartedly. I couldn't help but notice that he was somehow trying to avoid me seeing his arm, but I ignored the thought.

I took a mouth-full of air and went under the freezing water. I felt the cold waves burst against my hips. I felt revived. As if the past weeks had taken fifty years of my life. I felt I could to anything, live against any battle. I laughed happily. I reached for Draco's hand – just to find it… just to not find it.

"Draco?" I cried.

I twisted in sudden motions in the lake, trying to find him, trying to make of what had occurred to him.

And suddenly I felt it: a turn in the wind, a race in the waters, and a chill in the warmth of my security that I held so dear. What had gone wrong? What had happened? Where had Draco gone? So many questions were left unanswered that day. I gasped for air as the current sucked me in. I fought against the cold wildly, in the whole knowing that I would never make it. Something grasped for my legs and pulled me down. I realized how shallow the water had become, how far I had left Hogwarts. I tried to turn and see the castle that now appeared so home-like and friendly. Finally I found it somewhere in the distance, while I was being wrenched below. It was like a grain amongst the faraway hills and trees and…

I woke up. I looked around. Contentment overwhelmed me as I found myself in the Hospital Wing. I was wearing other dry clothes. Draco was sitting beside me, in his bed beside me, his eyes penetrating me, searching me. I uncovered that Blaise was sitting in a chair beside me, opposite Draco.

"What were you doing?" he asked, his voice distending in pride, and anger, hiding his humiliation… the voice of one deceived.

"We went for a swim," I explained.

"Half-nak…"

"We were not!" I argued.

"Either way, you were without me!" He looked at the both of us a moment longer before saying: "Pansy told me she saw you two in the Locker Room together."

"She could say whatever she wants – doesn't necessarily mean its true," Draco put in. "How many times has she lied to you?" he continued testing.

"I suppose…" he started compromising.

"Exactly. You should go and get some rest. How long have you been here?" I said, careful to change the subject slowly.

"Ever since they found you two injured…"

"Who's 'they'? And how long have we been here?" Draco asked.

"Pansy found you and it's been about three days."

"Funny…" I thought aloud.

"What's funny?" Blaise asked.

"Oh… Nothing. So, Blaise, how about thatnap we were talking about?" it was nearly impossible to seem like I actually cared about him at this point.

"Oh. Alright. I'll leave, if that's what you want…"

"No, no, of cours not, you just look a but tired, that's all..." I rolled my eyes.

"Alright," Blaise looked hurt and he left reluctantly.

"Do you remember when I first met you, I asked you who your father was?" he asked me suddenly.

I froze. "Why?"

"It's nothing. Let's drop it..." I heard him muttering: "they were probably rumors anyway…"

"What rumors?" I asked, alarmed.

"I said drop it," he commanded.

"I deserve to know," I fought.

"You'd always tell me everything, right?" he asked suddenly.

"What's gotten into you? What the hell are you trying to pull? Draco! Why are you being so difficult?" I demanded.

"How about we forget about it? Huh? Forget I ever said anything," he avoided my questions in a matter so that anger flared inside of me.

"Fine. So just tell me what happened last night."

"Nothing."

"You know what? Just leave. You're being annoying,' I dismissed him.

"Well, I can't now can I?" he flared heatedly, jumping in his white hospital bed.

"Oh, so you're blaming me for this?" I accused.

"I never said anything!" Draco held his hands up in the air innocently.

"You didn't have to," I held my own hands up, mocking his expression.

"Why are you angry at me? Why can't we all just be nice?" I had clearly aggravated him at the point of insanity.

"I'll be nicer when you're smarter," I declared.

"But that'll take a long ti..." Draco stopped himself just in time.

"Yes, it will take a long time, I suppose, won't it?" I ignored the fact he had never finished his sentence.

"Why are you acting so bitchy all of the sudden? Why can't you just tell me how you feel?" he asked.

"Why are you acting so damn girly? 'Why can't you just tell me how you feel?' Puh-leas!"

He pushed his back against the bed hopelessly. There was no reasoning when it came to me. A moment we sat there, silently.

"What are we now?" Draco wondered aloud

"We're friends."

"That's it?"

"I'm afraid so…" I murmured my thoughts elsewhere.

I once again took notice that my clothes had been changed into new ones. That meant that someone had changed it, which meant…

"Are your clothes changed?" I asked Draco.

"Yes. Thank you for noticing," he answered.

"Did you see who changed it for you?" I was alarmed beyond a point of understanding.

"No… I don't see why you're so worried about this – you're usually not this conservative. It was probably done with magic anyway."

I breathed. Or at least tried to breathe… If someone had changed my clothes (or my under-clothing, more likely), that intended that someone had seen what I was so urgent in hiding…

"Where's the bathroom?" I asked.

"Go strait and to your left."

I ran there. Finally, I removed the robe I was wearing gingerly. There stood, at the side of my thigh, the Dark Mark.

I placed my fingers on it, tracing the edges of the tattoo delicately, as though it might shatter and break any minute. But it didn't. And that's what aggrieved me night and day, since day one.

Why was it on my thigh?

Because – no reason… I simply had it since… my whole life as far as I could remember - so it's as good as a birthmark to me.

Unexpectedly, the 'birthmark' burned. It reddened rapidly. Something had happened.

&!&!&!&!&!&!&!&

We were in Herbology class. I stared in mid-space, allowing my eyes to look away from Professor Sprout. My sister came bursting into the room, tears leaping wildly off her face.

"Oh, what a pleasant surprise! You know, I wouldn't mind you knocking before you open another door so that next time you actually plan on ruining my life, I could-"

Two police officers came barging into the room. Tara continued crying.

"What happened?" the professor asked the police, seeing as it would be no use to ask Tara.

"Her mother was-"the first officer started, but was firmly cut off by the other cop who had sharp blonde hair and a solemn idiom.

"May we speak in private?" he asked.

"Nuh-uh," I said. I expected them to force me to talk in private; instead they shrugged and told me.

"Your mother was murdered at the suspected time of two o'clock Monday. Her body was found in the refrigerator, with a three knives in her hearth . . ."

"Is this some sort of joke?"

They continued not paying the least attention to me.

"We assume she was killed by a Death Eater of the name Bellatrix Lestrange – who has disappeared mysteriously and suddenly…"

My skin became pale. I was no longer listening to the aurors (God knew they didn't really give a damn); I was just listening to my hearth beat.

". . . therefore you are in the custody of Ms. Tara Riddle." They stopped and left. Or maybe they didn't. I wasn't really paying attention. The class gaped – something I specifically hated. They had nothing to gape about.

I blubbered violently. I fell on my knees and clutched my sides and bowed my head. Tears fell on my lap. Tara went on her knees and grabbed my hands in hers. Sorrow was all that was left in me – well, maybe other then emptiness. I looked down at my lap. I would no longer just be shallow, I would be empty. I continued crying, my vision became a blur. Revulsion and abomination hauled at my lungs, blocking any air still traversing inside of me. I clenched my fists, unable to forgive . . . unable to forget. I was paralyzed by my own odium. I took the locket - that had imprisoned my for so many years inside its wrath off my pretty neck and cursed at it.

I knew, from that moment on, that I would never be able to live the same way again.

It was art class. I wasn't wearing the Hogwarts uniform, but a black shirt with a neck collar that ended below my navel-piercing and an open back. Below the shirt (if you could call it that) was a pair of simple jeans and leather, knee-high boots. The dark red lipstick and ebony eye liner made me a modern example of "Snow White gone wrong". I stepped into the class, late, with a disdainful tone that could patronize Hitler. Gasps echoed inside the room. Professor McGonagall was glaring daggers at me. I swept my hair in her face. Cynthia looked as though she might faint; Ivy gave me a rebuking look, but that was all; and Millicent was mouthing where'd ya get those boots. I wasn't to blame when I chose sit next to Millicent.

"Ms. Riddle! I am most disappointed in you!" Professor McGonagall started with her voice high-pitched.

"Yes?" I said.

She grinded her teeth. "Take off those clothes right away, before..." she started mumbling things under her breath. But, actually, there was no before. Everybody knew what was going to happen after, whether I did as she said or not. An idea whirred in my min.

"Sorry? I didn't quite hear you. You see, you started telling me what would happen if I didn't … do that, but then you started sorta, like, whispering, and I couldn't hear you and I'm very anxious to hear what could possibly happen if I don't…" I was so dead.

"Why you… take that off now, she pointed at my shirt.

"This?" I asked while tugging at my shirt.

"DO IT! DO IT!" Michelle started to chant, but Cynthia (she and Ivy were mouthing no) cupped her hand over Michelle's mouth before she could damage my psychotic mind any more…

Too late.

(Cynthia Crow)

I shut my eyes… there was no stopping it…she was taking her top off.

She got up and went to the teacher, in front of the classroom. She took her shirt off. She turned around facing the class so we could all see her lacey bra. Students gasped and some actually "yipped". I saw her tanned back facing me. I bit my lip, an old habit I learned from Lia. I saw a black, laced up, strap running across her back; her bra.

"You disgusting, filthy little…" McGonagall started her lips twitching in anger. But Lia didn't seem to care. The distressed teacher put a large bag on her table and began stuffing papers into it, while saying "Enjoy your suspension, Ms. Riddle. Your mother would be very disappointed."

Lia's eyes blazed in anger.

Tremendously contented with her reaction, McGonagall smiled wickedly and said "you can't honestly expect for everybody to walk on egg shells around you, Ms. Riddle, life just doesn't work that way."

"Don't you dare talk about my life to me," Lia challenged, while everybody stared at her, staring at her, spiteful expressions on there faces.

(Cordelia Riddle)

"Don't you dare talk about my life," I ordered my voice dangerously low and stifling with anger. "You know nothing of it, yet you still have enough pride to pretend you do." I still had the shirt in my hand. McGonagall looked scared, so I went closer to her, so that if I bowed my head really low, my nose would be able to touch her head; she was a whole foot shorter then me. "Never, ever, ever talk about my life, bitch," I hissed, absorbing McGonagall frightened expression. I wasn't the least afraid of her. She was frail, mentally weak. I could own her. At moments like these, blackmail could come handy.

Dumbledore came in, as though sensing misconduct. "What's this?"

"She asked me to take it off," I pointed at McGonagall indignantly.

"I did nothing of the sort! She was wearing a tissue instead of a shirt on so you could see why I as a teacher would not want my students distracted by such … skin. So I told her to take it off – but by that I meant change into other clothing." McGonagall let out a deep breath.

"Is that true?" he looked at me. It was a dumb question, if you ask me.

"No, she raped me," I said sarcastically.

"We do not speak of such matters so lightly, Ms. Riddles," Dumbledore told me. Speaking of lightly, they should be expelling me by now.

"Duh."

"Either way, you could out your shirt back on and get suspended," Dumbledore said. He looked at me expectantly. Finally, he gave up. "Very well, then. Enjoy your suspension, Miss Riddle."

I sat on my bed, reading a book peacefully.

My teachers had left me off rather easily: No homework, no points taken off of my house – and most importantly: no death sentence. They probably thought taking my clothes off was a way of recovering after 'my loss'.

And it most likely was.

My friends hadn't avoided me, surprisingly. I had even heard that I had become an even bigger idol for the other students. But teachers had never missed a chance eschewing me in the halls or chiding me on the moving staircase.

Tara hadn't taken the loss the same way I had. Yes, she had suffered. But how had she suffered? Sitting at night, eating melting fat free vanilla ice cream from the box watching dirty movies with a box of tissues? I'm sure Malfoy does that every night. But it couldn't have affected her the same way it had struck me. I was sure of it. She always had another father to lean on, but I had but one father and his name was... I wasn't completely sure. (I had never been sure we were kin. But now it struck me odd how I had ever seen so much as a tattoo on her clean skin. Why had I been chosen to carry the Dark Mark and not her? Surely she could be just as evil as I am… but was I evil? Was I really? I could always ask. But how do I know the truth? Ah. Of course: Veratiserum.)

But, nevertheless, I managed to move on as the same Cordelia Riddle I had arrived at Hogwarts as. Sadly, I knew, I would never leave Hogwarts as the same girl, and I wouldn't remain in Hogwarts for long – not safely -- not while Draco was around.

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I arrived at Tara's dorm. I knocked on her door. She opened it.

"Good evening, Tara. Do you think I'm evil?"

(POV: Tara Riddle)

I heard a knock at my door. I was forced to separate myself from my box of tissues and my fat free vanilla ice cream.

I opened the door. I was surprised when I heard the most poisonously cheerful voice drawl from the corridor: "Good evening, Tara. Do you think I'm evil?"

I stared at Cordelia for a moment. "Yes."

"Yes?"

"Yes. I think you are very evil."

"I'm not kidding, Tara, I'm serious."

"Good. Because so am I. I sincerely believe you are evil."

"Really?"

"Yes, really."

She looked at me. "You think I could become a Death Eater?"

I slammed the door in her face. She had gone insane!

I heard a knock at the door.

"Yes?" I opened the door to find Lia, looking quite frank.

"I'm a Death Eater."

"Oh."

"Okay," she shrugged and looked like she was about to leave. In fact, she had been almost down the stairs when I had called for her.

"Come back."

She came back. "Yes?"

"You're serious," I stated.

"I think."

"I mean you saw the Dark Lord and everything?"

"Not exactly."

"Then you're not a Death Eater."

"Yes I am."

"Oh, dear. This is worst then I thought. Sweetie, you can't be a Death Eater, because you don't have the Dark Mark," I pushed her sleeve up to prove it to her. And sure enough, there was no Dark Mark.

"Father loved you more," she affirmed suddenly.

"W – What?"

"Daddy, he loved you more."

"No he –"

"Yes he did."

Anger was aroused from the deepest tangles, from under the restricted holes, from the shallowest memories. And I spat in my anger: "he loved me more! He loved me more! I always knew smarts was not your forte but this is just plain stupid! He loved you more! Look at that locket he gave you!"

My eyes gleamed invidiously as they penetrated the sight of the Slytherin locket, devouring it viciously into my mind. Greed was what I breathed in my lungs. What I had breathed before. What had kept me alive when Mother had died! And it took me, binding me in its twisted and saddening wrath – manipulating me to its finest. But then I looked at Lia's face. And I imagined her sentiment against her father, her feelings with Draco. She had suffered so much more then me, she had endured so much more. She had so much. And yet she had no idea how much she didn't have. Life was a hole to her: One that she had been buried in since she had left her haven inside of her mother and in which she would be buried for the rest of her life. And yet she had not the slightest idea. And neither did I. what she would go through to get rid of that locket and what was in it would be beyond difficult, beyond what no hormonal sixteen year old could do. And if she had to get rid of it, or if she had to hand it in, only she would be pained. Only she and you-know-who that is. I knew she had secrets. And it wouldn't surprise me if she really was a Death Eater – and yet here was her hand, lying limp in my arms, clean from and Dark Mark ad far as vision could see.

"I – I - I don't – I don't know…" I muttered. "But there is something… from Mother, sent to you before she died…" I looked for the envelope and handed it to her, "Here. The ministry gave it to me."

She left with a whispered "thank you".

(POV: Cordelia Riddle)

I tore the letter open. It read:

My Dear Lia,

I have always been hesitant to write you this letter.

But now the end is near… for me.

He won't let me live.

Not without you at least.

I believe by now you already know who your Father is.

I have never kept it a secret from you.

And I don't believe Tara has either.

I love you Lia,

And although you may be blind to

The pain to come

(of which I am slightly glad)

Not a day goes by that I worry. Hold on to what is important to you, don't let it past without you fighting for it. He will do whatever in his power to take it from you. I didn't choose for your life to begin this way – I don't wish it to end. Not this soon.

You wear a Dark Mark on your left thigh,

I'm sure you know. It is best you keep it from your

Sister – for her own safety.

Your dear Mother,

Lia Riddle

Tears rolled down my cheeks. My mother was gone. A nameless fear shattered in a million pieces openly, exposing me to everything – exposing nothingness to everything. And the nothingness threw its numb fingers upon my open eyes, inside my only open wounds that had been created the very day of my birth. And it hadn't been a one wound, made for one person: it had been an injury shared betwixt the female Riddles: a curse that had been created out of mercy and joy. Had it been a sin to want to feel the warm joy that grew under the sun so gay and happy? Had sin changed its name? And I lay alone in my room, under the covers of my bed, weeping like a little girl who was in desperate need of comfort from her mother. But a mother she did not have. Nor did she have a father. Not yet.

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I lay in front of the large wooden double-doors, trembling with fear and pain. I was wearing a Death Eater's robes, and it would be very difficult to recognize my identity. It was the holidays, and I had left Hogwarts, Draco, and Tara in search of answers and sanctuary. What I feared was that I may not come back from my journey that I would leave this Earth without a trace of my existence left behind and that generations henceforth would forget or be unaware of my very living. But what else would my life come to if not?

I pulled the knocker slowly, my hand suddenly weighing a ton. I knocked twice. On the third knock someone answered the door. Someone answered; a house-elf.

"I am here to see Lucius Malfoy," I said darkly. The house-elf went off without questioning.

A moment later he came back and held the door open to me: he was inviting me in. I couldn't conceal my surprise to be let in so freely. Must be this Death Eater costume, I smiled. He led me to the dining room and there, sitting in the chair, sure enough, was Draco's father.

"Yes?" he asked coldly though his eyes showed curiosity.

I flipped off my hood.

He was not amused. "Who are you?"

"Surely the great Lucius Malfoy could recognize the Dark Lord's daughter when sees her?" I smiled.

"Prove yourself."

I did as I was told. I showed him the Tattoo.

He was surprised, but not convinced. "Very well, you are Death Eater then. But His daughter? That is a claim beyond expectation and quite unreasonable."

"Very well, then. I need a few answers. For example: where is He? How do I find him?" I asked.

"Where is He? Where is He?" he mocked, "It has been long since he has died, I thought you knew, being his 'daughter' and on… Either way, how old are you? Draco is not half your age, I assume."

"Quite right. In fact I know Draco. We are in the same Year at school," I stated.

"You? Draco? It can't be possible… You are of a young age to become a Death Eater… When did you first receive the Mark?"

"But a few weeks ago," I lied. It was flawed lie – wouldn't Lucius Malfoy know about a Death Eater that had been created but a few weeks ago? Then again, why wouldn't he know the Dark Lord had a daughter? Two for that matter? It was a trick question.

"So little after Draco… Would you like some Whine?" I felt my heart stop. Draco, a Death Eater. My breath became cool and fear began pressing at my throat.

"Are you alright? Would whine help?" I was rather surprised by Malfoy's softness towards me.

"No, I'm fine, thank you."

"Suit yourself. I, on the other hand, shall have one." He asked the elf to fetch the whine and afterwards, had a few glasses and continued with small talk.

Glad to have made a acquaintance with Lucius Malfoy, I pondered over Tom (I prefer that name to 'Father', or the 'Dark Lord', and so forth).

"Well?" I asked.

"Well?" he repeated.

"What about the Dark Lord? Where is he?"

"Ah… the Dark Lord? Who is he?"

"Who is he?" I recurred, "who is he?"

"Yes, who is he?" he said as he gulped down the last of the whine bottle.

"Have you gone mad?" I asked. I looked at the bottle again. I muttered: "Or are you just drunk?"

"Well, who is he?" He asked again.

"He's rather… mutated, a-and quite… evil, and rather scary, I suppose…" I didn't know where to start.

"Oh, yes, yes. The ugly gentleman that… Oh, yes, I know him. In fact, he's downstairs, in the secret room that that woman" (I didn't bother asking who "that woman" was) "doesn't like telling people about. Damn her!" (I was surprised by this abruption.) "He's rather queer, that Dark Lord dude. Yes, quite queer…"

"Downstairs? Where? Are you sure?" I asked.

"Oh yes. Quite sure, quite sure. He has a nasty temper that one! Even threatened to kill Draco!"

"K-kill Draco?" I stammered, surprisingly horrified by the very thought.

"Yes. Said – said he had to kill Harry Potter and Dum…"

"Yes?"

He seemed to have suddenly awoken from a trance. "I'm sorry, what was I saying?"

I sighed. It was hopeless. "Just escort me to where He's hiding please," I said politely.

He led me through the luxurious manor to the hidden room.

"There you go," and off he trotted. (Yes, he actually trotted!)

The secret room was down a narrow stairway which was dimly lit with torches (what a cliché!) and… that was it.

The tapered stairway was damp and dark, if not for the torches, and relatively creaky.

"Father?" I asked the darkness, for the first time calling Tom "father. I felt strange calling this man I had never known once if not by reputation "father".

No answer.

"Father?"

I entered the room in no hurry, frightened by its cold and hard appearance. It was nothing. Just a stone room with a small square window. Other then that it was empty. No torches were lit at this point.

I felt a faint whistle come from outside the glassless window, sad and tuneless it was. The darkness deepened. It engorged its surroundings, sucking me in tightly and gradually. The eeriness of the room worried me, and I stood there, pathetic, close to weaponless, my feet rooted into the humid ground.

An icy hand placed itself on my shoulder. Terror overruled my body and I was incapable to progress. I felt a spear of ice cut into my senses, engraving into my lungs swiftly and slashing any hopes of freedom.

"My, my. Looky here. Who's this? A confused child in hope of trouncing the horror that lies within her so deeply, or a lost fly cut in a spider's murderous web?" a voice sliced the air as it spoke.

"Or is she simply a girl in search of her father?" I whispered.

He had heard. "Who are you?"

"Cordelia Merope Riddle… Uh, your daughter." Ya remember you freakin' bitch?

"I remember that voice…" he looked me in the eyes so I could see his filthy abnormal transmuted face. "Lia?"

I shook my head.

"Who are you?" he whispered.

"Your daughter."

He backed away. "Impossible… Who brought you here?"

I feared what the consequences lay for Lucius if I told the truth. "I found my way here."

"My daughter you say? My daughter!" he spat, "my daughter! Never in the world!"

"I could help you," I said tried iniquitously, fear still rattling in my chest, finding that manipulation was my only self-defense as my wand was useless against him, "I could change everything. I could kill him…"

"I suppose there is use for you yet…" he lifted my chin. "You are so alike your mother… Lia…"

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I went up the stairs again, not so much as scared now as shocked.

What just happened?

I didn't bother thinking of it. What was the point?

I arrived back to the dining room, where Lucius was still drinking, but this time strait from the bottle. Two other empty bottles were on his right side.

"Oi. Someone drank all my whine bottles," he pointed to the one standing beside me.

"Are you sure you didn't drink it?"

"Lalala dee dee!" he sang.

"I'm going to live here," I declared, ignoring his constant chanting.

"Oh, goody!" he clapped, "we will have so much fun together!"

I laughed nervously.

"So where should I sleep?"

"In my bed!" Lucius jumped as he answered.

"Uh! No I insist… I wouldn't… What would your wife think?"

Lucius blinked twice. "Wife?"

"The one you promised to spend the rest of your life with? Remember her? Narcissa? Does the name ring a bell?" I persisted – anything from saving me form sleeping in his bed.

Lucius shook his head, much to my dismay.

Would this ever come to an end?

"Okay. I'll go find a room for me to sleep in while you try to remember who your wife is," and with that I ventured around the manor until I found myself the perfect room.

It was large and circular with a circular bed in the middle of the room with silk green fluffy sheets with silver trimming. There was a balcony on the left side that overlooked the rest of the mansion where a statue of Draco. The statue was one of Draco… naked. I laughed continuously and fell on top the bed where I fell asleep.

I woke up the next morning to the sound of voices echoing from down the stairs.

"What do you mean 'there's a woman sleeping in your bed'? I want to have her out immediately… No, I wouldn't bloody care if she was sodding Lucifer's daughter – I want her out of my room!" (a pause) I don't even care of she was damned bikini super-model…" the door was shoved open, revealing Draco and his father. "Lia…?"

"Draco!" I said, startled.

He cleared his throat. "I didn't know you were a Death Eater."

I glared at Lucius. "I'm not."

But you are… I thought as fear chained itself to my thoughts. What if something would happen to him on my behalf? What if Tom found out?

"Oh."

"How come you're back?" I asked.

"I was bored," he said flatly.

"That's funny. I didn't know you were aloud to leave in the middle of the holidays," I said.

"We're not."

I nodded. "That makes more sense."

"Speaking of beds…" he started.

"We aren't."

"We are now. Speaking of beds, what are you doing in mine?" he asked.

"I'm sleeping in it."

"Why in mine?" he smiled.

"In my defense your father was drunk and he told me to sleep in his bed," I laughed.

Lucius appeared by Draco's side.

"Are you going to sleep here for the rest of the holidays?" he asked.

"If I must," I nodded.

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(Point of View: Draco Malfoy)

I climbed on into the train compartment, sighing. I and Lia sat beside each other, and spontaneously she leaned her head over my shoulder. I felt her breath on my neck and it seemed almost a sin not to put an arm around her.

"What would Blaise say?" I asked, as I pressed her against me.

"He would kill you…Much to my disappointment. I was almost starting to like you…" she kissed me on the cheek.

"And I was almost getting used to you!" he continued.

She hit me playfully. "That's mean!"

"Look who's talking!"

"There's Blaise now…" she whispered, separating herself from my hands.

Blaise joined our section and said, "Where are you two? I could never find you when you're not together."

Blaise looked at us expectantly. We refused to say anything.

"You might want to tell me what's going on."

"Or not…" she whispered loudly.

Blaise left us - finally realizing what was happening – with the air of one betrayed.

I resumed our prior position, not feeling a drop of guilt in my thoughts. After all, Lia had only gone out with him to get to me.

When we had arrived at Hogwarts, Lia was already asleep.

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I felt a searing pain carve into my lungs as I thought of what would happen after they came…

Urgently I waited outside the room of requirements intolerantly. Finally the Death Eaters came out of the room.

"Are you ready?" I gasped as the crowd filled the halls and some nodded.

They went down the stairs, screams following their steps as they shot lights out of their wands from every which way. Deadly screams were passed as I rushed down the stairs, my heart beating fast and my breath quickened. Excitement hammered inside my heart heavily, shoving corrupt thoughts into my structure. Everywhere, deafening and desperate shrieks of help projected across the halls; I couldn't hear myself think.

I outside the castle, and there, sure enough, lay Professor Albus Dumbledore, weak and frail. Guilt sang into the wind. My guilt, my pain...

I pointed my wand towards him. In a few minutes had him wand-less, weaker, and alone.

The final blow…

"Don't do it Draco…" I heard a voice whisper behind me: Lia.

I didn't turn to see her. Soon she would be just another part of the scenery.

"Draco…" she warned.

I didn't listen; Snape had come.

And I didn't do it after all. Snape did. A heart-wrenching screech was given by Cordelia. She started crying murderously, falling down next to Dumbledore, grabbing her sides and swaying to-and-fro. Tears escaped her blue eyes as she began throwing a fit, hitting the ground, and crying for help. Her face had reddened and flushed. I bent down next to her, not knowing what else to do, and the wind changed its tune. It was Lia's tune this time. And it was not of pain, but of sorrow that had reached beyond pain, and of loss that had reached into the sorrow. She shook out of my grasp as she continued crying.

"Why did you do it? What was the point?" she yelled at no one in particular as she continued crying. "Do you know why I transferred from Durmstrang? Do you have the slightest idea?" (She didn't wait for an answer) "It was because of Dumbledore! Because I needed him! That's right! I – needed – him!" she repeated to all the startled faces that surrounded her. "I needed protection! Of course he didn't know that!" (She tilted her head towards the corpse) "But he accepted me never mind my last name, never mind who my parents were! He just did!" She never stopped crying.

"I've had enough this," Snape muttered.

Snape took me by the arm dragged me into a race that I hadn't supposed to enter in the first place. And I entered Lia. I took her hand pushed her up, never mind her fighting struggles and wishes; they didn't matter anymore. We ran out Hogwarts' boundaries led by Snape, who gave us a paper clip. I slowly held the port key as I continued to hold Lia's hand.

I was surprised when we had dissaperated into my own house, but nevertheless pleased. Never letting go of crying Lia I found my anxious father into a doorway.

"Go down the stairs; stop when you enter the room, and lastly, don't you dare question me," he indicated.

I did as I was told as I pushed Lia down the dimly lit staircase. She had been more insistent on not going downstairs then I had expected and she had been rather anxious – then again who wouldn't be?

I arrived to the bottom. It was damp and it smelled of rotten eggs.

"Draco Malfoy," a thin voice drawled, "I see you've met my daughter…"

I was taken aback by hearing this voice – or hearing any voice at all for this matter. Who would live in such a place? But at the same time, what I had I heard?

I see you've met my daughter…

The words played again and again in my head… Cordelia Riddle, Lord Voldemort's daughter. I looked at her eyes. They were neon blue. She seemed unperturbed by being called a monster's daughter.

"Have you accomplished your task?" the voice asked me.

I strained my eyes to see against the darkness. I made out a tall, figure with black lanky robes far too large on him. His eyes (assuming it was a "him" at all) were sunken low into his sockets; far lower inside then any normal human I've ever seen, and his skin had no sane distinguishable color, and his lips were no where to be seen.

"Yes Master," my voice sounded obedient and mechanical, not a voice I had used with anyone else before.

"Good. And you, Cordelia? Have you killed him?"

"No," she said flatly.

"No? Why ever not, child?" the figure stepped forward menacingly, and I had been forced to step backwards, although Cordelia remained in her spot.

"Because of Draco," she answered.

I wasn't particularly surprised by this comment seeing as the current events were nothing but surprising, though I still felt something flicker in my mind.

"Oh, and why is that?" I could even hear his words carving the air as he spoke.

"Because I love him," I felt my heart pound.

"That is sweet. But you deserve a punishment for not doing what you were asked to do, am I correct?" Lia didn't bother answering. "Now whatever should I do to you?"

"Perhaps kill me," Lia answered.

"I do not tolerate cheekiness," he scowled.

"But then again that would hardly be a punishment in my case, now would it?" Lia continued, ignoring Tom's previous remark.

"Now, Draco," he turned to me, apparently choosing that his daughter wasn't important, "how did you kill Dumbledore?"

"I didn't. I was what led to murder, though, Master," I shivered.

"Oh? Then who did?" he asked.

"S – Snape," I spat. "Master," I added quickly.

"You didn't do your job either? Seems as though you both deserve punishments, wouldn't you agree?"

We didn't answer.

"Children, children," he chided mockingly, "Whenever will you learn to take on responsibilities as they come?"

"Seeing as you are afraid of death," he pushed my chin up with his wand, "and you are afraid of losing Draco, darling, I think we have found the perfect punishment, have we not?"

"Must you even ask?" Cordelia spat at the ground before his feet. "Must you always ask?"

"Draco, I believe we both know who will murder you tonight," he snarled, "and tomorrow they will find your corpse lying beside Cordelia's wand, and people will forever know her as the Riddle she pretends not to be."

Lia's eyes lit in horror. "Don't… make me kill anybody…You can't make me…" she trembled.

"Can't I?" he drawled.

Lia stepped back, disgust igniting her features and revulsion ripping in her eyes. "You wouldn't!"

"Why not?"

His unending questions went on until our answers were even fuzzier then before. I was standing meekly beside her, fear absorbing me like a sponge on water.

"Do you haveany idea how it is to feel at the brink, when you know that you're empty?" tears ripped apart from her eyes, "No, of course, youof people, would not."

Something in his swollen beady eyes snapped and he picked up his daughter by hte neck and pushed her against the wall, about a foot up in the air. She choked and spat.

"Let go of me," she ordered.

"Beg," he looked at her disdainful face.

She didn't answer.

"Lia, Lia, always holding her breath when she's choking, hiding when it is her turn to seek, keep holding your head when you know that you're drowning..."

"Draco, hold up your wand towards Lia," he ordered.

I looked at him, aghast. "What?"

"DO AS I SAY!"

I did.

"Now repeat after me: 'Cruciatus'."

"No," I said lamely.

"Do it," he ordered.

"Cruciatus!" I whispered.

Lia fell to the floor, clutching her head miserably, as her breathing became quicker. She made a great amount inhumane screeches, pain seeping in each shriek as sweat dripped down her forehead. I finally stopped, as so did she.

"Lia? Will you do it now?" he glowered.

"No," she gasped.

"Draco," he commanded.

"Cruciatus!" I whispered again, pain ablaze in my every word.

The same process was repeated again and again, up to the point where her clothes were in rags.

What am I doing?

You're killing her because she wouldn't kill you.

Was I doing the right thing?

I saw the Dark Mark on her thigh.

"Again, do it again, Malfoy."

"No," I whispered.

"I told you to do it again!"

"I refuse," I breathed.

"Very well, Malfoy," he contorted, "hold her hand."

I knew what was coming. "I will not hold her hand while I watch you kill her."

"Is that so?" he ridiculed.

I watched as the rain poured through the window…

I felt the nothingness consume me. Nothingness that had been constructed from within wound.

She hadn't even had a proper funeral…