Trysten awakened Friday morning to discover she had fallen asleep in the back corner of the library. Upon learning she had but five minutes to get to Transfiguration, she charmed her clothes clean and pressed, decided to skip breakfast, and rushed off to the Transfiguration classroom.

Professor McGonagall sat at her desk, looking quite ruffled, with instructions written on the board. They told the students to bring their scrolls up to her desk as they came in. Slipping into the semblance of a line, she noticed the professor glanced up at each student as they set down the parchment, but otherwise kept her eyes staring steadily at the pile of scrolls, as if afraid where they would look if she didn't keep them fixated.

After a few moments of shuffling forward, Trysten found herself in front of the professor's desk. Placing her finished essay down on the pile, she met Professor McGonagall's eyes as the older woman glanced up. The shock and surprise in her eyes quickly faded into a solemn sadness. The corners of her eyes were red, as though she had been crying. Before Trysten could study her farther Minerva McGonagall's eyes were downcast once more.

While the class talked, Trysten watched as the professor silently counted the scrolls. A small, sad smile of relief passed by her lips. She stood. "Attention students," McGonagall stated, her voice lacking its usual power. "Seeing as all present students managed to turn in their essays, I am canceling today's lesson." Trysten gaped at her usually strict professor, unbelieving. "However," she articulated, "a foot of parchment will be due on the eighth chapter, due tomorrow. I suggest you use your free time to complete this assignment. Elsewhere."

The students quickly filed out; some giddy, some confused, and some gloomy ('some' being Hermione Granger). When the classroom emptied, Trysten walked quietly up to her teacher's desk, where the latter was cradling her head in her hands.

"Professor?" Trysten whispered.

Minerva glared upward, a flare which softened when she saw who was there. "Yes, child?" she asked wearily.

Seeing how tired McGonagall was, Trysten decided not to pry. "I just wanted to let you know…if you ever need someone to talk to, my lips are sealed." Turning and walking straight through the door, Trysten missed the look of surprised gratitude that graced her professor's smiling face.

"I suggest you use your free time to complete this assignment. Elsewhere." Draco rolled his eyes at the Gryffindor Head's advice and turned around abruptly, his robes billowing in a Snape-worthy fashion. Managing to be one of the first out the door, Draco veered off the main path. His friends, if one could call them that, had recently grown accustomed to Draco's disappearing acts and wouldn't go in search of him. Slipping through unused passageways, Draco avoided all human contact (although he did run into Nearly-Headless Nick) and arrived at the lakeshore undisturbed.

His mind was racing, although his outward appearance showed no sign of it. In his frustration he heaved a rock into the peaceful water, glaring at the ripples in created as if they were the sole source of all his problems. Draco sighed heavily as he saw a tentacle poking out of the water's surface and stood, a new destination in mind.

Several minutes later, Draco stood outside Severus Snape's classroom doors. As he raised his hand to open the door, he froze at the sound of voices. Several, in fact.

"And five points from Gryffindor for sheer stupidity," he heard Snape hiss. Amidst his amusement at the Gryffindor's plight, Draco had a revelation.

"Severus is in class," Draco thought aloud. Swearing colorfully, Draco spun on his heel and wandered the halls, now unsure of where to go.

"You two haven't written a word, have you?" Hermione assumed condescendingly (but accurately) as she returned from a quick run to a far section of the library. Dropping her books noisily onto the table, Hermione sighed as she continued her already over-done Transfiguration assignment.

"We were discussing something important," Ron protested.

Hermione snorted skeptically. "What?"

"Quidditch," Harry told her, Ron's ears turning red.

"You honestly believe Quidditch is more important than your schoolwork?" Ron looked at her as if she were stating the most obvious fact in the world. "Work, Ronald," Hermione told him fiercely.

After a few moments of silent work, Harry's quill suddenly stopped moving. Confused, Hermione looked up to see a venomous look of suspicion and malice directed past her shoulder. "It's her," he spat.

Following Harry's gaze, Hermione could only assume he meant the meek-looking girl tiptoeing through the rowdier part of the library, a load of books in hand and a brown curtain of hair hiding her face.

"Who?" Ron asked, looking conspicuously all over the room before zeroing in on the girl Hermione and Harry were staring at.

Hermione turned back to the table, thinking. "Who is she, exactly?" The mean, aloof look Harry sent her way at that simple comment made Hermione feel as though her heart was being slowly grated over a searing fire. "I know that's the girl you've been looking for," Hermione put together hastily, "but who is she? Name? House? Personality traits?"

Harry flicked a note towards her. "T. Moonjade, not Gryffindor, and evil."

"Harry," Hermione began tentatively, "this note doesn't sound evil, it sounds-"

"It's a trick! It has to be."

Hermione rolled her eyes as Ron snatched the note from her hand, then sighed, glancing at the girl, who had settled down discreetly a few yards from their table. "I'll see what I can find out." She closed her books and, glancing about her, stood. Her gaze locked on the girl and Hermione began walking over to her. The girl looked up as she approached and met her gaze. "Um…hi," Hermione stammered.

"Hello, Hermione," the girl greeted cheerfully, although she looked anxious as soon as the words left her mouth.

"Could- Could I borrow the notes you took from yesterday's…Potions?"

The girl eyes her suspiciously, then took out her notes and handed them over. "All but the essay."

"Thanks," Hermione smiled. "I'll bring them back soon." She left the girl and returned to her two friends. Sitting down, she shuffled through, making mental notes as she went.

"Notes!" Ron cried dubiously.

"Yes, Ronald, notes. You should try taking them sometime." Hermione glanced over all the pages, then looked up to Harry's expectant eyes. "Intelligent, caring, very meticulous," Hermione evaluated, stating the last quality a bit sourly, as the girl's scrupulous efforts rivaled even her own. "Thorough, ambitious, solitary. Works as well as she can, strives for excellence. Probably Rav-"

"Slytherin," Harry interrupted, hate in his eyes.

"Harry, I don't think-"

"You learned all that from notes?" Ron squeaked.

"Strives for excellence," Harry persisted.

Sighing and quite fed up with Harry's unilateral views, Hermione sighed and stood, walking back to the girl. "Thanks, Moonjade," she told her.

"No problem." As Hermione was about to turn, the girl began to speak. "Now tell me," she paused as Hermione froze, "what did you really want to know?"

"I-I just wanted notes," Hermione flushed.

"Yesterday in Potions was a free study day. No notes. You already know my name, and you debated with Harry and Ron after merely glancing at my notes, you never slack off in class, and you're bright red," the girl pointed out. "What was your question?"

Hermione asked the first thing to come to mind. "What's your first name?"

The girl stared at her a moment, then picked up the notes she had lent Hermione and pointed to the upper right-hand corner. "Trysten."

"Oh," Hermione stated simply before turning to head back to Harry, a new thought revolving in her mind. Perhaps she's more Slytherin than I thought.

After the odd processions with Hermione, Trysten felt quite uncomfortable in the library and decided it was time to pay Dumbledore a visit. Sneaking out of the library, Trysten headed straight for the gargoyle which guarded the Headmaster's office. Ignorant of the password, Trysten merely knocked as loudly as she could, hoping for a reply. To her surprise, the gargoyle jumped aside, revealing the stairway, which she climbed quite quickly. Reaching the inner door, she knocked again.

"Come in," the elderly man called, his voice muffle by the door. Carefully, Trysten swung it open and stepped into his office. "Ah, Miss Moonjade. How nice it is to see you again." He held a bowl out to her. "Lemon drop?"

"I'd love one," Trysten assented, knowing the candy from her childhood. She took one and popped it in her mouth. "How have you been, Headmaster?"

"Oh, just splendid," Dumbledore told her, his eyes sparkling even more brightly. He smiled kindly. "But I take it you didn't come here merely to inquire about my health."

Trysten smiled. "No, Sir. I have a few…matters I wish to discuss with you." Albus raised his eyebrows but did not reply. "One regarding Severus Snape, one regarding Minerva McGonagall, and one…well, we'll get there later."

"I take it, then" Dumbledore began knowingly, "you know that Severus came to speak with me about an incident involving…"

"Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter," Trysten stated, picking up where the Headmaster left off. "I want to know what's going to happen."

"Happen?" Dumbledore asked, stroking his beard.

"Yes. As for punishments, notifications, and the like," Trysten listed, shocking even herself by the business-like quality the possessed.

Studying the girl before him, Dumbledore asked, "And what would you wish to be done?"

"Nothing," Trysten said simply. "No detention, suspension, lectures, or apologies."

"Why not? I'm sure Mr. Malfoy hasn't been the kindest to you, he isn't king to anyone. Perhaps I could understand Mr. Potter, but…"

"Neither of them meant to hex me. It was purely accidental. And Draco meant to hit me no more than Harry did, if not less so. I tried to explain this to Severus, but he couldn't understand, so I used…other methods."

Dumbledore nodded. "I had wondered why Professor Snape came to me instead of dealing with it himself. Do I understand correctly? You want neither Mr. Potter nor Mr. Malfoy to receive punishment."

"That is correct, Sir."

Albus nodded, his eyes twinkling vividly. "Very well. And the next matter, concerning Minerva?"

"She seemed…quite upset today. She had to cancel class and seemed pretty distraught. I was wondering if I could help her at all."

The headmaster looked grim. "I am afraid not. The matters with which Minerva is dealing are very difficult for all to endure. But thank you for your concern; I will do what I can. The third matter?"

"I believe you already know of it," Trysten started, looking him over. "The thestral."

Dumbledore slowly nodded. "Hagrid told me. I am researching that matter currently. For now, tell no one except for Minerva, Hagrid, Severus, and myself, as well as Poppy, should injuries be severe. I will get back to you as soon as I can." Dumbledore smiled. "You aren't wearing your house colors."

Trysten glanced at her robes and realized she was still wearing the robes she received from the mysterious room she slept in two nights prior. "Sorry, Headmaster, I-….I-"

Dumbledore raised a hand to pause her stammering. "It's fine. Continue to wear Housed or Un-housed robes as you wish. The colors are merely to create a sense of community, but seeing as you tend to extract yourself from others, it is quite pointless. However, should a professor ask you to don Housed robes, please respect their wishes.

"Yes, Albus," Trysten murmured, standing. She headed to the door, but paused at the doorway to say a proper goodbye.

As she opened her mouth to speak, the headmaster beat her to it. "Trysten, be extra careful regarding the thestral around Harry Potter. He overheard Hagrid and me discussing an anonymous girl befriending a thestral, and he…well, he accused her of being under Voldemort's control." Trysten gaped at him for a moment.

"I had noticed Harry's logic was…askew," Trysten murmured, describing it as politely as she could. "Currently, I believe I prefer the company of Draco to Harry." At Dumbledore's uncertain look, she explained, "I'd rather be with a sarcastic tough guy than with a fame-crazed egomaniac on a power trip with a devastating past and the power to cause eternal damage with half-cocked accusations."

After a moment's pause for thought, Albus nodded. "It's your choice. Good day, Miss Moonjade."

"Goodbye, Headmaster." Baffled as ever, Trysten slipped out of his office and descended the stairs, wondering why 'Harry and Company' had developed such an interest in her. Deciding to put off such matters until she had time to think of them, Trysten pushed all related thoughts from her mind and hurried off towards Potions.

Pacing in an annoyed fashion around the corner from the Potions classroom, Draco ran a hand through his hair. The fact that class prevented him from talking with Severus when he so desperately needed to added just one more reason for Draco to hate school. "Bloody deathtrap," he murmured aloud. Getting impatient, Draco rounded the corner to see if class was out when he was stopped by an odd sight. The girl—Trysten, he reminded himself—was imitating his actions, presumably without knowing she was doing so. She paced along the stretch of wall between the corner and the Potions door, running a hand through the roots of her hair.

Having been facing away from him, Trysten turned to resume her pacing only to stop dead in her tracks when she caught sight of him. "Draco," she greeted after a shocked silence. "Sorry, I didn't see you there."

"That's because I just got…here," he gestured to the ground immediately in front of him. In the awkward silence that followed, Draco watched as she fidgeted with her hands, her eyes unfocused. "Have something on your mind?"

The look she gave him was one of mixed surprise, anger, insult, and fear. "Perhaps," she answered hesitantly. "Something on yours?"

"Perhaps," Draco smirked, making any worry that may have entered his mind dissolve before reaching his face.

"Anything I could help with?" Trysten asked sincerely, stepping forward.

Draco snorted, "I doubt it." He leaned back against the wall, closing his eyes briefly.

"Oh? What is it then?" She asked in a tone Draco couldn't identify. "Love problems? No, a Malfoy would never love…At least not admit to it. Self-image? No, you seem quite confident." Draco could hear her step closer with each option. "Depression? Now that's always an option. Could there be a lonely little boy beneath the bravado mask?" She asked coyly. Her voice was close now, but getting closer. "A sexual problem, perhaps? No, that could be charmed away instantly, what with your-" She cut off, leaving Draco to guess at the end of the sentence. He heard her step closer, a breath of her body heat coming in contact with him. "No," Trysten began. The eerie quality of her voice brought goose bumps out over his arms. "It's family problems, isn't it?"

Draco inwardly shivered at how close she had come to the truth, but he merely opened his eyes, slowly, glared admirably, and rolled his eyes. "You haven't the slightest idea what you're talking about," he told her, arms crossed. He ceased leaning on the wall and turned to face her, telling himself that his heart was pounding merely from the adrenaline of almost being found out. "What about you, pacing here like mad?" What're you thinking about?" He looked her over quickly. "Obviously not the latest hairstyles," he told her, attempting to drive her away. To his (hidden) dismay, she seemed to look slightly proud of that remark. "Boyfriend cheated on you?" he guessed. She shook her head. "Still going strong, then."

"No boyfriend," she said simply, looking at him as if he were crazy.

"Ah, one of those types. Your girlfriend cheated on you."

"No, not one of 'those types'," she mocked.

Draco smirked, merely to buy him time to think of the next question. "I'd ask about self-image, but it's quite clear you have none. You're smiling too bloody much to be depressed," Draco spat, irritated at the picture of her smiling that had been infiltrating his mind since the last Potions class. The sexual question seemed far too beneath him to bring up to a woman, so he skipped ahead. "Family problems, then. Your…father beat you and your mother never held you enough as a child." Draco's eyes twitched at the mention of the word 'father', but studied Trysten for her reaction.

Her eyes darkened noticeably. "You know nothing of my life," she told him, anger evident in her voice.

So I hit a nerve, Draco smirked. "Ah, so your father drank and your mother beat you," Draco retorted. To Draco's surprise and interest, the fire in her eyes died as quickly as it came to life. Standing face to face in a tense silence, Draco's blood pounded in his ears. His mouth became dry and he focused solely on the girl before him. The bell rang and Trysten bent down to scoop up her schoolbag back onto her shoulder. She turned perpendicular to Draco, her arm brushing his chest in a path of searing heat. She looked to the door and saw the first students leave the class.

Her eyes flitted up to his for a moment, then zeroed in uselessly to his right wrist. "My mother is dead," she stated, the words weighted and sorrowful. An apology caught in Draco's throat as she wheeled around and disappeared into the crowd exiting Snape's room. A moment later, Draco's mind caught up with his mouth. An apology? What in the bloody hell was I thinking? Shaking his head, Draco shoved his way through the stream of students, fighting his way into Severus' classroom.

(XeVanne: Don't worry about it! I always glance over things as well. The mistakes are probably distraction….I seem to be a bit ADD, and there's constantly something else going on. Wow. Are you serious? That's quite a compliment, THANK YOU! I'm actually quite amazed someone would say that about my story... Unfortunately this is the last chapter I have pre-written, but I have a five day weekend this week, and then the rest of the week off for a conference, so I'll do my best to write more. Hope you enjoy this one as much as the last!)