Dear Lucy,

If you hadn't sent me one first, I don't think I'd ever be able to figure out how to send you a letter. It's weird how your school uses owls to send mail, I mean, don't they get tired? How do they even train them? When did they decide to use bloody owls to send mail?

What's your school like? Is it better than ours? Mrs. Cole sort of misses all the commotion, I think. Now that you're gone I don't think she knows what to do with herself. I know that Jennifer sure doesn't. Without you guys arguing all the time, she's just sort of quiet. Bit eerie, really, but she's found another target... this new girl Emma showed up about a week ago, and she's really nice. If Jennifer doesn't knock it off, I'm going to say something.

Anyways, everything's been boring lately, but I'm hoping that me and Emma can be friends. Looking forward to your response,

Sincerely,
Nathan

Lucy smiled to herself as she stowed the letter away in her robes, mentally reminding herself to write him back, maybe at the end of class. For now, she had potions class to face; today, due to the Ravenclaw house having an activity outside, the Hufflepuffs had to double up with the Slytherins, which was only slightly less of a disaster than if it were Slytherin and Gryffindor.

In her short time at Hogwarts Lucy had discovered more about herself that she had ever known before. For example, her favorite food was bacon, not the greasy spaghetti served once in awhile at the orphanage. She preferred doing instead of listening and was actually a good student if she had the right teacher. Here she didn't have to act out — there was already so much to do, so stirring up even more trouble was pointless. She excelled in Charms, Transfiguration, and Defense Against the Dark Arts but was lacking in Potions, History, and Astronomy.

And her friends — her friends — they were amazing. Harry, she'd say was her closest friend. They sat together in the few classes they shared, and they always found each other afterward to work on homework. They both knew the feeling of missing the parents they never had, Lucy would listen to him talk about the empty feeling in his chest. It didn't matter if they couldn't speak about their parents, didn't matter if they were unable to relate to the others — the fact that they had each other to talk to was enough.

Then there was Megan Jones, the hyperactive muggleborn whose company Lucy particularly enjoyed. She didn't quite understand Lucy's hatred of the barrels outside the Hufflepuff common room, nor her obsession with cacti but that was another reason why she liked her: Megan was accepting of anyone.

Hannah Abbot was one for gossip. She picked up on rumors and on the days where Lucy didn't feel like talking, Hannah did the talking for her. Similarly, Susan was quiet— and when Lucy wouldn't shut up, the pig-tailed Hufflepuff would gladly listen.

But though she was friends with all of her dorm mates, Lucy had no one to sit with in potions class; ordinarily, she'd sit with Terry Boot, but since he was busy with the Ravenclaw house activity, she was left sitting at her usual table alone. Megan sat with Wayne Hopkins for god knows what reason, leaving her in an awkward situation.

Suddenly, someone sat down next to the blonde, and Lucy turned her head to look at Draco Malfoy. He made no move to look at her, only began unpacking his stuff. She was no fool— Malfoy was a right git and she'd known it since she met him in the robe shop. He openly taunted Harry and never passed up a chance to insult either his lack of parents or Ron's family's financial status, which made Lucy yearn to be advanced enough to hex someone. She supposed that she could try some on her own, but she was already busy enough trying to handle her non-practical classes.

"Draco," Pansy Parkinson whined, pouting as Millicent Bulstrode sat beside her. "We're always partners! Why're you sitting with that dumb Hufflepuff?"

Lucy turned around and smiled at her innocently. "This is why you're going to die alone, Pansy."

Pansy's jaw dropped; she didn't know how to respond to that. Admittedly, it was probably a punch in the gut— kids were used to teasing banter, not being told they were going to die alone. At the horrified looks of spectators, Lucy smiled brightly and turned back to face the front.

Professor Snape was staring at her uneasily. Huh... maybe she had said it a bit loud.

"Bloody hell, Rochester," Wayne Hopkins said with wide eyes. Pansy averted her gaze to her book, stunned into silence. "Are you a serial killer or something?"

"No, I'm a seer," Lucy replied brightly, and Pansy let out a small squeak. "Halfway through class, someone's cauldron will tip on Goyle... and the culprit will never be found."

Professor Snape cleared his throat to gain the class's attention. "If you don't mind setting aside your death threats, Rochester, the rest of the class should find enough time to turn to page 65 in their textbooks and begin brewing."

"Yes, sir!" She saluted. Professor Snape gave her a sneer before walking off to scold another unfortunate soul.

Lucy turned back to face the cauldron, only to see Malfoy already beginning to brew. "Oh, cool, I don't have to work," she shrugged.

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "This is a two-person potion, Rochester. Cut up the ingredients."

"Uh, Malfoy?" Megan called over to him. Malfoy turned and glared at the muggleborn, opening his mouth to say something, but she rolled her eyes and cut him off. "We don't let Lucy use knives."

True to her word, Lucy was cutting up the ingredients, albeit with precision but also with a wide, maniac grin on her face. Malfoy edged a few inches away from her, looking like he severely regretted his decision to sit here. Megan was right — knives excited Lucy for reasons that she herself didn't know. At Wool's, she'd sneak out via the tree near her window and whittle branches into stakes, shapes, and although they were messy, she found it calming. It annoyed her, really, when her friends treated her like a maniac with a knife; in all actuality, she probably had more experience and precision than the entire class combined.

"Oh, relax Courtney," Lucy rolled her eyes and with the knife slid the ingredients over to him. Malfoy had to make a big show out of inspecting them. He turned them over skeptically until the Hufflepuff shot him a nasty look. "Do your arms work as good as your eyes?"

"What?"

"If I have to put those ingredients in the cauldron, your fingertip's going with it," she smiled. Malfoy looked at the knife she was twirling in her free hand, then quickly poured the cut up roots into the cauldron.

Snape, she noticed, gave her a particularly stinging glare at this, which he didn't let up for the rest of class. He snapped at everyone who made the slightest mistake — even more so than usual — and every time Lucy would move too abruptly, he appeared by her desk in a second under the guise of inspecting her potion. She didn't understand this at all— was he scared of her or something? That seemed unlikely, but even so, Snape definitely didn't trust her at all.

She and Malfoy worked together surprisingly well, all things considered. Apart from the few inevitable biting remarks at one another — Potter Lover, was the most common one from him, but she always responded with a quick Albino Ponce — and by the end of class, they managed to scrape up an average potion.

"You two didn't kill each other, so that's a plus," Megan pointed out in an attempt to raise Lucy's quickly souring mood. She was sort of pissed with herself because she hadn't managed to get the last word, and on top of that Snape's accusing looks had been putting her on edge since the beginning of class. "Why in God's name would that git sit by you in the first place? You two have hated each other since, like, forever."

Actually, they had gotten along alright before the train ride. Good thing his company was the opposite of a loss.

"Beats me," Lucy scowled. "If Snape stares at me like that next time, I'll pitch a cactus at that prick's face."

"Language, Lucille!"

Lucy whipped around with her eyes wide and wondering where the hell Mrs. Cole had just come from, but she sighed in relief when she realized it was just Mummy Anthony. But then again, getting in trouble with him had the same amount of scolding all the same. She had no idea who gave him her full first name but she made a mental note to give whoever the culprit was a swift kick in the shins.

"Sorry, mum," she grinned. "Aren't you supposed to be in class?"

"Aren't you?" Anthony countered.

"Free period. What's your excuse?"

Anthony slipped his hands into his pocket and leaned against a pillar, "How do you know I'm not enjoying a free period myself? You think so little of me, Luce."

"Maybe because McGonagall is standing at the end of the hall?"

This time it was Anthony's time to whirl around in horror, but by the time he turned around, the Hufflepuff girls had gotten a head start down the hallway. "You lying little —"

He took off after them, and the sounds of the footsteps upon tile and the loud shrieks of laughter bouncing off the walls went unnoticed to everyone.

Everyone except him.