Chapter 2

"Finally! What took you so long?" Mrs. Weasely asked Ron as he came down the stairs, his trunk following along behind him.

"I couldn't figure out what socks I wanted to bring," he replied as if that was the most obvious answer in the world.

"Of all the ridiculous—!" Mrs. Weasely gave her deepest, most frightening frown, "Get outside before I hit you upside the head, Ronald Weasely." Ron paled slightly and hightailed it for the door. "You three get going, too. We've got ten minutes before the train leaves." Harry, Ginny, and I followed her orders without comment. We'd said goodbye to George, Charlie, Percy, and Mr. Weasely yesterday since they all had to be at work today. When we reached the other side of the gate, the five of us disapparated with a loud pop.

"Am I ever going to get used to that?" Ginny asked, looking slightly green after we landed at the apparation point in King's Cross. Ginny had only gotten her license a month ago, and even then, it was only out of necessity. She still preferred using the floo. Harry put his arm around her and kissed the top of her head.

"Eventually," he assured her gently. The sight of them simply being a couple made my heart swell a little. Harry deserved this happiness. I caught Ron giving them the same fond look and he blushed a little. I bumped my shoulder with his to let him know it was okay.

"Alright. Come on," Mrs. Weasely ordered, still in powerhouse mode. We followed her onto the platform with five minutes left to get on the train. "Have a good term, you four. No more getting into trouble, no more sticking your nose where it doesn't belong. This is going to be a normal, boring year. Understand?"

Ginny nodded, giving her a hug and a kiss. "Sure, Mum."

"Believe me, I'm done with all that," Harry promised. Mrs. Weasely pulled him into a bone-crushing hug before doing the same with Ron.

"Don't kill me, Mum," he croaked. Mrs. Weasely chuckled weakly, letting him go to wipe a single tear off her cheek.

"Sorry. I'm just going to miss you all. You warmed up the house." We all knew she was thinking about Fred.

"I'll make sure they all write," I assured her, stepping into her arms for my hug.

"Thank you, Hermione. Keep those three out of trouble for me."

I pulled back and gave her a smile. "I'll try." She patted my arm, holding back more tears.

"Off you go. It's going to take off without you." We boarded the train, turning around to wave just as the warning whistle blew.

"Let's try to find Luna and Neville," Ginny suggested once we were out of the station and led off down the corridor. We followed her, but were stopped every meter or so by yet another person who wanted to shake our hands and thank us for what we did. After about two minutes I knew all three of us had enough of it. Luckily, Neville was standing in the door of the compartment two up from us.

"Ginny!" he cried, smiling and waving, "Harry, Ron, Hermione! We're in here." Each of us paused to give him a hug before pushing past him into the compartment. Luna was there with Dean and Seamus. In a second Luna was up and practically throwing herself onto me.

"Hello, Luna," I chuckled, hugging her back. The two of us had gotten particularly close while we were healing at Shell Cottage.

"Hermione. I see you've managed to get rid of some of your wrackspurts." I smiled and nodded, though I still had no idea what she was talking about. I developed a whole new respect for her slightly strange ways.

She reminded me a bit of my sister, Eirenne. Only a very tiny bit, but it was enough to be a comfort. I'd accidently told her just that at Shell Cottage and had to swear her to secrecy. In a way I felt closer to her than Ron and Harry because of it. I'd told her a lot I shouldn't have while I was trying to forget Bellatrix's eyes. Of course, the torture hadn't been as bad as it would have been thanks to my ability to pull on the magic around me, but I'd yet to forget the crazed look in that woman's black eyes.

"Have I? Pure luck, I suppose. How are you?"

"Much better now that I'm with my friends." Ron approached and Luna threw her arms around him. I noticed his cheeks go a little red, much like they used to when he had a crush on me. He met my gaze over Luna's shoulder and looked away, embarrassed for the second time that day. I smirked, filing away that information for later use.

I sat beside Neville, joining in his conversation with Dean and Seamus. I chatted about nothing with my friends until the trolley came around, at which point I looked down at the watch on my wrist. "Merda!" I cried, jumping up and surprising everyone. I turned and started rummaging through my bag, having added an undetectable extension charm on this one too, for my notebook and a quill.

"Mer-what?" Seamus asked.

"She only curses in Italian, remember?" Ginny answered.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked.

I finally found a quill and headed for the door. "I'm late for my meeting with Malfoy."

"Sorry, Malfoy?" Dean asked in a confused tone.

"They'll explain." I shut the door behind me and started for the Head's compartment. Luckily, I only got stopped once by a third year I managed to coerce into letting me go quickly. When I opened the door a very bored Malfoy was lounging in one of the chairs. A very attractive bored Malfoy.

His hair was slightly disheveled in that purposeful way and just short enough to avoid his eyes. He was wearing a gray short sleeve t-shirt with the crest for the muggle band Queen in the center that showed off his perfectly toned biceps and gave his usually gray eyes an almost blue tint, and I was pretty sure that his slightly tight muggle jeans would make his butt look fantastic. But it was his magic that really caught my attention. It pressed against me in a way that made me nervous.

For some reason his magic had been incredibly close to mine through the duration of Bellatrix's torture, and so it was his magic I'd relied on to keep me sane. I'd started pulling on it by pure instinct. It happened before I realized it had. It's what gave me enough strength to lie to the wench. I felt awful for doing it, as it was illegal in Italy for a Sacerdotessa to use someone's magic without explicit permission, but I wasn't about to tell him and pay restitution like Italian law demanded. I'd have to explain exactly how I used his magic, and I wasn't going to go down that road with anyone. And now his magic was acting strangely, seeking me out rather than the other way around — they way it should have been. It was almost as if it was saying hello.

"There you are, Granger. I was beginning to wonder if you were going to show up," his smooth, deep voice pulled me out of my thoughts.

"Sorry about that. Oh, hi Zabini," I greeted them belatedly, my eyes finding Blaise Zabini in a seat closer to the door.

"Hello, Granger. Nice to see you. May I say, you look particularly beautiful this afternoon." The suave half-Italian stood, giving me that smile I knew melted many a girl's heart. Somehow it had never worked on me. I just figured it was because I grew up in Italy with a best friend and brother who was exactly the same.

I smiled back politely. "Thank you, Zabini."

"Sei il benvenuto, bella." I nearly rolled my eyes. I knew that the speaking Italian thing worked on nearly every girl, too.

"Goodbye, Blaise," Malfoy said pointedly. Zabini nodded, smirking, before disappearing through the door. "Sorry about him. I think he has to flirt with any female that crosses his path."

I blinked, thrown off a little. I didn't think Malfoy knew how to say the word sorry. Maybe it was the Queen shirt throwing him off. I wondered if he even knew what it meant, or if he just liked the design. "Don't worry about it," I answered cautiously, sitting in the seat across from him, "I was late. I suppose I deserve a little unwanted attention as payment."

Malfoy lifted a single eyebrow. "Unwanted? Every girl I've met likes it when he breathes in their direction, even the ones who profess to hate him." His magic swirled around me again, full of a curiosity his face definitely wasn't showing. Part of me knew that his magic's behavior was a sign of something bad, but the other part of me had to admit that actually knowing what Draco Malfoy was feeling was a nice little perk.

"I've known too many boys like him, I suppose. And it's going to take more than suggestively saying 'you're welcome, beautiful' to make my knees melt."

Malfoy's eyes widened slightly. "You know Italian?"

"I know enough," I answered vaguely. I was shocked again when he let out a bark of laughter.

"Do me a favor and don't tell him that for a while. It'll drive him crazy."

"Sure," I agreed without really thinking about it. It wasn't something I advertised anyway. "Should we get this figured out before the prefects get here?"

"I suppose." I took that as the most confirmation I was going to get.

"So the prefect schedule, should we make one every month?"

Malfoy shook his head. "Even thinking about that sounds exhausting." I actually had to agree with him there. "How about every three months. That way we can still take requests but won't kill ourselves trying to get it done on time."

"That sounds great," I said, hiding my surprise as I jotted it down. I was expecting him to be at least a little hard to work with. Apparently, he was all about being cooperative this year. I wasn't about to complain. "We can probably get that done by Friday. Who should patrol until then?" Malfoy shrugged.

"Does it matter?"

"Since it's the first week, it should be people everyone respects at least a little and who are comfortable with punishing people.

"The seventh years, then? Most of them fought in the Battle."

"And that automatically fills the requirements?" I asked. Malfoy just shrugged. I bit back a sigh. He may not have been wrong. I didn't like it, but I didn't want to fight with him more. "Okay. Seventh years it is. We'll give them a little time off after since they'll be taking the whole week." I jotted down some more notes.

"I assume we'll have to take a night or two a month."

"Probably. We'll figure that out with the schedule."

"Fine," he answered, bored once again.

"When do you want to have the weekly meeting?" Malfoy leaned forward, putting his elbows on his knees and his hands beneath his chin. I looked up from the notebook only to get an eyeful of his beautiful face. I blinked once, sitting back to put a distance between us before I could do something stupid. Like stare. I noticed his eyes shift a little and felt an odd jolt of emotion in his magic, but I ignored it. It probably had nothing to do with me.

"I always liked it when the meetings were on Mondays in the break before dinner."

"Same here. Gives time to study after dinner." I jotted that down, almost missing his eye roll. Almost. "Studying is important," I defended half-heartedly.

"True. But you take it to a whole new level. I bet you've already read all of the texts for the year." He was right. I had. But there really hadn't been much else to do around the Burrow. Just a bunch of quidditch games I couldn't join in on and a load of dishes to wash after dinner. "Why do you study so much? I've always wondered."

"I enjoy it." He raised an eyebrow but didn't comment. It made me wonder if he knew I was lying. I did it because it helped me keep my mind off what could be happening back in Italy, something I worried about almost constantly. At least this year I'd have Head duties to add to the list of things that kept me preoccupied, especially since worrying about Harry's life was off it now.

"Sure thing," he commented lazily, almost like an afterthought. A knock on the door startled me and a second later Ginny had opened the door and walked through, Neville and Luna behind her. They were all seventh-year prefects. Ron hadn't been disappointed at all when he hadn't gotten the badge and Harry had been appointed quidditch captain again so he was happy as a clam. Within a couple of minutes the room was full of prefects.

"You want to give the speech?" Malfoy turned away from Pansy Parkinson and Theodore Nott to ask me. I nodded and got everyone's attention, which happened much faster than I expected.

"Right. Well, Malfoy and I are the Head Boy and Girl this year, which means you are going to respect us — and yes, I mean you have to respect Malfoy."

"But—" a Gryffindor fifth year I was pretty sure was named Mark started, but I cut him off.

"No. McGonagall saw fit to appoint him to this position, which means you will respect him as your Head Boy. I'm not saying you have to be best mates with him, but you will do as he directs you as far as prefect duties go. Do you all understand?" There were some nods and grumbles I assumed were the best consent I was going to get. I quickly told them what Malfoy and I had decided on, pairing the seventh years to patrol Gryffindor with Hufflepuff and Slytherin with Ravenclaw for the week. "Fifth years patrol the next hour and sixth years the last hour of the train ride. There will be someone in this compartment if you need any help. Any questions? Great. See you at Hogwarts." The compartment emptied and I sat down with the arithmancy text Ginny brought me. Bless her.

"Why did you do that?" I looked up from the book to find Malfoy back in the position with his elbows on his knees, looking at me very intently.

"I'm sorry, I should have run that last part past you, but it's always done the same way so I figured—"

"I don't care about train patrols. I meant, why did you defend me to everyone?"

"Oh." I shifted, slightly uncomfortable under his intense stare. His magic was starting to push against me again, just as insistent as his eyes. "Well, we can't have people not listening to you, can we?"

"So you did it because you want people to follow the rules," he said as he leaned back, the intensity of his eyes and magic lessening considerably.

"I did it because you deserve the respect that comes with your position," I corrected, "No matter what you've done."

"And what is it I've done exactly?" he asked, leaning forward again. I met his eyes, determined to not back down.

"I honestly have no idea how you spent the bulk of the last year, and I don't particularly care to waste time imagining, either. So unless you feel like sharing…" I trailed off and he broke eye contact, sitting back and looking out the window. His magic pulled away completely. Guilt twinged at me. "I really don't care about any of it, Malfoy." His eyes found mine again and I held them. "I honestly don't. You were acquitted and that's enough for me. Whatever demons you have, you should take care of in whatever way you think is best. All I care about is making sure this year runs smoothly now that we don't have evil people trying to kill us all. Can we at least do that?"

He hesitated for only a second before nodding. "Sure, Granger."

"Perfect. Thank you." And with that I returned to my book. We didn't say another word to each other, just accepted the confiscated things until I realized we were only half an hour from the station. "We should get changed." I stood and stretched my cramped muscles.

"Probably."

"I'll see you after the feast then." I turned and left. Just as I shut the door, I could have sworn I heard a murmured, "Thank you," but I couldn't have. Malfoys didn't thank people they believed to be muggle-borns, no matter how cooperative they were being. It must have been a trick of the wind. Yes. That's what it was. A trick of the wind.

"Did you confiscate anything cool?" Ron asked as soon as I walked into their compartment again.

"Two fanged frisbees and a few random Wizarding Wheezes candies, though I'm pretty sure Malfoy kept those," I answered, shrugging and pulling out my robes. I had given up fighting the tidal wave Fred and George had started. People were using them less often anyway, which was enough for me. I couldn't blame someone for wanting to skip a class or two. I actually wanted to do the same much more than I ever let on. It was a ruse, something Dumbledore came up with to protect me a little more. Sure, I didn't mind school, but I had never been incredibly gung-ho about it.

"And you just let him do that?" Harry asked, eyebrows raised.

"It's his academic career. It's technically not against the rules to possess skiving snack boxes, just to use them to get out of class. If Malfoy wants to risk getting caught skipping a pop quiz or something, more power to him."

"That's not something I thought I'd ever hear you say," Ron said, head cocked to the side. He was right. Hermione Granger probably never would have said something like that. But I was starting to get tired of being Hermione Granger.

"You all should get your robes on," I said by way of an answer. Fifteen minutes later the train had stopped and we made our way to the carriages. I heard kids asking why the carriages were being pulled this year and felt my heart break just a little more. Ron wrapped his arm around my shoulder and kissed my temple, comforting me the best way he knew how. I smiled my thanks and climbed into the carriage, taking the seat between Luna and Harry. Ron joined Dean, Seamus and Neville's conversation about quidditch while Harry and Ginny whispered together.

When we got to the Great Hall I sat beside Ron and across from Harry. I took a cursory look around to see how many from our year had decided to return. Lavender, the Patil twins, Hannah Abbot and Fay Dunbar were all sitting nearby. I saw Susan Bones with seven other Hufflepuffs I recognized from our year but wasn't sure of their names. It looked like Ravenclaw had the most with sixteen students from our year. And Slytherin had the least. I only saw Malfoy, Zabini, Parkinson, Nott and the older Greengrass girl.

"How did the meeting with the ferret go?" Ginny asked, pulling me from my wonderings. I smiled, picturing him as that little white ferret. I didn't care that Moody turned out to be Crouch, it was a fitting punishment for the idiot.

"Fine. He's actually being rather cooperative. Apologized at one point." The conversations around me halted.

"He what?" Ron asked, dumbfounded.

"For what?" Harry asked, eyebrows drawn together in disbelief.

"It wasn't like a huge apology for the last three years or anything like that," I said, slightly amused at the six shocked expressions facing me, "Blaise Zabini was in there when I first got there and he tried to flirt me a little. Malfoy apologized for his ridiculousness."

"Oh. Well he should do a huge apology thing," Ginny said. Harry and Ron nodded, even Neville, Dean and Seamus looked like they agreed.

"Why? He doesn't need to apologize for the last three years." And I meant that. None of his jabs at my "muggle-born status" really hurt me. I truly was offended for all muggle-borns everywhere, but his insults didn't apply to me. He didn't realize I was from the purest, strongest magical line in all of Italy. Not that we believed in blood superiority like some did here in Britain. Muggle families with magical children were put into a dinastia based on blood, or to whom they were most closely related, and they were protected just like any other family in the dinastia. I just happened to be from a pure line.

"Yes. He does." Ron said, putting his arm around me and shaking his head. "Some of the stuff he said to you is awful."

"He's just—"

"A prat." I didn't bother correcting Harry. Malfoy was a prat, a little scarafaggio, really. A cockroach. "Promise us you won't let him get to you this year."

"I promise." Ron kissed my cheek, leaving his arm around me. I was suddenly reminded of my brother, Alex. He liked to do that, leave his arm around me. The knife twisted in my heart a couple more times.

"So he actually said the word apologize?" Neville asked, staring up a conversation again.

"Well, technically, he said the word sorry."

"He knows the word sorry?" Ron asked. Dean, Seamus, Harry, and Neville chuckled.

"I was surprised, too, but I'm not going to question it. If he keeps this attitude it might not be all that difficult to live with him for the rest of the year."

"That's right. You've got to live with the guy," Dean said, shaking his head.

"Who knows? Maybe he wants to have a peaceful year," Neville said.

Ron sent him a disbelieving look. "This is Malfoy we're talking about." I opened my mouth to chastise him for jumping to conclusions, but Professor Sprout came in with the first years to start the sorting. The hat talked about inter-house unity and how important it is in moving past the tragedy of last year. Gryffindor gained nine first years, Ravenclaw got eight, Hufflepuff got eleven and Slytherin got seven. A year of Hufflepuffs it seemed. McGonagall stood and went to the podium.

"Welcome to another year at Hogwarts! I'm sure you're all hungry, so let the feast begin!" Food appeared in front of us and I smiled as the first years gasped. Ron took his arm from around me so he could dig in. While we ate I chatted with Dean about our summers. Apparently, he'd stayed with Bill and Fleur until the battle then went home to his parents.

"Wouldn't you, Hermione?" Ron asked, pushing my elbow with his. I turned from Dean, eyebrow raised.

"Wouldn't I what?"

"Want to go to the Quidditch World Cup."

"I'd love to," I answered without really thinking. "Brazil and France, right?" My three closest friends blinked at me.

"How do you know who's playing?" I mentally kicked myself. They weren't supposed to know I read their quidditch magazines when they weren't around.

"I heard you talking about it. I specifically remember a lunch when you three wouldn't stop talking about someone named Rotten Manhandler," I said, proud of my quick thinking.

"Robert Mandlin," Ron groaned.

"I thought you were reading during that lunch," Ginny said, looking thoughtful.

"That doesn't mean I didn't catch some of the conversation," I said with what I hoped was a nonchalant shrug. It seemed to pacify them easily enough. The feast was over a few minutes later. McGonagall stood at the podium again, gaining our attention with her stern gaze.

"We are incredibly grateful that you have all been able to come and join us for another year of learning. For those of you that don't know, the Forbidden Forest is, as its name suggest, forbidden. Returning students should remember that as well." At this her eyes found us. We smiled, Ron impishly. "There is a list of all band objects on Filch's door, so check that if you have any questions. We have a new teacher this year. Professor Monetti will be teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts. Unfortunately, he was unable to make it tonight due to an illness. He will be in class tomorrow." Whispers swept across the students with this new information. I simply stared at the podium. Monetti. My mother's maiden name had been Monetti.

"Monetti?" Harry murmured.

"It's an Italian name," I said slowly, my eyes shifting down to my plate as I desperately tried to stop the flow of memories that threatened to overwhelm me.

"He's Italian?" I heard Lavender whisper gleefully, "I bet he's hot!" I glanced at Ginny and she rolled her eyes. I thought about bursting Lavender's bubble by telling her that his name might be the only Italian thing about him, but decided against it. Lavender would always be boy crazy and there was nothing I could do to curb that.

After making sure all of the fifth-year prefects had started showing their new house-mates where to go, I followed my friends up to the fourth floor. McGonagall had written back to tell me that this is where the Head's dorm was and how to set the password.

"This is my stop," I said, giving Harry, Ginny, and Ron each a quick kiss on the cheek.

"See you tomorrow," Neville said. Dean and Seamus waved.

"Let us know what the place looks like," Ginny added before following Neville, Dean, and Seamus farther up. Ron and Harry stayed, serious looks on their faces.

"If he does anything—" Ron started.

"He won't," I assured them.

"If he does, though," Ron continued, shaking his head once, "kill him on the spot."

"We'll gladly help you burry the body. Do you think they'd noticed if another bone turned up in the Forest?" Harry added with a smile. I laughed and pulled them both in for a hug. They really were the perfect friends.

"Thanks. Go on up to bed. We've got a long day ahead of us."

"Right. Night, Hermione."

"Sleep well."

"You too." I went down the corridor until I rounded the first corner and saw Malfoy and Zabini waiting by the statue of the Silent Widow.

"Ciao bella."

"Ciao," I answered, barely catching myself from slipping into my natural accent.

"Sapete italiano?" he asked, eyes cautious. I stopped in front of them and felt Malfoy's magic wrapping around me again. I really needed to talk to Riccarda about that.

"You lost me," I lied. He didn't look saddened by that at all. In fact, he actually looked happier that I didn't know he'd just asked me if I knew Italian.

"It wasn't anything important." He shrugged, a flirtatious gleam in his eyes. I almost rolled my eyes.

"Are you going to leave so we can set the password?" Malfoy asked him.

"I'll find it out eventually," Blaise said, not taking his eyes off me.

"That doesn't mean I'm going to tell you. Get lost before I take off points."

Blaise smirked. "See you tomorrow. Ciao, mia bella Hermione." This time I couldn't help but roll my eyes after his back was turned.

"Sciocco," I murmured once he was gone, shaking my head.

Malfoy eyed me. "And what does that mean?"

"It means he's utterly ridiculous."

Malfoy smirked. "I could have told you that. Should that be our password?"

"You want a word that means foolish to be our password?"

"Well, no one would guess it." That was true. A sudden idea hit me, making me smile.

"I have a better idea." I turned to the Silent Widow and said, "Head Girl Hermione Granger and…" I trailed off, looking at Malfoy.

"Head Boy Draco Malfoy," he added just like he was supposed to.

"Have agreed to use the password furetto." The Silent Widow looked at Malfoy who nodded. She turned away and the wall to her right opened to reveal a door. I smiled my thanks and stepped through the archway. Personally, I loved that the keeper of our dorm was completely silent. Three years of the Fat Lady was enough to drive me insane.

The dorm itself was beautiful. The walls were crème colored. There was a gunmetal gray couch with white pillows and two large white chairs with gunmetal gray pillows, all three situated in front of a beautiful black stone fire place. Over the mantel was a beautiful painting of the Black Lake and surrounding grounds in the spring. Against the far wall were two dark wood desks, facing each other. One had a comfortable looking, faded white wicker chair, and the other a black straight-backed chair. There was a small kitchen off to the side with white muggle appliances, black cabinets and silver fixtures. A set of stairs went up to two doors I assumed were the bedrooms.

"What in Merlin's name does this do?" Malfoy asked from inside the kitchen. I moved to where I could see him and couldn't stop myself from chuckling. He was holding a toaster at arms length and looking at it like it was going to eat him.

"It's a toaster," I answered wryly. "It toasts bread."

He didn't seem to appreciate my amusement. "Why do we even have muggle appliances?" He put the toaster down, now eyeing it with disgust. I shrugged. How was I supposed to know? Personally, I liked it. Well, I liked the coffee maker. As my boys could attest to, I was a god-awful cook.

"You could ask McGonagall, if you really want to know." I headed up the stairs and opened the door on the left. I was surprised to find myself greeted by a completely white and empty room. "What is thi—" I stepped into the room and seconds later and I gasped as it changed around me. Suddenly, it was my room from back in Italy. My exact room.

The floors were light brown and worn hardwood. There was a plush white carpet under the simple coffee colored king sized four-poster bed. The bedding was white and fluffy with white crocheted pillows for decoration. Above my bed hung my favorite painting: Monet's Garden by Monet. Filling the walls on both sides of my bed were white built-in bookshelves, made to blend into the white walls. They were filled to the breaking point with books I recognized from my childhood. My old and fading coffee colored wardrobe and dresser stood beside each other against the wall opposite my bed. My balcony was even there, overlooking part of the black lack and the Forest.

The only real difference between this bedroom and my one back in Italy, was the extra picture on the bedside table. There was the one I remembered of my family: it was from the day of my father's coronation as Padrone. I was ten, my sister twelve and my brother fifteen. My father didn't have any gray hairs and mother's face was wrinkle free. I had always loved it.

The new one to the room was a picture of Harry, Ron, and I at a DA meeting. We were laughing uproariously at some joke I couldn't remember. Harry was in the middle with his left arm around my waist. I was leaning against him, trying not to fall over. Ron was on Harry's right, a hand on his shoulder, and he was nearly doubled over. Thirty seconds later we all fell to the ground on top of each other, only laughing harder. It my favorite picture in the world. It was proof of happier times. Proof we could have those days again.

"Not bad," Malfoy said, nearly making me jump. I turned to see him appraising my bedroom.

"Was that a compliment? From you?" I asked, lifting an eyebrow.

"I'm complimenting the person that designed the room," he corrected. "Too many books, though."

I frowned. I loved my books. "Then you're complimenting my mother." I turned away again, moving to the bookcases. I touched the backs of books I hadn't seen in four years. How was this possible?

"Your mother's muggle," he replied as if I was stupid. I wanted to shoot back with, No, you idiot. She's a powerful Comandante that could kick you're sorry arse from here to Pluto. Or she was. Now my sister would gladly do it. Speaking of which, I could too. And I wouldn't even have to touch you. But, sadly, I couldn't.

"Just go look at your room." I half expected some scathing retort, but he didn't say anything until I heard: "What in Merlin's name is this?" I smirked to myself. I saw the door I knew used to lead to my washroom and opened the door. It was a washroom, but not the one I remembered being attached to my room.

There was a white bathtub, an opaque glass shower, a black countertop, a white toilet, two white sinks with separate gray cabinets for each, and a mirror above each sink. The floors were a white, black and gray tile pattern. It matched the downstairs perfectly. There was another door opposite mine that I suspected was connected to Malfoy's room. The door opened to reveal Malfoy, confirming my suspicions.

"We're sharing a loo?" he asked, looking incredibly disappointed.

"Apparently," I answered dryly. I glanced into the room behind him and was surprised to see a lot of blue and white. I'd figured his room would have been greener. He was the Slytherin Prince after all.

"Why'd you get a balcony and I didn't?"

"My bedroom back home has a balcony."

"That's your bedroom back home?" Malfoy asked, eyebrows rising. "Damn, Granger. That thing's almost bigger than our common room." I smirked at his surprise. It's like he forgot that there were other people in the world with money.

"That's not you're room from home?" I asked, gesturing behind him.

"Nope. It's a room in a villa we visited once when I was a kid." Well that explained why there wasn't any green. It must be a spell to make the best bedroom we've been in, or maybe our favorite.

"Oh," was all I said. I turned and left, not wanting it to get any more awkward than it already was.

I went to unpack, but realized that my school trunk wasn't anywhere in the room. I found my school bag, already full of my books and school supplies. I finally opened the wardrobe to see if it had been stuck in there, only to see my clothes already hanging up. I checked the dresser to find my clothes filling it, too. I pulled out a pair of sleeping shorts and a tank top and changed into them before going downstairs to get my nightly cup of tea. There was a kettle, but I just filled my cup with water and a bag and pointed my wand at it. Presto. The perfect temperature and steep. I fished out the bag, added some milk and took a sip.

"Perfetto," I murmured. I felt his magic seep into the room before I heard him.

"You speak Italian a lot, Granger." I looked around to find Malfoy leaning on the archway between the common room and kitchen. He was wearing a pair of pajama bottoms and a sweatshirt.

"Or you just catch me the few times I do speak it," I returned, picking up my tea and walking past him.

"Wait, Granger." I paused and turned back. Was it just me, or did the Slytherin Sex God look nervous? His magic certainly felt nervous.

"Yes?"

"I just wanted to apologize."

I blinked. "Come again?"

He grimaced. "I'm sorry. For everything." I looked into his silver eyes and they seemed completely sincere to me. His magic held nothing but sincerity. I couldn't believe it. He was actually doing what Ginny and the others said he should. "I was a prat. And for what happened last year. I di—"

"Stop." I held up my free hand. I didn't want to talk about what happened last year. Ever. "If I say you're forgiven will you never bring up last year again?"

"Um, well, that doesn't quite seem like—"

"Great. Then you're forgiven." I went to go upstairs, but he stopped me again.

"One more thing." I half turned to show I was listening. "What does the password mean? Furetto?"

I couldn't hold back a smirk. "It means ferret." Malfoy's eyes narrowed and I laughed. "You should have asked earlier." I started up the steps, still smiling.

"That's a Slytherin move, Granger."

"Two sides of the same coin, Malfoy," I said with my best sly smile as I shut my bedroom door behind me. I drained the rest of my tea before sitting myself in the center of my bed.

"All right, Riccarda. It's just you and me now." I lowered the shield around my mind and called out to her, Riccarda? Are you there? Something really strange is happening here. I waited. No response. Come on, Riccarda. I mean it. I had to feed off of someone's magic and now that person's magic is reaching out to me in ways I've never heard of. No response. Okay, so you want me to research a little first? Come to you with a possible solution? Nothing. Riccarda, you have to answer at some point. You promised you would always answer me. Still nothing. I groaned and fell back onto my bed, throwing my shields back up. Why wouldn't she talk to me?

I got under the covers and let the familiar surroundings lull me to sleep.