Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor am I affiliated with it in anyway.

Note: Cut the tip of one of my fingers, so posting is a little slow. Also, my apologies for Fred and George fans. They're not bad, but every time I write them, they somehow end up more like Hikaru and Kaoru from Ouran High School Host Club. XD

As always, please review.

/-wujy

Chapter Eleven – Hogwarts, a Nuthouse

Whitney walked to lunch by herself, running late because of her meeting with Oliver. He had spent the past half hour chattering madly about Quidditch, which she believed she was beginning to understand, at least. It wasn't really the most complicated sport in the world, but she was worried about the height. She felt as though she could hardly wait until the next time she was on a broom, but was convinced that the only reason she hadn't died that morning was because the broom hadn't wished to be splintered on the ground along with her.

She sat across from Hermione, which was the only available space at the Gryffindor table other than to Hermione's left or right. The girl seemed to repel other students with a high success rate.

Hermione stared at her for several moments, but Whitney was trying to concentrate only on the food in front of her. She was still a little shaken and certainly still annoyed at Hermione. Although, she supposed, Hermione was still likely irritated at her, as well.

"Are you… all right?" Hermione asked after a few floundering moments during which she'd done an imitation of a fish—opening and closing her mouth in an attempt to find the right words.

Whitney looked up at her and was silent at first. She's not arguing with me? she wondered vaguely.

Finally, Whitney nodded and said, "Yeah, I'm just…"

"Just eating her last meal," Draco said from behind her.

Whitney froze and closed her eyes, trying to reign her emotions in before she turned around to face him. She could already feel her hands beginning to tremble and her breathing tense up. Come on. Don't turn into jelly now, she urged herself.

It had already been a long day and Whitney was so tired, that having to deal with Draco one more time to day was close to the worst scenario she could imagine.

"Please, Draco, not now," Whitney said softly, still facing away from him. Last name, curse you, she scolded herself. Use his last name.

"What's the matter, Potter?" Draco asked. "Can't face me? I told you, Goyle," he said to one of his baboons. "There's really no use in challenging her to a wizards' duel to settle all of this."

Whitney sighed. She knew when she was being baited and Draco wasn't particularly subtle. Still, if biting meant that she could get him to eventually leave her alone, she would give in this time. She turned around slowly. "Settle all of what?" she asked.

"This," Draco said, as though what 'this' was should be obvious.

Whitney sighed; she didn't understand, but she didn't care. She rubbed her aching eyes with both hands. "Oh," she said with some sarcasm. "That's cleared up, then." She shook her head. "If I agree, will you leave me alone?"

Draco thought about it for a moment before replying, "If you win."

There was definitely something deceitful about Draco's eagerness to duel her. Whitney could recognize that he had an ulterior motive, but she had no idea what it was. Besides, she'd dealt with cheaters before so, even if he intended to do something underhanded, she would take it in stride.

"Fine," she agreed.

"I'm her second," Ron chimed in from somewhere to her right. Whitney turned to look at him; she'd had no idea he was listening to the conversation or, for that matter, what a 'second' was. She smiled gratefully, though.

"Whatever," Draco said dismissively. "Midnight in the trophy room. If you're late, you forfeit."

"You can shove off now," Ron said, looking murderous.

Draco ignored him, but left anyway.

"You can't," Hermione, who had been holding her tongue until this point, hissed from across the table. "You'll get into so much trouble and you don't even know any spells and you can bet that Malfoy's not going to play fair. You can't go, Whitney."

Whitney's eyes narrowed as she looked at Hermione. An emotion she was unfamiliar with took over. "You know…" Whitney began, annoyance peeking through her exhaustion. "You really need to stop that."

Hermione only looked confused by this, but Whitney didn't wait around to explain it to her. She sighed and got up from the table without finishing her lunch, leaving the Great Hall.

Whitney worked her way up to the common room to sit in front of the fire. If she was lucky, she could catch a nap before Charms.

But Whitney had never been lucky. Ron followed her through the portrait hole and immediately began asking her about Professor McGonagall. Whitney looked very uncomfortable and said, "I'm… really not supposed to say. Nothing's really been decided for certain—"

"So you could be expelled?" Ron asked, looking mystified. "Expel Whitney Potter? Blimey, Whitney, I never thought McGonagall would—"

"No, no," Whitney stopped him. "Nothing like that. I'm not… not in trouble or anything."

"Oh," Ron said, looking both relieved and disappointed. "Well, that's good, then. So, what are they deciding?"

Whitney cleared her throat, battling with herself about whether she should tell Ron or not about what happened. Before she could make that decision, two hands clapped her on either of her shoulders and Fred and George said, "Congratulations, Whitney!"

"Wood's just told us the news."

"We're on the team, too—Beaters."

Whitney nodded at them weakly. "Thanks, I think. Only I've never played before. McGonagall says… says my dad played when he came to school here, but…"

"So, it's in your blood!" one of the twins said, looking optimistic.

Whitney looked doubtful. "I suppose. I'm not… I'm not very good, though," she said, looking to Ron for help. Ron, however, was looking at her in shock.

"Rubbish!" Fred and George said in unison. "We heard what you did with that Remembrall!" one of them shouted, pinching one of her cheeks painfully. The second twin pinched the other. "Brilliant save, we hear."

Whitney shrugged them off, feeling a bit claustrophobic from the attention and… nearness.

"She put you on the Quidditch team?" Ron asked, clearly stunned. "You… you broke the rules and she… Quidditch? Blimey, Whitney!"

Whitney smiled and blushed a little. She really had been lucky that McGonagall was the one who had spotted her catching that thing—Remembrall?—instead of, say, Professor Snape. In that case, she'd probably have been expelled without any questions.

"Oh!" Whitney said suddenly, digging into her pocket for the glass ball she'd caught earlier. All this talk had reminded her of something she needed to do. "I have to go and take this to Neville." She looked at the portrait hole thoughtfully before saying to Ron, "I'll see you later tonight, right?"

He nodded and opened his mouth to speak, but Whitney interrupted him. "Thanks, by the way," she said flatly, meeting his eyes. "For earlier, when you said you'd be my second." Whatever that means…

Ron stared at her for a moment, uncertain of how to respond, but eventually nodded and said, "Well… Malfoy's a git, so…"

"Oh," Whitney said, looking away, silently berating herself. Of course he was looking for a reason to show Malfoy up. It was understandable. Ron didn't know Whitney very well. They weren't really friends, so it shouldn't have been so surprising that he'd had other things on his mind.

"Well, I'll… I'll see you in Charms then," she said, walking away without looking up at him.

Neville was asleep when Whitney finally found her way to the Hospital Room, so she left his Rememberall on the bedside table next to him and turned to leave. She paused a few feet away from his bed and turned to where the boy lay sleeping.

"I don't know what I'm going to do," she said to the sleeping boy. Neville's chest rose and fell steadily and his eyes moved almost frantically behind his eyelids.

Whitney didn't really intend for him to hear her; she only needed to talk to someone to sort out her thoughts and pretending to talk to someone who was asleep at least made her feel less crazy than just talking to herself.

"A wizard's duel? What was I thinking?" she asked. "I don't even want to go. I only agreed because Hermione told me I couldn't, and I hate it when people tell me what I can't do. But she was right! I don't know any spells yet. I'm going to get myself killed.

"And Quidditch? I really don't know if I can handle being on a broom for more than a few minutes, especially a hundred feet in the bloody air. What happens if I fall? What happens if I get hurt? What if I run into someone else and they get hurt? What if they think I did it on purpose and they expel me for attempted murder? I won't go back to the Dursleys," she told at Neville, who wasn't listening. "I'll… I'll take my wand and run. I'll be a rogue witch, living off magic and… and… the land."

She was silent for several minutes after that. Neville snored at her.

Whitney had to cover her mouth with both hands to prevent herself from laughing out loud. She doubled over, silently wheezing laughter for several minutes. Her ribs were sore, before she finally managed to contain herself.

"Or I'll go completely off my track and start talking to myself," she said, leaving the Hospital Wing and an undisturbed Neville. "I'm totally mental…"