In the time of the Order of the Phoenix, a mysterious transfer student from the United States of America comes to Hogwarts. With hair to rival Hermione's, and a tongue to rival Draco's, the suspicions and tensions rise in Professor Snape's classroom. And we thought Dolores Umbridge was the problem...

This story will be told in many different parts, in many different times. It will jump from the years at Hogwarts to the years after the war, and it'll be up to you to figure out the puzzle.

Draco 16

The smoke cleared from what oddly smelled like an old cave. "What was that?"

"Likely some first-years mucking about," said Theo. "Relax, Draco. We'll be at Hogwarts, soon."

There were far too many things on Draco's mind. He honestly didn't want to be there, but hadn't any other idea of where he would prefer being. His home no longer felt like a home, and London no longer felt like a safe place he could truly trust. He sighed through his nose as he sat across from Zabini and Nott. The entirety of the upper-circle of Slytherin had taken over that back cabinet, as they always did. Crabbe and Goyle were sitting just over there, and the Carrow twins had just left to find something to eat on that sweets trolley. Ella wasn't anywhere to be seen.

Since she came with her grandmother to Malfoy Manor, he hadn't heard from her, which was rather worrisome. Ella wrote to him nearly every day over the break, even if it was just a simple card saying "hello." For the remainder of the month coming to Hogwarts, there had been nothing but silence, and Draco hadn't seen hide nor hair of Phoebus nor even a scrap of ash from the fireplace. Had it not been for his father's trial, Draco would have gladly written her back, visited her, had he any idea of what he could say to her. His father was off in Azkaban because of Potter, and now Draco was the Head of the Malfoy House, as well as the latest agent in the Dark Lord's plans. He was miserable and felt sick ignoring Ella's letters and cards, her pineapple upside-down cake she'd sent for his birthday, all of her invitations to her parties and excursions to Chateau Christophe… More than anything he wanted to scream until the rest of his insides actually felt the physical pain that his heart had been feeling. Draco could not scream, however. It simply couldn't be done, not with the Dark Lord and the Death Eaters in his house, over his shoulder at every turn… Not since…

Well, never mind that. He was looking pouty and couldn't allow that. He quickly swallowed the bile that threatened to well up in his eyes, his throat, and adopted a rather bored-looking sneer.

"Hogwarts," said Draco, sneering out the window as he watched the scenery pass by. "What a pathetic excuse for a school. I think I'd pitch myself off the Astronomy tower if I thought I had to endure this for another two years."

Zabini sort of shrugged and glanced absentmindedly out the window. "There are plenty of other schools, you know," he remarked. "Ilvermorny, for example."

"You can't be serious," snapped Draco. "You'd seriously consider Ilvermorny?"

"As if you wouldn't, thinking it'd be crawling with Witches like Ella," drawled Theo, who was reading a book on Occlumency. Blaise snickered at his comment. "As much as I hate to admit it, the Americans do have a rather fine school, and many more opportunities for us there, as well… Then again," he turned a page, "They're still Americans. It's still America. It's not home. It's not where we belong, really."

"Ilvermorny does rank higher than us in a few subjects," said Davis, her blond head peeking up over the back of the other seats. "Ella's not just a genius at it. The American test scores head us in Potionmaking, as well as Transfiguration. They tie with us in Herbology!"

"Nobody asked you, Davis," snapped Draco with a sneer.

"Say what you want," she said with a grin. "But with everything going on, my parents are seriously considering moving. Thanks to the exchange program, Ilvermorny's accepting transfer students from Hogwarts now."

"It's true," chimed in Bulstrode. "My mum said it might be better if we move, what with everything." Normally, Pansy would have said something to shut that fat lard up, but she was nowhere to be found. Draco wondered if Ella's new reign of Slytherin House had been enough to bully even Parkinson out of the school. He hadn't seen nor heard from her all summer. "Did you know the Spellings left for America because of the First Wizarding War? The Death Eaters were after her grandmother, Helene, who was one of the fiercest Witches of her time. Her husband, Archibald, was a famous potioneer, too. That's why Ella's mum went to Ilvermorny in the first place, to get away from all of this."

A lump caught in Draco's throat at the thought of Ella's grandmother, who was by far the most terrifying woman he'd ever seen in his life. The way she looked down that long and elegant nose at him would certainly give him nightmares for the better part of the year. Truly, the Devil wore a black satin dress with the largest emerald ring he'd ever seen.

"How d'ye know that?" asked Crabbe, who finally looked up from his pile of empty chocolate frog boxes long enough to make eye contact with someone.

Bulstrode shrugged her massive shoulders. "Ella came for dinner one night over the summer. It came up." Draco frowned in question at the thought of Ella showing up at the Bulstrode's house.

"Ella's favorite subject is herself," agreed Zabini. "If you let her, she'll tell you her whole life story."

Theo rolled his eyes with a grin. "Well, if that isn't the pot calling the kettle black…"

"She's still nice enough to ask other people about their summers and how they're going. Honestly, I think she's the only person out of all you lot to ever write over summers and holidays," Davis argued. "Ella even threw a party for the American Independence Day. By the way, Milly, why weren't you there? Even Loony Lovegood was invited."

Bulstrode gave a sigh. "I was sick. But I did manage to make it to her Bastille Day celebration!"

"Oh, that was so fun," sighed Theo who grinned with his rabbit-like teeth.

"Oh, are we talking about Ella's Bastille Day party?" said Daphne Greengrass, who had just come into the carriage with a licorice wand in her hand. She'd abandoned her little sister in the next carriage, it seemed, to come talk with them. "That was on my father's birthday so I couldn't go!" whined Greengrass. "How was it? She throws the best parties in the world."

"We took her boat out onto the water and shot off fireworks," said Nott, who finally put his book down. "We even had a makeshift Quidditch match on the open water."

More than half the carriage erupted with laughter. "Ella tried playing Keeper," said Davis. "She wasn't half bad! Oh you should have seen the look on her face when her father showed up, though—she was so surprised that she fell off her broom!"

"And then threw a tantrum about her hair getting wet," said Zabini with a grin.

There was a wave of sounds of agreement. "Did any of you imagine Ella's father to be taller? I imagined him much taller," asked Bulstrode. "With much more hair."

"She gets it from her mum," said Nott. "Penelope Spelling had famously beautiful hair. I saw the pictures of them all on the boat. Her aunt on her dad's side's got big hair, too, y'know. Spanish people, eh?"

"Come to think about it, you weren't there, Draco," said Zabini. "Even some of the Ravenclaws ended up at the party. After the boat we all went to Chateau Christophe and her Granny put everyone up there. Pretty shocking to think you'd miss an opportunity to be alone with your girlfriend in coastal France…"

"As if I don't have other things to occupy my time with rather than her stupid parties," shot Draco, rolling his eyes and looking out the window. Such as dealing with that disgraceful trial, for one…

"Uh-oh," drawled Nott. "Trouble in paradise, methinks?"

"It'd be embarrassing to think she'd invite the Ravenclaws before she invited you," commented Zabini.

Draco bared his fangs, completely forgetting any sort of aristocratic ease he might have had. "While Ella's off gallivanting with her granny's money, I'm spending my summers growing the New World." The room then quieted and looked to him with admiration. Slytherin House had come all too easily under Ella's control, and sometimes Draco only felt like he was still on top because she had chosen him.

"What's greater than Ella's parties?" Bulstrode dared to ask. The room's energy had shifted, and Draco had them all listening again; they all sneered at her.

"Let's just say," Draco began, "that I doubt I'll be occupying my time with Charms class next year come the new world Order." Zabini snickered. "Amused, Blaise? We'll see who'll be laughing in the end…"

Suddenly, the compartment door came sliding open in a rush. "Bonjour, Slytherins!" came a voice that could only be Ella's.

Draco quickly stood up in shock as the entire carriage became a rather uncharacteristically loud clamor of "Hellos" and "I've missed yous" and "So good to see yous" chiming around. All at once, Ella bloomed in a flouncy chiffon dress in Mediterranean blue complimented with a fitted and impeccably knitted cardigan, and quickly became the subject of attention. Arms were wrapped around her and she wrapped them back. The Slytherins had changed around her in such a way that was nearly unrecognizable. Even Nott got a big hug.

"It's so good to see everyone!" squealed Ella. "Oh I've missed you—Teddy, you look so good, and these are for you—" Ella said as she handed Theo a box of black currant pate du fruits "—Daphne, I'm so sorry you couldn't come to my Bastille day party—oh, Milly, come here—" Ella reached into her enchanted shoulder bag and pulled out a fairly sizeable green box as Bulstrode came towards her. "—Happy belated birthday!" Bulstrode's fat face lit up in a smile. "It's a plum kouigne amann, my favorite birthday cake. I hope you like it. No, no, you don't have to open it now—it'll stay warm and fresh forever in that box until we get to Hogwarts. Oh, Blaise!" Zabini came up behind her and she smiled wide as she wrapped her arms around him warmly. "How's your mother? Did she get the flowers?"

Zabini smiled and took her hand. "She said for me to tell you that they were beautiful, and that they'll be a glorious addition to the garden."

"I'll have to thank Neville, too, since he's the one that really helped get them started—" Ella's gaze then fell upon Draco; the very moment they made eye contact, the entire cabin went silent. Finally, Ella sort of shrugged her shoulders and shook her head quickly and put up her hands in either question or annoyance. "Hi?"

Draco opened his mouth to speak, but then became rather uncomfortable with all eyes on them. They were, of course, the object of entertainment for the entire school at this point. The tension could be cut with a knife.

"Would you all allow us the compartment for a moment?" he then asked the room, keeping his gaze locked with Ella's. There was a beat of silence, then Crabbe and Goyle stood and promptly left, causing Davis and Bulstrode followed by Greengrass to leave. Nott gave Ella a quick kiss on the cheek in thanks for the sweets before leaving, too; Blaise sort of rolled his eyes at Draco and smiled at their resident American.

"It's good to see you, Ella," said he before he left. Ella smiled and waved goodbye as Zabini shut the compartment door behind him; Draco pulled the shade down for privacy, and then turned on his heel to face his very angry girlfriend, who was giving him a rather impatient look. Merlin, she was gorgeous when she was angry; her red-flushed cheeks, her dusty-pink lips all pouted with frustration, her head held rather high and her shoulders pushed back to show how unafraid she was. Ella Zamora was the most beautiful Witch in the world and she had chosen to make Draco hers; and look at what he'd done with it, ignoring her all summer.

After quite a bit of glowering, Ella puffed her bangs up off her forehead in annoyance and opened her mouth to speak, which Draco quickly covered with his own, a soft whimper of surprise creeping from Ella's throat. Without even thinking about it, Draco curled his fingers through her fragrant black tresses, which were soft and thick to the touch. Her arms came wrapping around his neck, and her tongue came licking softly at his lips. Shyly, he opened his mouth and felt her enter, massaging and exploring, causing shivers to go up and down his spine.

Draco quickly lowered his hands and lifted Ella up by her waist onto the table, pressing his hips between hers, feeling his trousers grow uncomfortably tight, causing her to give a tiny squeal of delight. He felt Ella smile through his lips, and her fingers came running through his hair, then lower to loosen his tie. Draco grunted as he moved from her soft, delicious lips to kissing her cheek, down her neck, licking and biting as he tore off her cardigan to reveal her bare arms.

"Draco…" she giggled before his lips pressed against hers again. Her lips are bloody perfect, thought Draco hungrily, inwardly cursing at himself for denying them for the entirety of their fifth year. His hands came down to her hips, which he pulled towards him; he moaned lowly at the pressure he felt against his throbbing member when she bucked her hips at his. Her knee came up and the inside of her thigh rested on his hip; Draco heard her shoe fall to the floor.

"H-Hey, are you sure?" came her voice, soft and breathy in his ear.

"Yes, Ella, yes…" he gently moaned into shoulder, kissing across her collarbone and down to the space between her breasts. His skin prickled as her fingertips grazed across the skin on his neck; he quickly threw his suit jacket to the floor. His hands came lower, his fingertips running across the nude stockings on her legs and up beneath the skirt of her dress, gripping hard on the bones of her hips.

Quick as a hiccup, her hands came up to his shoulders and pushed him back. She then took his face in both her hands and said "Draco, look at me." Her freckled face was flushed a gentle pink and her hair was in a bit of a sensual disarray; her lips were cherry red and swollen but smiling, even though her gorgeous brown eyes were rather serious. "Are you sure?"

Draco suddenly felt very aware of the movement of the train, of his throbbing erection, of the likeliness that his housemates were listening in this very moment. Strong and ever sensible, his American Witch had once again knocked him back to reality. He put his hands on either side of her on the table and hung his head, letting out a tense sigh through his lips. He felt Ella plant a kiss on the top of his head in, what he assumed, understanding.

"I'm sorry," he breathed. "I didn't mean to assault you like that." He straightened up as best he could, avoiding her gaze. "That was certainly not how I pictured kissing you for the first time would be."

Ella gave a tiny laugh as she bent at the waist to grab his jacket. She brushed it off and helped him back into it, buttoning it at the front. When he shifted his eyes to look at her, she didn't seem angry or annoyed. In fact, Ella looked rather content; she even smiled.

"Then why'd you do it?" she asked, fixing his tie.

Because I've been dying to since I've met you, he thought. Because I hadn't any idea you wanted me to until last month and I was trying to treat you as you should be treated, which is with the utmost respect. Because you are a powerful witch that is not only Pureblooded by wealthy and gorgeous and I didn't want to make the mistake of smothering you that lead to you leaving. Draco, of course, did not say any of those things, but instead he said: "I thought you went back to America."

"What, and leave you sods behind? Never." He couldn't tell if she was being sarcastic or not, so he just smiled, too. "Besides, if I'm a Spelling, too, I should finish out my years as a Slytherin at Hogwarts…"

"What about the Zamora half of you?"

Ella shrugged. "Well," she began, "I think I owe more to Hogwarts than I do to Ilvermorny. The Spellings have a much longer streak of being at Hogwarts for centuries, and I think it's like…I'm finishing what my mother started? She left after her third year, I came back for my fourth year…if I finish my education at Hogwarts, it's almost like she never left." Draco nodded with a tiny grin. "Anyway, it's been great getting to know Professor Snape, too. If I have the opportunity to get to know him more, I think I should."

Draco frowned in question. "Snape?"

"Yeah, he's my Godfather. Didn't you know?" His eyes widened in shock, then shook his head in response. "Oh. Well, just as well that you didn't know. If others knew, they might get the wrong idea, that he gives me good grades just to play favorites."

"Yes, I can see how that could be misconstrued…"

A beat. "He's also my legal guardian here in the country, since I can't be without one or I don't get my Student Visa signed to be here." Ella seemed a little amused at Draco's surprise. She then leaned in and lowered her voice. "Don't spread the news around, okay? I still would like to keep it a bit of a secret."

"Hmm," said Draco, nodding in understanding. "Though I do think Hogwarts isn't much of a school, I will admit to being glad you'll at least suffer through it with me." Ella smiled and laughed. "Do you think you'll stay here once you graduate? Here in the UK? Or do you think you'll go back to America?" She swayed as she thought, as if she were a flower in a breeze, then shrugged without giving a real answer. Draco paused. "What of your children in the future? Where will you send them, do you think?"

Without missing a beat, Ella said: "Ilvermorny. It's such a great school." She crossed her arms in thought. "Honestly, unless all of this bullshit ends here in the UK, I'm going back home. I'm not endangering myself or my future kids with this Death Eater nonsense. And…I don't know if I like the culture here better than America's. It is going to be better for me here, though, just financially, and that means it's going to be better for all the kids I'll have."

Draco's stomach went tight. He stayed silent and gave a smile and decided to let her continue.

"I mean, I've got all this old money coming my way no matter what—I've got a giant nest egg from the Coulters, of course, but I'll have to share it with my awful cousins and my stepsisters, maybe… But if I stay here in Europe after I graduate, I get Plumfield, the Spelling's accounts, Chateau Christophe, my grandmother's shares and real estate investments. All of that's mine and I don't have to share it with anyone. I mean, none of that's really mine, though, until one of them croaks. I, myself, have no money, save for the prize money I've won in Dueling and Potion competitions—but all of that's in a trust fund until I turn 17…"

Draco realized just then that Ella's fortune was comparable to his, if not greater, if only by virtue of it being international.

"…Then again, there really is something to be said for earning stuff yourself. Sure, you could argue that my dad is a "self-made man" by buying his house and taking care of his family all with money that he earned working his way up to partner at Hardman and Red Feather, sacrificing and tirelessly working so that his wife and daughter could have a nice home…but it's not like he had to pay for his tuition at Ilvermorny himself, or at Eromacys Law. He's got no debt and comes from an extremely privileged life, just like me, just like my kids will. But will my kids grow up with the real gumption and real ability to work hard and study and try at something if they don't see me or my future husband working? I can only imagine what kind of person I'd have become if both of my parents didn't show me from day one what it was to work and earn something for yourself…but it's not like they really had to work hard because they were both set up for success since before they were born—"

At this point, Draco had no clue that Ella was talking about. He certainly wasn't aware that Ilvermorny required a tuition payment, or that there were specific schools for magical law in America. And what in Merlin's name was Hardman and Red Feather? It then occurred to him that he wasn't entirely certain on what Ella's father did, or that he even did something for a living, and that her mother worked, too. He knew that her mother ran something of a Magical Creatures Rescue or some such philanthropically-minded thing and that she was the one that initially taught Ella to be a potioneer, but that was it.

"—and I suppose that the only reason I'm feeling conflicted at all is because I'm wondering if I would be me had I been in any circumstances that were different from the one I am in now. The point is that my dad wouldn't be him, most likely, had he not been born to privilege, and I'm wondering if the same could be said for me. What if I was poor? What if I had debt? What if I grew up with a million brothers and sisters because my family was too poor to afford any kind of contraceptive potions? What if I wasn't raised with the Zamoras? Would I still be me? I don't think I would be me, I'd be someone else—and who would she be? Or who would anyone be, for that matter…you know what I mean?"

Nope. No idea what she's talking about now. Blast, she's looking at me for an answer. Draco sort of shrugged, giving a neutral expression with a tiny shake of his head. Miraculously, Ella took that as an answer and sighed and smiled with a dismissive wave of her hand.

"You're right. Who cares? We're here now and that's what matters. Why dwell on what could have been, right?" Draco smiled, still feeling horrifically unsure of what the bloody hell she was going on about. "You're such a good listener. Thank you." She stood and wrapped her arms tight around his waist, burying her face in the crook of his neck. Draco smiled and wrapped his arms around her, too. "You make me really happy," she said softly." Feeling rather satisfied and relieved, Draco thought to himself: I am never talking again.

She quickly pulled away and pushed him from her arms. "Wait a second—I'm mad at you!" His eyes widened in shock. "You ignored me all summer and then your mom puts in an offer for me to be your wife?!"

"Wha—?"

"Now my grandmother is looking all over England for suitors for me. You've blasted me years forward into a world I am not yet ready to be in, and I have you to blame."

Draco frowned. "What do you mean by that?"

Ella's eyes were rather angry and annoyed, but her smile was rather sweet. "Do you really want to know who your competition is?"

"There's no competition other than me! If your grandmother had a lick of sense, she'd know that there's no better than the Malfoy family in the entire country! We can trace our lineage back eleven centuries, for Salazar's sake! We're rich and powerful and proud. What more could you possibly want, you Yank?"

"Oh, well La-dee-dah, I wasn't aware that you were the best I could possibly do!" she hissed, her voice dripping with sarcasm. Draco groaned in frustration, as did Ella, who put the heel of her hand up to her forehead in anger. "Do you have any idea how annoying this is right now? I am trying to make something of myself here, and I don't want to be married off just like that. I do not want my life decided for me."

Suddenly, the young Slytherin felt rather slighted and quite hurt all at once. "It's not 'married off' if you're marrying me," he offered.

"It's 'married off' if I'm not the first one consulted. You get that. Right?"

Draco sighed through his nose in annoyance and shifted uncomfortably. He admittedly hadn't thought that this sort of thing were at all out of the ordinary to an American Witch. The Americans were admittedly progressive and it was likely that Ella was offended. He then wondered what American purebloods even did when it came to court and marry. Letting his eyes wander back to his girlfriend, he noticed her face growing redder with his silence.

"You don't think that's something that you should have talked to me about first?"

Draco frowned. "I—well, it's…" He cleared his throat and decided to approach this calmly. He was a wizard of noble stock and he was going to act in such a way for her, if no one else. "Apologies, my dear, I hadn't any idea that my mother had done so," he said, his voice as sweet as he could muster. "I truly didn't mean to upset you."

"And you expect me to believe that?"

"It's the truth!" protested Draco, tilting his eyebrows up with sincerity. "I only knew that she invited you over, I didn't know she was going to suggest we marry…" Ella crossed her arms and looked away, seeming rather annoyed indeed. "If I were to suggest that we marry, I would have at least had the decency to properly proclaim my intentions to you."

The American witch gave a very skeptical squint of her eyes. "'Properly proclaim your intentions?'" she repeated in confusion.

"Naturally—honestly, what is going on across the pond anyhow? Don't you proclaim your intentions when a pureblood wishes to wed another?"

"I mean, maybe in some old circles, I guess..." She groaned and paced a bit. "Look, most American wizards and witches are living in the now, not in the past. We date first and then talk about it to each other before involving the parents. Once the parents get involved it's really serious. And another thing—going to my grandmother before going to my father?" Draco's stomach went suddenly tight. "Do you have any idea how pissed off my dad is?"

"Your grandmother told your father?" Draco's voice cracked in panic.

"No. I told my father. Were it up to my grandmother, she'd handle the entire thing—but now that my dad's gotten involved, it's started a giant scandal in the US. Do you have any idea how many wealthy Pureblooded families there are in the US? You could fit pretty much all of Europe inside of Texas, did you know that? America is huge. You get that, don't you? Even if I were to just narrow it down to Manhattan alone, the number would be absolutely insurmountable to here." She held her head anger, then took in a sharp breath through her nose and blew it out her tight-lipped mouth. "Can you even conceive of how things are done in New York?"

Admitting defeat, Draco lowered his eyes and relaxed his shoulders. "No, my darling, I'm afraid I haven't any idea."

"I'm all over the society pages now, and they're using candid photos from my Bastille Day party—the ones where my hair's sopping wet. How they got photos all the way from France back to New York City in such a rush is beyond me."

Draco hadn't bothered to look at the society pages in the Daily Prophet. In fact, he'd been avoiding the media altogether since the trial. He knew how awful it felt to be skewed in the public eye, and the last thing he wanted to do was drag Ella down with him. Finally, he spoke. "Sounds like the work of scandalous tabloid artists looking to make a quick sickle. You oughtn't pay attention to it."

"I know this might seem silly, but my dad's running for Congress, and he can't afford a scandal, especially with his daughter being overseas. And another thing—why didn't you come?"

"Come to what?"

"Come to my Bastille Day party? Or my 4th of July Party? Or even so much as respond to any of my letters?" Draco shifted his weight uncomfortably and rubbed the back of his neck. "You got me Phoebus so we could keep in touch. I don't understand."

The young wizard shifted again, not wanting to admit how emotionally exhausting the summer had been for him. While she was off having the time of her life, he had been seeing his father off to Azkaban prison and taking his place in the Death Eater army. Ella didn't need to know that, of course; did she? He took a step towards her, offering both of his hands. "My dearest, I throw myself at your mercy."

Ella recoiled, crossing her arms. "I had plans, you know. My sixteenth summer was supposed to be party central and my boyfriend was supposed to be by my side, or at least talking to me. I honestly thought that you'd just ghosted yourself out until your mom invited us to dinner."

"I—'ghosted?'"

"It's when you break up with someone by just not contacting them at all."

"My terrifying terror," he said sweetly, attempting again to come closer to her, "how could I ever 'break up' with you in such a cowardly way?"

"Don't you 'terrifying terror' me, mister. I deserve an explanation."

Draco's anger flared. "I suppose the fact that my father was sent off to Azkaban because of Harry Bloody Potter isn't enough for you?

"Hey-hey-hey—don't you blame Harry for this! Your father got sent to prison because he got caught doing something bad. The end. Potter just happened to be the catalyst for his punishment, which would likely have come anyway. And before you go off on defending him, I'll have you know that he is the reason that my grandmother doesn't want me to marry you."

Draco was so shocked he almost fainted. Ella suddenly softened her features and lowered her shoulders. Never in a million years did Draco think that his father could somehow be an embarrassment, especially to a possible fiancée. 'Fallen from Grace' the headline on the paper had read the day they were dismissed from trial. Had this truly come to pass? For the first time, Draco felt a deep pang of shame for his family, and though the emotion itself quickly flitted away, the pain resonated deep within his gut. The mark on his arm seemed to burn, so much so that Draco feared it might set fire to the sleeve on his shirt.

"I-I'm sorry," said Ella, whose hand was now on his shoulder. "Listen it's…" She sighed and then pulled him by the arm to sit next to her by the window. "Listen to me, Draco." She took his face in both her hands and smiled sweetly. He felt his insides sort of crumble as her thumb brushed his cheek. "I'm sorry about your father. I really am. He may have made a mistake, but he's still your father. I can only imagine how you must be feeling. I know what it's like to have your father be your rock." Draco swallowed, inwardly horrified at the thought of crying in front of her. "But you have a real opportunity here. You have the opportunity to show the world that you are not him. Even better, you have the opportunity to show that to me. And I'm more important than the world, right?" She smiled. "You can make the right choice. You don't have to be on the wrong side of history like he was."

Yes, I do, thought Draco before he could stop himself from even completing such a thought. No, that's wrong. I'm not on the wrong side of history. I'm on the right side, the winning side. Aren't I?

He watched her eyes, warm and brown, like a mug of hot chocolate from their mountain lodge in Switzerland. Her freckles reminded him of stars dotting the sky; her lips were soft and dewy, like the dusky-red colored petals of her favorite roses. It was only with some marginal relief that he realized she hadn't any idea of Draco's own involvement with the Dark Lord. Knowing what he knew now of Ella's grandmother and her family history, he was on even thinner ice with the one person he admittedly had a genuine interest in. He was caught, like a fly in a great web, with Ella on one side and his own life on the other. He couldn't abandon the mission that the Dark Lord had bequeathed upon him; Draco's life was at stake, as was the life of his mother and the rest of his family. Ella was pure and gorgeous and innocent. Could he involve her in this? Could he keep her safe from them? Was there actually a third option to his predicament?

"Do you wanna marry me?" she suddenly asked.

"Ella!" Draco gasped.

"Do you?"

"I—" Draco's face went rather red and he looked away. "This is not how this is done. I must be the one to state my intentions first."

"Then state them." He must have seemed visibly uncomfortable, for she followed up with: "You at least owe me something, don't you think? You didn't even send a 'thank you' for the cake I baked you."

Draco closed his eyes. The trial had taken a turn for the worse on his sixteenth birthday and when he had actually received the cake, all fragrant and golden with thick and glossy syrup on top, he had been too sick to touch it. It ended up sitting on his desk for two weeks before he finally threw it away, along with the pile of Ella's numerous party invitations and letters and postcards. One of the things that had made him most sick in that very moment was the stinging fact that hadn't even bothered to open the lot of them. Without looking, he took her hand and squeezed it. She put her chin on his shoulder and kissed him on the cheek lightly. He sprung around, too fast to see, and wrapped both of his arms around her, so tight that he partly worried if he would crush her. Ella didn't seem to mind.

"When you get back to your room tonight," he whispered into her hair, "it's going to be full-over with flowers." Draco felt her smile, almost like a warm glow transferring from her chest into his. "I will make this up to you."

Ella pulled away; Draco couldn't help but return her glowing smile. "When?"

"Tonight," he said. "After the feast, meet me in your dance studio?" Ella smiled and gave a nod. She then stood in front of him and reached behind her back. Draco's shoulders tensed when he heard the faint sound of the zipper on the back of her dress going down. "What are you doing?"

"We're nearing Hogwarts," she said. "We have to change into our school robes." Shyly, Draco looked away; Ella brought his chin back to face her. "Look at me." He obeyed. "Enjoy this little preview of what's to come if you behave yourself." The train shifted and Draco caught glimpse of how…oddly…the top shelf on the rack was moving, as if it was being weighted down. His gray eyes looked back to see Ella moving the strap of her dress off her shoulder. Quickly, he stood and put it back up, then zipped her up the back. "What the—?"

"The only time a Witch should show that much skin is on her wedding night," he quickly said, looking away. Ella seemed rather embarrassed, for she went quite red in the face. Draco's eyes kept on the top shelf as she shuffled for her cardigan and pulled it back over her arms. If what he suspected was true, he certainly wasn't going to share his first glance at Ella with Potter and his damn invisibility cloak.

"Again with the wedding talk, I see…" jeered Ella, crossing her arms. Draco sneered up at the shelf, then turned to his girlfriend, who seemed more hurt than angry. He came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her tightly. He kissed the junction of her jaw and neck as sweetly as he could manage before she pushed him away.

"Come meet me tonight," he said lowly, more than aware of the invisible weight on the shelf. "I'll state my intentions honorably, and in the way you deserve it." Ella said nothing. "You know, we met one year ago tonight…" he tried. She quickly turned around, smiling wide.

"You remembered?"

All too willing to find something to make her at least somewhat tolerate his neglect, Draco opened his arms with a charming smile. "How could I forget?" Slowly, Ella sauntered towards him and took both of his hands. He brought her left hand to his lips, then the right, then pulled her in closer and planted a kiss on her forehead. "I'm going to make this night one to remember for you," he whispered. Ella leaned into his body and pressed her lips against the collar of his shirt, curling them up into a grin.

Ella nodded pointedly towards the carriage door. "Come on, let's let everyone else back in. Their ears are pressed hard against the door, I'm sure..."

Single scene(sorta), but lots of info! This sure is getting fun, and we're getting into the meat of the story! Thanks to all who are following and favoriting, and thanks to HeartofAspen for reviewing! It means the world to me!