A/N: I know this segment is a little more detached from the actual book than the last one was. (I'm only just now mentioning Professor Slughorn.) I remind you, this is set in book 6. I forget sometimes, but I'm writing my own story. (That's what an OC is all about.) So, yes, there're a lot of things that don't happen or some that never happened, but hey, it's fanfiction.

Disclaimer: (Because I haven't done it in a wihle.) All credit goes to possibly the richest author in history: J.K. Rowling.

Isolated With Amaranta

"Look, look, Hermoine!" Amaranta called out happily across the lunch table. People had gotten used to a Slytherin at the Gryffindor table by now. Amaranta seemed to be the one Slytherin who acted nothing like a Slytherin. "Mr. Bamboo says 'hi'!" She stared fixedly at the small bamboo plant. Slowly, one of its leaves waved a greeting at Hermoine.

"Bloody hell!" Ron exclaimed. "You're amazing, Amaranta!"

Red flashed across the young girl's face. "Well, I try."

"How'd you figure it out?" Hermoine asked anxiously, excited to learn something new. "What's the trick?"

"It's quite simple, really," Amaranta couldn't help grinning from ear to ear. "When you think about it, it all makes sense. It's my emotions. Since the only part of me that is a plant is my heart, then it makes sense for my emotions to be the key to control other plants. But they have to be very extreme and complete. I can't be feeling any other emotion, or it could do something else, or not move at all."

The two eyed the plant in awe as it waved back and forth as if it were singing Kumbyah.

"So what are you feeling now?" Ron asked.

"I'm extremely giddy!" Amaranta giggled. "I'm so excited! I'm finally useful! I can do something extraordinary!"

"What do you mean you're not useful?" Ron asked. "You're as good at Defense Against The Dark Arts as Harry!"

"That's only because of my past life," Amaranta sighed. "Speaking of, where is Harry? I want to show him my new power!"

"Oh, he's having his private lesson with Dumbledore," Hermoine answered.

"What are those about anyway?" Amaranta asked eagerly. The bamboo plant stopped moving.

"I'm sorry, but we can't tell you if Dumbledore says we can't," Hermoine said sympathetically. "Trust me, I'd love to tell you if I could, but we're sworn to secrecy. Have you shown Draco yet? I'm sure he'd be delighted—"

"No, he hasn't been around either," Amaranta sighed. The bamboo plant slumped a little.

"Well, I gotta get some homework done," Amaranta stood up and grabbed Mr. Bamboo. "See ya guys later." The bamboo looked sickly now.

The two just watched as she watched Amaranta as she slumped off. She moved sluggishly in her gloom, passersby mistook her for Moaning Myrtle at times. It was the weekend so people were scarce. She replayed the discussion she had with Dumbledore in her mind.

"Alb-I mean, Professor Dumbledore, why can't you tell me what you and Harry talk about in your lessons?" Amaranta pleaded desperately, leaning on his desk. "Hermoine and Ron already know all about it! How come I'm the only one who doesn't know?"

"I'm sorry, Amaranta, but I just can't tell you," Dumbledore sighed. He had foreseen this conversation. "It's not that I don't trust you. I'd trust you with my life if the chance came. I simply don't want you to know."

"Why not?!" Amaranta cried. "Is it because I'm friends with Draco? I won't tell him a thing, I swear!"

"No, dear, it's not that," Dumbledore sighed again.

"Then what? Is it about Lord Voldermort? You're training Harry to fight against him, aren't you? I broke my bonds to that man a long time ago! I'd never help him!"

"I know that."

"Then why? Why?"

"I can't tell you why. I'm sorry, but it's best if you don't concern yourself with this."

"…It's related to your burnt hand, isn't it?"

"…I'm sorry, Amaranta, I just can't tell you."

Tears welled up in her eyes. Everyone was leaving her out. Even Draco. He had been disappearing a lot lately, and he wouldn't tell her anything either. Why couldn't they tell her?Amaranta wanted to be involved. She wanted to help in the fight against Voldermort, but no one wanted her help.

"I'm not useless," Amaranta mumbled.

"Oh, but you are," a vexing voice brought her back down to earth.

"Dianthe, won't you just leave me alone, today?" Amaranta sighed. She didn't want to deal with her right now.

"I said I was going to make your life miserable, didn't I?" She smirked evilly.

"Well, congratulations, it's miserable," Amaranta sighed heavily and walked past her. She would've kept walking until she heard the nonchalant comment, "You're friend is a surprisingly good kisser."

Amaranta flicked around, a crazed look in her eye.

Now that I've got your attention, Dianthe thought with a smirk and then continued. "From the looks of him, you'd figure he was just some pampered prat, but he really knows how to use that tongue."

Amaranta looked like a bull about to charge. The bamboo plant in her arm tried desperately to claw at Dianthe.

"You haven't seen him lately, have you? He hasn't told you what he's been doing all those nights he hasn't come back to the dormitories. Did you sit the in the Common Room and wait for him all night, like a faithful wife?"

"You…You…"

"Why are you getting so worked up? It's not like you two were going out or anything. He's a free man to choose whoever he wants to make out with. It's not my fault if he doesn't like snogging a flat plank like you. But your friend is so easy to manipulate. He's as stupid as other men. All I have to do is press my body close to his, and I've got him wrapped around my finger."

Amaranta was shaking now.

"Aww, are you going to cry now?"

"I'M GOING TO KILL YOU!" Amaranta screamed before she tackled Dianthe to the ground. The blonde had not expected such a physical attack. Amaranta was clawing at her face like a rabid animal. "YOU CAN MAKE FUN OF ME ALL YOU WANT, BUT NO ONE INSULTS DRACO!"

Just when Amaranta was about to draw blood, she felt a strong hand hoist her up and off of the girl. Amaranta kicked and flailed.

"Stop fighting this instant!" Professor Snape's voice roared in the empty hallway. "20 points from Slytherin! Stop squirming, now!"

Amaranta fell limp at the sound of Snape's anger. Finally she noticed that she no longer held her potted plant. It lay in a pile of pebbles and broken pottery. "BAMBOO!" She cried, literally. In her fury, she had flung her plant to the side, causing it to shatter on the floor. She struggled against Snape's firm grip. "Bamboo! Bamboo!"

"Stop…this…instant…Repairo!" Snape flicked his wand in the plant's direction, and it all came back together as if it had never been broken. He let Amaranta run towards it as he turned to Dianthe who had picked herself up. "Miss Greene, go to the Hospital Wing to get your wounds looked at, meanwhile," he grabbed Amaranta by the arm, "I'm going to have a chat with this delinquent here."

He dragged the weeping Amaranta to his office. He sat her in the hard, wooden chair, and he himself sat in his more comfortable chair behind the desk. He watched the girl as she hugged the plant closely. "I'm sorry for dropping you like that, Mr. Bamboo," she sobbed.

To Snape's surprise, the plant caressed her cheek gently with one of its leaves.

"Are you trying to comfort me?" Amaranta smiled through her tears. "Thank you."

"Might I ask why you were barbarically beating Miss Dianthe Greene?" Snape intruded her little heart-felt moment with the plant.

A little smirk shadowed Amaranta's lips, and she tried to look as regretful as possible. "She insulted Draco, sir," she answered with a steady voice. "I admit; I lost my temper. It was wrong of me, I apologize."

"An apology will not get you out of detention," Snape drawled.

"Of course not," Amaranta said with all sincerity.

"I want you in my office for the next three nights at six o'clock, to receive your punishment."

"Ok."

Snape looked at the girl with vexation. He didn't expect her to agree so readily. He was about to tell her to get out when she spoke up first.

"Professor, have you ever been in love?"

"I'm afraid that's a little too personal of a question, Amaranta."

"Sorry, I'm not trying to pry; I'm just looking for advice."

"I don't think I'm fit to give advice on love. Try asking one of the female teachers, or Madam Pomfrey."

"I wouldn't trust their advice," Amaranta frowned. "They look too happy."

Snape raised an interested eyebrow. "And what makes you think my advice would be any better?"

Amaranta looked at him with her green eyes and then looked away, a slight blush on her cheeks. "Because Draco trusts you," she murmured, then louder, "I don't want to know about your personal life—although I'm sure it's very interesting—I just want to know if you've ever been in a similar situation and how you coped with it."

"You have a very unique situation, I'm sure," Snape looked uninterested.

"Just answer me this, have you ever loved someone and had them ignore you? Have you ever been isolated, but not all at the same time?"

"How about you tell me what's going on, and using my past experience, I'll tell you what to do?" Snape suggested. He had a feeling this girl wouldn't leave until she found some form of advice.

"Ok," Amaranta smiled. "Well, you see, Harry has lessons with Professor Dumbledore, so I only get to see him in class, and well, that wouldn't bother me, except for the fact that no one will tell me what the lessons are about, but Hermoine and Ron get to know. It's just a little irritating that no one tells me, and if it was only that, I'd probably manage, but Draco has been disappearing a lot lately, and he won't tell me what he's doing either, and Dianthe said they were having a rendezvous and I just…"

Tears welled up in her eyes again. "The only reason I could live with the Death Eaters was because Draco was with me. And I'm afraid that he, or anybody, doesn't like me anymore and he'll leave me and I'll be all alone." Amaranta hugged the plant closer. "I hated visiting Lord Voldermort. Sometimes I wanted to feel pain just to know I was still alive. Draco was the only one there who didn't want to kill me. I bore through it all, just knowing I could see his happy face again. If he leaves me now…I…don't know what I'll do."

Amaranta bit her lower lip to try and hold the oncoming rush of tears. The bamboo plant beside her looked like it hadn't been watered in years.

"Have you ever considered that they don't want to tell you for your protection?" Snape said with an irritated sigh. "I'm sure that Dumbledore has a very good reason for not letting you in on the lessons he's having with Potter. Did either of them ever say they don't trust you?"

"Well…no," Amaranta admitted as she began to calm down.

"Has Draco ever kept anything from you without good reason?"

"No…"

"Well, then," Snape laid back in his chair. "You must trust in them, and believe that they'll tell you when it's right."

Amaranta wiped her tears away, and the bamboo plant slowly began to revive. "Thanks…Professor…" She looked at him with puffy eyes and smiled kindly. "You're not nearly as annoying as Harry says you are."

The corners of Snape's lips twitched at that last piece of information. "You may leave now. Don't forget your detention tomorrow."

"I won't," Amaranta said, getting up. "I look forward to our detention." And she walked out of the office.

What a strange girl, Snape thought to himself as he busied himself with work.

Weeks went by, and before any of the students at Hogwarts knew it, Christmas was right around the corner. The new Potions teacher, Slughorn, had decided to hold a Christmas party for his close circle of friends. It seemed everyone who was anyone had been invited, well, except for Draco Malfoy. Which put him in a rather nasty mood.

"Oh, hello, Draco!" Amaranta's face lit up when she saw her best friend walk in through the dungeon door into the Slytherin Common Room, but her face dropped when she saw a familiar blonde right behind him. "Oh…hello, there, Dianthe." Dislike was obvious in her voice.

"Oh, hello, Amaranta," Dianthe smiled, overly cheerful. "Dracy" Amaranta's eye twitched at the cheesy nickname, "and I just got back from our date!"

"Don't be silly," Draco blushed furiously. "It wasn't a date."

"You're right, it was more of a make-out session," Dianthe giggled, before she pecked Draco on the cheek and bounced off.

Draco glared at her, but she only smiled.

Sleep with one eye open, Amaranta glared into Dianthe's retreating back before giving Draco a questioning look.

"It wasn't anything like that," Draco protested. "We just met up in the hallway, I swear."

"Whatever," Amaranta averted her eyes, trying to look uncaring. "So what were you really doing out past curfew?"

"Working out my plan," Draco sighed. He had been bombarded with this question by her and Snape, and it was starting to get on his last nerve.

"And what might that plan be?"

"A secret, that's what it is!"

"Come on, Draco, why can't you tell me?"

"Because I don't feel like telling you, alright?" Draco stood up.

"Why can't you trust me?" Amaranta shouted angrily, standing up too. "Just a little, not all of it! It's dangerous to wander around alone at night! What if Filch catches you?"

"I'm not a child, Amaranta," Draco shouted furiously. "I don't need you to mother me!"

"I'm not mothering you, prat," Amaranta returned with just as much ferocity. "Do you think I enjoy worrying over you? How do you think I feel not knowing where you are half the time? Not knowing anything!"

"Frankly, Amaranta, I don't give a rat's arse!"

"Well since you feel that way, then I guess you won't care if I just hang out with Harry from now on, since at least he tells me what he's doing before he leaves," and then more quietly, "even if he leaves out the details."

Amaranta grabbed her bamboo plant, which split one of its leaves into five sections, resembling a hand, which flipped Draco off, before returning to its normal, leafy state.

A night's sleep didn't help to cure their animosity, and the two spent their entire day ignoring each other.

"How come you're eating with us?" Ron asked her at lunch that day, which was a Malfoy day, by the way. "Did you and Malfoy have a row?"

"Yes," Amaranta sighed heavily, taking a particularly vicious bite out of her roast beef. "He keeps disappearing at night, and he won't tell me what's going on, and he's being a total arse about it. I'm sorry to admit it, but if he told me to keep it a secret form you, I would, which is why I'm wondering why he doesn't trust me. I tell him everything, well, except about your lessons with Dumbledore, Harry, I don't really think he needs to know about that. I hate being left in the dark about things."

"I'm sorry we can't tell you anything," Harry said empathetically. He knew how she felt. "I trust you completely. I know you wouldn't tell anything to Malfoy if we asked you not to."

"Thanks, Harry," Amaranta smiled. "I needed to hear those words."

Harry smiled too. There was just something about Amaranta that made him long for her company. He began to look forward to Harry days and dread Malfoy days.

"I've got a thought," Harry smiled mischievously. "Amaranta, do you want to come with me to Slughorn's party this weekend?"

"You mean the party that Draco wasn't invited to?" Amaranta mirrored Harry's smile. "Why, Harry, I'd simply be delighted to accompany you! Oh, I'm going to tell Parkinson about this new turn! I'm sure she'd be delighted to relay the message to Draco! Bye!" Amaranta skipped off towards the Slytherin table.

"Harry, are you sure you're not—?" Ron began.

"For the last time, I'm not in love with Amaranta!" Harry interjected him.

"I was just gonna ask if you weren't going to finish your dinner roll, mate."

"Oh, no, not really," Harry flushed as he tossed his roll to Ron.

Weasley caught it and exchanged looks with Hermoine.

The day of the Christmas party, Amaranta met up with Harry at Gryffindor tower.

"Sorry, to make you climb all the—" Harry stopped when he saw Amaranta.

She was wearing a black dress trimmed with dark crimson lacing, with a black ribbon tied around her neck. It was very gothic, but for some reason extremely fitting for Amaranta. It brought out the green in her eyes and made her hair look lighter. It made Harry feel very aware of his plain sweater and slacks.

"Is it too much?" Amaranta blushed, becoming conscious of Harry's gaze. "It's the only nice thing I own." Amaranta frowned. "Draco bought it for me two years ago."

Harry's heart sank. Why'd she have to mention that guy?

"Well, uh, shall w get going then?" Harry motioned forward.

Amaranta nodded and they walked to the entrance hall. Harry was surprised at the large amount of girls lurking there. They all began to whisper the moment they noticed him. The hall was crowded and dim, the only source of light being the golden glow of the chandelier in which actual fairies were fluttering around. The music in the distance was mixed in with the great murmur of talk happening all around the party. House elves dodged through the maze of legs, carrying silver platters of food.

"Harry, m'boy!" boomed Slughorn. "Come in, Come in. Oh, who might this little ray of sunshine be?"

"This is—" Harry began but Amaranta finished his sentence for him.

"Amaranta, Professor Slughorn," she smiled politely. "I sit next to Harry in your class."

"Oh, yes, yes," Slughorn said. "I didn't recognize you in that lovely dress. You're not much of a potions master as Harry, here."

"I'm afraid potion making isn't my strong point," Amaranta continued to smile, though Harry could see the corners of her lips twitch. "But I'm quite a wiz at Defense Against The Dark Arts, if I do say so myself. Not to mention, I'm a Blo—"

Harry slapped his hand over her mouth without moving the rest of his body. "She really is a good witch at Defense Against the Dark Arts!" he exclaimed with a fake smile. "A little talkative, though," he said more quietly as he growled at Amaranta, who looked up at him innocently.

Slughorn didn't pay the least attention to Amaranta near slip-up. He only had eyes for Harry. "There are so many people I'd like you to meet!" He grabbed Harry by the arm, and dragged him purposefully through the crowd. Harry seized Amaranta's hand and pulled her along with him.

"Harry, I'd like you to meet Eldred Worple, an old student of mine, author of Blood Brothers: My Life Amongst the Vampires — and, of course, his friend Sanguini."

Worple, a short stacked man, shook Harry's hand enthusiastically. The vampire, Sanguini, merely nodded. He was tall with dark shadows under his eyes and he looked extremely bored. A throng of girls eyed him, giggling, and Amaranta, Harry was afraid, was staring at him too.

"Hi, Mr. Sanguini, if you drink a drunkard's blood, does that mean you get intoxicated too?"

Sanguini simply nodded.

"So that's why vampires usually stay towards healthy women," Amaranta rubbed her chin like a detective, smiling at finding the newest clue.

That was the last of their conversation Harry heard before he was bombarded by Worple.

"Harry, Potter, I am simply delighted! I was just saying to Professor Slughorn the other day, Where is the biography of Harry Potter? I would be delighted to write it myself. People are craving to know more about you, boy, craving! If you were prepared to grant me a few interviews—Sanguini, stay here!" The vampire was slowly leading Amaranta away. "Here, have a pasty," Worple grabbed one from a passing elf and shoved it into Snaguini's hand.

Harry saw Amaranta's frozen face. She wasn't looking at the vampire who was probably about to devour her just as he was doing to the pasty. She was looking over at Dianthe who stood there with none other than Draco Malfoy.

"Excuse me, Mr. Sanguini," she said, a fierce look in her eye. "I need to go rip my friend into shreds. We'll have to continue this discussion later." She waved at him without looking away from her target, and walked off.

"Oh ho! It would seem my vampire friend here isn't the only one with an uncontrollable bloodlust!" Worple exclaimed, before turning back to Harry. "But seriously, think of the gold you could make, my dear boy—"

"I'm definitely not interested," Harry said, watching Amaranta. "I need to follow her, sorry."

Amaranta marched angrily towards Dianthe. The pretty blonde wire a strapless dress with a red rose in her hair and red stiletto heels. Draco wore one of his finest robes, tailored specifically to his measurements. She wasn't curious about why Dianthe was here. Someone as perfect as her was sure to be in Slughorn's inner circle. She wanted to know why the uninvited Draco Malfoy was here.

"Fancy meeting you here, Dianthe," Amaranta smiled viciously.

"Oh, Amaranta, I didn't know you were noticed enough to get into here," Dianthe said with obvious condescension.

"It wasn't without Harry's help," Amaranta's smile grew more venomous.

"Oh, relying on Harry Potter, I see," Dianthe snorted, holding a glass of firewhiskey to her lips.

"So this must be your date here," Amaranta gestured to the proud-faced Draco. "I don't believe I've ever met him before, what's his name?"

"He's the sole heir to the Malfoy line, Draco Malfoy," she gave a little jingle in her giggle. "He's quite prestigious, you know, and very rich. A fine young man, sure to lead the wizarding world one day."

Draco smiled widely.

"Oh yes!" Amaranta exclaimed with a fake gasp. "I think I've heard Harry mention you before. You're the boy who was turned into a ferret in the 4th year. Oh and isn't your father in Azkaban right now? What was he charged with? Oh yes, wasn't he charged with being a Death Eater? You must have a lot of courage to still be able to hold your head up in society! How brave of you. Harry says you're a lovely Quidditch player. He says you always give him a good warm up in every match." Her smile was practically dripping with poison right then.

Draco didn't look pleased. Not one bit. His fists were clenched and his cheeks were red with humiliation. She had mentioned nearly everything that struck a painful chord in him. He opened his mouth to say something, but she completely ignored him, turning, instead to Dianthe.

She leaned closely so that only Dianthe could here her next words. "If I could strangle you right now, trust me, I would," she growled. The rose in Dianthe's hair wilted as quickly as if there was a sudden frost, and fell from her hair onto the floor.

Amaranta straightened her back looking ethereally pleased. "But it's so crowded in here," her polite voice had come back, "too many witnesses. Oh look, my Harry is here!"

Harry had finally escaped Worple and managed to weave his way through the crowd towards her. She wrapped her arms around his as soon as he arrived. "Harry, dear, lets find some more visually pleasing company," Harry noted the acidity in her voice, and didn't say a word. "Oh, look, I do believe I see our good friend Hermoine over there."

Amaranta pulled him away without another word. Harry turned to her.

"If you're going to regret it afterwards, then you shouldn't say anything in the first place," he spoke softly.

Her smile had dropped the minute they turned around, and now she looked more like someone had said those things to her. "I know I'm only stooping to her level, but every time I see her I just fly off he handle. I nearly tore her flesh off the other day."

Harry couldn't help it. He put a comforting hand on her cheek, turning her head to face him.

"Harry, Amaranta?"

Hermoine's voice made Harry jump involuntarily, and he immediately dropped his hand to his side. He sighed a sigh of relief when she didn't say anything on the intimate mood between the two.

"I was looking for you two, did you just get here?"

"Yeah, we just escaped from Dianthe," Harry said.

"Oh, I see," Hermoine looked at Amaranta. "I don't see why such a pompous girl should be here."

"Oh, you're just miffed because she scored higher than you on the History of Magic test," Harry rolled his eyes.

"It's totally unfair!" Hermoine raged. "She's relived that class so many times! I'm learning it all for the first time!"

Amaranta laughed, but to Harry it sounded like light sobs. There was an expression on her face which he had never seen before. The corners of her lips were tilted upward in something resembling a smile, and her eyebrows arched over her dull eyes, but there was no blood in her cheeks, no twinkle in her eye. She looked like a mannequin, and frankly, it disgusted Harry.