A/N: So sorry about the wait. I told some of the people who reviewed that this would be up two weeks ago. However, I underestimated the insanity of teachers at prep schools. Grrrr. Moving on. The yearly project I also mentioned to some people is now over and thus so is my excuse for not posting.

Disclaimer: Not mine. I is not J. K. Rowling so yeah. I do not own the characters. Cept Kate. She's mine. And Kieran. Sexy boy-child is mine. I also do not own the myriad of songs that I will be using throughout this. They belong to their respective artists.

Judgment

If I'm a bad person, you don't like me
Well I guess I'll make my own way
It's a circle
A mean cycle
I can't excite you anymore
Where's your gavel? Your jury?
What's my offense this time?
You're not a judge but if you're gonna judge me
Well sentence me to another life.

- Ignorance by Paramore

That first term of first year was something I will never forget. The classes were the coolest things imaginable for someone like me, who had been bored to death at home with my parents.

I already knew a vast majority of the spells that we went over the theory for the first couple weeks. Because of this, only Herbology and Potions were new to me. My father had always said he loved Potions when he was in school, it was the subject he did best in. Apparently, it was genetic because I loved it too. The teacher, Professor Vixsidy, was the Head of Ravenclaw but she didn't have any house prejudices, which (I was coming to find) was rare in teachers, especially Heads of House. She liked me because of my genuine interest in her class, even though we were doing simple little things to start off.

Al, of course, hated Potions. He thought it was the most ridiculous class ever. I just laughed and told him he could kick my ass in Transfiguration so I didn't see why he was getting jealous of my skill in Potions.

"It's not jealousy!" he declared vehemently as we walked out of a double-Potions block with the Gryffindors. I just rolled my eyes. About that time, I felt a hand grab my bag. I turned around to see who it was and was met with the broad chest of a guy who looked to be about a third year in my house. He looked menacingly down at me and (I'll admit it. I was eleven, after all.) I was scared.

"So. You're the latest Malfoy to haunt these halls." I nodded, squaring my shoulders. I was damn scared but it was about my family. I refused to take crap about my family when we had done nothing wrong (Well, my great-aunt and –uncle had but we never talk about them). I expected the older kid to say more but I definitely did not expect what happened next.

"So what if he is?" Kate asked, coming to stand at my side. "Why's it any of your concern?"

"His family got off easy, Mudblood!" he yelled. "My grandparents and parents suffered while the Malfoys endured in style, off living the easy life while my family rotted in Azkaban!"

A crowd had gathered by this point. Some of the Slytherins nodded in understanding while the Gryffindors stood by and jeered, casting off comments about how they had deserved what they got. Al opened his mouth to help out the argument when a voice from the crowd spoke out and its owner stepped forward.

"We've all paid a price, Macnair, in some form or other. No pureblood walked away unscathed." The speaker looked to be a second-year and was about half-a-foot shorter than Macnair. Even though he was smaller than the older boy was, everything about him commanded respect from all who gathered. His snapping baby-blue eyes scanned the Slytherins in the crowd and none would meet his gaze. Macnair stared at the stones before his feet, glaring mutinously at them as if they should have talked him out of going after me.

"We should probably get to lunch. Don't want it to get cold," the second-year continued in his quiet, calm voice. The group scattered, wanting to leave the powerful boy's presence as soon as possible. He sighed, running his fingers through his chocolate brown hair, turning to our group. We were still planted where we had stopped.

"Sorry about him. Macnair's got a bit of resentment about how some pureblood families got punished more than others. Everyone knows the circumstances around your family but Macnair's got a stick up somewhere sticks don't belong." He smiled before continuing. "I'm Kieran, by the way. Kieran Nott." We all shook his outstretched hand and I thanked him profusely for his help. He shook his head.

"I didn't do any more than Miss Zimmerman did. Or any more than Potter almost did." Kate blushed at him knowing her name. "We've all had to deal with prejudices from other wizards about being related to people who made damn stupid choices. We don't need it from each other, especially since we know what it's like. You can't choose your family; you're just kinda stuck with them." We nodded in agreement and he left us.

"Is he not the most gorgeous thing you've ever seen?!" Kate gushed as soon as he was gone.

"What?! No way!" Al told her.

"Yeah," I said, "he'd look tons better if he had black hair. Not that I noticed what he looked like or anything."

"Same. And blue eyes are so overrated, anyway. Silver eyes are prettier." Al said, looking satisfied with himself. Kate looked at us both, raised her eyebrows, and dissolved into giggles at the looks on our faces. She walked towards the Great Hall, still laughing, as Al and I sped after her.

"What's so funny?" Al asked. She giggled again.

"If you don't know, I'M not gonna be the one to tell you."

"That's mean, Katie!" I whined (yes, whined. I was eleven. I had the prerogative).

"Oh, hush," she replied and entered the Great Hall.

13

"Scor! Oh, Scor, look!" I rolled my eyes at Al's enthusiasm. I had noticed I'd been doing it increasingly the longer we had been friends.

"What, Albus?" He pointed at a piece of paper pinned to the wall.

"FLYING LESSONS FOR FIRST YEARS!!!!" he screamed at the top of his lungs.

"Al! Inside voice, if you please. I need my ears attached to skull and capable of hearing!" Kate sashayed over to us and looked at the paper.

"Wicked," she calmly noted.

"When is it?" I sighed, knowing it was mandatory.

"Monday morning, right after breakfast. Awesome, that means no History of Magic," Kate answered. Al seemed to have trouble finding his "inside voice" so he was keeping his mouth shut and wiggling on the spot.

13

Monday morning dawned bright and cold. Looking out the window, I grimaced and pulled my scarf tighter around my neck. Al had raced through brushing his teeth and hair and was waiting for me in the Common Room as I took my time. When I came down, he was glaring at the door as if willing me to come out of it. As I drew level with him, he took off through the wall into the corridor. I shook my head and followed, Kate catching up to me. She was just as bundled as I was.

"I hate being cold," she snapped when I gave her a questioning look. I raised my hands in surrender and followed her up the stairs to the Great Hall. Al and Kate rushed through breakfast and all but pushed me out the door. As it was, we weren't the only first years gathered in the Quidditch pitch. A tall black man stood by two rows of broomsticks. We had to wait for about ten minutes for all the first years to come down from the school. When all had gathered, the man cleared his throat. Every eye was focused on him.

"I am Professor Restius. I teach Astronomy and referee the Quidditch matches here at Hogwarts. Now, I want you all to step up the broom. Approach it on the left side because it has to rest under your right hand. Yes, even if you're left-handed," he added when a scattering of hands went up.

I stepped up to the nearest broom. It didn't look very stable, in my opinion, but then again I was used to riding the newest, best versions of brooms available. The Nimbus 2000's they put before us looked extremely rickety.

"All right, little ones. Hold out your right hand and say 'Up!' Then you can mount up. When I say to, hover for a little while. I want to see how many of you can actually stay on your brooms."

"Up!" Al said and the broom jumped into his hand. Kate's did the same, which left her looking very smug. When I tried, the broom twitched but, other than that, remained stationary, seeming very content where it was. Irritated, I levered my foot underneath it and kicked it into my hands. Professor Restius saw and gave me a disbelieving look. I shrugged at him and he rolled his eyes then went to help a Hufflepuff whose broom was beating her about the ankles.

After everyone had retrieved their brooms from the ground (via a myriad of methods), we mounted and tried to hover. Al and Kate did fine but I, being my special and unique self, had to find SOME way to be different. As soon as my feet left the ground, my broom flipped over and, before I knew it, I found myself on my back in the same place my broom had laid just minutes ago.

Al touched back down and came running over to me, Kate moments behind. He grabbed my chin and forced me to look into his eyes. My breathing hitched at the close proximity of our faces and his gentle hand on my jaw. Then Al, being Al, ruined my coma-inducing, sweet moment.

"You better come over here, Professor! I think he's concussed. His eyes are out of focus."

"I'm fine!" I snapped, pushing him away. My body's reaction to him irritated me because I didn't understand it. Then. "And since when did you become a Healer?"

"I've seen James take more headers off his broom than I care to count. I've learned what a concussion looks like and I think you should go see Madame Pomfrey."

"I agree," Professor Restius said. "Potter, take Malfoy to hospital. I'll talk to you both about repeating the lesson later."

I grimaced at the thought of getting on the unstable thing again but Al nodded and grabbed my arm. He hoisted me off the ground and insisted on bearing most of my weight as we walked, even though I repeated time and again that I was fine.

One-and-a-half hours and a Pepper-Up Potion later (I had a slight cold from the nasty weather we had been having), I was back on my feet and glaring at Albus for having wasted my time.

"I told you I didn't have a damned concussion."

"I thought you did," he defended weakly. "Your pupils were dilated and unfocused. Those are signs of a concussion."

"Maybe you just turned him on," Kate said, coming up behind us with a stack of homework in her hands. She must have noticed our strange looks but definitely misread them because she said, "Not all of this is mine. A third of it is each of your's. It's from the Transfiguration lesson you missed."

Al made a noise that sounded a bit like a cross between drowning cat and a faulty tuba while his mouth opened and shut.

"I think Al's a bit more concerned about the fact that you think I was turned on," I explained.

"By me!" Al seemed to have found his voice again.

"Exactly. I am not turned on by my best mate, thanks ever so." I was flustered when I remembered how my breathing had stopped and how'd I'd wanted to-

"If you say so, boys. We'd better get a move on, we're gonna be late to Charms."

End A/N: The ending was really kinda silly, and it might be a bit young for them to be discussing the subject matter they did. However, pretty much all of my friends agreed with me that lots of almost-twelves have conversations like this. And I needed it to explain what is going on. BTW, there is going to be a time jump in one or two chapters. Also, if you want to learn why nobody really messes with Kate, I have the idea but it doesn't fit in the story. But I will type it out and post it if anyone wants to read it.