They thought I was off my rocker. Ananda kept shooting be bewildered looks for over a week. Jake kept asking if I was sure. Even James sent me a confused look. Maybe I am out of mind. Why else would I be currently sitting in The Three Broomsticks with Michaelson sitting in front of me?

The silence was deafening. Maleah could only stare at the table, counting the number of cracks she saw on the old table. Michaelson wasn't faring much better, choosing to focus his eyes on a wall behind her head. They'd never had a silence like that before, even when they hated each other.

"This is ridiculous," he heard her mutter.

"I'm inclined to agree," he said.

"I mean, this has never happened before," Maleah said, her eyes finally meeting his.

"Never," he agreed.

Then she rolled her eyes. "Now we're having a conversation about how conversation isn't coming to us. How pathetic is that?"

Michaelson said nothing, knowing that her final question was rhetorical. As he stared at her he finally realized something. He knew nothing about her. Sure he knew that she had major issues. He knew that her family wasn't exactly the Brudley's. But how much did he really know? He didn't know her favorite color or her favorite song or drink or anything like that.

"What's your favorite color?" he asked abruptly.

Maleah looked perplexed. "Pale pink, why?"

He shrugged. "I just realized that I don't know much about you. Why that color?"

Maleah frowned. "That's the color of the lilies we had in our garden. My mum planted them," she said wistfully.

"Tell me about your mum," Michaelson requested.

Maleah's gaze became unfocused as a vision came to her.

It was her father's study. She saw her mother, her father, and two men that she didn't recognize. Everyone in the room was dressed in the latest fashion; her father in a suit and the two men in robes. Her mother, however, was dressed in a T-shirt and a pair of Daisy Duke shorts. Her shorts weren't zipped so she could see the outline of her mother's favorite bikini bottom.

Her father was saying something while her mother glared at him.

"And that'll be the final arrangement," Harry concluded.

"What about the girl?" one of the men in robes asked.

"Her name is Maleah," her mother snapped.

"Maleah will remain in my custody," Harry said.

Her mother sat up. "Over my dead body," she said deadly.

"Katia."

"Don't fucking Katia, me," Katia cried, "She's my daughter. She will remain with me!"

"This is ridiculous," Harry muttered. "It makes perfect sense for her to live here."

"My daughter isn't living here," Katia said firmly. "And that's the end of it."

Harry took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. "Katia," he said wearily.

"He can have everything," Katia told the other man in robes. "He can have Colombia, he can have South Africa. He can have everything; all I want is my trust fund and my baby."

"Let's adjourn," Harry said finally. "We'll meet again and finalize everything."

The two men nodded and left the room, leaving Harry and Katia.

"Why are you doing this to me?" Katia asked.

"I'm not doing anything," Harry argued.

"Yes, you are," Katia said sadly. "You're taking her away from me."

"I would never take her away from you," Harry assured her. "It would be in everyone's best interest if she remained here."

"Bull," Katia snapped. "You're doing this for appearances. Harry Potter divorces his wife, but makes amends by taking the girl."

"It's not like that," Harry lied.

"You son of a bitch," Katia mumbled. She stood. "It will be a chilly day in hell before I allow you to take her from me."

"Maleah? Maleah!"

Maleah broke out of her trance. "She was strong," she said quietly. "My mum was the strongest person I knew. And she was so beautiful. She was the best mum a girl could ask for."

"How'd she die?" Michaelson asked.

Maleah shook her head. "I don't know," she said slowly realizing it was the truth. "It was some illness but I didn't understand the stuff they were talking about. I always thought she died of a broken heart. The love between my mother and father..."

"That's a bit melodramatic, don't you think?" he asked with a sardonic grin.

"Sod off," Maleah rolled her eyes, slapping his hand across the table.

"And Ginny? How'd she get into the picture?"

Maleah frowned and her eyes unfocused again.

Ginny fluffed her curled hair and dabbed at her rouged lips. She'd dressed up with a little black dress. With a final smooch to the mirror, Ginny exited the room in the apartment she shared with Hermione.

"Where are you off to?" Hermione asked. She was sitting on the couch with a novel.

Ginny shrugged and grinned saucily. "Nowhere," she said secretively.

Hermione frowned. Ginny had been completely jealous every since Maleah was born. There was no doubt in Hermione's mind that Ginny was up to something revolving around the fact that Katia was out of town. "Ginny," she warned.

"Relax," Ginny snapped. "I'm only going to see him for a drink. He's all alone with that daughter of him; I thought he might need some help."

"Ginny, her grandmother is dieing. Please do not try to cause problems in their marriage," Hermione begged.

"Harry and I are only friends," Ginny said, flipping her hair. "If she feels threatened, then that's not my problem."

Hermione shook her head. "Threatened is not the word. Katia would skin you alive in front of Harry if she thought you were thinking of hooking up with him."

"Whatever."

Ginny disapparated and arrived in front of Harry's home in Edinburgh. She sifted through her bag and took out a vial of Felix Felicis. She downed it in one gulp before taking a deep breath and ringing the doorbell.

Harry opened it a moment later looking frazzled. "Hey, Ginny," he said hurriedly. "This isn't a really good time."

"Oh, but I came to help," Ginny said quickly. "I thought you must be going out of your mind with a little toddler."

Harry smiled. "Thank you. Come on in."

Ginny entered. "Do you want me to get you a drink?"

"Make it a double and I'd be your slave," Harry swore.

Ginny grinned. She was in.

"Son of a bitch," Maleah muttered.

"Potter?" Michaelson asked, confused.

Maleah bit her lip to stop the tears pooling in her eyes. "My bisabuela died when I was about five. Um, you see, my mum was biracial. Her mum was Colombian and her father's family was from South Africa. She loved her family but most of them died when she was a teenager. All she had left was her abuela from her mother's side. She got sick when I was five and my mother went to Colombia to be with her. I was sick at the time so she couldn't take me and Daddy with her." Maleah closed her eyes and swallowed. "Ginny came over one night; about a week before Mum came back. And that's all she wrote."

Michaelson was shocked. "But, -er-."

"She got pregnant," Maleah said. "I don't know why Daddy chose Ginny over Mum, but I know that Daddy doesn't love Ginny."

"I'm sorry," Michaelson said sincerely.

"Don't be," Maleah shook her head. "Being sorry doesn't bring back my mother."

Michaelson nodded.

"How's Charles?" Maleah changed the subject.

Michaelson darkened. "He's prepping to take over the family company," he said bitterly.

"Why don't you like him?" Maleah asked.

Michaelson was brought back to his childhood. Everyone would always fawn over Charles, and he'd be the lesser important second son. His mother never cared. His father never cared. His maids could even care less. So he told her so.

"That's horrible," she murmured.

"You said you mum and I were friends," Michaelson said suddenly. "Explain that."

Maleah told his about her dream and everything that had occurred in it. Michaelson sat, rapt in her story. When she finally finished, Michaelson took a long sip of his butterbeer and she did the same.

"That sounds about right," Michaelson said.

Maleah said nothing. She couldn't believe how once a question was posed the conversation had yet to cease. Then she realized that that's the way it had always been. One of them would say something and they'd debate back and forth. The end of the discussion usually left them thoroughly disgusted with each other or snogging.

"My mum and my dad married only about six months before Charles was born. I guess your story is plausible."

"I know my story is plausible," she said coyly.

They sat in compatible silence for a moment. It wasn't as weird as she thought it'd be. For all the wrong he'd done, she should have run far away in the opposite direction. But something about Michaelson always brought her back. Just…something.

"My mates think I'm off my rocker," Michaelson admitted.

Maleah smiled shyly. "So do mine."

"Then we'll be insane together!"

Maleah lifted her butterbeer. "I'll drink to that."

Are Michaelson and Maleah going to get back together?
Hmm. I don't know. I'm just trying to get them off theground as friends. Ever since chapter...20? I think, my plan for this story just totally fell apart.

Maleah and Maria? What's with their friendship?
Eh. It'll get there if Maria plays her cards right.

I don't remember if there was anything else to be addressed. I'm only updating in between homework assignments. OH! Is Dumbledore Sane? is going to be re-edited. Again. Someone has kindly informed me that even the new version sucks behind. No biggie. It's not horrible, but I could do much better...if I felt like it. So, um, I've decided to give it away. If you're interested in rewriting Is Dumbledore Sane? let me know and you can have it. I'll email you the old version including the first few chapters that have been edited. Then you can change it and edit it any way you want. ALTHOUGH, I would really appreciate it if the pairings were left the same. I kinda like it the way I had it. So, leave me a review or private message, and gimme your thoughts.