Scarlett wanted to know exactly what Malfoy was dealing with Zacharias Smith and why. It was her curious, cat-like personality that led her to forming a plan, while fumbling through her trunk. Dinner was over, and though Scarlett had gotten through the stage of waddling back to the dungeon, she still felt quite like a... duck.

So she told Pansy what she wanted to figure out, and waited a little hesitantly for her reply. After all, Pansy was always head-over-heels for that idiot.

But Pansy was very curious, mostly just about Malfoy, so she agreed. "It's not like him," she kept on saying, "to make deals with Hufflepuffs like Zacharias Smith. I could understand him teasing someone like Hannah Abbot, since she's got no style, anyway."

Scarlett sniggered. It wasn't like anyone could develop style easily—they only had robes, robes... oh, and more robes!

Pansy gathered up Daphne Greengrass and Millicent Bulstrode (they were room-mates this year), and told them all about their brief encounter with Malfoy. "It's just not like him," Pansy pouted.

"So even though this was short," Scarlett took over, "it's certainly intriguing. I mean, really. I think that was," she looked at Pansy for confirmation, "the first time he'd ever defended anyone but himself, or his family, or Slytherin!"

Pansy nodded, as if she'd just realized it. "It's true!" she looked horrified. "It was the first time he didn't defend me!"

Scarlett rolled her eyes—was that really needed? Everyone knew that Pansy stuck to Malfoy like glue, and he only defended her for the sake of it.

"I have to admit," said Daphne, sounding rather suspicious, "it is kind of awkward. I say we start tomorrow."

"Start what tomorrow? You know we won't find much just because you're his girlfriend," Scarlett stared pointedly at Pansy. "I think we should go bother Smith—he'll probably be easier, when it comes to trying to get information out of him. Oh yeah!" she remembered, snapping her fingers. "You know any new rules?"

Pansy wrinkled up her nose, ignoring Scarlett's previous comment on being Malfoy's girlfriend. "Wait... wait... why don't we go over the ones we already know? Obviously, Gryffindors and Slytherins can't associate... too bad there's no rule on Slytherins and Ravenclaws. I don't mind Hufflepuffs... much."

Millicent—whom the girls all called Millie—smiled at that. "Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs can't mix, either. That's pretty much it," she frowned. "I can't think of any new ones, and I doubt there are new ones, either."

Scarlett sighed dejectedly. "Oh, all right—be negative, the way you are. I'm just"—she yawned—"so... tired."

"Then I think it's bedtime for us all," Daphne announced.

Pansy whined, "But I'm not tired! And how are we going to convince the Hufflepuff to tell us what he's dealing with Draco? It can't be good—or maybe it is—he's gone to stoop so low as to working with Hufflepuffs!" Then she suddenly said, "I hate Granger."

"Why the random outburst?" Scarlett questioned, already in bed, snug and warm.

Pansy shuddered violently. "I don't know... but somehow she got her dirty little Muggle hands on Krum last year! Can you believe that?"

Daphne admitted bitterly, "It is rather enviable, but I can't say I'm surprised. Remember how Krum was always in our library, and not in the one on the ship? That was because Granger was always there."

"Let's just go to bed," Millie yawned. "We have to start school tomorrow, and I swear I don't want to."

Scarlett felt compelled to agree, but she held herself back. One of Pansy's odd quirks, Scarlett had discovered over the years, was being disapproving when Scarlett agreed to something Pansy was against—right now, that would be going to bed.

"I'm not tired," she insisted, contradicting herself by allowing a huge yawn. "Well, maybe I am."

"Maybe you are," Scarlett said gently. "Why don't we all just go to sleep, now? We'll probably all get the same classes."

Leaving Pansy to snore gently on a bright note, Scarlett had an uncomfortable sleep. She kept on tossing and turning, occasionally plumping up her pillow, trying to sleep without it—all of which were unsuccessful. In fact, Scarlett broke out in cold sweat when it neared midnight, and fell asleep at precisely 12:04. Oddly enough, this was the date of her birthday—the twelfth of April.

During her sleep, Scarlett dreamt of Malfoy. There was a younger girl who reminded her greatly of Daphne, whom Scarlett supposed was Astoria Greengrass, Daphne's younger sister. Then there was Pansy, looking absolutely shocked, and Blaise Zabini. What was the most surprising was Scarlett saw herself, seething.

Malfoy was the first to speak, and when he did, he sounded rather stiff and uncertain. "Astoria"—Scarlett's theory was confirmed—"this is Scarlett Camden."

Astoria smiled and stretched out a dainty hand. "Hi, Scarlett—I'm Astoria."

"I know," Scarlett watched herself snarling. "Daphne's sister."

"Wh—why are you so harsh?" Astoria sounded uncertain of herself. "I'm sorry, but you sound so cold."

"It's because—" Scarlet began.

"Don't you get it, Astoria?" Malfoy sounded impatient. "This is Scarlett Camden."

And the rest of the dream turned blurred. When she woke up, Scarlett could remember nothing of it, except that of the clearer bits.

Scarlett's throat burned as she bent to inspect Malfoy's antidote. It smelled horrible. Meanwhile, while she tried to ignore her throbbing throat, she was seething at the fact that Snape had decided to put them together as partners. In fact, he'd partnered everyone in this Potions class, even the Gryffindors, much to their dislike.

"Are you sure you've put in the right things?" Scarlett demanded. "Your antidote smells horrible."

"You were the one who made the unidentifiable poison," Malfoy retorted. "It wasn't my fault—if you'd made it easier, or at least told me what I should have made—"

"But that wouldn't be right! Do you want Snape to deduct points from Slytherin? If we're lucky, one of the Gryffindors will stuff up and he'll take points from them, instead!" Scarlett hissed. "Only now you've messed up, our chance is gone!"

Malfoy changed track. "Look—I'm your best guy friend, right? So forgive me for this one mistake, and I promise I won't make any more!" From the begging, puppy-dog look he gave her, Scarlett had to give in. And anyway, what he'd said was true. He was her best friend... sort of. Which was why she could never be more than just friends, which was why she despised Pansy...

Why on earth was she feeling like this? Feelings were so confusing. Usually, Scarlett had none at all.

"Oh, all right," Scarlett gave in. "Just this once, though—if you stuff up again, I'll kill you!" That was a lie—of course. She could never kill Malfoy.

The dream she'd had the previous night replayed over and over in her mind—or at least, the clear parts. Scarlett found it hard to keep a secret, her own secret. There was only one thing to do: tell Daphne.

"Class is dismissed," Snape announced, after ten excruciatingly long minutes. "Potter, Weasley... stay behind."

While Potter seethed, Scarlett smiled at his discomfort, and remembered that Malfoy was up to something. "What are you and Smith planning?" she asked, catching up to him.

"Nothing of your concern," Malfoy smiled. "But do remember that this is my business and not yours."

"It was worth a shot," Scarlett shrugged, and dashed off to the common room, hoping to find Daphne. Daphne was someone she could confide in.

When Scarlett finished dinner and explaining her dream to Daphne, Daphne merely smiled and thought deeply. Then she finally said, "I think you have the ability to dream the future."

"What?" Scarlett was confused. "What do you mean?"

Daphne elaborated, "I mean, I think you can dream of what's going to happen in the future. Hasn't it ever happened to you before—dreaming of something, then having it happen some long time later?"

"Well," Scarlett began, "there was this one time where I dreamed I'd finally climbed the tree in my backyard, but I'd fallen down and broken my wrist. Then, a couple months later, it happened—but that doesn't mean anything, does it?"

Daphne shrugged. "Well, it certainly doesn't sound like a real dream. It sounds like a future-dream," Daphne expressed, "and I think it will happen."

"But what's so bad about Scarlett Camden?" Scarlett hissed, emphasizing on her name. "And why would I dream about your sister?"

"I don't know… but my theory, Scar, is that for you to be really pissed would take a lot of work. And since Malfoy was involved with the so-called introduction, I think you two got together," Daphne concluded.

"Pfft," Scarlett snorted. "Like that would happen."

"Who knows, Scarlett? Love works in mysterious ways," Daphne mumbled.

Yeah, Scarlett thought, but I don't feel.