A/n: Sorry for the long wait for this update. Inspiration for this is a bit low. I just hope there aren't a lot of mistakes, because I just wanted to get this chapter up already. Suggestions would be appreciated. Reviews also help motivate me, otherwise I'll probably just go one being distracted by writing drabbles.

Prompt: Magnifying Glass (#56)

" A human being in perfection ought always to preserve a calm and peaceful mind, and never to allow passion or a transitory desire to disturb his tranquility."

-Mary Shelley, Frankenstein

She was not simply an unhappy person, but a miserable one. That was the only conclusion that could be drawn, as she lay on her back and stared at the ceiling with her hands folded peacefully over her abdomen.

It didn't exactly take a genius to figure out that the life she was leading, could hardly be considered a life at all. She'd been, for as long as she cared to remember, abstaining from living it... from becoming too attached to anything in order to protect herself from getting hurt.

It had helped her carry on through the years. Kept her from being drowned by having to look after her increasingly infirm grandmother. From falling apart when her grandmother died. Helped her to adjust to living with Snape. And allowed her to be able to live with the fact that her father was a Death Eater and serving a life sentence in Azkaban.

That wall of apathy that she'd erected around herself, it protected her. Nothing had ever really touched her. And now, while still erected... it was no longer as solid and stable as it had once been and she wasn't entirely sure why.

Was it simply her exile to Grimmauld place? Was being surrounded by so many Gryffindors taxing to her mental shields? Was it really the disappointment of being overlooked by not only her authority figures, but by the only boy she'd ever truly esteemed? Or was it an amalgamation of all these elements that had weakened her wall?

Then of course, her mind brooded, there was always the alternative. The blood. Her genes. The Lestrange madness.

Perhaps she really was a ticking time bomb, waiting to go off. Perhaps sanity was something that took time to dissipate, and she was no running out of it.

Closing her eyes, Tracey allowed herself a frown for a moment, before forcing it to slip away. No, she told herself firmly. She would not entertain those kinds of thoughts, they simply weren't rational and if anything, they were the cause, not the symptom, for any insanity.

Opening her slate-colored eyes, she once more stared at the ceiling thoughtfully, ignoring the darkness of the room as she waited for the house to begin to stir.

Grimmauld Place was oppressively quiet. It was stifling and she hated it. Even Spinner's End was more lively than this sodding place. And at least there, she had a companion in the darkness. Snape provided her with scintillating company, conversation not overwrought with words, or stupidity. Tasks that didn't numb her mind, but engaged it.

The question, she thought, that really mattered, was what was she planning to do now?

She knew she had to learn to balance her general sense of apathy with sincere sentiment and allowing the latter to show through from time to time. Perhaps alter her system or place a door in the wall so that she could, whenever she chose or found someone worthy, to allow others close to her so that her life wasn't a empty, worthless hole.

But then... who could she trust? Who would she allow such power over her? And how would she even be capable of it?

Severus, for certain. He had been the only consistent person in her life... the only person who made her feel safe and protected; the only stability she had known, and even to him she showed a certain degree of aloofness.

Turning on her side, her thoughts flitted to Theo, but shoved his image aside. There was a lost cause, not point mulling over things she couldn't change.

Whom else could she trust? No one really came to mind.

School, she thought with a grimace. Her walls had to be impenetrable by then, as there was no way in hell she could allow Daphne or even Blaise to know that she was in anyway affected. Show them that she was her usual, bored self with little to no sentiment about anything, especially the relationship between Daphne and Theo.

Tracey was exhausted just thinking about it. And unfortunately, as much as she hated Grimmauld Place and wanted to be free of it, the holidays were coming to their end. Summer was over, and the following morning they would be making their way for King's Cross.

A busy day awaited her, she suspected. Or perhaps not. Unlike her classmates, she hadn't allowed any of her belongings to be scattered about Grimmauld. The only thing she needed to concern herself with were her clothes. And even that, she had a feeling, Mrs. Weasley would be taking care of.

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Tracey paused. To them she owed some overtures, she felt. They'd been unfailingly kind to her, never looking upon her with suspicion or dislike or pity. Mrs Weasley had even been nurturing towards her, and while Tracey had always been polite towards them, she felt that she owed them more.

The were good people, and she never really ran into their type before. She wanted to show them, that it was not lost upon her. And though she was exceedingly distant, that she did appreciate their kindness and goodness.

~X~

Mrs. Weasley had been out for hours, Tracey imagined this had to do with their letters arriving so late, leaving Tracey to do the entirety of the laundry. It was a task that she wasn't terribly bothered by. It had, after all, been a duty she'd contended with since she was a small child.

Though, she was sure that once Mrs. Weasley figured out that Tracey had taken on the mountain of clothes herself, that she'd be flustered. Although, she momentarily wondered who'd be more flustered. The Weasley's, Potter, and Granger, because she was handling some very intimate pieces, or Mrs. Weasley, because someone had bothered to do one of her menial tasks that she prided herself on.

By the time Mrs. Weasley had gotten back, Tracey was in the process of folding and separating all the freshly laundered clothes.

"Tracey? What are you doing dear?" Mrs. Weasley asked, her voice carrying her shock as she stepped into the small, cramped and dimly lit room that Tracey was occupying.

There was a rather large, deep, stone sink that ran the length of the wall, divided in three sections, each with a tap in the shape of a cobra with the jaws wide open from which water issued. Along the opposite side of the taps, the stone was set and an angle and with stone ridges over which clothing was supposed to be scrubbed.

Though Tracey was not unfamiliar with the wizarding form of doing laundry, she rather had to say that muggles had much more efficient ways of doing it. After all, scrubbing each cloth in a sink filled with cleansing potion, then having to rinse it in a tub of fresh water, before putting it in yet another tub of softener before rinsing it again, and then hanging it all to dry was extremely time consuming, even with the use of magic.

"The laundry," Tracey replied monotonously as she manually folded a set of boxers she imagined had to belong to Harry. She'd come to realize that while some of the Weasley's clothes may be old, only Harry's was oversized and in such worn state. She wasn't even sure how the boy wore such large underwear on his slender hips, but she wasn't really going to go and figure that one out. "I figured you might need the help. I'm almost done. Although, I could use some help with the sorting. I'm not sure if it matters, but I can't tell the difference between the twin's and Ron's clothes."

"You really didn't have to-"

Tracey merely shrugged, not allowing the redhead woman to finish as she felt around the hung clothes to find the next item that was ready to be folded. Despite the fact that she wasn't supposed to, she was using her wand to dry what was hung, and manually doing the folding. At the rate she was going, if she had any hope of finishing everything, she'd have to concentrate her magic on drying spells, rather than folding spells.

"It's no trouble, Mrs. Weasley. I've done laundry as long as I can remember, I've even washed my godfather's things in recent years. Besides, no one else was making their selves useful with the mountain of clothes, I didn't think it was fair you'd have to do it all yourself," Tracey said with a shrug, her tone remaining aloof as she focused all her attention on folding.

She was at least glad that the room had a folding table at optimum heigh so that she didn't have to stoop or bend too much to flood. It also had shelves over it, on which she could move the finished piles of clothing, or sort them into different piles.

Her back was surely relieved for this.

"It's the least I could do," Tracey went on, her brow furrowing as she lowered her voice and concentrated even harder on the robes she was now neatly and fastidiously folding. "You've been so kind to me, and I'm... grateful to you and Mr. Weasley both."

Her cheeks heated up, and she reprimanded herself for having failed to stay aloof. Gratitude was simply not a sentiment she was used to expressing. It certainly didn't help matters that she heard Mrs. Weasley sniffling suddenly.

Before Tracey realized what was occurring, she found arms wrapped tightly around her. Eyes widening, her skin flushed deeper red as she froze in the warm embrace of the Weasley matriarch, unsure what was happening or why.

Her throat began to tighten as she found, she couldn't recall the last time she'd been hugged.

~X~

After Tracey had finished, she'd retired to her given room. Apparently, some sort of celebration was taking place down in the kitchen for Ron (who'd apparently been made Prefects) but Tracey hadn't really stuck around for it. She simply felt too out of place, and she didn't really belong. It was pointless to stand around with a bunch of people who didn't accept her, and some of whom were quite suspicious of her.

Though, the few minutes she'd spent in the kitchen, mindlessly nibbling of Mrs. Weasley's appetizing spread, was perhaps worth it. It was watching Harry's apparent envy towards Ron's achievement, that both made her feel momentarily like she wasn't such an abnormal teen, while at the same time making her further embarrassed by her own... disappointment, for lack of a better term.

Happily, Tracey found that sleep was for once, easy to come by, in spite of the fact that tomorrow was the first. It seemed the amount of hours spent, working tirelessly to wash and fold everyones clothes, had at least exhausted her body enough to allow her mind to surrender for the most restful night's sleep than she's had in a while.

Though she woke unfortunately early the following morning, Tracey at least took it as an opportunity to make sure she had everything packed away, that a set of school robes were at the top, and she changed from her pajamas into her chosen outfit for the day.

Considering what she was about to encounter on the train, she'd have to dress for the occasion. Something that allowed her to be both confident, but well guarded. Not to mention, something that wasn't so unconventional, so as to be seen by muggles as strange, but also something that her fellow House-mates wouldn't sneer at.

For this, she'd chosen a set of summer robes that fell just below her knees, made out of a light, almost gossamer material in a shade of very light, silvery-blue. It had a modest neckline, but wasn't stuffily conservative. It had short sleeves and tied at the waist with a dark-blue sash, tied like a bow to her left where she was able to tuck her wand, and hide it from view with the material that hung loose from the bow. This she paired with flats.

For her hair, she left the locks of dark-auburn alone. It was so... plain to her that anyway she could think to put it up, was boring and therefore a waste. At least it was sleek and shiny without any work, so that it didn't look like a ratty mess when left alone.

As much as Tracey dreaded the idea of heading back to school though, she still felt uneasy by the amount of time they were taking to leave Grimmauld place.

Bloody Gryffindors, she thought, thinking they had absolutely no sense of punctuality. Crossing her arms over her chest, standing next to her own trunk, she guessed that it didn't help matters that she was to be traveling to King's Cross with the-Boy-Who-Lived. After all, it was his security detail that they were waiting on. Moody, apparently, didn't feel secure enough to leave without the full guard present.

"Are you glad to be... going back to Hogwarts?" Tracey didn't even bother to regard the person speaking to her. Apart from Granger, only one person ever tried to make conversation with her... discounting the twins who tried any means necessary to wiggle information out of her about what Snape was up to. As if she'd know.

"I'm absolutely thrilled," Tracey replied, her deadpan marred with a trace of sarcasm.

She felt more than saw Harry shift on his feet unsurely. "Well... you must be glad to see your friends."

At this, Tracey couldn't help sneering at turning slightly to regard Harry. "Friends?" she asked, her tone tinged with slight bitterness. "I don't have friends, Potter. I have acquaintances I pretend to tolerate."

"Got to keep a look out for knives aimed at your back, do you?" Ron stated to which she merely glared at them.

"And the ones cloaked and headed for my front," Tracey replied dryly, matching Ron's gaze until the redhead looked away, muttering to himself. "Please don't address me at school. Pretend you don't know I exist, after all, this summer never happened," Tracey told Harry, before turning on her heel and marching away.

It wasn't much longer before they were on their way, Harry leaving first with Mrs. Weasley and Sirius, in dog form.

It seemed like Mad-eye was to be taking all the luggage, and he was the second to depart. For her part, Tracey Headed out last, with Ginny, the twins and Lupin of all people. As soon as they'd made it to King's Cross, she didn't stick around long enough to witness the sentimental goodbyes. Slithering away very quickly, she located her trunk and moved it onto the train.

It didn't take her long to stumble upon the compartment with Blaise, and much to her displeasure, with Theo and Daphne. Her stomach seemed to churn at the sight of the happy couple, curled up together on one of the seats. Her heart seemed to clench painfully at the sight, and for a moment she found it a little hard to breathe.

Closing her eyes momentarily out of sight of the window to the compartment, Tracey took a deep and calming breath. Telling herself that she could do this, that she didn't care that they were, Tracey screwed her face into a bored expression, and opened the compartment door, dragging her trunk behind her.

"Tracey!" Daphne was the first to greet, a smile pulling on her full, blushed pink lips. Her teeth, which were white and perfectly straight, gleamed at her in what was meant to be charmingly, but to Tracey only appeared feral.

"Hello Daphne," Tracey replied in her sultry, bored voice as the tall blonde leapt to her feet, and reached for Tracey, pulling her into a hug.

Tracey's natural reaction to stiffen, couldn't be helped. Quickly, she pulled away and looked towards Blaise, ignoring the blonde still before her.

"Hello Blaise, would you mind helping me with my trunk?" she asked politely, completely ignoring the tall boy sitting opposite of Blaise. She could feel the heat of his gaze, but she didn't allow that to trouble her.

With Blaise's help, she quickly situated her trunk, before taking a seat with the dark-skinned boy.

"Tracey," Theodore regarded her, his grey eyes watching her with shadows gracing their tops. The expression on his long, pale face, one difficult to decipher as mousy-brown hair flopped into it. Tracey inclined her head in acknowledgment before turning to Blaise.

"How was your summer?" Tracey asked, completely unconcerned with the answer. She didn't expect one either, at least not one that was in anyway revealing.

"Full of social events," Blaise replied coolly with disinterest that was only matched by Tracey. Who now turned to Daphne, knowing the blonde must be bursting to rubs her conquest in Tracey's face. The blonde reclined back, her long legs outstretched before her and crossed at the knee, covered in her signature white, in robes that were far too formal for a train ride back to school. Her long blonde hair in its soft curls, was twisted back from her face in a simple, but still elegant, low, ponytail. Her long arms were wrapped around one of Theo's, who her shoulder just touched.

With the make-up on her face that was light, but still there, and the robes, Daphne looked far beyond her fifteen years. She looked like a sophisticated model in her early twenties and Tracey couldn't help taking in her repose as that of a cat that got the cream.

"I suppose congratulations are in order," Tracey stated, looking over the pair that were so mismatched as to appear absurd. For all his height, and despite not actually being ugly, Theodore in no way looked as if he belonged next to the blonde. And only his blank expression served as anything resembling confidence to be at the blonde's side.

Before Daphne could open the pretty set of her lips, Tracey went on. "But then... that seems wholly inappropriate. Congratulations are only given to couples recently engaged or wed. Such felicitations are simply unsuitable now."

"Oh, but we won't hold you to stand on ceremony, Tracey," Daphne said with a flippant wave of her hand, her blue eyes shining maliciously.

"Very well. If you insist, I'm truly happy for you Daph. And you, Theo," Tracey stated in her usual tones of boredom, which she'd managed to keep throughout, even though every part of her wanted to rip every strange of pale gold from Daphne's head. Turning her gaze to the grey haired boy, who's eyes had not stopped studying her and barely seemed to blink. "You're so lucky, Theodore. I mean just look at Daph. So stunning."

"Tracey! You're so sweet, isn't she darling?" Daph stated, before turning to Theo and brushing back his hair from his face with tenderness, that Tracey almost felt like vomiting... either that or kicking the blonde to get her to stop. Theo looked at Daph for a moment before turning his gaze back to Tracey.

"Sweet," he replied, his voice quiet, his tone carrying a tinge of something that momentarily caused Tracey's brows to furrow uncertainly.

Turning to Blaise, she watched the dark-skinned boy rolls his syrup-colored eyes. A sneer on his full lips as he turned away form the sight before them and stared out the window.

For a moment, Tracey envied the boy his seat by the window, wishing she could view anything other than the pair across from them. However, she was quick to quell such desires as she turned back to look at the pair whose eyes were still locked on her with different expressions.

She was under a magnifying glass, she realized. And she felt that, through the trip, that it would be the case.

Clasping her hands before her, trying not to grimace at her, Tracey settled in for the longest train ride in the history of trains. She simply hoped that she could maintain her still faulty wall for that long.

TBC...

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