Potions class was taught by a portly man with graying hair by the name of Horace Slughorn. He was a jolly sort of fellow that almost reminded me of Santa Claus, minus the beard and red clothes. He greeted each student as they walked into class, but stopped as he came to me.

"I don't believe I have had you before," he mused.

"No, sir. I am a transfer student from Ilvermony."

"Oh, yes! Welcome," he said enthusiastically, shaking my hand so hard I thought my arm would leave its socket. "Do your parents work for the American ministry?"

"Um…not really," I muttered. "My dad is a non-maj, which is what you call muggles, and my mom has a muggle job. I am the only one of my siblings to even have magic. My grandfather works for them though. He is sort of like your ministry's department of muggle relations, I suppose."

"Ah, very interesting," he remarked, but I could see he had already moved on to the next student. "Mr. Calloway, happy to have you in my class again!"

"Of course, I couldn't not take it from the head of my house, now could I?" Brom said back pleasantly.

"How was your summer, my boy?" Slughorn asked.

"Excellent sir. My father and I travelled all around the world. He took me to all the places his potion company has business with, wants me to take over the family business."

"Of course, of course. Your father is a wonderful businessman. I daresay, if he decided to teach potions at Hogwarts, I would be out of a job," Slughorn joked, his belly rumbling with laughter. "Very good, my boy. Very good. I would like you to stay after class, Brom. I want to talk to you about the party I am hosting in a fortnight. I am hoping you will be joining us."

"I would be delighted, Professor."

"Excellent, excellent. Ah, Ms. Sinister! So good to see you again!"

I tuned out of the conversation, annoyed. There was definitely a reason that Slughorn was not Santa Claus. I could practically sniff out his Slytherin ambition from a mile away. Of course, to him, I would never be of any value. I was only a half-blood after all with no important social connections, I thought sourly. Just like America, he was run by politics and social standing.

I wasn't allowed to ponder for very long, however, before I was joined by my roommates. "I am so sorry!" Isabelle gushed. "I hadn't even thought of it that way!"

"It's alright," I said gently. "I am over it now. I just get rather passionate about things like that, I guess. Friends?"

"Friends," she agreed happily. Then all four of us were back to talking away, laughing at an encounter Violet told us she had with a fourth year Hufflepuff in the hallway.

I quickly found that potions was not my best subject, especially when Slughorn taught it. You would think it would be easy. I mean, after all, all I had to do was read instructions out of a book, follow them, and then BAM! I had a potion. However, sadly, that was not the case.

An hour into the Amorentia we were making, mine had turned a muddy brown with the consistency of sludge. "My, that is most unfortunate," remarked Slughorn as he walked by. I wanted to yell, "Thanks for the help," but decided it would be better to bite my tongue.

I grumpily let out a sigh, watching as Brom, a few feet away, casually mixed the ingredients together, letting it simmer over a fire. The smoke was a delicate, baby pink, just as the instructions said it should be. I could smell a mix of vanilla, books, and fresh air from where I was standing.

"Excellent work, Mr. Calloway," Slughorn congratulated him, patting him on the back. "You are a natural, just like your father." Brom had a smug expression on his face.

"Alright everyone, it's time to clean up now. Ms. Dawson, would you please stay behind for a moment?"

My face turned a dark crimson. I was so embarrassed. Never had I had to stay behind before for something other than praise. Oh man, I thought, it's only been a day and I am already failing potions. I was mildly shocked because I had never had a problem in the class before at Ilvermony.

I quickly disposed of my nasty slime, eager to get this "talk" over with so I could go mope in my room before dinner. Actually, make that the library. I had yet to explore it and my fingers were itching to scan the blessed pages.

I trudged over to his desk at the front of the class, my head hanging in shame. "Ah, Ms. Dawson, just the person I wanted to see. Just give me another moment and I will be with you," Slughorn acknowledged cheerfully. He turned back to Brom, who was standing by his desk as well. His gray eyes practically glowed with mirth.

"You are more than welcome to bring a date, if you so please, Brom. Supper will begin at precisely eight 'o'clock. Oh, and do give your father my regards."

Brom nodded politely, turning on his heel, and sauntering out of the classroom without sparing me a second glance. I shook my head. His mood swings were giving me whiplash.

"You wanted to speak to me?" I said, turning my attention back to the potions professor.

"Yes, my dear. I noticed you were struggling a bit today. Now, I know it is only the first day back, but I wanted you to be aware, if you continue to struggle like this, we will need to get you a tutor. Are we clear?"

"Yes sir," I replied hastily. "Thank you sir. I will try much harder next time."

"Yes, see to it that you do," he said absently, waving me away so he could rummage around in his desk. I quickly ducked out of the room, happy to be done with the awkward situation.

"My, my," Brom purred, coming out from the corner he had been leaning on. "It seems that little Ms. Know-It-All, doesn't, in fact, know it all."

"Clever," I retorted dryly. "Do you have any other obvious statements to make today? It seems you are rather good at it."

"I would be careful, Ms. Dawson, about how you speak to me," he warned, but his voice was smooth as butter. It sounded more like he was suggesting a walk in the park than threatening me. "I actually came to offer you my services. It would seem that you are in apparent need of them."

"When pigs fly, maybe," I responded. "Until then, I think I can help myself. Thanks for being a concerned peer though. It's dually noted."

"I think," he began, taking a step towards me so that I had to crane my neck to look into his eyes, "that you will need my help sooner than you realize."

I narrowed my eyes at him, taking a step back and almost tripping on the stairs behind me. "Well in that case, I am sure I can find someone to tutor me without your assistance."

I whipped around and flounced up the stairs, but I swear I could hear him say, "We shall see about that, Ms. Dawson."

Over the course of the next two weeks, I decided that my favorite course was either Transfiguration, which I apparently had a knack for, or Astronomy. There was just something so satisfying in peering out at the stars, studying them, and learning their history, despite Cami complaining about the cold the entire time. To my utter enjoyment, even Brom seemed to have a certain distaste for the girl.

She, on the other hand, was completely and hopelessly enamored with him. I could almost guarantee a large part of it had to do with his favorite pastime, insulting me. I was so disgusted by her draping herself all over him though, that I couldn't even feel miffed by his scathing remarks. She would give this annoying, girlish giggle and I found myself trying not to vomit in my mouth.

On one such occasion, she even had the audacity to say, "Are you jealous, Wren?" as she clutched at his expensive, black coat.

"Hardly," I replied. "He is all yours, Cami." I glanced at Brom before I sauntered away, and I could almost swear I saw pleading in his eyes as she pulled him closer by his knitted, green scarf. With as much mirth as I could possibly manage, I repaid the favor he had given me on the first day. I waved my fingers slightly and winked gleefully. If looks could kill, I surely would have been dead.

I thought Emmett was going to pee his pants when I recalled the scene later that evening. We were seated by the fire in the Ravenclaw common room discussing our days. "Serves the git right after the way he has been treating you," he stated.

"Aw, it's alright Emmy bear," I cooed, patting him on the arm. He had become like another, annoying brother to me. He frowned at the nickname and Evelyn laughed. "I am a big girl and can take care of myself. I tie my own tie and everything. I honestly feel bad for you. You have to live with the both of them."

"Don't remind me," he muttered. "If I have to hear her say, 'Oh Brom, you are so funny,' I am liable to use the killing curse on her."

We all chuckled at that. "Try going to school with her for five years," I reminded him.

"Oh, the torture!" He moaned, shoving his face into a pillow. "I would rather take my chances with Moaning Myrtle."

"Just don't come crying to me when you receive a wedding invitation in the near future. He is your best friend after all," I taunted.

"Merlin, don't say that!" Evelyn admonished. "Then I would have to go with him and would you really torture me like that?"

"I don't know…you did steal my favorite pair of earrings the other morning." I pretended to think, rubbing my chin thoughtfully.

"I will buy you another ruddy pair of earrings. Just please take it back!" she pleaded.

"Alright, alright," I conceded. "Don't give me those puppy eyes; you know they only work on Emmett."

"You caught me," he said, kissing her on the cheek. "She is just too irresistible."

Suddenly, a pillow hit them both in the face. We all howled with laughter as Violet yelled, "Get a room!"

I could see Emmett's eyes glint with mischief. "If you say so, Vi." He pulled Evelyn up and ran towards the dorm rooms.

"Not MY room you jerk!" she shrieked, using the word I had taught her.

"At least have the decency to put a sheet down!" I yelled after them, pleased when they both turned red.

"You will pay for that," Emmett warned. I stuck out my tongue in reply. I yelped as he began to chase me. I hurtled through the common room door, ignoring Ollivander's calls after me. I glanced back to see Emmett in pursuit and pumped my legs even faster. "You can run, but you can't hide, Short Stuff!" he yelled.

I raced around the corner, hoping to lose him when I collided with what felt like a wall. "Oof!" I gasped, landing in an ungraceful heap. I looked up between the curtains of hair that had fallen over my face. A bemused Brom was standing over me, an eyebrow raised skeptically. His eyes trailed down my fallen form, pausing at where my skirt had ridden up my thighs. "Not again," I groaned, yanking at the skirt to give myself some manor of dignity. His heated gaze still seemed to caress any bare skin I was showing.

"Where are you, you little pint-sized annoyance," Emmett growled, finally rounding the corner and startling us. He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw us. "Oh, hello Brom. What are you doing here?"

"Looking for you," Brom stated casually, his gaze drifting to his best friend, "but it would seem you are busy seeking revenge on a 'pint-sized annoyance.'"

"I am not annoying," I snarled at Emmett. I took his outstretched hand, however, when he offered it. I pretended to ignore the other hand that had been held out for my assistance.

"But you are pint-sized," he stated. At my expression he shrugged. "What, it's the truth?"

"Yes, well, while this has been truly stimulating," Brom interrupted, "the reason I came looking for you is because it's curfew. Kreacher is already scouring the halls for students. If you lose us house points, I will personally pummel you."

Emmett gulped at the menacing figure before looking at me apologetically. "Sorry, pipsqueak, but the prefect has spoken."

"Prefect? Pipsqueak?" I nearly shouted. Brom was a prefect. Why was I even surprised?

"Yes, I believe that is what he said, Buttercup," Brom retorted causing my cheeks to heat. Every time he called me Buttercup, it was like a caress. I scolded myself for even thinking that way. Bad Wren. You are going to stop that train of thought right there. It is now in the station, permanently out of service.

"I wasn't talking to you," I replied immaturely. "Goodnight Emmy Bear, sweet dreams. I'll let Evelyn know what happened." I gave Emmett a quick hug and then turned to Brom, who was waiting expectantly. His arms were folded, the Oxford shirt barely containing the bulging muscles beneath. I saw his cerulean eyes darken to that smoldering gray as he glanced at my lips. "In your dreams."

As I was walking away, I heard Emmett boom, "Oh, that's cold!" It was followed by a whack as flesh connected with flesh, and then a, "That hurt! Merlin, Brom!"

It seemed that even in my sleep, I could not shake off the mysterious Slytherin that haunted my thoughts. I was loathe to admit that a part of me, deep in the recesses of my mind, actually enjoyed it. Looked forward to it even.

I was standing in the Forbidden Forest. At least, I think that's where I was. My heart was thudding furiously in my chest. I was looking for something. Something I had lost. No, not something, someone.

The trees seemed to creep in every time I looked away, making me feel claustrophobic and panicked. Where are you? I thought desperately. "Brom!" I shouted, but the wind swept away my words even as I formed them. I tried again. "Brom!"

It was faint, but I heard my name yelled in reply. I sprinted towards the direction of the noise. Tree branches and thorny shrubs clawed at my skin, leaving bloody trails in their wake. I didn't care.

My feet pounded on the soil as I approached a clearing shining with light. "Brom!" I screamed. I could see a form slumped over on the ground.

I dropped to my knees and rolled the figure over carefully. It was Brom, his hair plastered to his scalp, sticky with blood. Drops rolled down his pale skin, falling onto his white shirt. I cradled him in my arms. "Brom, I'm so sorry," I sobbed helplessly. "This is all my fault."

He shushed me gently, one finger resting on my lips. It was cold, much too cold. I kissed it softly. A tear dripped from my eye and onto his cheek, intermingling with the blood and turning it pink. A ragged sob tore from my throat, blurring my eyes with more tears. "I'm so sorry," I moaned, rocking back and forth. A lump had formed painfully, making my voice thick and wet.

"Hey, look at me," he ordered in a quiet voice. "Wren, look at me. It's alright. You didn't know. I shouldn't have…I shouldn't—" His voice trailed off and his body shuddered.

I watched as the glow in his beautiful eyes dimmed. His pale lids closed over them as his last breath escaped his cracked lips. "Brom?" I whispered painfully. "Brom? Brom, no! BROM!"

I jolted awake, feeling like I had just fallen from a great height. I rubbed at my tired eyes, annoyed when I pulled them away and they were wet. I was pathetic, crying over a boy who hated me.

I could already hear Stella, telling me it was normal, that I had a good heart. She was the most Hufflepuff Hufflepuff I could ever imagine. Sighing, I rolled over, settling comfortably in my cool sheets. I wasn't going to let him ruin my sleep.

I was in a classroom. One I had never seen before. I could tell it was rarely used because the desks were stacked on one side of the room and the one belonging to the professor had dust on it. Sunlight streaming through the window provided the only light.

I jumped when the door slammed shut. Then I panicked. That was my only way out. I pounded my fists on the door. "Hello? Anyone out there? I'm stuck!"

Silence. Sighing, I rested my forehead on the door. Think, Wren. Oh, duh! You're a witch, stupid. I pulled my wand out of my pocket. "Alohamora!" I shouted. Nothing happened. I tried again. Still nothing. I ran through a few other spells, even going so far as to try and explode the door. I would fix it later, I justified. Absolutely nothing. Zip, zero, zilch. No response. I almost screamed in frustration.

"It isn't going to open," came a dark voice. I really did scream that time. Twirling around, I saw Brom leaning on the previously empty teacher's desk as if he had been there the entire time. His robes were gone, leaving only his black slacks, Oxford shirt, and a green tie draped haphazardly on his neck. His sleeves were rolled up and the top three buttons of his shirt were undone, giving me a glimpse of pale skin underneath. His hair fell messily into his eyes as he peeked out beneath it.

"Let me out," I ordered, but my voice was raspy. I tried again. "Let me out…please?"

"Hm…let me think about it," he said standing up fully. He stalked towards me like a predator. His movements were graceful and lithe as a cat; I could see the powerful muscles rippling. "How about, no?" He was right in front of me now. His eyes were gray again, but glinted mischievously. The corner of his mouth was now pulled up into a smirk. Merlin, help me.

"What do you want?" I bit out forcefully. Someone please find us, I prayed. Another half of my brain whispered, is that what you really want? I didn't know. I couldn't think. It was so hot in the room, stifling almost.

"That's not a very polite way to speak to someone," he tsked. "Ask me nicely." His grin was wide now like the Cheshire cat's. His hands were tucked into his pockets nonchalantly, as if he did this everyday. He probably did. Locking poor, unsuspecting girls in classrooms to torment them and have his wicked way with them. Thinking of him kissing other girls snapped me out of my daze.

"How about, no?" I parroted sassily, folding my arms over my chest. I raised an eyebrow at him, daring him to challenge me now. I would not be another one of his conquests. Wren Dawson was not a flavor of the month.

"Such a mouth on you," he purred, his wand suddenly out. I gulped, wondering what he was planning on doing with it. If he harmed me, I could get him expelled. I nearly leapt out of my skin when it lightly brushed my lips. "Someone ought to teach you a lesson, Buttercup."

"And who might that be?" I scoffed trying to appear unaffected. "You?"

He took a step closer, then another. I stifled a squeak as my back hit the cold wall. His chest was almost pressed to mine. I could feel his body heat radiating to me now. "Yes, me," he said slyly. "There is no one better to do the job, don't you think, Princess?"

"Oh, I could think of a few people," I said, trying to distract him. I needed to get out of here. No, I had to get out of here, before I did something insanely stupid. I jiggled the doorknob, but it was in vain.

"It won't work, Princess," he replied with a dark chuckle. I nearly swooned. His voice was now pure seduction. "Now, let's get one thing clear. I am the only one to do the job. You are mine."

"I'm not yours, you jerk," I hissed. "You don't own me."

He placed his palms on either side of my head. His eyes regarded my lips for a moment before he licked his own, and then, ever so slowly, let his gaze drift lazily to mine. "Wrong again." His voice was rich chocolate, oozing honey, Amorentia itself. He leaned in. I could feel his warm breath heating my skin. It sent the most wonderful tingles racing down my spine and euphoria to my brain.

"I will never be yours," I whispered softly. My anger was quickly dying, my fire changing into something slower, smoldering. If anyone could see my eyes right now, I was sure they would match his.

"Wanna bet?" he taunted, his lips only an inch away from mine. I could feel the air move when he spoke. I was drowning in a sea of gray, the waves threatening to push me under. My knees shook. I was scared I wouldn't be able to hold myself for much longer. I closed my eyes, trying to block him from my senses.

I felt his hand move then. It started with a gentle caress to my cheek, so light that it tickled. Then the pressure increased as it ran down my side, burning my skin. It finally stopped, resting heatedly on my waist. The scent of vanilla and cologne was wrapped all around me, dulling everything else.

"Wren," he began in a rough, gravelly voice. All I could think about were the fingers wrapped around me.

"Hm?" I asked, my eyes still closed. I could hardly even form a coherent answer.

"Look at me." It was not a request. The demanding tone added fuel to the fire burning through me.

"No," I whispered, terrified because I knew what would happen if I did.

"Wren," he tried again, his voice a seductive pleading, "look at me." I opened my eyes and could only hold my breath, as his face got closer. My lips trembled; I was torn between what I wanted and common sense screaming at me. My knees gave out and the only things keeping me up were the door and his body. "Wren," he breathed in a silky tone. "Say my name."

"Please," I tried again, my voice coming out in a whimper. He had completely crumbled my walls and obliterated my defenses in a manner of minutes.

"Say my name." His voice was so sensual it should be illegal. His lips brushed my cheek, my jaw, leaving trails of licking flame in their wake. The hand on my waist tightened. A rumbling vibrated through his chest. He was growling.

"Brom."

"Someone's dreaming about Brom!" I could hear a high-pitched voice trill.

I sat up so fast that my head started spinning. I saw Violet, whose bed was closest to mine, smirking, a knowing twinkle in her eyes. "What? No," I spluttered, panic settling in my chest. "I was dreaming about my mom," I insisted.

"Sure, Dawson. You keep telling yourself that," Evelyn said, appearing from the bathroom looking like a goddess incarnate. Seriously, how is it fair that she looked so perfect all the time?

I scowled at both of them. "Honestly, is that all you two think about? I'm starting to believe you are more in love with him than Emmett and James." A pillow flying at my face was the only reply I got.

"You didn't tell me your birthday was tomorrow!" Violet accused me loudly.

I tried to shush her, ducking my head. "Hey, not so loud. I don't want to advertise it to the entire Great Hall."

"But it's your birthday!" she argued, spearing some eggs with her fork. "And that constitutes a celebration."

"What are we celebrating?" James asked coming to sit next to her. Despite the fact that he was a Gryffindor, he sat at the Ravenclaw table for at least one meal everyday. He gave her a peck on the cheek that made Evelyn and I playfully grimace at each other.

"Oh, stop! You have a boyfriend, Eves," Violet said annoyed. "And I just found out that my lovely friend has a birthday tomorrow."

"It's your birthday tomorrow?" James asked turning to me with a grin on his face.

"Don't get any ideas Mister," I warned him around a mouthful of bacon.

He simply gave me an angelic smile in return. While Emmett looked like a body builder, James could have been a skater boy. He had curly hair the color of honey, tan skin marred with thin, white scars acquired by the various, reckless stunts he had pulled, and green eyes with flecks of gold. If the sun had been a person, it would have looked like James.

"I'm not making any promises," he told me mischievously. "Besides, when Emmett finds out, you know he will want to do something of epic proportions."

"What am I going to find out?" Emmett asked, finally joining us. I groaned and let my head fall on the table with a loud thunk.

"Nothing," I mumbled.

Evelyn spoke over me saying, "It's her birthday tomorrow."

"Short stuff! How could you not tell me?" Emmett cried, holding a hand over his chest like I had wounded him.

"This, this is exactly why," I grumbled. "I need my Starbucks to fully prepare myself for this situation."

I grabbed my mug, topped with the regular whip cream and swirls of chocolate. I took a long sip, trying to ignore all the eyes on me. "What's that?" Emmett asked, pointing to my favorite concoction.

"The reason I am able to function everyday," was all I answered.

He held out a hand, silently asking to try it. With a sigh of longing and tinge of mourning, I handed the cup over. He took a swig and his eyes practically popped out of his head. "This…this is amazing!" he yelled.

"What? I want to try!" Evelyn interjected, grabbing for the drink. Emmett held it out of her reach, taunting her. Before either of them could react, Violet snatched it and took a sip.

"Merlin's beard! This is so good!" she cried in surprise. "Try some!"

She thrust the mug into James' hand. He proceeded to take a large gulp of his own, then grinned and smacked his lips.

"But…but," I stuttered. "That's mine."

"I still haven't had any," Evelyn pouted, her bottom lip jutting out. James took pity on her and passed the mug over. "Woah! Wren, how could you hide this from us?"

"I wasn't hide anything," I griped, taking the mug bag. It was empty. "I have had it every morning for the past two weeks. It's not my fault you guys didn't notice and now, I don't have any at all."

"Uh-oh, did someone come between Wren and her daily drink?" Stella asked, joining us after she had finished breakfast with the Hufflepuffs.

"Don't any of you have anything better to do than eavesdrop on all my conversations," I grouched, folding my arms.

"I will take that as a yes," Stella replied with a smirk. "Have fun dealing with Miss Cranky-Pants."

"I am not cranky," I insisted with a frown on my face.

"Acceptance is the first stage of moving on," James joked, patting my strawberry curls. I swiped at his hand before smoothing them back down, glaring at him all the while.

"I hate all of you," I mumbled, trying to ignore as they giggled in return.

"Impossible," Emmett determined. "We are simply too irresistible."

I groaned loudly when my potion, once again, took a turn for the worse. Instead of a bubbling, black liquid, it was thick as mud and looked like it too. "Um, I'm no potions expert, but I don't think it's supposed to look like that," Isabelle commented, peering into my cauldron.

"I know, but I have already done it two times! I don't know where I am messing up! I followed the directions exactly!"

"I don't know what to tell you," she said with a wince. "I'm sorry. Maybe you should get a tutor?"

Before I had the chance to reply, Slughorn walked by with his clipboard and examined my poor attempt. He shook his head, scribbling something on a piece of paper. "Please see me after class, Ms. Dawson."

I nodded sullenly. I was utterly humiliated. I had never done this badly in a class in my entire life. What was wrong with me? I silently began to clean up, scraping my potion from the cauldron and attempting to ignore the pitying looks Isabelle sent my way.

"It would seem that the discussion we had a few weeks ago had no affect, Ms. Dawson," Slughorn said with a disappointed tone. I felt the heat behind my eyes and willed myself not to cry.

"I'm sorry Professor, " I began thickly. "I have been trying my hardest, I promise. I don't know where I am going wrong."

"I understand," he replied with a sigh, "but I can't have you failing my class. So, I am going to assign you a tutor until you can brew them properly. I have asked Mr. Calloway to join us."

I stiffened but didn't say anything. I wouldn't risk arguing with him in front of a professor, especially Slughorn. I was already struggling enough. "Yes sir."

"Thank you for staying after class today, Brom," Slughorn began. "I am sure you are wondering why I have called you here. You are my best student and as such, I would like you to tutor Ms. Dawson. She is struggling greatly with the class and I believe she would benefit from your skills."

"Of course, Professor," Brom agreed smoothly. "I would be happy to help a fellow student."

"Thank you, my boy. I knew I could count on you. I suppose I shall leave you to it then. I expect to see results soon, Ms. Dawson."

Slughorn ambled out of the room, muttering something about firewhiskey and treacle tarts. I turned slowly towards Brom, not even daring to look him in the eyes. Much to my displeasure, I needed him desperately.

I was waiting for the insults to start flying, but instead, all he said was, "Where would you like to start?"

My head shot up in surprise. "Um…what?"

He sighed, but replied in a patient tone, "I asked where you wanted to start. Where do you seem to be struggling the most?"

"Oh, um…" I thought, biting my lip. "That's the problem. I'm not really sure. I do everything just as the book says, but somewhere along the way, it all just goes wrong."

He nodded, a thoughtful expression on his face. "Alright, well, how about we start tonight at the library? How does eight sound?"

Once again, a shocked expression flitted across my features. "Great," I stammered. "That sounds great."

"I will see you then," he responded curtly before nodding and gliding out of the room. I slumped against a desk, disbelief coursing through me. Did we just have an actual, civilized conversation with one another? What was the world coming to? I thought as I gathered my belongings and left the classroom. It seems Hogwarts did have some surprises still left for me after all.

I trudged into the library, slowed by the amount of books I was carrying. It took me a few minutes to find Brom, who had chosen a table near the back. I huffed as I let my bag drop heavily to the table. A resounding thud echoed through the library making me wince. "Sorry," I muttered sheepishly, pulling out a chair and sitting down. "Didn't mean to do that."

Brom eyed me skeptically, as if trying to solve some puzzle. When he noticed me watching, his face slipped into a cool, nonchalant mask. "I'm glad you were able to find your way without disaster."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I bristled. I hadn't even been there for five minutes and he already felt the need to insult me?

"I mean, you seem to have a knack for leaving chaos in your wake."

"Don't pretend you know me, Calloway."

"I think you are forgetting how we met. You tackled me, remember?" he retorted, leaning back in his chair with a smug smile. Touché.

"Fine, you win," I groused. "Now are you going to continue annoying me to death or are you going to teach me potions?"

"So demanding," he crooned. "Didn't anyone ever tell you it's not polite to speak to someone that way when they are trying to help? Try again, and ask me nicely."

I lurched backwards, a memory hitting me. I could see the dream from last night so clearly. "That's not a very polite way to speak to someone," he tsked. "Ask me nicely."

"Are you alright?" Brom asked, bringing me back to the present. "You look a bit flushed? Are you going to throw up? Because if you do, please aim away from me."

"The only thing making me nauseous is you, Calloway," I retorted half-heartedly. I was still trying to shake off the dream.

"The name is Brom, Princess," he replied, flashing me a wide grin.

"Don't call me nicknames. In fact, don't call me anything at all. Let's just get this stupid tutoring session over with so I can go back to my dorm."

"Anything you say…Princess," he teased, laughing when I gave him an obscene gesture. "Alright, let's start on page four."

We had been there for an hour and a half when I asked if we could call it a night. "Don't get me wrong, this has actual been really helpful, but I'm sure I have an early morning tomorrow," I stated.

"You're not half-bad at potions," Brom complimented me. "You might get a decent grade yet."

"Well, you're not so bad yourself," I said after a moment. "But if you tell anyone I said that, I will kill you, so consider yourself warned."

He chuckled, but then quickly changed the subject. "What is so important about tomorrow?" I mumbled my reply under my breath. "I'm sorry, I didn't catch that."

"It's my birthday," I managed in a quiet voice. "I don't like to make a big deal out of it, so please, try to contain your excitement."

"I'll try," he said dryly. Slytherins and their sarcasm. I shook my head and began packing up my stuff. "Why don't you like your birthday?"

"I just don't like being the center of attention," I explained. "I feel selfish, especially because people buy me things simply for being alive. Other people do amazing things everyday without any recognition at all. Why should I get it for simply being able to breathe?"

He seemed to ponder my statement for a moment. "Sometimes it's okay to be a little selfish. Besides, there are several people who would disagree with you. Being alive is something to celebrate, especially because a lot of people don't get that luxury for very long."

He got up and left without another word. I stared at his retreating form until it disappeared out the door. Curiouser and curiouser, I thought to myself.