And to think, this day started out normal. Breakfast with Harry and Hermione, double Potions, taking crap from Malfoy, watching Snape glare at Harry, and watching Harry stare out into space the same way he has since Sirius died. And watch Hermione when she's not looking. But we won't go into that.

Then Professor McGonagall flagged us down, and we led that strange bloke to his room. He was really very polite, even if he seemed a bit odd. And a little lost. Just a regular bloke with funny ears. And, if you looked closely in the dimmer corridors, he seemed to glow.

Hermione thinks he's not magickal. Well, we all know I respect 'Mione's intelligence, really I do. But if somebody who glows in the dark isn't magickal, then I don't think she'd know magick if it painted itself blue and danced naked on a harischord wearing Dobby's tea cozy. And a pair of her odd knit socks.

But then, Hermione wouldn't listen to me. It's not that she thinks I'm dumb, it's just that she thinks she's smarter than me, and anything I have to say, well, she would've thought of it first.

Hell, most of the time it's even true. Most of the time, I just assume that she's thought of it already, so I don't speak.

"I think he was magickal" Harry says, interrupting our debate. Since Harry doesn't say much anymore, we stop talking when he does. "He glowed, remember."

Hermione looks disgusted. "You're imaging things" she says as we settle our stuff underneath the tree by the lake.

I shake my head. "No, Hermione, I saw it, too."

She frowns. "I don't think it's possible for a human to glow in the dark" she mutters, automatically reaching for one of her books. "I mean, maybe some spell, or a charm..."

"I don't think he was a wizard" I say, ignoring her disbelieving look. I already know what she thinks. I can practically hear the thought running through her head. 'But Ron, if he's not a wizard, how could he do that?' "I don't think he's human."

Hermione starts tugging on her hair. It's cute, when she does that. "But he looked human..." she says softly. She can't stand problems she can't solve. She gets this little wrinkle, between her eyebrows, that's really, really cute.

"I don't suppose you've ever heard that appearances can be deceiving" His voice is smooth, almost melodious.

We all glance up, startled. Harry drops his quill, automatically reaching for his wand. Some people would call that paranoia. You're not really paranoid if somebody really is out to get you, though.

Hermione tips her head back and watches him, chewing her lower lip. "So you're not human"

He crouches down next to us. He's dressed differently today, I notice, in Muggle clothes someone either found or made for him. For some reason, a hooded sweatshirt and jeans looks distinctly out of place on him. It could be the long hair. Or the ears. Or the obvious discomfort. Honestly, I felt pretty much the same way when I first wore Muggle clothes.

"Then what are you" Hermione asks, leaning forward in that way she does when they're teaching something really interesting. Or that SHE thinks is really interesting. Harry and I mostly just copy her notes.

He tilts his head to the side and looks at her. He looks different, too, not just the clothes. It's like...like Harry gets sometimes, that distant, scary, hurt look in his eyes that Hermione and I whisper about - sometimes with Neville, or with Ginny - and say that we wish we could take away. And then we end up arguing about how to do it, naturally.

"What do you think" he asks her. And there's a challenge in his voice.

Hermione loves nothing more than she loves a challenge. Not even me and Harry.

I lean back against the tree, with Harry, to enjoy the show.

It's disgraceful, being forced to show a commoner around the castle like this. I, Draco Malfoy, have been reduced to tour guide. Ordinarily, I'd snipe and threaten to write a letter to my father, which has no effect now. As opposed to before, when it had little effect, especially on the Headmaster.

Of course, Dumbledore knew my father was a Death Eater. But at the time he was really very influental.

Not that it matters.

What matters is that I - ME- have been ordered - by my Head of House, no less - to escort this - this GIRL around the castle. To make things worse, she's a MUGGLE. To make them EVEN WORSE, Crabbe and Goyle will not stop drooling over her. I don't see why. She's kind of scary. I'm pretty sure she would make the Dark Lord look positively friendly.

Even if she is kind of pretty. Prettier than Pansy, anyway. The scar on her face doesn't ruin her looks. I thought a scar on a face would, but it doesn't. I'm going to stop thinking about this before I start sounding like a damn Hufflepuff. She's a Muggle, dammit.

Greg stares at her ass as she walks. Vince does, too, actually. I'm restraining myself.

She is an odd looking individual, however. She's wearing Muggle clothes, a sort of odd frilly shirt and hooded jumper and jeans. She has long black hair, a scar down the left side of her face, a metal bolt through her tongue, and slits up the sides of her jeans to her boottops, where she has knives. And she has this sort of level, disinterested stare, like she's seen it all, it was ugly, and there's really nothing you could do that would be worse.

She's rather intimidating, and I really don't know how to act around her. I have a feeling if I acted the way I do around Hero Potter, the Weasel, and the mudblood, she'd put those daggers to rather frightening use.

"Um, there's not really much up that way" I'm telling her, trying to avoid looking into her eyes. I read somewhere that serial killers and other frightening people tend to explode if you make direct eye contact. And for some reason I don't think I'd have time to pull out my wand, either. I gesture up one of the stairways from the Great Hall. "Just - uh - the Astronomy Tower and the Owlery."

"Owlery" she asks, actually sounding curious. She plays with something around her neck, something that sparkles and reminds me of mother's jewelry.

"Where we keep our owls" Greg says helpfully. Vince just kind of...drools. I do wish he'd stop staring at her ass. From the look on her face, I'd guess she's wishing the same thing.

She frowns, mulling over this. "Why do you keep owls? Like...pets"

"Messenger birds" I tell her. "They carry our mail."

Why would this interest anyone? She just nods and heads for the main doors. Greg and Vince follow obediently. Of course, so do I. But at least I'm not following her for the view.

We wander around the lake for awhile. I glimpse Potter and the Potterettes seated under the tree, conversing with a girly looking bloke with long hair. And the Muggle's whole face lights up like a bloody Christmas tree. I don't think she's noticed the ring of girls - mostly Gryffindors, a few Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs, even a few Slytherins - gathered 'round. Since not even Potter usually gets this much attention, I'm assuming it would be because of their new...friend.

"Is that a guy or a girl" Vince asks, sounding confused.

Our...guest lets out a holler, something that sounds like "Legolas" and springs towards the tree.

He meets her halfway, and it's like something out of some disgustingly, mushy, romantic, Muggle play. There's a great deal of...hugging. And some kissing.

Vince and Greg look disappointed. I'm just glad we can sneak away.

I never, ever thought I would be this happy to see anyone. Like, ever. I didn't know it was POSSIBLE to be this happy to see someone. He has some really worrying effects on me, sometimes.

It takes a few minutes to get me to let go of his neck, but that's okay, right?

Someone - several someones, actually - are crowding in behind him without actually getting any closer. Must be one of those magickal things the blond kid with the pointy chin mentioned. They're making little disappointed 'aww' noises. Ha! Tough luck, you slithering, overly-hormonal schoolgirls. My Elf. I grab his collar and kiss him.

Just...because I've missed him. It's not to prove a point. Well, maybe a little.

We just stand there for a moment, like a scene in a bad romance movie. I'm not sniffling when we pull apart though. Just like a don't sniffle at these kinds of scenes in those bad romance movies.

Riiight.

I finally notice the group of teenagers hovering behind him, looking uncomfortable. They're not like all those girls - and notice how I manage to give 'girls' inflection like it's a bad word - hovering around like he might actually notice them. They look more like they're waiting for permission to leave.

Legolas presses a kiss to my forehead and I smile at his groupies. "Hi."

The dark-haired one nods at me. The bushy-haired girl seems to be looking at my ears. The red-head seems is staring, all wide-eyed, at the scar on my face, like I'm self-concious about it nearly enough already.

"Kayli, this is Harry, Hermione, and Ron. They were my guides yesterday."

I frown. "How long have I been out."

He stokes my hair. "Nearly three days. I was worried."

I refuse to let that statement make me all warm and fuzzy. Harry and Ron seem to be staring intently at their shoes. Ron is blushing. Hermione makes a little 'aww' noise, then clears her throat and buries her nose in a book.

God, I like them already.

"Good book" I ask.

She looks up, surprised. I have the feeling these two don't ask her about her reading material much. Hell, they don't look like they ask about the reading material for their classes. Bet she's the brains of the outfit. Have I ever mentioned that women are naturals at that? Men just don't get it.

"It's 'Hogwarts, A History,'" she says, like I'm supposed to know what that is. "It tells the entire history of Hogwarts, from the founders until the late nineteen sixties."

Huh. Sounds kinda cool to me. Legolas watches with amusement as I start to ask questions. The two of us immediately fall into conversation, Legolas interjecting his own opinion at times. The boys settle into a discussion about Quidditch. Whatever that is.

You know, this really isn't that bad. Which is usually my first clue.

TBC...