It was a drowsy Friday morning as we prepared for double potions with Slytherin. I was hoping that Professor Snape would take pity on me and switch my partner, but he did nothing of the sort.

I suppose after the events from last year he'd gained a sort of respect for me — and therefore trusted me and Malfoy to work as a team. However, this did not go as swimmingly as he'd probably thought. It was ten minutes into our potionmaking and Malfoy and I were already arguing.

"Can't you read? It says add the roots in gradually!" Malfoy hissed at me. I scowled at him.

"Yes, while stirring! I'm waiting for you to start, idiot!" I snapped back. Malfoy grudgingly began to stir the cauldron while I added the roots until our potion became a blindingly vibrant orange color.

"Maybe if you knew a thing or two about communication—" he started, but I cut him off.

"Maybe if you knew a thing or two about listening to instructions—"

We were both promptly cut off by Professor Snape shushing us. We'd been the only ones talking, and our voices had started to rise. We worked in heated silence for another few minutes.

"How were your holidays?" He asked suddenly. I was so shocked I nearly fell off the seat.

"You're asking about my summer?" I clarified, brow raised. He glared.

"You know what? Never mind—"

"They were lovely, thank you," I said anyway. "I had a lot of fun. I've never really had friends to spend the summer with before."

I thought he'd make fun of me for admitting that, but instead he just nodded. "Sounds like a good time, then."

"Yours?" I asked, trying to figure out what he intended with this conversation.

"Very hot," he said with a grimace. "Kind of boring, but the view was nice from our villa. Lovely sunsets, and all."

"Draco Malfoy, an enjoyer of sunsets?" I teased. "I'd never have guessed."

"Don't act so surprised. Everyone likes sunsets," he rolled his eyes. We continued in silence for a moment before he spoke again.

"I didn't realize you were so close with Thomas." His tone was indifferent. "I have to say I should have seen it coming."

"Seen what coming? We've been friends." I blinked at him, perplexed. With a chuckle, I added, "if you had as much interest in your grades as you do my social life then perhaps you'd be more successful."

"What do you see in him, anyway?" Malfoy glanced over at Dean. I followed his gaze. Dean seemed rather annoyed with Lavender, who was standing at the supply table trying to get Harry's attention by dropping ingredients. Harry was preoccupied — his cauldron had started to spark.

"Why do you care?" I said finally, grinding the fangs into a powder. "I thought you'd be glad that I'm fraternizing with my 'own kind.' "

"I honestly don't care what you do, Holmes," Malfoy seemed to shut up after that. However, not five minutes later he spoke again. "Do you fancy him?"

"You ask a lot of questions for someone who doesn't care," I replied flatly. "And if I did, I surely wouldn't tell you, Malfoy."

I poured in the powder and finally looked him in the eye as I shook the last few grains out. "Now are you going to help me with this potion or not?"

"I was going to grind the berries but somebody has the mortar and pestle—"

"So go get another one!" I exclaimed, exasperated. I motioned to the supply table, which Lavender had finally left. "Good God, Malfoy. Use a brain cell, perhaps."

I rolled my eyes as I handed him the mortar and pestle. How could he go from pleasant to intolerable so quickly? I leaned forward on my elbow and refused to look at Malfoy, instead watching Dean and Lavender argue for the third time today. Their potion was completely the wrong color.

Periwinkle blue was not in any of the stages. However, Dean was very cute when he was angry, so I decided to look at him instead of their disaster of a potion.

Where had that thought even come from? Surely I wasn't attracted to Dean. People could be objectively pretty without the rose colored glasses of infatuation, couldn't they?

"I do hope you're not slacking off, Miss Holmes," Professor Snape's voice startled me. I looked up at him looking over me, then to Malfoy, who seemed very smug.

"Never in your class, sir," I said, shaking my head. "Malfoy's just grinding up the berries. I'm waiting for him to finish so that we can complete the potion."

Professor Snape looked to Malfoy, and then back to me. He nodded. "Carry on, then."

Malfoy looked nearly as shocked as he did when Neville ran over his father. He sputtered as Professor Snape walked by, then looked at me accusingly.

"So I'm guessing you snuck in last year to gossip and make friendship bracelets—"

"Classic," I said, unamused. "I was a little too busy saving the school from You-Know-Who."

I recalled my promise to Dumbledore, but broke it unabashedly.

"You got lucky that time," Malfoy said with a grimace. I raised my brow at him.

"What do you mean, that time?" I masked my curiosity with nonchalance. "Surely you can't mean there will be more times."

"You'll see," he said simply.

"He's gone until he finds another corporeal form to inhabit," I told him. "That's what Dumbledore said."

"Yes, well, Dumbledore doesn't know everything," Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Rather incompetent as a Headmaster, wouldn't you say?"

"Certainly not," I watched as he poured the berry paste into the potion. I waved my wand over it as the directions instructed. It turned a vivid green. "I don't think there's a better man for the job."

"He let the Dark Lord's servant take the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor, not to mention You-Know-Who was literally on the back of his head. And then he lets Hagrid, some filthy half-breed, keep a dragon on the grounds! If my father were Headmaster, he'd never let anything of the sort happen," Malfoy said, his cool grey eyes trained on mine.

"He'd be sure to kill off Hermione and I and make it look like an accident," I retorted. "All so his whiny, pathetic excuse for a son can be the top of his class."

"I should curse you for that," Malfoy snapped. "But you're unlucky, Holmes. My father doesn't have to be Headmaster to do that."

"Are you threatening me, Malfoy?" I asked, cool despite my concern. Malfoy's expression suddenly grew very serious.

"No, Holmes, I'm warning you."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Hermione asked when I filled her in after classes. We sat together in the common room. Harry and Ron sat with her as I stood and paced in front of them.

"I have no clue!" I shook my head. "Why would he warn me? And about what?"

"We should tell Dumbledore—" Hermione began, but Harry interrupted her.

"I bet Malfoy's just trying to get into your head," he said. "Especially after what happened over the summer."

I smirked to myself, remembering. "Yeah, I suppose I'd be livid too."

"It's always nice to see you two fighting," Ron said. "He looked like he was about to hex your head off. I doubt he still cares enough to warn you about something."

"You say that like he ever did," I laughed. "He was probably just using me last year to get his grades up so his father wouldn't think he was a disappointment." I chuckled to myself. "His mission failed."

This earned a laugh from Ron.

"We should just be cautious anyway," Hermione said. "Just in case."

"If anything goes wrong, we can just blame Lucius Malfoy," Ron said, shrugging. "Blimey, my dad would love to see him locked up."

On our way up to the dorms, I brushed by Ginny Weasley. She seemed like she was in a hurry, and her black journal was clutched to her chest. I stared after her — she hardly seemed to notice me. Strange.

"What could she be doing?" I asked Hermione, who didn't seem concerned.

"She probably left something down there," Hermione answered. "Why are you so curious about her lately?"

Even I wasn't quite sure about that. "I don't know. She just seems so quiet and nervous and I know she isn't."

Hermione glanced at me suspiciously. "Are you trying to get the attention off yourself? Because I could certainly say the same thing about you, Lila."

I blinked. "What are you talking about?"

"You've been quiet lately, and you seem to get nauseous all of the sudden," Hermione stated. I hadn't realized it was that obvious. I didn't talk to anyone about my dreams. I didn't want to sound crazy.

"I— I had no idea," I lied. "I think maybe it's just nerves."

"Nerves?" Hermione scoffed. "What could you possibly be nervous about?"

I didn't answer. I couldn't think of anything that would make sense, so instead I just turned and walked into my canopy bed. I heard Hermione scoff outside, but she didn't follow me.

"Just know you can talk to me, Lila," she said exasperatedly. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight," I said back.

I waited a few hours for Hermione and everyone else to fall asleep before creeping silently out of bed and down the stairs to the common room. My steps were small and slow so as not to alert anyone. It was well into morning hours, and though I was groggy I was too curious to sleep.

As I rounded the corner, I saw Ginny asleep on one of the armchairs, her black journal open facing down on her stomach. I knew the diary was important to her, maybe there was something in it about why she'd been acting so odd.

I creeped towards her and slowly picked up the journal. Flipping it around to face me, I was surprised to find that there was nothing inside. I turned each page, swearing I'd seen Ginny write in it with a quill and ink. I inspected the cover to see that it said "T.M. RIDDLE" in gold letters. I rubbed my eyes, then repeated my page turning.

Nothing.

I shook my head. The more I uncovered, the more confused I'd become. I set the diary back on her stomach in the same position it had been. Silently, I crept back up the steps to my dorm, where I laid awake for another hour or so before finally sleeping.

I woke up late the next morning. It was a Saturday. Hermione must have left without me, because her bed was empty. I was the only one left in the common room — I wondered how late it was. I checked the clock. A quarter to eleven?! Good God, I'd been asleep forever! I hopped out of bed and proceeded to get ready, brushing my hair thoroughly and slipping on my blouse, tie, and skirt. I practically jumped into my shoes as I left the common room.

I power walked into the Great Hall. The Gryffindor Quidditch team was there, appearing rather ruffled. Dean and Seamus were with them. I walked over to see what all of the discontent was about.

"What's going on?" I asked Dean. Oliver Wood, the captain, answered instead.

"That damned Flint stole our practice time!" Wood slapped his hand on the table. "Permission from Professor S. Snape my arse! I booked the field! I booked it!"

"They said they had to train their new seeker," Fred said grimly. "You'll never guess who."

"Lucius Malfoy's son bought his way onto the team," George shook his head. "He bought the whole team Nimbus 2001s."

I snorted. "Typical of him. But you shouldn't be so worried — he's certainly not better than Harry."

"Yes, but now the whole team has the advantage of faster brooms," Alicia Spinnet explained grimly.

"They're all a bunch of idiots," I shook my head. "The amount of fouls they'll accumulate will make up for whatever advantage they have with new brooms." I looked around to find Harry nowhere in sight. "Where is Harry, anyway?"

"He's at Hagrid's with Ron and Hermione," said Angelina Johnson. "There was a bit of a scuffle."

"See, Malfoy called Hermione a rather nasty name—" George began, but Dean interrupted.

"He called her a 'mudblood,' Lila," Dean clarified. He scoffed. "As if we're not used to it."

"He calls me that all the time," I rolled my eyes. "How does he expect to insult me if I don't even know what it means?"

"It's a nasty word for someone who has Muggle parents," Fred explained. "'Impure blood' or whatever. Of course, the purity of your blood has nothing to do with your magical ability."

"Exactly," said Wood. "Even if you don't care, we take that word very seriously in the wizarding world. As soon as Malfoy said it we were all about to punch him. Ron tried the slug hex on him, but his wand backfired and he started throwing up slugs."

"Hilarious, under other circumstances," George chuckled. "We would have loved for it to be Malfoy."

"They went to Hagrid's for help," said Fred. "Madam Pomfrey would have been livid."

"I see," I looked to Dean. "I'd best go check up on them."

I made my way down to Hagrid's, munching on a toasted blueberry bagel with cream cheese I'd grabbed before I left. I was lucky I didn't miss the remnants of breakfast. Lunch was only in two hours. I knocked on Hagrid's door to hear Fang barking. Hagrid didn't answer, however, so I walked around to the back.

Pumpkins the size of carriages sat growing in Hagrid's backyard. I was vaguely reminded of Cinderella. A little pink umbrella sat against the wall of the house. Harry was standing with Ron, who was looking rather queasy and holding a bucket. Hermione was examining one of the larger pumpkins.

"Lila!" Ron exclaimed before turning around, doubling over, and proceeding to heave into the bucket. Harry shot me an uncomfortable glance. Hermione waved to me before looking to Hagrid.

"What on earth are you feeding these things?" Hermione asked. Hagrid looked around to make sure nobody was there. I knew Hagrid wasn't technically allowed to do magic, as he'd been expelled during his time at Hogwarts, but I'd never known why.

"Well, I've been — er — givin' 'em a bit o' help, I suppose—"

"An Engorgement Charm, I'd assume?" Hermione nodded approvingly. "Well, you've done a great job with them."

"That's what yer sister said," he told Ron. I perked up, suddenly very intent on listening. "Met her jus' yesterday. She was just lookin' around the grounds, but I think she was hoping she'd run into someone at my house—" He looked sideways at Harry. "Yeh know, I reckon she wouldn't say no ter a signed photo—"

"Oh, shut up," Harry groaned. Ron laughed again and then proceeded to belch slugs. Hagrid turned him away from his pumpkins. "Watch it!"

"What's this about signed photos?" I asked Harry on our way back to the castle. I'd heard Lockhart talking about it but I sure as hell wasn't going to ask him.

Harry sighed. "Colin Creevey asked me for a signed photo and Malfoy caught on. Lockhart intervened before I got the chance to punch him, but he was under the impression that I was giving them out." Harry rolled his eyes.

I laughed. "I'm sure Ginny would love one."

"Oh, can it," Harry elbowed me. I laughed again. As we rounded the corner, we came face-to-face with Professor McGonagall, who bore the news of Harry and Ron's detentions.

Ron was due to polish trophies with Filch. Harry had to answer Lockhart's fan mail. In my opinion, Ron was getting the better deal.

Harry seemed to agree. "Can't I please go to the trophy room with Ron?"

McGonagall shook her head. "Certainly not. He asked for you specifically." She looked to both of them. "You'll be there at eight o' clock sharp, both of you."

As we walked away, Hermione looked to me while Ron and Harry tried to argue over whose punishment was worse.

"Honestly, I'd never wanted detention more," she said dreamily. I groaned.

"I'm going to pretend like I didn't just hear that."