Nicole Stevens: Dragons and Deceit

Chapter Seventeen: It's Never Too Late to Say Goodbye

As soon as Ron and I entered the Hospital Wing, I was told by Madam Pomfrey to 'get out and give him space.' I shrugged and left him, going out into the hall, where I saw Draco and Laura. She was speaking to him in a chastising voice, and Draco was arguing with her.

"I most certainly will not send her flowers for Christmas! It would be mad! She would take them and shove them right up my--"

"She wouldn't."

"I can assure you she would."

I raised my eyebrows, saying loudly, "Whoever this girl is, she'd be mad to do something so explicit with your roses."

Draco spun around to face me. He stared rather guiltily at the floor, muttering, "I never said they'd be roses."

"But they would be," Laura interjected energetically. "Wouldn't they?"

"Yeah," I replied. "Draco's not cheap. But if he really wanted to impress this girl of his, he'd send her rare roses."

"Like black ones?" he growled.

"Whatever floats your boat, love," I answered peevishly. "Laura, Draco and I have to go see the Headmaster for a private chat, so you should probably go back to your common room. I don't think you should be wandering around the castle...I don't think I should be wandering about the castle, either. But the Headmaster needs to hear what we have to say."

She nodded exuberantly, grinning widely. "I can't wait to tell the other girls that I actually got to talk with Draco Malfoy."

He smirked, crossing his arms over his chest. "I bet they'll be thrilled at that." Laura shrugged; she headed to her dorms, as Draco and I turned to go to Dumbledore's office. He glanced around cautiously, before whispering, "That warning you gave her is somewhat unnerving. Do you know something I don't? If you do, please feel free to share."

"I don't know anything for sure. But there are dangerous people inside this castle; not just outside. I don't even think Blaise is very dangerous compared to some of the others."

"Who are you thinking of?" he asked.

"No one in particular. Just forget it and think about what you're going to tell Dumbledore."

"Oh, I'll just tell him what I always tell him," he replied lightly. "'Yeah, I risked my life for a girl who's in love with someone else, but you know, playing second fiddle is better than not playing at all, right?'"

"You assume too much," I told him.

"What do you mean?"

"You said I'm in love with someone else...that's true, yeah, but I do love you."

"Ah, you love me but you're not in love with me. Great. That's even better. At least before I thought I had some small chance, but..." he laughed nervously, sensing that the conversation was veering towards an uncomfortable subject. "Never mind."

We stopped in front of the statue guarding the entrance to Dumbledore's office. Draco said the password, and the statue hopped aside to let us pass. I stepped up onto the staircase, continuing up to the door. It opened as I reached for the knob. Professor Snape's cold eyes met mine; I moved to let him pass, but he still stood in the doorway.

"Excuse me, Professor, may I get in?" I asked.

"What makes you think that you have the authority to be visiting the Headmaster in the first place?" he snapped angrily. I flinched, my gaze dropping to the floor. "Yes, just as I had suspected. Come to waste more of his time."

Draco appeared behind me, breathing heavily from running up the stairs after me. Snape saw him and scowled. Draco jerked his head at the door, saying cooly, "I believe you are obstructing our path."

"And I believe you are being insolent," Snape replied. "Were you not a Slytherin, I would deduct points for your attitude."

"Professor, my attitude has nothing to do with this. This situation is utterly simple. Move aside, and be on your way."

Snape's scowl deepened, but he acquiesced, and I was able to enter Dumbledore’s office. Draco followed suit. The Headmaster stood behind his desk, frowning deeply at a stack of papers on his desk. He raised his eyes as we came inside, waved us to sit, and took a deep breath.

“It is a sad day indeed,” he began, “when even our holidays are spoiled by evil. I realise that you two were the targets of the attack; I don’t hold that against you, as you should know. However, there have been casualties. And injuries by the dozens. No doubt you know of Ginny Weasley’s condition. She is not the worst of the cases, though. Mister Weasley will not be the only one to lose someone dear to him. How I hate to condemn her so, but it is no use saying otherwise. I have notified her parents. They are on their way here as we speak. Needless to say, they want to see their daughter before she is gone from them.

“Now,” Dumbledore sighed, “you may tell me how it happened. I want both of you to tell me. You each experienced it, and I need every detail I can get. This will be a difficult few weeks for all of us, but for you two most of all, I suspect. Draco, if you will?”

Draco stood, pacing back and forth behind my chair. “You see, I remember it, but it seemed like it took so long, and yet it didn’t take long at all, in a way. I walked out of Honeydukes. We bought a bag of candy, Nicole and I. Then there was a call. The Order’s call. We both heard it, but Nicole didn’t know what it meant. I explained what I could, and then there was a bang, and a blast of heat,” his voice rose with passion, before sinking back into the lulling tones of a bedtime favourite being retold. “I don’t remember much about what happened in those moments, or tenths of seconds, but I know that I threw myself in front of Nicole and took her to the ground. She was passed out for a few minutes, but in that time Ari managed to get to us. She looked over Nicole and helped her. I went to the pub to check on things there. I brought out people, Ginny Weasley amongst them. Then Nicole showed up and helped. That’s all I really know.”

"Well, I don't suppose I can tell you much else than has already been said. I remember the call, and then the explosion. I woke up and the woman was above me. Draco left..." I broke off, struggling to recall everything. "When I felt well enough I went to help. I helped a girl, Laura, out of the building. And then I found Ron beside Hermione. She was unconcious. He wouldn't let me get her out. He said that Draco had done it, or someone who looked like Draco. I knew it hadn't been him. It was Somnus. That's what I remember."

Professor Dumbledore adjusted his glasses. "Where is the Headgirl?"

"Last I saw of her," Draco said, "she was lying on the ground with McGonagall trying to rouse her."

"Then I need to put a substitute Headgirl in place, until Miss Granger is well. The rest of the day will go ahead as planned." That was it. Draco and I left; he headed down to the Slytherin dorms, and I continued to the great hall. The few students who sat in the hall glanced at me as I sat. Some of the Gryffindors stood up, making their way towards me. I braced myself for the volley of insults they would throw at me.

"Were you in Hogsmeade when it happened?" Parvati asked as she sat across from me. I nodded. "They say Ginny Weasley is going to die. Is it true? How is Ron taking it? Did you see her? Does she look bad?"

"Probably. Not well. Yeah. Yes," I rambled off the answers.

"I never thought that a detention could've saved my life. But now I just feel lucky that I had a detention and couldn't go to Hogsmeade. Otherwise, I might not be sitting here right now."

"If it hadn't happened, you definitely wouldn't be here. Remember, you're not speaking to me? Not that I mind all that much, but still, it's the thought that counts, right?" I replied sarcastically.

She looked taken aback. "Well, you know, you could be polite about it, couldn't you?"

"Most certainly not."

She and her gang moved on to torment someone else. I turned around in my seat when I heard Draco cough. He looked very unhappy as he gazed at me. "Nicole," he began awkwardly, "Dumbledore needs to see you. He has some news."

I stood, and Draco led me out. "What kind of news?" I questioned.

He shook his head slightly, muttering, "You'll find out soon."

"It doesn't sound a very happy sort of news, does it?" I said wryly. "C'mon, Draco, you sound as if someone had died--oh, no. It's not Ginny, is it? She's all right?"

"She's hanging in. But," he said ominously, as we reached the entrance to Dumbledore's office, "I'm sorry."

I stepped onto the stairs, saying, "Sorry for what?" He didn't say anything in return. When I went into the office, I was greeted by the sight of two people in white uniforms. “Who’re you?”

They turned to me with sombre expressions on their faces. “Saint Mungo’s has been attacked. Your parents didn’t make it.”

“My…my what? What? No…” My vision blurred. I was only vaguely aware of collapsing onto the ground, and as I slipped into unconciousness I only heard one thing.

“We’re sorry for your loss.”

----

I opened my eyes, blinking against the bright light. I was someplace utterly foreign to me. When I tried to turn my head to the side, I found that I was unable to move. I could move my fingers and my eyes, but not much else. My mouth felt like it was stuffed with thick cotton candy that I couldn’t speak through. I felt my mouth open, but nothing came out when I tried to speak.

The room contained lavish furnishings, much unlike anything I had ever seen. The bed was covered with a bedspread made of some material that I had yet to even conceive. It was soft and filled with down, somehow managing not to suffocate me. Above me was a velveteen canopy of a deep red, and drapes fell from the bedposts into pools on the floor. Across the room was a window, through which almost-midday light flowed.

From far away, I heard an old man’s voice saying, “Ah, yes. Miss Stevens is one of the nicest we’ve had in a while. She didn’t kick or scream when we bound her. Just lie there, peacefully sleeping. But that could have been from shock, I think.”

I heard Draco’s voice, coming closer. “Shock doesn’t begin to describe what she’s been through. Try kidnapped, wounded, beat up, and about everything else you might could imagine. It’s been really rough on her. When I met her a few years ago, she was pretty and seemed daft. But now…it’s changed her. She’s stronger than she was. She’s definitely stronger.”

The door opened softly. A man in heavy robes entered with Draco trailing after him. Draco saw me staring somewhat oddly at him, and he swallowed hard. “Sir,” he said, “she’s awake.”

“Ah, indeed she is. Let me just take off the immobilizing spells. When we bound her, we thought she might panic when she woke.” He waved a wand at me and I was relieved of the feeling that I had swallowed a large amount of cotton, which was replaced by an enormous headache. “Shall I just leave you two alone, then?”

Draco shrugged, but the doctor had already hurried out of the room.

“They let me check you out of school to bring you here.”

“Where is here?” I asked, massaging my throbbing head.

“It’s a medi-wizard centre. Madam Pomfrey was panicked that you wouldn’t wake when she tried her spells. So I asked Dumbledore for a form of release for you. He let me take you here. It’s really amazing here. I almost wish my mother had sent me to Beauxbatons just because the scenery’s so great.”

“Beauxbatons?” I questioned. “That’s in France.”

“I know. We’re in France right now. I don’t know where, exactly, but I don’t suppose it matters much right now. How are you?” He helped me sit up.

“Except for a bad bump on the head, I feel fine. I just can’t remember what happened…”

“Oh no,” Draco said. “I had thought you would remember. I hate this. Nicole, you’re parents were killed in an attack.”

I fell back onto the pillows, closing my eyes as if to block out the memories. “I’m all alone now. I have no one…even when they were mad, they still existed. But now they’re not even-what about burial services?”

“They’re being taken care of. It’ll be simple. No coffins. The building was virtually incinerated. The only person who made it out was this nutter, Lockhart. He was running amok outside the building, and somehow managed to wedge himself behind a boulder right before it happened.”

“So when is it?”

“What? Oh, right. It’s your call. The service can be as soon as you like, though I would prefer that you waited until it won’t be dangerous for you to go outside. Besides being ill, you would be an even more potential target if you walked out and about. But the good news is, you’re legally an adult and can handle all of this however you please. It’s good that it happened after your birthday; otherwise the Ministry would make you one of their wards. And that would have been one giant mess, I can assure you.”

“Is it just me, or am I somewhat less than overjoyed at this news?”

"Well," he replied, "it's better than some news I could have chosen to give you. But now that I think about it, I'd best give you the less fortunate news."

"Ooh, goody," I sighed wearily.

"The Minister of Magic wants to meet with you. And your Guardian, Umbridge, she's been rather upset at the way everything has been handled, as is my father. So she is staying until the end of the year, no negotiations. Even Dumbledore can't tell her to get out. And here’s the even worse news…my father has demanded to attend the burial services for your parents. He’s entertaining the notion that any chance to spy on you is a good one, even if he has to do it himself. It seems he’s becoming slightly manic about it, if you want to know the truth. After so many failed attempts at getting the Opticilym from you, he wants to make sure there are no more problems.”

“Isn’t there any way to stop him from coming?” I asked. “I will not have my goodbyes said with him anywhere near. I’d rather do it on a mountaintop in Alaska than with Lucius there. In fact, is there any way to reserve and Alaskan mountaintop for something like this? I hadn’t thought about it but I suppose it might work…”

“You’re rambling,” said Draco with a smile. It was one of the few real smiles I had seen from him in the past month. “But I can try to ban him. I just don’t know for sure how well it would work.”

“When was the attack?”

“Christmas day,” he said.

“What day is it now?”

“The twenty-eight of December, actually; you’ve been passed out for about three days, maybe a little less. The good doctor,” Draco jerked his thumb at the door, “Jacques Bamforna, wasn’t quite sure how long you’d be out of it. But he certainly seemed glad that you were calm when I brought you in. Apparently most of the people who come here are insane, though they leave as well as they ever were, maybe better.”

“I should’ve brought my parents here,” I muttered. “Maybe then they’d be-but never mind. How much has it cost the school to keep me here?”

“The school didn’t pay for it,” he said quickly. “I did, but really it’s all right.”

“How much did it cost?”

“Not much at all,” he answered.

“You’re lying. How much did it cost, Draco?”

“Only about forty-thousand galleons.”

“You’re serious?” I questioned incredulously.

“Of course.”

“Gods and goddesses, Draco! How can you afford it?”

“I am heir to the Malfoy fortune, Nicole. Really, it wasn’t even a small chunk of the money. Get over it, already. Don’t give yourself an aneurism because of it.”

“Whatever.” I sank back onto the pillows, letting the warm light from the window flow over my face. Draco watched me apprehensively, as if I might suddenly have a seizure. I opened my eyes lazily, muttering, “You know, you really could have left me at school. You didn’t need to bring me here. I would have woken up eventually.”

“You don’t know that,” he shot back with more than a little irritation. “Even Dumbledore wasn’t sure if you would pull through. You don’t understand what it was like. What happened to you wasn’t…natural. It was something completely different from anything I’ve ever seen. You hardly breathed; didn’t move. What was I supposed to do, just leave you there in a coma?”

“I wasn’t in a coma.”

“You were,” he replied sharply. “I don’t know how it happened but it did. Something happened to you. It was like…” he struggled for words. “Dumbledore said something about your magic having told you to slow down and relax, but you couldn’t, so it made you stop. It pressed down on your mind until you couldn’t do anything about it, and you were out like a light.”

“That’s the weirdest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Really? I can think of quite a few weirder things. Like how Potter tried to use hair gel one summer, and ended up with his spikes growing up several inches because he had grabbed the wrong gel. Or when Somnus tried to buy an Armani suit and ended up with an Armenian warlock instead because he tried to use Ebay.”

I turned a weary gaze on him. “You like the sound of your voice far too much.”

“I realise that, and I’ve confronted the problem and dealt with it accordingly.”

“How so?”

“I’ve started speaking more often to please myself.”

“Oh, wonderful.”

He glanced at me out of the corner of his eyes, a grin appearing on his face. Running a hand over my hair, he kissed my forehead gently.

"You need sleep."

"I know."

"I'll be back in a while. Sleep well."

----

The sun was warm on my face; it flowed down from the crystal blue sky. Somewhere not very far away I could hear waves crashing on the shore, and the happy voices of children calling out to their parents. It was a perfect day to be playing at the beach with your family.

But there was something odd about all of this.

I looked around me, and all I saw were shrubs enclosing me in a square courtyard. In the centre was a fountain decorated with angels. Opal-coloured liquid poured out of the uppermost angel's mouth, falling into the basin below with a small splash. Around the basin were carvings of Hell's demons. They were burned into the ivory basin, as if caught there in the middle of a demonic dance. The angels all had their eyes cast upwards at the sky, their mouths open as though they had been captured and had called out for help.

A voice from behind me caused me to spin around.

"Good morning."

The man who had spoken was Irish, and he spoke as if he were an old friend of mine who had just happened to spot me. He was at least sixty years old. His grey hair was messy, and his clothes were worn. His eyes sparkled blue in the afternoon light, as if he hid a secret.

"Fine weather we're having, don't you think?"

"Why...yes, it's lovely out. May I ask your name?"

"You may ask anything you like, m'dear, as you well know. The question you should be asking is will I answer you in truth. However..." he grinned slightly, "you are but a child. And few have learnt so much of Truth's nature as you have. Within a lifetime most people only see Truth's mask, and yet you have managed to delve more deeply into Her ways. For that I will answer you one question, and I promise you that I will not lie."

I frowned. Who was this man? How had he known me? What question was I to ask him, when I had only met him moments before, and without even a proper introduction?

"All right," I said, coming to a decision. "Will you tell me nothing but the truth?"

A smile crept onto his face, and he raised an eyebrow. "Now, milady, you are thinking properly. Indeed I will answer you truthfully, no matter what you ask me. But if I do not answer then you must not ask again, so be careful, very careful with what you say."

"Tell me your name, and how you know me."

"My name is Gwyndyr Liht. I know you, as I know all of humanity. But you are quite a bit different from most mortals, I must say. Not quite so..." he paused for a moment, looking at me hard, "bland. There is more to you than meets the eye. For those who thought you were naught but a pretty face, you felt that you had to prove yourself to them. And so you have. The Ancient Ones are proud."

"Ancient--Who are the Ancient Ones?"

"Ah. How easy it is to forget that you are a mortal child, milady. The Ancient Ones are the ones who started this all in motion. They made the Magic grow, and they made the Light spread. But for Light to have a purpose there must be a competing Dark. So the Ancient Ones created the Dark, too, and when they realised what they had done, they wondered if it was better without either Dark or Light, or if the Light would overcome the Dark and keep the Magic growing--for Magic is naught but a seed, m'dear, and for a seed to grow you must have Light."

"The Light...there was a sword of Light, I think. I never was clear on the facts about it, but I thought--"

"The Sword was a weapon given to the Light by the Ancient Ones to help beat back the dark. It has been returned to the Ancient Ones, so you needn't worry about it. Now, let me deliver what little advice I may. The Dark and the Light will meet in the last battle of the century. On the side of the Light, there is a man who has been brought back from the Dark; there is a man whose path he changed; there is a woman with naught but an aching heart, and there is a girl who will be returned to her mother. For the Dark, there is a weak brother; a follower of great intent; there is a woman brought to the fight by love, and there is a man changed by his family. In the end, of course, none of these shall remain. Instead, the Dark Lord, and the Last of the Light will war and only one will be left. However, if the prophesy is not fulfilled there are two possible outcomes. The Dark and Light shall each be one fewer, or the Dark and Light shall be neither wounded nor aided."

"What does that mean?" I asked.

"It means nothing but what you believe it means."

-----

Over the next few days, I was able to piece together what exactly had happened to me on Christmas. It had been, without a doubt, one of the most trying days of my life. And, as it turned out, it could very well be one of the last days of my life. Nothing was certain anymore. The fate of the wizarding world hung in the balance; neither Voldemort nor Dumbledore would make a move. They were waiting, patiently or impatiently, for something to happen. What it was, I had no extreme desire to discover.

The doctors at Fleur de Sante were all very kind to me. Usually I was treated by Bamforna, though sometimes there were others. Today, a woman walked in, smiling good-naturedly.

"Bonjour, Mademoiselle Stevens."

"Erm...hello."

She grinned, saying, "You sound like you are speaking charabia."

"Speaking what?"

Draco walked jauntily in the door, glancing at me with a knowing smile. "She means you sound like you're speaking gobbledygook. Apparently she doesn't like your American accent very much."

"Oui, oui," she said, waving a goodbye to us as she headed on to check on the other patients.

"I'm glad to know I'm liked. So tell me, Draco, when do I get out of here. I'm sick of being told to lie down and get some rest. I'm fine now. I've taken my little Sick Leave from magic. Will you hand me the keys to my life, please, and let me take her out for a spin?"

"You can leave whenever you please. But really, don't you think it's kind of nice here. I mean, it's France. We're in Fleur de Sante, the most exclusive medi-wizard camp in Europe and England. Don't you think you should savor it?"

"While I know you don't care, I don't particularly like sleeping for seventeen hours a day. It just doesn't suit me well. I want to do something. I want to help people, I want to go clubbing in Hogsmeade, and I want to learn how to make a five layer cake for Blaise's birthday so I can shove her face in it. It's a little difficult to do that from a bed," I said.

He shrugged. "All right. Get up then. I'll get your stuff. Do you want to visit anywhere else here before we go?"

"No. France can wait. There are other, more important things to do," I replied as I pushed the covers off and began to get out of the bed.

"You realise that as soon as you--"

He broke off, diving to catch me as my legs gave out under me. We landed on our knees on the cold stone floor. I couldn't feel my feet. Actually, I couldn't feel anything from the knee down.

"You know, that was what I was going to tell you. You haven't gotten back all of your strength. You're going to have to have a few last spells cast on you before your power comes back. But I figure Bamforna will finish that up as soon as I tell him you want to leave."

"Why thank you for telling me now, after I've cracked both of my knees," I replied grouchily.

"Of course."

---

It felt good to be at Hogwarts again. While the school still felt somewhat empty without Harry there, I was learning to cope. The nurse had me stay in the hospital wing for a few days before she was satisfied with my health. When she finally released me, school had begun again.

Ginny was dead. She had been under a table when part of the ceiling had collapsed. A rib had been broken, and it had punctured her lung. The smoke had damaged her brain permanently; she would have been in a coma for the rest of her life, had she lived. Ron had chosen to go home and spend time with his family. It was said, though no one ever knew who had said it first, that he had tried to commit suicide by drowning himself in the shower at the Burrow.

So Hermione was left without any close friends to comfort her. I tried to help as best I could, but she gave me the cold shoulder, sad and angry that I had lived and Ginny had not. I couldn’t have helped that; I told her exactly that, but she still chose to ignore me.

Umbridge was very unhappy with me, as were most of the Gryffindors. They blamed me for what had happened. None of them thought Draco should have been allowed to take me out of Hogwarts to Fleur de Sante. In fact, nowadays they blamed me for most things. But, considering that I was still trying to sort out a funeral service for my parents, I didn’t care very much about the rest of them.

The only person who really talked to me, besides Draco, was Laura. She felt pitied me, more than anything else. While I didn’t enjoy being pitied, I figured that at least she didn’t hate me.

I sat at the Gryffindor table at breakfast, with Laura beside me. Umbridge was further down the table...she had chosen to tail me at a distance. Laura was speaking, as was usual for her, at about a thousand words a minute. Her dark hair was swept back from her face into a messy bun, and her eyes sparkled as she talked about Draco. Someone had a crush, I mused.

"Really, he's nice enough, once you get past the sarcasm. It's just a facade he puts up. But I guess the term preaching to the choir comes to mind...you know all this already, don't you? After all, you've been with him for the past couple of years. You know him pretty well by now. Or, at least, you should know him better than most people."

"I've what? I haven't been with him for the past couple of years. I haven't even been here for him over the last year. I've been completely selfish, actually. But that's all in the past, now. Whatever grudges he might have held against me, he's given them up. And the same goes for me. It's the rest of the school that seem to have a problem with our friendship. Oh well," I sighed, taking a bite of toast and pondering a moment more. "I suppose I'd better head to class now. You too. I'm just lucky I have McGonagall first. She may not like it if you're late, but she's not going to send you to Snape for a tardy." I stood, slinging my bag over my shoulder and grabbing my books from the seat beside mine.

Laura stood with me, picking up her books and bag as well. We parted with a hurried hug, and I made my way down to Transfiguration with Professor McGonagall. It wasn't, to the wishes of the Gryffindors, an all-Gryffindor class anymore. Now we shared this period with the Slytherins, which meant one of two things. One, that I had a friend for the short span of time I was in that class. And also that I was more likely to be hit with an unpleasant curse. Pansy still wasn't happy about Draco's apparent treachery. I was not in her good books; then again I never had been.

I walked into class, where most of the students were already seated. Draco was seated in the middle, his books on the right corner of the desk, the left seat conspicuously empty. It was an offer of friendship, I knew, so I sat beside him, placing my books on the left corner of the desks so as not to inconvenience either of us as we took notes and casted our spells.

"Morning," I greeted.

"Hmm..." Draco agreed, his nose buried in a newspaper. He looked up quickly, folding the newspaper up and sticking it in his bag. "Feeling well?"

"Not all that well, but I guess that's only to be expected after...everything. And you?"

"Well, after my usual morning pep-talk from Laura, I'm daring to say that I feel all right. I suppose she's talked to you this morning, as well?"

"Of course. She sat with me at breakfast. She can sure talk, don't you think? I've never heard anyone speak as fast as she does. But it's a real time-saver, I can tell you that. She seems to have a fixation, though, when it comes to topics. Laura's stuck on...well, how do I put this?...you. She won't shut up about you. She has a crush, I think."

A faint pink color tinged his cheeks. "She may. It's fine with me. Just so long as it doesn't interfere with anything, she can think whatever she likes. I don't care. I mean, she's a nice enough girl, but she's young. I remember when I was fourteen. I thought I could handle everything. But I couldn't. And she can't."

"She said almost the same of you...at least the "nice" bit. The "I remember" bit wasn't in there."

"Well, how could she remember something she hasn't been through yet?"

"I believe," I said, "that was my point."

"Ah. Then, yes, I agree." He pulled out a textbook and began flipping through it, finding the page he wanted and shoving the book across the desk at me. I took it and glanced down at it.

"And this would be?" I inquired.

"Read it, and you'll understand."

I shrugged and returned my attention to the page. It's title was: Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived. I slammed the book shut, picking it up and dropping it in Draco's lap. He winced, removing the book and re-opening it.

"You didn't read it through."

"No, I most certainly didn't. Do you think I really want to be reminded of him? Not that I don't love him, and all, but really, I feel guilty knowing that he's stuck with...ugh. It just makes me so sick; you know that."

"That's not the reason I wanted you to read it. The reason I wanted you to read it is because it's a new book. It was released this summer. It mentions..." he faded off as Professor McGonagall entered the room. She took a seat behind her desk, checking roll. Draco turned back to me and said quietly, "It mentions you."

I did a double take. He offered me the book again, and I took it, this time reading the article.

Nicole Stevens, the beautiful and remarkably ill-fated American witch, has been romantically linked to Potter. He has been known to spend summers at Stevens' house with her family and herself. They have been known to get in trouble often, most of the trouble consisting of difficulties with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Stevens is known also to have cavorted with the heir of the great Malfoy fortune, Draco Malfoy. Malfoy and Potter are very competitive rivals, and Nicole Stevens is another thing to cause animosity between the two young men.

I shut the book, returning it to him. He grinned. "It mentioned you too, Draco. You're a very competitive rival..." I laughed.

"Yeah, I know. You must be in a relatively good mood today...not even disputing what it says."

"About what?"

He checked the book again and quoted, "Stevens is known also to have cavorted with the heir of the great Malfoy fortune, Draco Malfoy."

"Why would I dispute that? Dear, I have long since given up on trying to pretend like I've been with Harry this whole time. I haven't. Everyone knows that. If I were to say that I didn't do all that...stuff, that would make me a liar AND a cheat and that's a little worse. Not a lot worse, but a little..."

He nodded, "Right. I get it. Sorry."

McGonagall had finished roll and began on what would turn out to be a very long lecture.