A Powerful and Painful Addiction

Chapter 10: Fine Lines

"I swear, if this headache doesn't go away, drastic events will ensue," Joely whined, rubbing her temples.

"How drastic are you talking?" Ron asked in an anxious tone.

"Let's just say that I may have to make you sign a waver saying that you won't hold me accountable for my actions."

"What if I refuse?"

"Trust me," she winked, "you won't."

"Why wait when putting him out from his miserable existence would brighten my day," said a sneering voice from behind Ron.

"Oh, I'll put him out alright," Joely said, smirking wickedly. Ulterior motives were surely the thought into such a grin. "It would be miserable for you, Malfoy, because some of the naughtiest, most... arousing things I have ever done, have been when I've had a headache."

Draco shifted his weight, seeming to have grasped her meaning.

Ron threw down his fork. "Where did you want me to sign?" Ron laughed.

"Well... I'd have to take you to my room, since it's upstairs, in a drawer with my... enticing lingerie," Joely whispered in a saucy tone.

"Lead the way!" Ron jumped up from his spot at the Gryffindor table, offering his hand out to her.

"You know, I think I might take you up on that offer. I need to work off breakfast anyway and what better exercise than pleasing a friend."

Draco's throat hummed with wrath as he watched Joely and Ron exit the Great Hall for a bit of... morning exercise. He returned to his seat at the Slytherin table, shoving his untouched plate across the table and onto the floor.

Ron and Joely spent the better part of the next ten minutes trying to catch their breath as they continued to laugh and distance themselves from the Great Hall. Replaying the event, scene by scene, gave the day an aura that said it was going to be a pleasurable one.

"You do know that Malfoy believes in turnabout right?"

"Speaking of turnabout," Joely said, collecting her self, "you need to turn yourself about because we still have to get our books from the common room. Transfig starts in fifteen minutes."

No, the crispness and bitterness was not because of the brisk November air seeping its way through the tiny cracks and crevices along the walls and drafty windows. It was... the new attitude among students. Or was it? After all, Slytherins and Gryffindors were hardly even applicable to be called acquaintances; having been that way since the departure of Salazar Slytherin himself, or possibly even before. But now, the inter-house hostilities were growing at an alarming rate. It wasn't about more then the usual amount of students causing trouble, it concerned the exponentially rising number of encounters made, namely by a McGill and a Malfoy. Draco's cruel attitude had dominated him once again and it was only fueling the fire of hate.

With it now being the third week into November, Joely has already accumulated a myriad amount of detentions, and was even threatened with suspension on a few occasions. Fortunately, Professor Bridgeman came to her aid; offering to have her work her detentions off by helping him plan his lessons; aiming to keep her out of trouble as much as he could. He understood her anger, but he still felt he needed to be the older brother.

"Back off, Scott, I don't need your help!"

"Without me, you would be in more trouble than you've ever known!" Joely scoffed at him. "Okay, so you've been in some pretty big messes before. But without me, one, your father would know you're a Gryffindor, and two, your butt would be on the first plane back to the States!"

"Your point is what?" she asked lazily.

"You're toeing a fine line, Joely, and the closer you are to Grimwood, the more danger you're in."

Joely shuddered. How she hated hearing anything related to Grimwood. It was a forbidden word in her book; much like Voldemort to most others. How she despised someone even bringing up that name in generalized conversation. But yet, when Grimwood was mentioned, it was never "generalized conversation."

"You're one to talk about toeing fine lines!" she spat, grabbing her bag and rushing at top speed from the classroom.

Since her last detention on Tuesday of the prior week, she had succeeded in staying out of trouble; for the most part that is. She had been detention and suspension threat sober for a week and was trying her damnedest to lengthen that time. But with the way things were going, her ability to hold out was wearing thin. It was getting harder and more antagonizing by the day to ignore Malfoy and his little "Serpent hatchlings" when they came round to try and meet their "superiority quota" for the day. However, Malfoy wasn't just after humiliation anymore. When it came to Joely, Hermione, Harry, Ron and sometimes Ginny... Malfoy wanted blood.

"Ron, hurry it up! We're going to be late and the last thing I need is McGonagall pissed at me!" Joely yelled, standing at the bottom of the boys' dormitory stairs.

"All right, I'm ready," Ron panted, adjusting his tie. "Well, don't just stand there, let's go."

Joely tapped her hip with her fingers, looking at the back of Ron's retreating head in curiosity.

"Where are Harry and Hermione anyways?" he asked, turning to face her.

"Hermione is in the library, and Harry had to arrange something with Madam Hooch about practice tonight." Her words trailed off to a hiss.

"What? What is that look all about?"

"Nothing," she said, grinning big and walking out into the corridor.

"No what? Joely, tell me." He grabbed her arm to stop her. "Tell me."

"Since when do you dress to impress?"

"There's only one girl that I'm looking to impress," he said with a shrug, blushing to the roots of his famous Weasley hair. Hiding his blushes was not a skill that Ron could be taught.

"I knew it! It's McGonagall isn't it?"

Joely took off at a run. Ron's mouth gaped open as her comment's meaning became clear. He jetted off after her, steaming, but laughing.

"Joely!" he yelled. After having finally caught up to her, he hooked his arms around her waist, tickling her mercilessly.

"No!" she yelled through spurts of giggles.

Neither paid attention to the gaggle of sixth year Slytherins and Hufflepuffs standing outside the History of Magic classroom. Some appeared amused, some lacked to have noticed, others shaking their heads. But one, just one was looking flustered and angry, trying to put the sight on the back burner. This was torture for him to have to watch. Why did they have to stop and do this in front of him? Why couldn't he have caught up to her somewhere else and showed those people that Ron Weasley could roam his hands up and down her body? Did they know the pain and anguish they were causing him?

"Say you're sorry and I'll let go!"

Joey couldn't put two words together at that moment to save her life. Her eyes were watering, her lungs burning and her face various shades of oxygen-lacking red. Finally, Ron stopped the attack but maintained his looped hold.

"Never!" she yelled.

And again Ron tickled.

"What the hell is this?"

"Oh, Drakie, there you are, my love," Pansy shrieked, throwing her arms around Draco's neck.

"Do let go already, Pansy. What's this?" he asked, nodding at the two Gryffindors.

"Apparently, Joely has done or said something and Ron is getting revenge. Ron, go for under her chin!" Blaise shouted.

"STOP!" she screamed. "If you don't stop, I swear I'll bite!"

"No you won't."

"Yes I will!"

"Say you're sorry."

"Only, if you let me go."

"All right then," said Ron, releasing his tickle victim. He had never seen someone squirm that much from being tickled besides Ginny. She turned around, facing her ginger-haired best friend.

"I'm sorry," she told him, straightening her uniform.

"That's better."

"I'm sorry because I meant to say that it was Professor Sprout!"

"Joely!" he yelled, commencing another chase.

"I thought Ron fancied Lavender?" Tarrah asked.

"He does," said Blaise strongly. "He and Joely were only having fun, I reckon."

Pansy shivered. "I'm sure the Weasel is just after McGill's money."

A resounding CRACK, echoed through the hall. Tarrah had left her handprint on Parkinson's arm; hitting with enough force to ensure that there would be a nice bruise not too long from now.

"Damn it, Loughlin!" Pansy cursed.

"Shut up, Parkinson! Joely and Ron are just friends; he has it bad for Lavender."

"Oh what's the matter, Tarrah? Have you taken a liking to the Weasel?" she chided. "Or..." she held Tarrah's chin in her hand, "have you found something to fancy in McGill?"

"Pansy, you're more likely to go after her family's money than Ron; seeing as that's what it's all about with you, money. I mean, it's not like you care about Draco. You want to be able to gloat about being married to a Malfoy and spending the family millions in whatever boutique you please. There are more important things."

Pansy's eyes squinted into very narrow slits.

"If you really did care about Draco, then you wouldn't have kept the boys' dorm up all night last night with your moans and panting while you had your way with Goyle."

Draco's head snapped toward Pansy, his fury about to be unleashed.

"Draco, love, I can explain!" Pansy shrilled, fidgeting.

"Verbal diarrhea is all it would be. I've heard it before!" he yelled as the bell rang.

"Blaise, come on, the bell rang," said Tarrah, peering around the doorframe. "Hello, Earth to, Blaise!"

He was facing down the opposite end of the corridor, staring down its long length, seeming to be searching for something.

"Um, Blaise, can you hear me?"

"What?" he mumbled.

"Class is about to start."

"Why did they have to do that in front of us?"

........................................................................

"Harry, I'm not joking around with you. They're getting worse and more frequent! It's not as though I'm watching like in a normal dream, I feel as though it's actually happening."

"Oh come on, Hermione!"

"If you two don't button it up, you'll have to leave!" scolded Madam Pence.

"Sorry," the two Gryffindors replied.

"I can feel it! I can feel the agony, and the hatred. I... I feel her tears."

"Wait, how can you feel the tears... if Joely is the one crying in the dream?"

"Because I feel this rush of water all in my body and when I wake up, my face is soaked in tears."

Harry gave Hermione a look of concern. "What have you eaten out of the ordinary lately?"

Hermione glowered and said, "Harry, I have been having this dream since before the end of fifth year."

"What? And you just recently decide to tell me?"

"Well I didn't think anything of it to be honest. I mean in the beginning, all that happened was I was sitting in a chair with one person to my left, and two people to my right, a female in the fetal position on the floor, and someone behind her holding out a wand. But now, like I told you before, you're to my left, Ron to my right, and Joely's on the floor. The person next to Ron and behind Joely is still a mystery, but I know they're both male."

"Maybe you shouldn't have quit Divination after all," said Harry.

"You have no clue as to how much humor I found in that statement, Harry James Potter."

"Have you asked Joely about it?"

Hermione nodded. "She tossed it aside. She said it was just a dream, not really anything worth thinking into."

"She tossed it aside? Just like that?"

"She was hesitant a little when I mentioned it, but she was probably just really receiving what I had said. She was calm about it." Hermione sighed. "Almost, almost too calm. Her eyes did go wide for a moment. Maybe she knows what I'm talking about."

"Joely is rather good at hiding what she's feeling when she wants to, probably learned it from Malfoy."

"Harry, be serious with me. She taught the ferret to care, and he showed her how to not give a damn? Highly doubt it. After Halloween he reverted back to his old ways; just as cruel, revolting and disgusting as ever."

Harry shrugged. "Well," he said, "Hermione, she's not going to hide something as important as someone wanting to kill her from us."

Hermione gave him a look of pure skepticism.

"No, she wouldn't and you know it," he said sternly.

"There's a lot she's hiding, Harry. I don't know all the details but last week when I was out on my duties, I overheard a partial conversation between Professor Bridgeman and Professor Snape. They were talking about some condition she has caused by inhumane things done to her; like she had been a guinea pig. He said that some of these things would even make a Death Eater feel as though Voldemort had treated them well."

"That's exactly my point! Don't you think that she would tell us about all that?"

"Would you want to relive those nightmares to people you hardly know?"

Harry admitted defeat and ran a frustrated hand through his already messy hair.

"If you had dealt with things that would make a Death Eater run home to his mum, would you be all keen on telling it all over again? Do you remember how hard it was for you to tell people about having watched Cedric die?"

Harry couldn't think; his mind felt to have thrown itself off a cliff. He glanced around the room trying to assemble his thoughts. How could she keep something like that from them? Why would she keep that to herself? Well, he realized that he couldn't be too upset at her. After all, he and Hermione had asked her to keep their relationship a secret from everyone, especially Ron, and he knew that there were things that were being kept private between him and Ron, and him and Hermione, and quite a few things he kept to himself.

"We better go, Harry, Defense Against the Dark Arts starts in ten minutes."

............................................................

"All right everyone, in your seats please. We have to begin immediately; we are going to start working with the Patronus Charm today."

The Quad Squad, as well as a few others, all Gryffindors, snapped their heads up to look at their professor.

"I was a little edgy about introducing this before the Christmas holidays, but Professor Dumbledore assured, as well as encouraged me to go forth with the lesson. He doted on how confident he was that all of you were up to the task."

"Aww, Professor Dumbledore was complimenting his favorite students on something he actually thinks they can do," Malfoy sneered.

All the Slytherins, minus Tarrah laughed; Blaise even sporting a sly turn of the mouth.

"Granted that's all the attention Gryffindors get is from the only professor that thinks them capable of quality magic."

Joely's pressure gage was red-line; dangerously high and tempting to go into meltdown. Repeatedly she demanded herself to try and keep her temper in the safe zone; one of the last things she needed was another detention and one for losing her calm none the less. McGonagall has promised that Joely's father would have to intervene should she procure one more detention, and Sean McGill becoming involved in her current form as a Gryffindor was nothing short of being sent to hell alive. Malfoy continued to rant on and sitting back any longer was not in the cards; he was not going to let the prat not only insult her house, but she wasn't going to stand for his mocking of the one man that was doing so much for her as it was.

"At least us Gryffindors don't have to perform favors on our teacher, and note that I used 'teacher' in the singular form, Malfoy, to get his attention," Joely retorted, flying out of her seat into the walkway between desks.

Faces dropped all around the room, this time, Tarrah was the giggly one. She knew that there had been a few girls who had tried to initiate relationships with teachers in hopes of raises in their marks. Hermione's hands flew up to cover her face and Harry and Ron crunched their foreheads down on their desks; knowing that Joely was walking a fine line.

"Oh, but I'm sure your daddy performs enough of the requested favors for your whole house though, right, Malfoy?"

Draco advanced on Joely. "I dare you to say that again."

"Will the truth hurt less if I tell your family secret?"

"You want to talk about families, all right, listen up everyone! Unlike your family, us Malfoys don't run away from things; we settle them straight!"

"Like your family 'settled straight' that all those innocent muggles and supporters of the light were meant to die?"

Gasps of offense choked out; the room falling to shrills of oncoming death.

"You're a bitch, McGill!"

"Thank you, Pansy; tell me something I don't know."

"You're a coward."

"Excuse me, asshole?" Joely spat.

"You're a coward, do I need to spell it out for you?" said Blaise.

"THAT'S ENOUGH!" yelled Professor Bridgeman.

"NO! I want to hear this, Scott!"

"I said that's enough and I meant it! I will not tolerate this behavior!"

Joely took a hard look at Professor Bridgeman, daring him to take the action he had been silently threatening from the beginning. He shook his head and entered his office, slamming the door behind him.

"So tell me, Blaise, how am I a coward?"

Blaise stood side by side with Malfoy, fellow Slytherins joining in the cause. A few Gryffindors stood to stand as Joely's armament, but she refused them; this was her battle. She got herself into this and she had to take responsibility for it.

"Unlike you, Zabini, I can handle my own battles. You brought up the subject of me being a coward and yet you have Malfoy backing you... that truly is pathetic, Blaise. But, please, go on with how I'm a coward."

"You didn't stay behind and fight. After it was all said and done, when nothing could be changed, you packed up and came here, hoping to escape, but now all it's doing is coming back to bite you in the arse! It's time for you to fight again and you have no clue how to stay alive."

"Oh, I didn't fight, huh? Who sat back and watched his best friend sink so low into despair that he wanted to throw his life away because he lacked someone to stand up for him and be his support?"

Blaise's heart sank; her reference to Draco crystal clear.

"Who sat back and acted the fool, thinking that he was just fine? I distinctly remember you telling me something that goes along the lines of, 'He's always like that. He's never happy. I don't think he knows how to be happy.' Damn, you could have fooled me. Anyone with common sense and the mindset to pay attention to their surroundings could see that there was a problem. But did you take the time to find out what had happened? No! Did you give a damn? No, you didn't!"

"Don't you dare try to turn this back on me! What about you, huh? What did you do? You let it happen! You didn't fight back!" Blaise yelled. "You did nothing. You fell over on your own sword and let it go on!"

Suddenly, everyone except Joely and Blaise jumped as the classroom door burst open; Professors Dumbledore, McGonagall and Snape gracing the threshold; Professor Bridgeman exiting his office a mere second later; he had flooed the Headmaster and their heads of house.

"Miss McGill, what in the name of Merlin..."

"Minerva, please, this needs to be said," said Dumbledore softly. He knew exactly was what going on. Professor Bridgeman had advised him of the controversy.

"Headmaster..."

"Severus," he said, shaking his head, "she had kept this bottle up for far too long. The cry for it to be released has overwhelmed her. The time to stop is not now."

A crackle and pop signaled the animosity's return.

"Well? Why didn't you fight back? Why did you play dead?" Blaise yelled; the standing students instructed to sit down.

"I find it hard to stand up and fight when you're so weak and battered that not only you can not stand at all, but you don't even recognize your own body; when you're in and out of consciousness and bleeding from your eyes, your ears, your nose, your mouth! When the only thing you can smell is the stench of your own rotting flesh," Joely choked through tears, "is reality."

A quake shook Blaise.

"When the only thing you can feel is the head to toe pain, and the hurt of knowing that your own family would deny that you belong to them because you're too mangled and maimed to be recognized. Well I guess the only other thing you really feel is the coldness that is swallowing your heart, telling you to tell your family and friends goodbye and that you love them, hoping that they'll hear you in their dreams and prayers because your heart knows you're dying before your brain wants to admit it." Her tears were streaming down her cheeks like a drippy faucet. Females bore tear sprinkled faces and males cringed and sported faces of developing sickness. Professor Snape even seemed a bit disturbed and green. "When the only sounds you hear are the bugs scurrying around on the dirt floor around you, and the rats lapping up the blood leaking from body."

"Joely, I... I had no idea," Blaise whispered with his head down. He had no idea to the extent of things that she has been through. He knew it had been rough, but he had no idea that one had faced that alone.

"You're right, you didn't have any idea. I find it hard to believe that someone could just get up and fight with all that. I mean I guess they could, but I know I'm not that strong. But to me, there's no way in hell that a person could be called a coward if they can deal with that plus having someone die in your arms, and still be alive to invade your mind with their recollection of the past. But open your eyes, you prat, because I'm still standing. Am I still a coward?"

Silence... Silence reigned in control for the minutes that felt like hours, forcing the words spoken upon all those present without their consent.

"Miss McGill, I think you should come with me to see the nurse," said Professor McGonagall, blotting her face and clearing her throat.

"No, I'm okay, Professor, really I am."

"Well," began the Headmaster, clasping his hands, "I think we should leave them. I'll leave you to your lesson, Professor Bridgeman."

"Thank you, Headmaster," said Bridgeman as the door closed. "Please sit down everyone. Thank you."

Again silence spoke as Joely and Blaise returned to their seats.

"On a somewhat happier note, like I said before, we will be working with the Patronus Charm, which requires you to concentrate on a happy memory. Now I know that there are a few of you who already are capable of producing a patronus, but that only gives you a head start..."

"Joely, are you all right?" whispered Hermione. "You look a bit pale. Maybe you should visit the infirmary?"

"I'm okay; I just have a headache. It's been a long time since I've ever said that much about what happened. I'm good, I'm fine," Joely whispered in return, rubbing her temples for the second time that day.

Hermione turned around to glance at Harry and Ron, both wearing the same face of apprehension.

"So, what I want everyone to do is stand against the wall while I remove the desks." Bridgeman waved his wand and the desks disappeared amid "Oh"s of impression. "Now, I want half of you on the left, the other half on the right." It was as though the two houses were each a pole on a magnet; they flocked away from each other; the Slytherins to the right and the Gryffindors the left. "Now everyone pick a happy memory and concentrate hard on it. Something that stands out above all others and that you've found yourself calling upon many times before for comfort during those hard times."

"Excuse me, Professor?"

"Yes, Miss Parkinson?"

"Does it have to be a memory? Can it be something we want to happen? A happy or wishful thought, perhaps?"

"I suppose you could try it. I've never heard of it, but it never hurts to try."

Pansy smiled slyly, her happy wish surely the culprit.

"Everyone has their memory or thought?" he asked. The class nodded in spurts. "Now the incantation is 'Expecto Patronum.' Say the incantation loud, pointing your wand out in front of you while thinking hard on that joy. GO!"

"EXPECTO PATRONUM!" the class yelled.

So many various brightness levels were shining throughout the room; a few students were covered head to toe in bright white and silver from their well defined patronuses, others were experiencing mild brightness, some barely lit with a faint glow; some having mere silvery wisps of light to none at all.

"Excellent!" said Professor Bridgeman. "Now, for those of you who are having temperate trouble, try to concentrate a little harder, or think of a new memory altogether. Good, that's it. Now, everyone, another attempt is in order."

"EXPECTO PATRONUM!"

Everyone covered their aching eyes as the classroom burned in the glows of patronuses.

"Well done, class, well done," Bridgeman smiled. "Now for a test, when I call your name, I want you to come up here to me, and project your patronus toward the door. Mr. Malfoy, would you care to be first in this test?"

Draco flashed the Professor a look of disgust. How dare he call upon me first, Draco thought, gritting his teeth. Draco's over-inflated ego conquered his anger, coming to the more than obvious realization that Professor Bridgeman knew that being a Malfoy, he could surely show everyone, especially golden boy Potter and his lapdogs, how it's done.

"EXPECTO PATRONUM!" Draco shouted, only a very faint object with broad wings charging from his wand.

"Try again, Mr. Malfoy."

"EXPECTO PATRONUM!" Still, he was without a defined and pronounced patronus.

"Like so, Mr. Malfoy. EXPECTO PATRONUM!" Bridgeman cried, the students aghast at the enormous hellhound filling the room.

"Look, it's Fluffy!" shouted Ron, smiles abound.

Harry jabbed him in the ribs. "Zip it up, mate!"

"Who's Fluffy?" Joely asked.

Harry, Hermione and Ron shook their heads viciously.

"Once again, then, Mr. Malfoy," said Scott.

Draco took his stance, recalling the memory that beheaded all memories. "EXPECTO PATRONUM!" he shouted. Alas, what was once a botchy, blurry illusion was now a sharp and well defined Patronus.

"Oh, it's so beautiful!" shrilled Lavender.

"Oh, Drakie, it's so grand!" shrieked Pansy.

"It appears that your parents had a heavenly opinion in choosing your name, Mr. Malfoy," said Professor Bridgeman, smiling.

"That is a beautiful dragon," said Hermione.

"Sexy, Granger, is more appropriate. Even though you're a Mudblood, your compliment is taken."

"Unfortunately for you, dragons have been known to become obsessive and hoard 'beautiful' things; it being stated that many have become addicted to their hoard. Oh, Pansy I guess that means that your, 'happy, wishful thought' won't be coming true. Damn!" Hermione spat the last word with acid. "Can a patronus have distinction such as with dragons? Can the breed of the dragon reflect the person?"

"Yes, Miss Granger. As we speak, there is in fact research being conducted on patronuses. With some patronuses, dragons included, researchers want to know what it is that causes a specific breed to appear. So the question is drawn; what similarities exist between this breed of dragon and Draco here."

"Let's hope that no one produces a sheep for a patronus," said Hermione.

"Why is that?" asked Draco, twirling his wand between his fingers.

"Because that's an Antipodean Opaleye, they like sheep. Oh I have an idea, let's all sing 'Mary had a little lamb' and piss it off!" Joely said sarcastically.

"How do you know that it's an Opaleye?" hissed Lavender.

"Look at its eyes; notice the lack of pupils, Brown?"

"And the wonder of keen observation arises. Ten points to Miss Granger and Miss McGill for their attention to details," said Professor Bridgeman as Draco's dragon diminished. "Now, Miss Loughlin, would you like to go next?"

Tarrah replaced Draco and shouted her incantation and before their eyes materialized a human sized faerie, fluttering its wings and floating with the much known amazing grace.

"Well done, now, Mr. Potter, if you please."

"EXPECTO PATRONUM! Hello, Prongs," he said, watching the stag canter back toward him.

"Prongs? He named his patronus Prongs?" Joely whispered to Hermione.

"Long story, I'll tell you later."

"Excellent. Professor Dumbledore was absolutely right, you all are terrific. You're up next, Mr. Weasley."

Ron edged up to the platform clicking his teeth together in nervousness. He didn't much enjoy the thought of performing in front of classmates, let alone the thought of possibly failing and hearing about it for weeks to come. "EXPECTO PATRONUM!" From Ron's wand, flew the most spectacular eagle Joely had ever seen.

"Hey, Ron, do you have any American roots?" she asked, watching the bird's wing span splay out, covering the space above the students in a protective manner.

"If I do, my family never talks about them. Why?"

"There's a festival in the States where we celebrate the summer solstice, and there's a contest on beauty of patronuses, and I saw this English person who had red hair produce an eagle. It was just curiosity."

Ron nodded in understanding, shrugging his shoulders once again in statement of having no knowledge of anything American in his heritage. The giant eagle gave a strong call and after circling the interior of the room, disappeared into a ball of silvery mist.

"Now, Mr. Zabini, step up here."

"EXPECTO PATRONUM!" Nothing happened, not even a glow came from the tip of his wand. "EXPECTO PATRONUM!" Yet again, Blaise was without a display.

"Try another memory, Mr. Zabini."

"That is the happiest memory I have," Blaise squawked, looking at Joely who was too occupied with a chatty Seamus to notice him.

Draco on the other hand was fully aware of who was possessing Blaise's mind. He knew from the way his eyes were skimming her body that she no doubt was involved in the memory he was using; but he wasn't about to let that bother him, or was he?

Blaise's gaze met Draco's explosive glare; staring each other down, dreaming of tearing each other limb from limb, gloating in the other's spilt blood.

"Don't you ever lay a finger on her," mouthed Draco.

"I already have," Blaise silently returned.

"Try again, Mr. Zabini. Everyone has more than one happy memory."

"Actually, sir," said Draco, "the next happiest memory Blaise has is when he found other that his left hand could do the same job as his right."

Tarrah whapped Draco on the back of his head with her wand.

"That'll be enough, Mr. Malfoy. Another comment like that and not only will I remove points, but consider your self VIP on the detention list for a week. Understood? Have another go, Blaise."

Blaise mustered up another memory and shouted, "EXPECTO PATRONUM!"

Girls screamed and the males roared in whoops of humor; Blaise's patronus was an Erumpent; almost identical to how Newt Scamander described them in his book Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them. Thick hide and large, sharp horns were both clear as day. It was very rhinoceros looking indeed.

"All that work for an Erumpent! What a waste!"

"It may come in handy someday, Mr. Zabini. Certainty in never needing a patronus is not valid."

"Doubtful, sir."

"Well, Miss Granger, are you ready?"

Hermione sailed to take stance, squaring her shoulders and taking aim. "EXPECTO PATRONUM!" she shouted. Immediately, a silver otter was floating around the room, apparently seeming to take in its surroundings.

"Terrific. That was wonderful, Miss Granger! Now, Miss McGill, if you please."

"How about, no I don't think so."

"Come on, front and center."

"Pick someone else."

"MOVE IT!"

Joely readied herself. "EXPECTO PATRONUM!"

Sixth year girls gasped and their eyes brightened and widened in awe. Professor Bridgeman glanced over from the wide-mouthed Joely to her patronus. His mouth fell.

"Care to explain this?"

"I... uh... w..." she shrugged.

"I thought your patronus was a tiger?"

"I did too!"

Joely's apparently new patronus had taken upon the shape of a gorgeous, long-maned Unicorn. Its tail fell gracefully down behind the creature, the last few strands just barely grazing the floor. Its left front hoof struck the ground as its head bobbed up and down and whinnied.

"Wow, Joely!" said Parvati.

Ever so slowly, Pansy began to inch her way toward the mystical creature, her movement as silent as an attacking huntress.

"Pansy, no," whispered Draco. "Leave it alone!" Draco knew better then to assume she would heed his command, but there was no harm in trying. He remembered his mother advising him on the superstitions behind a Unicorn patronus. But they were just that, superstitions... right? "Pansy, no, don't!"

Her knobby fingers penetrated the glowing aura surrounding the animal, and in a moments notice, the creature's hair and body transmogrified to the deadliest color of black and the surrounding atmosphere darkened to a dismal grey. Its eyes burned a crimson red as it sprouted a second horn.

"That's a Bicorn!" screamed Hermione.

The Bicorn reared onto its hind legs and charged at Joely.

"Finite Incantatum!" shouted Professor Bridgeman. The Bicorn was gone.

"That was not good," said Joely, raising her head from her 'duck and cover' position.

"I want to see you after class," said Bridgeman, sternly, his face an amalgam of fear and anger. Joely was at a forfeiture, only nodding in response. "All right everyone, settle down and let's get back to work. Miss Parkinson, you're next."

It had taken Pansy's chafing voice and unsound wand movements an astounding twelve times before the blur of a patronus was produced.

"What was that?" Pansy asked, her eyes proud with completion.

"Well whatever it was, it certainly depicts you," Joely said snidely.

"Excuse me?" Pansy threw back.

"Well it was ugly, wasn't it?"

............................................................

"Come on, Ron!"

"Joely, once again, why are we doing this?" asked Hermione.

"When I see it, I'll let you know. I overheard some interesting tidbits about this practice earlier and I want to see if it will actually be played out."

"But must you involve me?"

"Don't you want to have a little fun?" Joely chuckled, her eyes narrow with mischief.

"It's hard to answer that question when I don't even know who or what we're looking for to have fun with. So, needless to say that right now, being bored is an understatement."

"Oh, you mean you don't relish in watching your man chase a winged nut?"

Hermione scoffed dryly. "That would be a... NO!"

"Don't get your, I believe you call them knickers, in a bunch."

"I do have other things I could be doing right now other than freezing my bum off."

"One must have a bum to be frozen off first," Joely cackled.

"Oh shut up, you."

.........

"Draco, I'm cold. I want go back inside. Or," she smiled, "perhaps you want to keep me warm?"

"Don't flatter yourself. I'd rather die of hypothermia," said Draco pointedly.

"Humph!" She pouted, crossing her arms stubbornly.

"I'm sure Goyle would be more than willing to sweat you up a little."

"I told you, Draco, when I went into your room you weren't there, so I thought that you might have gone into your old room to sleep or talk to Blaise, or... something like that. When I went in there, Goyle answered to your name."

"Pansy," Draco sighed, his harassed mood showing, "have I ever gone into my old room to sleep? But what interests me is why didn't you stop when you found that Goyle wasn't me? According to Blaise, you couldn't stop screaming out Goyle's name. 'Greg, oh, Gregory, yes, that's it, right there! Oh yes!' Does that sound familiar?"

"You are so awful to me!"

"And yet you always come back for more. Take a leaf out of McGill's book and keep away!"

"Let's get this over with and get back inside," whined Crabbe.

.........

Sitting up high in the stands, Hermione sat huddled in a tight ball with her teeth chattering while Joely bobbed around in her seat looking nice and toasty. With the wind blowing something fierce and the temperature on the decline, the two Gryffindor girls continued to watch on and support their house team as they practiced for their first match this Saturday.

"I'm so cold."

"Are you or are you not the smartest witch in Hogwarts? Haven't you learned a Warming Charm yet? Hello!"

"Don't pester me, Joely. What are you looking for?"

Joely had a pair of Omnioculars and was searching the grounds, the stands, and the sky, turning the knobs to replay her watch area every so often to confirm that she hadn't missed anything. "That!" she said pointing toward the Slytherin changing rooms.

"What? There isn't anything there."

Joely handed over the Omnioculars. "Are those dementors?" Hermione gasped.

"Have you ever seen a platinum-blonde dementor?"

"Have you ever seen a dementor with a chest and a booty like that either?"

"Oh I'm so proud, you said booty!"

"You can be proud later. We have to figure out what those two are up to," said Hermione in a short tone.

"They're not alone either, look."

As they spoke, three more identically black cloaked figures came up behind the two leaders; two tall, and one of a shorter stature.

"You would think that after Harry not only performed the Patronus Charm today in DADA, but last year during our O.W.L.s in front of Malfoy that he would figure out that he can ward them off," Hermione said exasperatedly.

"You'd think so, but with all that peroxide seeped into his pores and... well actually Malfoy is a natural blonde so I guess that wouldn't work."

"How do you know he's a natural blonde?" Hermione asked innocently.

"His -" she murmured pointing toward her navel. "Never mind that, let's just get them out of here," Joely snickered. "Wingardium Leviosa!"

Hermione and Joely laughed immoderately as the two levitated the five hooded figures. Spell after spell, hex after hex they cast, causing havoc and confusion within the tortured beings.

"WHAT'S GOING ON?" screamed Pansy.

"HOW THE HELL SHOULD I KNOW!"

"AH! GET 'EM OFF! GET 'EM OFF ME!"

"SHUT UP, CRABBE!" yelled Blaise.

"WE'RE BEING HEXED, YOU DOLTS!" yelled Malfoy.

"DRAKIE, HELP ME!"

............

"This has to be the first time I've ever enjoyed causing someone to go mental."

"How about we give Malfoy a taste of his own medicine; a little dose of his own horror, yeah?" Joely cackled evilly.

"I say... absolutely."

Slowly, Malfoy ascended higher and higher towards the stand that Hermione and Joely were hexing from. Floating on his stomach, he came to a stop with his chin propped in his hands, staring with perturbation at the two females. Only magic could allow someone to float so comfortably.

"I don't know if we've finally sunken to your level, or if you've finally reached our high status, Ferret," said Hermione.

Draco's followed Joely's hand as she etched little movements in the air with her wand; waiting for him to remark with a line that would give her an excuse to drop him.

"You're a bitch, McGill, as are you, Granger!"

"Oh, I'm crushed, Malfoy, really and deeply crushed, but I think your girlfriend already established that today in DADA."

"What do you want, McGill?"

"What do I want?" she repeated with a laugh. "Let's see... I've always wanted to go to a Quidditch World Cup, I want to be old enough to live on my own away from the prying eyes of the Ministry keeping watch of my every move, and to have my grandmother alive again would be nice. But most of all I want someone to prove to me that living happily ever after isn't just bullshit you read about in fairytales."

"That's not what I meant," he growled.

"Well you didn't specify now did you, Malfoy?" Hermione teased.

Malfoy ground his teeth together. "Why - am - I - up - here?"

"Ah, well, when you put it like that, I want you to flake off and stop trying to sabotage the Gryffindor team."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Oh please, Malfoy! One thing you need to teach your plaything and your butt buddies is that they need to make sure that when they're discussing your pathetic attempts to maim the house teams, is that one, they need to find somewhere other then a widely used corridor to discuss it, and that they shouldn't talk as though they're all deaf."

"That stupid, no good -" mumbled Draco.

"Oh so you do know what she's talking about then?" tantalized Hermione.

"So, I guess that means... bye-bye, babe."

Immediately following Joely's goodbye, Draco began to fall at an increasingly fast pace toward the ground. Ten feet from sudden impact... he stopped and was stood upright on his feet.

"Get the hell off the pitch, Malfoy!" yelled Joely.

"And take your lovers with you!" shouted Hermione, her comment earning her a "HERMIONE!" from Harry. She was rather proud of herself for the berating tone she oppressed on Malfoy.

"Draco, are you all right?"

"You four lummoxes need to learn to keep your fucking mouths shut!"

"Sweetheart, what happened? Draco, what's wrong? Oomph! Ouch!" Pansy had been so wrapped up in her hot pursuit that she tripped on her long hem, falling face first into an exceedingly thick puddle of mud.

............................................................

"Draco, let's go!" shouted Pansy, rapping on the portrait into Draco's room.

"Do you mind? This happens to be a very expensive frame, Miss!"

"Shut up or I'll rip you to shreds!"

"How dare you threaten me!" steamed the portrait.

"Cork it!"

"He's not in there, Pans," said Blaise, leaning against the opposite wall.

"Well where is he?" Blaise only shrugged in return. "Did he say where he was off to?"

"No, just mumbled and moped about saying he didn't fancy going to the match."

"That tells me nothing!" griped Pansy. "If you were Draco, where would you go if you were in a foul mood?"

"Oh... I would take aim for a particular person's bed, but I would go there whether I was in a grisly mood or not."

"Blaise," she sighed, jutting out her hip to the side, supporting her hand on the bone, "I've checked my room twice already; he's not in there."

"I didn't mean your bed," Blaise smirked, tapping the wall with his long fingers.

It took Pansy a moment or two to fully discern whose bed Blaise was referring to. She simply smiled wickedly as though she knew something he didn't and began to descend down the hallway with a provocative sway in her hips towards him.

"Thanks to Madam Pomfrey and Professor Snape, Draco will always be in my bed. I'll always be the one he'll be... coming to."

"What are you on about?" asked Blaise, worriedly.

"I'll let you in on a little secret; Professor Snape was rather disappointed when McGill became a Gryffindor. He thought that with her, he could finally beat McGonagall at having the greater skilled students. You know the background behind her, right?"

"What all do you know?"

"Oh I know everything. I may not give two Knuts about school, but I do, do my homework on my competition. But I say again, thanks to Professor Snape and Madam Pomfrey, well, Draco's prowess at nicking things too, my darling dragon is addicted to a delightful little potion that hardens his heart and deadens his emotions. I'm the one he's addicted to now, and McGill, is no longer my strife."

"You didn't answer my question. What all do you know?"

"I repeat; I know everything, Blaise. Did you know that you're innocent, and I do mean innocent, little Joely is a mage?"

"The last mage in recorded history was Albus Dumbledore. You know nothing about her, Pansy."

"Not true. There's a wonderful little book in the library that explains the whole history behind mages. The whole McGill family, including Joely, is in it."

"Show me," snapped Blaise.

"It'll have to wait till after the match, darling."

"Now!" he raged, grabbing her arm as she pushed past him.

............................................................

"Hello, and welcome to the first Quidditch game of the season. In today's game, last year's number one seated team Gryffindor, will be up against the number three team Ravenclaw!" shouted commentator Nicholas Carlson, a Hufflepuff fifth year.

Applause and cheers erupted around the pitch.

"For Gryffindor, I give you Weasley, Hælan, Prescott, Weasley, Boyd, MacDonald and Potter!"

"GRYFFINDOR, GRYFFINDOR!" shouted the crowd of supporters.

"And for Ravenclaw, I give you Cleary, Willis, O'Farrell, Jennings, Olson, McKeon and Chang!"

"RAVENCLAW, RAVENCLAW!"

"Mount your brooms!" shouted Madam Hooch through the noise.

"Madam Hooch gives the single to mount their brooms. She takes the Quaffle and up goes the Bludgers and the Snitch. For all you first years, remember the Snitch is worth a hundred and fifty points and the match is over only once the Snitch has been caught. There goes the Quaffle! And the game begins!"

Immediately, Alex Boyd of Gryffindor took possession of the Quaffle.

"Boyd with the Quaffle passes off to Weasley who zooms past a Bludger served up by O'Farrell. Weasley passes back to Boyd. Boyd goes for the shot... oh a narrow miss caught by Ravenclaw Keeper Cleary. Ravenclaw in possession, Jennings takes it down the pitch, he passes... no he keeps the Quaffle and heads for the goal. He shoots... and a save by Gryffindor Keeper Weasley! Aww, poor Ravenclaw!"

"Carlson, I will not have another Lee Jordan commentating on this game!"

"No worries, Professor McGonagall. Weasley with the Quaffle and she passes to MacDonald. MacDonald zips through Ravenclaw's defense and the Bludger is deflected by Gryffindor Beater Holli Hælan. MacDonald throws to Boyd, Boyd back to MacDonald, and MacDonald to Weasley. Weasley shoots... SHE SCORES! TEN POINTS FOR GRYFFINDOR!"

"WHOO HOO!" Joely cheered. "GO, GINNY!"

"Way to go, Ginny!" screamed Hermione.

"She is incredible!"

"Look at Ron, he's beaming."

"Ravenclaw in possession, Olson to McKeon, McKeon to Jennings - oh - Jennings is unseated by Gryffindor Beater Steven Prescott! You'll have to do better than that to get past Gryffindor!"

"CARLSON!"

"Right you are, Professor," he said, smiling big.

"I'm warning you!"

"Sorry. Gryffindor now leads sixty - twenty! Come on Potter, find that Snitch! No more, Professor; I promise. And here we go! Weasley takes the Quaffle and passes to Boyd, oh Boyd misses and Olson recovers. He's going for the goal, oh nice hit by Prescott!"

Olson had been broadsided by a potent hit by Prescott. He was down and out cold. Madam Pomfrey was tending to him, but the game waged on. As they say, Quidditch waits for no one.

"Harry!" yelled Ron. "Keep an eye on Chang! She's really determined!"

"Will do, you protect that goal!" And Harry flew several feet above Ron, keeping a sharp lookout for the tiny Snitch.

............

"Where is it, Pansy?" Blaise grumbled. "I'm losing what little patience I have."

"It's right around here, I know it. There's no name on the spine."

"None of these books have names on the spines, you twit!"

"Quiet down back there!"

"Parkinson, I don't have all day."

"Pipe down, Zabini!"

"Why do you care so much about this anyways?" he huffed.

"Me? You're the one that dragged me here!"

"Look, Parkinson -"

"Here it is!" She opened the front cover and ran her finger down the table of contents. "'Mages: Then to Now' page 613." She flipped through the pages, and then slid the open-faced book across the table to Blaise.

"Mages date back blah, blah, blah. Runs in families, passed down through the father's genes, more common back yada, yada, yada years ago," he mumbled. Blaise scanned page after page, finally coming to a fifty page list of mages dating back all the way to two hundred A.D. He skimmed through the list, finally stopping at the bottom. "Voila! According to this the last mage was Dumbledore. No where listed is the name McGill, or Joely for that matter."

Pansy's eyes enlarged, fumbling for the book. "What?" She took hold of the book and went over the list through and through. "But, but it was here, I know it was. Blaise, you have to believe me! Why would I lie about something like this?"

"To give people a reason to dislike Joely."

"People already dislike her. But, Blaise, I saw it!"

"Do you know what people automatically assume about mages who have an extensive bloodline?" Blaise snapped, pushing Pansy roughly into a bookshelf.

"People knew very little history behind mages when they were first recorded," she winced, the wooden shelf digging into her back. "They automatically assumed it was dark gift and believed them to be evil and working for the Dark Arts."

"So you do pay attention to Binns, I'm impressed. You know, it's only logical that you would make up something like this to try and persuade people into disliking her."

"Blaise, I'm not the only one that doesn't like her. People in her own house don't even like her! But I swear, Blaise, it's true, she is! I saw it!"

"You've done some notably low things to get what you want, Pansy, but lying about Snape and Pomfrey feeding Draco some kind of potion that... does whatever you say it does, and making up some, while I must say thoroughly researched, codswallop story about Joely coming from a long line -"

"Whole bloodline, Blaise," interjected Pansy.

"-- bloodline of mages and her being one her self is not only low for you, but it's disgusting!" Blaise pushed off of the shelf, and walked away briskly toward the library doors, his face screwed up with anger.

"Miss Parkinson?"

Pansy jumped. "Hello, Professor Bridgeman."

"Would you come with me please, there are a few things that I need to uh - discuss with you."

............

Gryffindor was now leading the match against Ravenclaw 160-100. Harry and Cho had three neck-and-neck races to catch the Snitch since the beginning of the game. The first one had ended when both swerved out of the way of an oncoming Bludger; two equally within millimeters of catching the ending golden ball. The Ravenclaw captain called a time-out and gave Willis (who had hit the Bludger) his two Sickles about trying to unseat the other team, not his own. The second race concluded when Harry had collided head on with Boyd. Cho had missed the Snitch by only a few inches when it zipped out of sight as she gazed down at the injured Harry. But the third battle for the winged nut was causing a verbal brawl and disruption in play.

"Penalty shot for Gryffindor, Madam Hooch!" shouted Carlson. "Those dirty, rotten -"

"Carlson, you will commentate in an unbiased manner, or you will be replaced! Is that understood?"

"Yes, Professor."

The teams were squabbling that while Harry and Cho were racing for the Snitch, one of Ravenclaw's Beaters... well, O'Farrell to be exact, had Blagged Harry, or in Quidditch terms, had grappled Harry's broomtail to stop him from reaching the Snitch. Madam Hooch had her head turned while the act had been played out, of course. The Gryffindors shouted about the Blag, while the Ravenclaws naturally denied the allegation as to inhibit the would-be awarded penalty shot. Madam Hooch in lack of hard evidence on her part, turned to the teachers for their view of the penalty, and much to Ravenclaws disgust, confirmed the Blag. A penalty shot was awarded to Gryffindor, bringing the score to 160-100, the present score.

"Mya, would you put that book down? This is a Quidditch game, not some excuse to study outside."

"I have no interest in what's happening at the moment."

"Oh, wait till I tell Harry that his girlfriend would rather increase her brain mass then let it dwindle for an hour or so and watch him play."

"It takes a brain to play," she smarted back.

"Not to watch it doesn't. Sure, you have to think strategies and remember moves, but watching something does not require you to think. I mean, how hard is it to sit on a wooden plank bench that is putting splinters in your rear, and watch people chase balls on brooms?"

"Then why watch it?"

"Because it's an escape from knowing that sitting in my bag upstairs is an Astronomy essay that I'm continuing to put off until Tuesday night."

"Joely, that essay is due Wednesday! Colin, could you put the camera down for one match? For Merlin sakes, Creevey!"

"And your constant reading is due for a break. Besides, you read too much."

"You don't read enough."

"That may be, but ask me if I care. What are you reading anyways?" Joely snatched away Hermione's book, looking at the front cover. "'The Ins and Outs of Magical Torture: Everyday Items to Hex and Curse Your Victims With.' Where the hell did you get this book? What class are you reading this for?"

"It's a free read book," snapped Hermione.

"Whoa," Joely mouthed. "Who pissed you off?"

"No one pissed me off. I just happened to be in the library and came across it and thought it might be a good read should these things come up in a History of Magic class."

"Normally I wouldn't believe something like that, but seeing as it's you, I do. What were you reading about?"

Hermione flipped through the dusty, leather-bound, turning to the page she was reading. She showed Joely a picture that made her snatch the book and toss it over the side of the stand.

"That's a library book!" Hermione squealed.

"I know," Joely hissed. "Shut up already."

"What in the name of Merlin possessed you to do that?"

"Why were you looking at that?"

"What?" Hermione inquired.

"That page! Why were you looking at that page?"

"That was the chapter I was on! What is the matter with you? Joely, you're shaking like a leaf."

"I'm fine," she said, hugging her body. "I just had a chill."

"What was so disturbing about that chapter?"

"Just..." she stuttered, "just keep your nose out of the book! Just leave that book alone."

"Boyd to Weasley, Weasley to MacDonald, back to Weasley! Come on, Ginny! She shoots... she scores!"

"All right, Gin!" yelled Ron, knowing that she couldn't hear him.

The score was now 190-130.

"Oh! Potter is walloped by a Bludger, courtesy of Willis. He's all right ladies and gentlemen. Apparently it just clipped his shoulder, and he's back up in the air, thank you Madam Pomfrey. Ravenclaw takes control -what? What's this? It's, it's the Hawkshead Attack Formation! Will they make it past the Gryffindor defense? Come on, Natalie! Don't let them get you, love!" shouted Carlson.

"Carlson, enough with the cat calls," Snape grumped.

"McKeon to Jennings, Jennings to Olson, and Olson to, no wait he keeps it! He shoots, he scores! The score is now 190-140. Gryffindor is still in the lead!

"GO, HARRY!" yelled Ron.

"Ladies and gentlemen, it seems that Harry Potter has seen the Snitch. Yes, yes, he has! There it is! Can Chang catch up? GO, GO, GO, Harry! Come on!

All the Gryffindors were on the edge of their seats or bouncing on their toes, cheering Harry on.

"Come on, Potter!" shouted Carlson. "Almost, almost, just a little father, Harry! Come on, stretch for it!"

"GO, HARRY!" screamed Ginny and Holli as they passed him.

He caught it!

"HARRY POTTER CAUGHT THE SNITCH, GRYFFINDOR WINS!"

"He caught it! He caught it, Joely, we won!" Hermione looked to her left, but all she saw was an empty spot, then Seamus and Parvati. She pushed aside Joely's absence and went back to cheering.

..................................................................

"You look awfully pale, dear," said the mirror.

"No shit!" Joely cursed.

"You should see the nurse."

"Yeah right, and tell her what exactly?"

.........

"Draco, where does Pansy normally go to sulk?"

"Most of the time it's my room. I have yet to find out how she knew my password."

"I already looked there," said Blaise in an aloof tone.

"You know it too?" Draco squawked.

"Well it's not that hard, it was kind of obvious... Joely, are you okay?" Blaise asked at seeing her stagger out of the girl's bathroom. "Joely, you're paler than Malfoy. What's wrong?"

Fact was that indeed she was paler than Malfoy. Her eyes were sunken into their sockets, and were shaded and outlined with heavy, dark circles, her lips were as white as her skin; even her nail beds were near transparent. She was trying with all the strength she could muster to hold herself up against the doorframe before gently pushing off to attempt to stand on her own. Her strive dwindled, and she fell into Blaise, him catching her tenderly around her waist and supporting her weight.

"Joely, what's wrong? Talk to me, Joely! Can you hear me?" Blaise said in a panic, trying to get her limp head up to his.

"She's really ill, Blaise; she needs to get to Madam Pomfrey, right now!"

"Yeah, you're right." Blaise tried to pick her up, but with his still injured arms from Thursday's encounter with a Slytherin seventh year who didn't like his remark about his girlfriend, his limbs were still sore. "I can't do it. You can carry her, or you can wait here while I go get help? It's your choice."

"The sooner she sees Pomfrey, the better. I'll carry her," said Draco.

Blaise eased Joely up off him and over to Draco, but when his hand touched her back -

"AHHH!" she screamed, the ears of both males rang and stung from the high pitch.

"Oh shit! No! Not now, please, not now!" Blaise begged. "Here, give her to me. I'll wait with her here, you go for help. Run like hell, Malfoy!"

Draco looked down at his shirt sleeve and recoiled at the sight of the blood soaked linen. Having noticed too, Blaise turned Joely away from them; the back of her shirt was soaked.

"What the hell? Oh no, not this shit again!"

"Draco, go get help! She's lost a lot of blood! GO!"

"I want to know what the fuck is wrong with her! Why the hell do I always do this to her?"

"You care about her and that's not an emotion that is appreciated by another. Now go!" Blaise yelled to Malfoy as he edged down the wall, with her in his arms.

Draco couldn't place it, but her tears and whimpers of pain were tugging at his heart. Why did the feelings that he used to have for her still affect her? What's this about my caring being a problem? he thought. His mind screamed for him to run, and taking the advice of Blaise, he ran like hell.

...............................................................

Joely awoke a week and a half later, only to remember nothing of the incident outside the bathroom. Madam Pomfrey had her consuming and force feed several potions a day, many that were unfamiliar to her and friends that visited. Three days after her initial awakening, Madam Pomfrey allowed her to leave the ward and back to her own dormitory, but attending classes was out of the question. She felt that considering Joely's extensive blood loss, brain damage could be present though slight, and she didn't fancy testing her theory. Minimal strain on the brain was ordered.

Luckily, being friends with Hermione had its advantages. She volunteered to help Joely everyday with her missed work, and even gave her one-on-one tutoring on what was going on in current classes and with their homework. With having totally disregarded Madam Pomfrey's warning about strain on the brain, Joely ended up back in the infirmary twice after having collapse from overexertion.

Two weeks into December, Joely was given a complete bill of health and returned to the regular hustle and bustle of Hogwarts, more elated than ever to be in school. Harry, Hermione, Ron, and Blaise had warned her of the "talk" that was circulating, in reference to what had "really happened," but she had never imagined that it would still be an issue so far from the date that it occurred; everything erupting viciously like a fire given a hefty dose of a flammable catalyst, and spreading just as quickly. Many rumors were on the prowl, but the one that Joely found particularly offensive was Pansy telling everyone (that would listen) that Joely was intentionally making her self sick for attention. But fortunately, when Pansy was asked how she had been keeping herself sick for a week when she was out cold for that time frame, Pansy's gob was sewn shut.

"I'm so glad that Christmas break starts Sunday," said Hermione at dinner Thursday night.

"Oh no, is it really that close?" remarked a stunned Joely. "Uh, Christmas is going to be a nightmare."

"What?" Harry asked. "It's Christmas, what's so horrible about that? Well, besides receiving a toothpick or a tissue as a present from your only living relatives and -"

"Harry, you're ranting," said Ron. "What makes you think that Christmas is going to be a nightmare?"

"Well it's not so much that Christmas will be awful, but you see, every year my parents throw a New Year's Eve ball, and that... that is so old."

"It's a ball, Joely! Dancing all night..."

"--you're toes stepped on persistently."

"Meeting new people..."

"--greeting the same - old - people - every - year!"

"Well I think it sounds like a brilliant way to bring in the new year!" chimed Hermione.

"Would you like to take my place? I'm offering."

A burst of wind blew into the Great Hall, two owls rode in the gust. One black owl landed at Gryffindor for Joely, and the other, a tawny one, gracefully falling at Slytherin's table for Draco. Joely knew the owl to be her mother's: Siren. She removed the letter and gave the bird a piece of her roll. She opened the letter and her face twisted with nausea.

Dear Joely,

How are you? I received an owl from Professor Dumbledore just yesterday, about how well you have rebounded back after your absence. I'm sorry that I was unable to see you, but you know you're father would've wanted to visit you as well, and I thought it for the better that he not see you in such shape. Your father and I are very excited to be seeing you this Christmas. I know that you wanted to stay at Hogwarts for the holidays, but for reasons that I can not explain in this letter, you need to be home this season. It will be well worth it, I promise you. I picked up the presents for your friends the other day while Narcissa and I were out, and they're guaranteed to be there Christmas morning.

But, there is a more pressing matter that we need to discuss. It's the matter of your father and Lucius being unaware of the quarreling between you and Draco. Narcissa and I wish that you two could solve this issue, but we know that it can only be dissolved by you two alone. I know that this has been going on since the beginning of the year, but I'm asking you to at least put a temporary arrest on your arguments. Your father and Lucius are such close friends; it would crush them to know that their children are fighting with each other. Your father is currently under a lot of pressure and stress, dealing with work, and the up and coming ball. As you know, quite a few new people will be there, including the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, and your father would like to make a good impression.

This fight between you and Draco must stop! Temporarily, or for the better, permanently would be the best way. Like I said, I know that this has been a long battle, and I don't know what happened, but apparently it must have caused quite a problem to ruin such a tight knit friendship. I wish that you could tell me, but I don't feel that it's right for me to ask. But please, Joely! It's the holidays, compromise with him. I wouldn't want to see you two never talk again.

Love, Mom

P.S. Your dress arrived this morning. It's absolutely gorgeous! I firmly believe that you'll enjoy it.

"Ugh, damn those dresses!" Joely squalled, as her and the trio returned to Gryffindor.

"You don't like dresses?" asked Ron.

"I prefer skirts."

"Well it's only for one night, Joely, get over it!"

Ron, Harry and Joely stared in awe at Hermione. A snap so quickly was not the Hermione they knew; the normal rate of a healthy snap was a while after the annoying gesture of comment was made or repeated to death.

"Um, Hermione?" asked Harry, standing a few inches away.

"Yes, Harry?" Hermione said coolly.

"Are you upset about something?"

"Of course not, Harry, you would know."

"Then why did you burst like that?"

"Well, it is only for one night after all, and it will be over before she knows it, so why fuss?"

Joely grinned devilishly. "Saucy today aren't we?"

"What makes you say that?" asked Hermione, wondering where she was going with this.

"Well, Hermione, you have to admit that as of late, you hardly ever put up with cock and bull stories from anyone anymore," said Harry. "I think Joely here has reduced your tolerance level. I will be forever thankful to you, Joely," he laughed, trying to hide his chuckle.

"Well you know, Harry, I don't think that it was all my doing. I mean with everything you guys went through last year with that Umbridge woman, and sneaking into the Department of Mysteries; I think that there has always been that wild and fierce side of Hermione that's screamed to be let out of hiding. I think that maybe I just gave it a good nudge to make itself known."

"Excuse me for living a little," bit Hermione.

"NO!" yelled Harry. "Don't be sorry. I like this side of you," he whispered, giving her a pat on the rear as he passed.

They arrived back at the common room to find it deserted; many either still at dinner or studying in the library. They knew from last year that this year's fifth years were loaded down with O.W.L. homework just as they had been. The four friends had arrived early to dinner to beat the rush, and have time to themselves, being alone in the common room allowed them to be as loud and obnoxious as they desired. Harry and Ron were engrossed in a very "Ron favored" game of Wizard's Chess, and Joely was teaching Hermione some very basic wandless magic, her only harnessed tricks to be truthful.

"Okay, now, with the Summoning Charm we usually use, all you have to do is concentrate on the object you want and call to it. Without the wand, there's a little bit more concentration needed, and you need to visualize the object and where you want it to land, but I'm still new at getting it right too."

"What if the object is bigger than I am?" queried Hermione.

"Let's try something small first, hun," Joely laughed worriedly. Hermione's enthusiasm for learning was infamous in all areas, but Joely was distraught that she might be too enthused. "Okay... um, something small.... Try one of those pillows over there by Harry."

"Why a pillow?" she asked. "Why not say a chair?"

"Because, if you miss the landing spot and it ends up hitting someone or something, it won't hurt. So please, start with a pillow, Mya."

Hermione closed her eyes tight, trying to fixate on bringing the pillow into her arms. Her face was crawling into a sizzling red color, giving Ron's hair a run for its money and she finally let out a held breath, extreme frustration clear.

"No!"

"Hermione, this is summoning, not busting an artery. Just relax and concentrate, not constipate."

"Ha, ha that was very funny, Joey!"

"Did you just call me Joey?" she asked, thinking her ears were playing tricks on her.

"Well Harry calls you Joe, so I though that Joey would be my nickname for you."

She shrugged. "It's okay with me, I guess. No one has ever called me "Joey" though, but use it if you want. Okay, try again."

Joely had to admit that since Hermione relaxed and calmed her selfish desire to succeed immediately, she was doing surpassingly better. Sluggishly, the pillow next to Harry began to rise. Higher and higher off the couch it came. Joely watched Hermione breathe deeply and allow her mind to work its magic. The red, crushed velvet pillow gently floated toward them, wavering somewhat away from its path, but for the most part, staying on a steady track.

"CHECKMATE!" yelled Ron.

"Ouch! Ron!"

Harry and Ron bolted away from their game to find Joely on the ground rubbing her left cheek. Ron's outburst had mucked up Hermione's concentration, sending the pillow full force into Joely's face.

"Okay, so I was wrong. Pillows do hurt," Joely laughed dryly.

KNOCK! KNOCK!

"Hello, Blaise. Yes she's in here, come on in," said Hermione from the portrait, ushering the Slytherin in.

"Who's doing that?"

"Doing what?" asked Harry, giving Blaise an odd look.

"That!" Blaise pointed above Harry and Ron. There, floating above the two boys was Ron's marble chess board and pieces. "Who's doing that?"

"Me," said Joely.

"How?" he asked.

"Uh duh, Blaise, it's called magic."

"No, where's your wand?"

"It's in my pocket, why?"

"How can you do that, without your wand, I mean?"

Joely shrugged. "I learned a few things from my dad and grandfather."

Blaise's eyes scrunched in befuddlement, before widening into a dawning stare. "Both your father and grandfather can do that? You mean... Never mind that. Professor Snape sent me to give you this and to tell you that he needs to speak with you about your homework. Where's Holli?"

"You should try the library for her," said Hermione. "Wait, we didn't have any homework in potions class."

"Snape wants to see her too."

"Why would he... Oh, okay. Tell him I'll be right there."

And Blaise left Gryffindor Tower. Joely read Snape's letter and mumbled obscenities under her breath; cursing the Potions Master for his untimely order to see her. "I have to see Snape 'post haste' he says. If I'm not back in a few hours, send reinforcements."

"Joely, wait," Hermione called. "You said you were going to tell Harry and Ron about - you know."

"Uh, oh, yeah, that," she groaned. "I'll do it when I get back."

.....................................................................

"I wish I could stay here for Christmas."

"It'll be fun seeing your family though," said Hermione. "Did you spend Christmases at Salem?"

"No, Christmases were mandatory visits. Well, I take that back, once or twice I stayed at school, but that only happened because Tyler wanted to stay there for the holidays and I couldn't leave the oaf there by himself with the rest of our house gone," she laughed. "Our parents had arranged for him to spend those Christmases with us if he wanted, but we liked the idea of having our house to ourselves, so we stayed, just me and him."

"Wasn't that lonely?"

"Not at all! We had more fun there than we probably would've had at home. Think of everything you can get away with, you know? But, unfortunately, that only happened those few times. My parents always made me come home. Part of being hostess means you have to be there, my mom always said. Who would've thought that? Sometimes my parents would let me junk away from the ball and throw my own party. Now that was fun and I'm hoping for that next year if this holiday goes well. So, you three best be going home next Christmas!"

"I'm sure it won't be too bad," said Harry.

"All those going home, please bring your trunks to the main entrance. The carriages are waiting," said Professor McGonagall.

"Ugh, I don't want to do this!" Joely whined.

"Having to attend a ball is not a valid reason for not wanting to go home. What's the real reason, Joe?"

Joely let out an exasperated sigh, rolling her eyes. Harry was right. The ball was boring. All those adults, some acting as though they're better than everyone, and having to dance with some of the most ungraceful men who continually trotted on your feet, was wretched to have to think about. But it wasn't the real reason for her wanting to stay behind.

The Quad Squad was waiting outside the carriage while Joely's trunk was secured at the rear.

"So," began Harry, "I know that I haven't known you that long, but sometimes you can be read like a book, and I do know you well enough to know that something is really getting to you."

"Have you ever felt that something just wasn't right? That you really shouldn't be doing something? That's how I feel right now. I feel like something is telling to me stay here. I feel scared to go."

"Maybe you're just nervous about seeing your family after so long," said Hermione, cuddling into Harry for warmth.

"It's not like I've never been away from home before. Eh, well, whatever. I can't stay away forever I guess. You have to face the music sometime."

"Everyone aboard!" yelled Snape through the blowing flurries of snow.

"Well give me hugs. I'm really going to miss you guys!"

"We'll miss you too," said Ron. "Stay out of trouble."

"I should be telling you that, Señor Don Juan."

"Who is Don Juan?"

"A real ladies man," Joely laughed, with a few very pronounced winks. "Be careful."

"And why am I the one that needs to stay out of trouble? Enlighten us, oh great knowledgeable one," Ron chortled.

"Lavender is staying here for Christmas too, but I don't know that because she doesn't like me, remember?"

"Cork it!"

"In the carriage, Miss McGill," said Professor Bridgeman.

They said their goodbyes and exchanged final embraces. As the carriage pulled away for Hogsmeade station with only her in it, she stuck her head out the window getting a face full of snowflakes.

"MERRY CHRISTMAS! OH, I MEAN HAPPY CHRISTMAS!"

"HAPPY CHRISTMAS!" they returned.

..................................................................

"Hey, want some help?"

"Thanks, Blaise, that would be nice."

He assisted her with her trunk and secured it safely in a luggage rack. This train ride, she had managed to find a compartment all to herself. Her being alone with no distractions made her all the more frightful of going home.

As the train left the station, Joely was already eagerly anticipating her return to Hogwarts. She tried to think of something, well anything that would make her comfortable, but her "remedies" were duds. She thought that possibly changing out of her school robes and putting herself back into her own world of apparel would set her more at ease.

Once dressed, the restlessness consumed her tenfold. With her normal clothes consisting of jeans and a sweater back on again, her attention and anxiety was set on the inevitable arrival at King's Cross. How she wanted to figure out what wanted her to stay behind. How she wished that she could apparate off the train and straight into Hogsmeade. She made her way back to her compartment wanting a word, or a sign, something, anything that would tell her, or clue her in to what was plaguing her.

"Sorry," she whispered with her head low. She had bumped into somebody. Or had they bumped into her?

"Hey, Jem, wait!" called a male voice.

Jem? Only two people called her Jem and one was her father and the other.... Her head shot up, something clicked within her and a bubbled of air lodged in her larynx. She felt a hand grasp hers; the strong fingers entwining themselves with hers. Turning around, she came face to face with Draco. He didn't look mad, he didn't look happy; blank was the only emotion she could see. Something reacted in her heart and she knew that this, whatever this was, was telling her to stay away from home. Whatever would happen this holiday she was being warned to stay at school to be away from, involved Draco.

"What?" she asked solemnly.

"Does this hurt?"

"Does what hurt?" She was devoured by her misunderstanding of his statement.

"This," he said, bringing their clasped hands to eye level.

"No. Should it?"

"You really don't remember, do you?"

"Remember what, Draco? If this is some stupid ass attempt to make me think you're up to something, believe me, it's working. Uh, why are you so close? Draco?"

"Come in here," he whispered, pulling her into an empty compartment. "Face the window," he said closing and locking the door.

"Wha..."

"Please?" he asked with a little more feeling, and she complied. He was apprehensive about possibly hurting her again, but the touching of their hands was pain free; perchance her back was all that was sensitive? However, doing this felt so right. Slowly, he lifted up the hem of her shirt, his fingers dancing in the material; allowing the shirt to fall down over his wrists, he let her shirt swallow his hands.

Refraining from making contact, he inched his way up her back until he knew he reached the clasp of her bra. "If this hurts, let me know, all right?" he spoke softly. She nodded her reply, a few physical and verbal trembles emitted. Ever so gently as though she was made of spun glass, he placed his palms flat down onto her warm skin. She gasped.

"Does that hurt?" he asked, quickly removing his hands from her skin, but not out from underneath her sweater.

"No," she whimpered, taking shallow breaths.

He edged around and stood facing her. "Then what happened?"

"It felt... good. And..."

"And what?" Draco asked in a gentle, soothing tone.

"I remember what happened. I remember everything. Throwing up in the bathroom, Blaise catching me when I fell, and, and me screaming when you were going to carry me."

Draco padded a step closer, his arms sliding along her waist, his hands meeting at her middle back. He returned his hands under her shirt and back onto her flesh, savoring the warmth of her skin that he needed desperately to feel. "Why, Joely? Why me? Why not anyone else? And don't tell me that you can't tell me because we are not moving until you do. There is something about me that makes you this way, and I think I have a right to know." His voice was demanding with need, but it wasn't of a commanding level.

"You care about me in a way that no one else does. Or did care, actually," she cried.

"What does that mean? Jem, I have to know. It's killing me not knowing what is going on with you. Sometimes I, I can't even stand to look at you, and then other times I feel lost without you," he said firmly. "Knowing that something is seriously wrong with you, and knowing that Blaise is privy while I'm out the loop, hurts me even more. So, tell me. What is wrong with you?"

"I can't tell you."

"I told you that I wasn't going to stand for that answer, and I'm not about to go back on my word."

"Why not, you've done it before," Joely spat with venom.

"Things have changed. Now tell me what this problem between us is. I said that neither of us is leaving this compartment, or train for that matter until you answer me. So unless you want to spend Christmas and the rest of our lives on this train, you best start talking."

"Don't you understand anything?" she bellowed, pushing him away. "Why don't you listen to anyone? Your parents, my parents and Blaise have all told you that you can't know. Why won't you just listen? Just give it up and move on with your life, Draco!"

"I've been giving up on people all my life, and look where it took me. I almost killed myself because I wanted to give up! I'm not giving up on you! You didn't give up on me and I'm returning the favor!"

"Well I'm giving up with you."

"NO YOU'RE NOT! Fine, you said to listen to Blaise, I'll listen to Blaise. He said that something would happen if I knew. What will happen if I know? What is it? Who will it happen to?"

"Me, you, our families," she murmured, scared to not answer him.

"What will happen?"

"Something awful. It won't necessarily happen to you or our families, but it will affect them."

"Does that mean it will happen to you?" Draco caught on to her talking in circles. "What will happen? If it's going to happen to you, then I deserve to know what my feelings for you are going to cause."

"A pain like no other. Something far worse than even the Cruciatus Curse can inflict."

"Why?" Draco asked, his breath shaky.

"Because he doesn't like you."

"Who? Your father?"

"No, D -" She tried to expel the name, but her lips crushed themselves together when she tried, binding the sound in her throat, so she gave up. "It's kind of like how people flinch when someone says Voldemort, but I just can't say it. It's physically impossible for me to say his name."

"Just tell me what it is. Just tell me and I promise you'll I'll fix it."

"You still don't understand! You can't fix it! No one can!" she screamed.

"Why? What is so hard about this illness? Every illness has a cure."

"It's not a fucking illness, Draco! I'm cursed, okay, I'm cursed! Are you happy now?"

Draco mouth dropped, he couldn't believe what he was hearing. Nothing could have ever prepared him for this. Maybe his parents had had the right idea in not telling him? She was right; he couldn't fix this... yet.

"Why?" he choked out barely. "Why you?"

"Because I screwed up. I became too attached and when things started to get rough I backed away and just like Blaise said, I turned chicken and didn't fight 'til it was too late. I blinded myself from it, and now I'm paying for it. I should have listened, but instead I looked after my own life instead of the one that needed my attention."

"This isn't telling me anything, Jem. What you're saying has no meaning to me."

"It's not supposed to mean anything to you."

"You said you became too attached. Does that mean you became attached to something, like some object and this is your punishment?"

"This isn't some bedtime story you tell your children to teach them a lesson. This isn't about me becoming attached to some puppy and me backing out of the responsibilities of taking care of it, Malfoy. This is my punishment for being selfish. I have to live like this because I didn't pay attention to what needed me. I... I have to go."

"No, Joely, stop!" he yelled, but it was too late, she was gone.

Draco dropped down on his knees and put his head in his hands. He felt disgusting. Joely was cursed and the pain she endured was his fault. Why her? Of all the people that deserved to be cursed, why did Joely have to take one of their places? Why did she have to suffer so much? he asked himself.

..................................................................

"Come in," Joely answered to the knock on her door.

"May I?" asked Blaise, popping his head in.

"Sure, plop a bench."

"Care to explain the flushed face?"

"I told Draco."

"You told him what?"

"That I'm cursed."

"YOU WHAT?" he bellowed, jumping up from his seat. "Way to go, Joely, pillage an already destroyed human!"

"Oh fuck you, Zabini! I'm sick and tired of you telling me who should and who shouldn't know. I had to tell him. It was better that I told him than for him to find out some god awful way like you did, by snooping around in places that he shouldn't be! Maybe now he'll finally leave me alone and return to Pansy. She can care for him in ways that I can't."

"Oh God, Joely!" he groaned.

"Do you know how hard it's been to keep that from him?"

"I figured you didn't want him to know. It is rather embarrassing don't you think?"

"Kiss my ass, Blaise! You basked in the knowledge that you were aware of it all and he was clueless! And don't you dare say you didn't because you did, and you know it!"

"So I liked knowing more than him, you want me to sing about it? Are you going to curse me for being selfish?"

That last remark had hit Joely directly in the chest, the force like that of a deadly hex. Blaise saw her reaction and knew he had possibly destroyed their friendship. He had never really intended to say that, but as they say, what's done is done and what's said is said, it can't be taken back.

"You arrogant son-of-a-bitch! How dare you say that! I've accepted what I've done and I'm living with the affects of it everyday, but there are things that even you don't know, Blaise. And fuck the idea of me ever telling you because all it would be was something for you to throw in my face!"

"Joely, I'm sorry!"

"I don't give two shits about your apology! I have NEVER, EVER not forgiven someone! Even if you were to die tomorrow, I would not be sorry for telling you that you are NOT forgiven! I forgave you for calling me a coward, but this is unforgivable! Get the hell out of my compartment." Her low hiss on her last statement made Blaise realize just how pissed she was. "NOW!"

..............................................................................

"Joely!"

She rolled her head up to see her mother and Mrs. Malfoy waiting down the platform next to the Intercity 93 on the muggle side of the barrier. She continued at her sloth like pace, dragging her trunk behind her.

Noelle embraced her daughter in a squeezing hug. Joely however, was as unresponsive as a rag doll. Looking at her mother and Mrs. Malfoy required strength she couldn't find. Noelle touched Joely's forehead and cheeks, checking the flushed skin for signs of fever.

"Well, you're cool as a cucumber, you don't have a fever. Are you feeling ill, sweetheart? You're eyes are very red and look quite itchy."

"It's been a really hard day, Mom. Can we just get home fast; I want to take a nap."

"Is everything okay with you and Draco?" asked Noelle.

How could she tell her mom that he knew? The one secret she had promised never to divulge unless the information was found out had now been unleashed. How could she disappoint her mother like that?"

"Everything is..."

"Great."

She looked beside her and there was Draco, placing her trunk on top of his on a trolley.

"Everything's great," he said, giving her a genuine smile.

Professor Bridgeman was right, she thought. I am toeing a fine line.