Strawberry Gashes

He's my evil twin
He's the enemy inside me
It's me against him and I hate his wicked grin
But we're brothers to the end
He will break your heart but I'll do my best to stop him
He's ticking like a bomb
I adore you but he forks his tongue
I'm just not myself today

I try to smile, but the creature lurks right below
I just can't keep the lid on of the enemy in my soul
He tears down all the things I worked so hard for
I'm gonna get my gun and kill the enemy within

Round and around I go
Caught by the undertow
I can't escape myself at midnight
Footsteps and shadows swirl
The prince of the underworld chases me through the fog at midnight

He wants you to approve
Fears he will be called a failure
He plays cat and mouse with you
But I don't know who is more the fool
His Jekyll or his Hyde
Fly above the multitudes
Or just give them what they're used to
He's lit by candlelight
His quill is full of blood and spite

Chapter 3: The Enemy Within

It was the start of a new year, and the teachers already seemed delighted to begin piling up the homework. It was only the first day of classes, and the 6^th years already has assignments ranging from practicing Charms to writing Transfiguration essays. By the time lunch rolled around, Tristan felt as if she was going to pass out. When she sat down at the table in the Great Hall, she was so tired that she didn't even have the energy to reach the bowl of fruit that sat only a few inches in front of her.

"Accio apple," she said as a juicy red one soared into her hand. She turned her head to look at the teachers' table. She knew very few of them, and she was looking forward to meeting the rest of the bunch soon.

Tristan loved learning. She was very dedicated when it came to her studies, and the thing she liked about the classes she had attended that morning were that the teachers were able to keep their students calm and under control. It came as a huge culture shock to her, since the school she went to back in the states was much more flexible and the place would be up in chaos nearly every day. Back at the Leyerona Academy her peers were wild and rambunctious, and there was always something distracting her from her work. She liked that she could concentrate with ease in her new environment.

She still had her eye on the teachers, and she whispered each of their names and which course they taught to herself. She only recognized McGonagall, for she had met her the night before and was also her Transfiguration professor, Professor Flitwick, her Charms professor, whom she had met that morning, and Professor Snape, the head of her house. She was looking forward to attending his class, Potions, which was her first class that afternoon.

"Well, Well, Well, if it isn't Muttering McQuerie." Tristan heard a cold voice behind her.

"Talking to the voices inside your head eh? Too bad there's no cure for schizophrenia," Malfoy took a seat beside her. "

Sorry there isn't a cure for removing the stick from your ass," she retorted while she took another bite of her apple.

"Bet the voices are the only friends you have," he snapped back as he grabbed a piece of bread.

"Bet that stick's the only friend you've got," she said as she stood up and left the table.

She had enough of his venomous remarks.

Little did she know, Malfoy followed her. She was heading straight for the dungeons, early for class. He walked behind her without her noticing for several minutes, which she turned a dark corner and he grabbed her by the wrist. She tried to let out a scream, but he was too quick and he covered her mouth with his hand, but made sure to not block her nose so she could breathe. His other hand was firmly pressed against her shoulder, for he shoved her against a wall.

"Think you're funny do yeh?" He said in an icy tone.

A gargoyle behind him held a lit torch that made his piercing blue eyes appear merely as two slits. Tristan trembled and Draco could see the fear looming in her eyes.

"Well McQuerie, you've made a bad choice. You've insulted me, a prefect, far too many times. I'm going to have to punish you," he hissed into her ear.

She began to breathe heavily, fearful for what he might do next. He knew that any ordinary girl would be driven wild by his lips grazing across theirs, making them crave his touch, his scent, his taste, making them want his everything. So, he kissed her, long and slow, passionately.

Tristan was not any ordinary girl. The moment their lips met, painful memories blinded her sight, and flashbacks of her dark past haunted her once again. Her eyes filled with salty tears. She dug her talon-like nails into his hand, which had slipped down to her waist. Their lips broke apart. He moaned in pain as he clutched his wrist. She stomped on his foot with her big, black, three-inch heel boots. He yelped in more pain, and bent down, groaning even more.

She grabbed her wand out of her robe pocket and yelled, "Locomotor Mortis!"

Instantly, his legs locked and he was unable to walk.

"What's your problem?!" Malfoy screamed at her.

"You've messed with the wrong girl," she said fighting back the tears that were forming in her eyes, making her eyes sting.

"If you do anything like that to me again, I swear I will hex you so badly that you'd wish you were never born. Now, I will free your legs if you promise me a truce," she hissed.

"Truce?" she asked angrily. She stuck her hand out, and he shook it.

"Truce," Malfoy said painfully.

He had his other hand behind his back; his fingers were crossed.

"I don't believe you," she snarled.

"Rictusempra!" she yelled. Suddenly, Draco was on the floor laughing hysterically. He felt as if a bunch of hand came pouncing on him, tickling him.

"Make...it...stop...please!" Malfoy groaned between laughs.

"I...promise...I...swear...truce...just...please...make...it...stop..." he said breathless, between his uncontrollable laughs.

"Fine, truce. Finite Incantatum!" she muttered.

The spells stopped, and Malfoy was laying in the hallway, gasping for air. A bead of sweat formed around his forehead. He stood up, brushed himself off, and thought it best to apologize. He didn't want to be cursed even worse, and knowing the tricks she had already pulled on him, she probably had much worse up her sleeve. Before he could say anything, Tristan was already heading down the hallway, her robes billowing behind her.

"I'm...sorry..." Malfoy whispered. All he heard was her muffled crying, echoing in the gloomy corridor.