That Which does not Kill

~ * ~ *

A few months later...(i.e.--early November)

The sun had already crawled above the horizon when Quiana awoke to a gentle breeze flowing in from the open window.

Damn it, Angelica, why couldn't you have closed the window before you came back from that shitty party last night? Quiana thought grumpily as she slammed the window closed. It cracked a little as it landed on the sill. This is such a stupid piece of crap. Someone's doing this on purpose just to MAKE me fix it.

Grabbing her wand from her night table, she pointed it at the small crack in the windowpane.

"Reparo." The glass slowly but surely filled the crack and looked good as new.

Angelica, Quiana's roommate who was supposedly 'sleeping' in the next bed, sat up and rubbed her eyes. "What time is it?" She asked groggily.

"Too early," Quiana replied, fetching a towel from her trunk. "Go back to bed and sleep off that hangover. If Snape catches you like that he's going to have a cow."

"Okay," Angelica mumbled. She was asleep again before her head hit her pillow.

Quiana sighed. Hangovers were never a pleasant experience. Before her mother, Calista, disappeared, she recalled that Calista would always stay at home...barely conscious and drinking imported Japanese beer. Hours were wasted staring blankly at the pictures of herself and her deceased husband, Edward Llewellyn. After coming home from school she would find her mother hunched over the sink, vomiting endlessly. It continued like this for weeks. The weeks slowly evolved to months...and then the months turned into years. She would try to stop Calista from drinking, but to no avail. Then all of the sudden, on the day of Quiana's ninth birthday, Calista Wu disappeared without a trace. No note, no body...nothing was ever found of her. Alone and afraid, Quiana spent the next six years forging a life for herself. She was even reduced to begging for money just so she could have something to eat. But she would never go so low as to sell herself on the underground Chinese pornography market.

Did you have to go off on that memory? Of all memories to choose from, you have to remember that one. She berated herself. But just telling herself to stop thinking about those painful memories didn't help. In her mind, she could see everything happening all over again, except for the fact that this time she was watching the little girl trying to make her own life; the little girl whose dreams had been so violently robbed and left with nothing. Stop it, stop it. Don't bring back what's already over and done. Leave the past where it should be. Quiana inhaled, envisioning positive things and banishing the negatives. It's a brand new day. And there's nothing like a good shower to get you started. Pulling out her hair band, she streaked across the hall to the bathroom to reserve a shower stall for herself, before all the other girls decided that they too, needed a shower to start their day.

Hermione could barely see clearly as she stumbled to the bathroom to wash her face and prepare to face the rest of the school.

"Ow, watch where you're going, raccoon eyes," Padma snapped angrily, rubbing her head where Hermione had accidentally run into her.

"Huh?" Hermione was too disoriented to answer. She barely made it to a sink in front of the large mirror. Moaning Myrtle must be trying to sing again, she thought, hearing someone humming in the background. It's awful steamy in here. Someone must be taking a shower. Looking at herself in the mirror, she almost jumped back from shock. Her eyes were bloodshot, dark circles were forming under them, and her hair appeared as if it hadn't met a brush in years. The straightening solution must have worn off...I guess I'll have to make another batch tonight. Turning on the cold water, she splashed her face a few times and patted her face with a towel. Leaning and staring into the sink, she wondered if her dark, encircled eyes had been too noticeable.

"I believe you were using my towel." An icy voice from behind her stated.

Hermione's heart stopped. Her head snapped up, and in the mirror, a figure with a pair of pale green eyes stared back.

The figure held out her hand. "Well?"

Hermione could feel the adrenaline circulating throughout her body. It made her nervous, fidgety. Nervous was the last thing she wanted to look like in front of her adversary. "Oh...Umm...Here," she said, shoving the towel into Quiana's hand and quickly averting her gaze back to the sink.

"Thanks." Pivoting on her heel, Quiana was instantly on her way out of the bathroom.

She walked away from the sink and sat on the ground, her back to a wall. Her head relaxed against the cold ceramic.

~ * ~ *

Draco ran a hand through his hair. He had been brooding in front of the Slytherin common room fire for a while now. I just don't get it. The Book of Legends said that the Holders of the Dragon and Blade staff were supposed to be "together forever". I mean, I guess I'm doing my part...sort of. But she's the one who's going against everything--I don't understand. I could have any girl I want; they've always fallen at my feet, desperate for my attention. So why should she be any different?

As Pansy traipsed her way down the stairs to the common room, she spied Draco staring into the fire, deep in thought. His black Slytherin House shirt reflected a dark green from the glow of the fire. Plastering on her most 'alluring' smile, she slid up to the plush chair in which he was sitting.

"What's wrong, Draco? Has that Gryffindor tramp been bothering you again?" she drawled, each word sickly sweet.

He sighed. Frankly, he was getting very tired of this fat thing named Pansy. Compared to Quiana, whom Pansy herself had labeled a 'tramp', Pansy might as well have been a piece of trash strewn aside in the streets of Diagon Alley.

"Pansy, you know I don't like to talk about my personal issues 1) with you and 2) in the common room." He sneered vehemently. "Honestly, Pansy, if I didn't know better, you were probably trying to pump me for information to spread to your other fat friends. Oh, pardon me, my mistake. You don't have any other friends. Of course, if you did, they'd look just like you."

Pansy appeared instantly taken aback. Her eyes welled as if she had just been slapped. She cast her eyes to the ground, lest the coldness come again.

"I would never do that, Draco...Never," she said, shaking her head as if she was trying to convince herself.

Draco smirked. He allowed some of the icy steel to seep from his immovable stare.

Pansy whimpered at the first brush of ice.

My job is done here. Draco didn't even bother to turn around and apologize for nearly giving Pansy a nervous breakdown. It's people like Pansy that give Slytherin a bad name. He simply left the common room and headed for the Great Hall for breakfast. Quiana... the memory of her standing so close to him flickered across his mind like a bolt of lightning. Draco quickened his pace. He couldn't wait to see her, even if she wasn't looking at him. That's it. You're officially insane.

~ * ~ *

Harry barely caught a glimpse of a girl walking slowly toward the Great Hall. Noticing the long, dark hair, he called, "Hey Quiana," but there was no response. "Quiana?"

The girl turned around to glare at Harry.

"It's Hermione," she snarled.

Harry looked honestly startled. Hermione didn't look anything like her usual, composed self. Her hair was a mess and her eyes looked seriously bloodshot and swollen; like she had been up late, crying... he approached closer and put an arm around her shoulder.

"Are you okay?" he asked, already predicting what her response was going to be.

Angrily, she pushed his arm away. "Does it look like I'm okay?" she shot back. "I'm losing everything and everyone I love to that...that bitch!" Tears that she had been holding back finally spilled over.

"You mean me? Or Malfoy? Come on, Hermione, you know Ron and I will always be there for you. And Malfoy, just leave him. He wasn't worthy of someone like you."

Harry's voice offered some consolation, but not enough for Hermione.

"I wish I could believe you," she sobbed. "But you don't understand how I feel. I'm so confused, Harry, and I don't want to be. They're destined to be together, Harry. So the whole time he was with me was a lie; it was all just one big lie." She sobbed again, this time louder, attracting the temporary stares of a few Ravenclaw first years running by to get a bite of breakfast.

Harry frowned. "I thought you were over all that Divination crap."

Hermione shook her head violently and turned away from him. "It's different Harry, Draco is the Holder of the Dragon Staff."

"I know that, Hermione, but what difference does that make?"

Hermione whirled around. Her face was streaked with tears. "Quiana is too! She's the Holder of the Blade!"

Harry blanched. If there was one thing interesting in Professor Binns' class, it was the Legend of the 4 Holders of the Staff. His favorite had undoubtedly been the Sun Staff, which governed the power of lightness and darkness. But it was impossible that there was a Holder of the Blade Staff. Its power was unrivaled; it was barely held in check by the Sun Staff. He had heard Professor Binns tell the class that many wizards and witches from all over the world had tried to control it but the Blade would respond to none but its designated Holder. It was prophesized that the only one who could tame the fire of the Holder of the Blade Staff was the Holder of the Dragon Staff...Draco Malfoy.

Suddenly, everything clicked into place.

"Hermione, I'm sorry," Harry sighed exasperatedly. I'm never going to get to Potions on time if I stay here moping with her. Neither will she, unless we haul ass, oh, right about NOW. "Look, Hermione, if you don't have a date for the upcoming Yule Ball..."

Hermione turned away. "I don't need your goddamned sympathy. I need Draco," and with that, she ran off to Potions, obviously skipping breakfast, with Harry fast on her tail.

~ * ~ *

(Snape's Potions Dungeon, midmorning)

"Did any of you besides Mr. Malfoy study the effects of the Darbulb potion? If I'm not mistaken, that was the homework I assigned for you yesterday." Snape asked in a tired voice. He raised one greasy eyebrow at his Gryffindor and Slytherin class and made a slight clicking sound with his tongue.

"I'd have thought of you as better than to forget to do your homework," he glared menacingly at the usually attentive Hermione. "I could be much harder on you, but since I am such a benevolent teacher, I assigned a simple reading assignment in your Modern Usage of Potions."

He fixed an eye on Hermione. "Ms. Granger, what are the key ingredients to the success of the Darbulb potion? And whilst you are thinking, please do tell us about its uses also."

Hermione's eyes appeared glazed and uninhabited, like she wasn't really in class, but in another dimension.

Quiana frowned. Something's on her mind...

"Ms. Granger, I need an answer." Snape sneered, in an evident condescending tone. "We don't have all day, you know."

Aware of Snape's evident prejudice but willing to defend her fellow Gryffindor, Quiana reluctantly raised her hand.

Snape's grease combed eyebrows lifted in surprise. (Or what appeared to be surprise.)

"Ms. Llewellyn?"

Wow, someone remembered my name...or at least part of it, Quiana thought.

"Are you trying to help Ms. Granger on this very difficult question about the Darbulb potion? Which I have to mention, again, that it was indeed your homework assignment last night."

Even the most retarded Slytherin could probably have detected Snape's sarcasm.

"No, actually, I simply have the answer to your very difficult query about the Darbulb potion." She was careful to enunciate the 'very', just as Snape had done. Her retort elicited a few snickers from the Gryffindor side of the dungeon. A flush of color came to Snape's hollow cheeks.

"Well then, if you're so positive about it, do give it to us."

Quiana cleared her throat and proceeded to talk up a slew of uses and ingredients for the Darbulb potion. "First, you need to collect 3 hairs from the mane of the King Unicorn, 1/2 inch cut roots from the dewbulb, and the dried cartilage of the adolescent Leviathan. The potion is generally used for medicinal purposes--as active ingredients in healing salves and repellents. When the mixture is entirely liquefied, it makes a useful disinfectant on specific surfaces, such as dragon-hide or skinned hippogriff..." she paused to shudder at the thought of seeing a hippogriff without its skin. Snape immediately pounced on the chance to comment.

"Quite 'impressive', Ms. Llewellyn, but I'm afraid you were lacking in naming all of the uses of the potion..."

Quiana checked her fingernails, without looking up at Snape. She didn't feel like giving him any more respect than he had given her.

"I wasn't exactly finished explaining."

Snape's nostrils flared. His sallow face slowly boiled to a pink. "Are you being impudent, Ms. Llewellyn?" he said through gritted teeth. Nobody had ever given Snape this much trouble, needless to say a Gryffindor student!

Uh-oh. She's going to get it now...that is, if I don't do something... Draco thought. His hand shot up, distracting Snape.

"Professor Snape, I think our class has gone a bit over the schedule."

Snape ungritted his teeth and relaxed. He seemed to forget his verbal spar match with Quiana as his cheesy smile returned. "Of course, Mr. Malfoy. You are all dismissed. Do NOT, I repeat, DO NOT, forget to do your homework assignment tonight, else face the consequences tomorrow morning."

I could have handled Snape myself. Why did he have to butt in? Maybe that's his problem, sticking his ass into things he shouldn't. Quiana thought darkly as she stalked out of the dungeon. A newly attached poster caught her eye as she was almost about to pass it in the corridor. Hogwarts' Annual Yule Ball...singles welcome...formal attire. Why not? Giggling like a first year, she almost skipped down the hall before she caught herself.

~ * ~ *

Draco lay still in his bed. It was well after midnight, and he was still wide-awake. He couldn't believe it. The Annual Yule Ball was closing in, and his life was flying by. One day, he was just another rich and powerful Slytherin, heir to the Malfoy Empire. But along came Mia--Hermione--and all of the sudden he was one of the Chosen Holders... And now he had met Quiana, the fourth Holder, who held the reins of his heart and jerked him around like there was no tomorrow. Although she was in full power over him, she had yet to even begin to like his personality. All she saw was the proud, arrogant Draco who could never care about anyone but himself. Just like Hermione when we first started going out...God, why do you always have to let your stupid ego get in the way? Along comes the perfect girl for you and all you can do back is be your egotistical self and push her away. Few people ever stood up to Snape, needless to say anyone from Gryffindor. Even Hermione didn't do anything that gutsy. He was about to think about his dream girl a little more when the rustle of feathers at his window interrupted him.

"Aurum," he breathed. Harsh, golden eyes glinted in the darkness. A letter, bearing the Malfoy family crest, was attached to its leg. He nearly pushed the owl out of the window in his hurry to recover the letter. Upon seeing the dark gray feathers, he knew that this was his mother's owl now. She had long been obsessed with the color of gray--ever since she revealed to him that he had a half-sister named Celeste. Hurriedly untying the letter, he predicted it was just another message from his mother asking for a visit during the holidays. Father would rather go to Dumbledore and tell him that he would like me to come home, instead of writing to me personally. Lucius never liked to write personal letters to anyone, needless to say his son.

Draco instantly recognized his mother's neat handwriting.

Dearest Draco,

The end of another year is quickly approaching. It seems like only yesterday that I was wishing you good luck for your first year at Hogwarts. Oh, Draco, it reminds me so much of my prime years spent there...your father and I would love to see you again, we miss you so. I cannot wait to hear what exciting news you will bring from school this year. I can hardly wait to see how much my darling son has grown during the brief period of a year. Your father and I wish you the best in hopes that you will graduate from Hogwarts with top honors, as we know you will. It is my deepest hope and wish that you have been completely happy in your year with your classmates; you will learn to cherish these years as you grow into a successful and young man. You know, Draco, if you have anything you feel you need to talk about, you know that I am always here to listen and offer what advice I can give. Please send me (us) an owl to let me (us) when you can come home as soon as possible. I miss you so much.

Wishing you all the best-- Mother

Narcissa Malfoy

Mistress of Malfoy Manor

~ * ~ *

Quiana tapped her fingers on the cherry wood desk. So far the day was boring and this class was becoming increasingly boring by the second. Certainly not the subject itself; she enjoyed the way Professor McGonagall taught, but her classmates seldom did anything to catch her attention. Her gaze wandered to the nearby desk of annoyingly chatty Ravenclaw girls. They were whispering obviously to each other and flashing frequent glances in Quiana's direction. She leaned her head on her shoulder but perked up her hearing to listen in on their conversation.

"...Oh, my gosh, I know! I heard that Mexican lobos or something raised her..."

"But she doesn't look Mexican..."

"Stupid, if Cho's really her half-sister, she couldn't be Mexican. I say she's the daughter of some whore Cho's father accidentally got drunk with," a blonde haired, brown eyed girl commented while studying her hair in a compact mirror. Then, with a serious look, "It's her eyes that bother me though. She must have done a spell on herself to get them look that colorless of a green-gray."

Quiana could feel her face getting hot. Her thoughts became clouded with violence. She could barely listen to Professor McGonagall describe the spell to transform living things into inanimate objects for a short period of time. Wait till I find out their names...she thought angrily.

Professor McGonagall's sharp voice pierced the dead air. "Daniella Lilith!"

The blonde beauty queen forced her gaze away from the mirror. "Yes, Professor McGonagall?" she replied sweetly.

"What, may I ask, do you find so interesting with your little looking-glass there?"

"Why Professor, I was ... erm..." the blonde looked around frantically for a scapegoat, but found none.

Quiana's head snapped up. Her eyes brightened. "Professor McGonagall? I believe Daniella was endeavoring to use one of your spells in order to drastically change the image she viewed in her looking-glass."

Daniella's complexion instantly morphed into a vivid, cherry red. "I was not!" she denied indignantly.

Professor McGonagall's hands flew to her temples. "That's enough from the both of you! Ms. Lilith, you will not touch that looking glass for the rest of the time you are in this classroom, and Ms. Llewellyn, when I need your comments, I will ask for them! Do you understand or must I assign you girls each a detention?"

Both Daniella and Quiana lowered their eyes and stared at the desks as they answered meekly, "Yes, Professor."

Thoughts cycled endlessly through Quiana's mind...Dear me; I think she thinks I'm competition. Fine, have it her way.

Quiana glared at Daniella across the desk. The blonde whimpered as the twin orbs of green ice were fixed on her. She felt as if two hands had closed themselves on her soul; she was slipping into complete coldness... And suddenly she was released from their grasp.

"Daniella, are you okay?"

"...She's waking up! Everybody give her some air!"

Daniella shook her head and steadied her blurry vision. She put her hands to her hot cheeks. They felt numb and icy. "...What happened? Does anyone mind filling me in on what just happened to me?" she demanded haughtily, instantly defending her reputation as the Ravenclaw queen.

One of her loyal subjects placed a hand on her shoulder. "You fainted, Daniella."

Daniella let out a high pitched laugh. "Me? Faint? That's not possible, I must have breathed in something, asphyxiated, and lost consciousness from the lack of oxygen to my brain. There has to be a logical reason behind it," she nervously searched for reasons. Her reputation as the high class Ravenclaw was at stake.

"It's true!" Another subject piped up from behind her. "All of the sudden you just fell out of your chair and started shivering...Professor McGonagall was so worried she went to get Madam Pomfrey..."

Daniella was confused. She couldn't remember anything that had just happened to her. Everything didn't make sense...everything was shrouded in a thick mist...all she could recall was that she felt like she was slowly freezing to death...

Madam Pomfrey pushed through the gaggle of students. "Out of the way, there's nothing to see. Miss Daniella, are you well enough to walk to the infirmary wing or do you need assistance?" Madam Pomfrey held her wand at the ready.

"I'm fine," Daniella, protested, pushing away her subjects and struggling to stand. Feeling dizzy, she took a few steps before nearly collapsing on the closest desk.

Madam Pomfrey clicked her tongue in disgust. "Children today, thinking they know everything about healing. Come, come, Daniella, you are not fit to walk by yourself. Wingardium Leviosa."

Quiana watched as Daniella was carted off. She began to smile, but it was wiped away as quickly as it was started. A prickly sense of shame and embarrassment crept over her. I shouldn't have let myself get carried away...I could have killed her...I hate my life, but most of all I hate me...She put her hands to her face and covered her eyes; the same eyes that nearly killed Daniella Lilith. Life is such a struggle.

Meanwhile, Hermione had been watching the whole situation unfold from afar. She realized that Quiana was much more powerful than she appeared to be. Even as the Holder of the Blade, that could not have given her the power to freeze people from within just by looking at them. I almost feel sorry for her...she carries so much on her shoulders...suddenly her jealousy and spite returned. Well, it's her problem. All the better for her. Miss Perfect isn't so perfect (or nice) after all.

~ * ~ *

Angelica was putting on more make-up, although she could not possibly need any more than she already had on.

"Why don't you come with me this time, Quiana? All you do up here is lay around and mope anyway. You'd have fun, and plus, you'll get to meet new people..." she prodded while powdering her face for the twentieth time.

Quiana stared up at the ceiling, her hands folded on her chest.

"I had a bad day again. I don't feel like going out." She replied simply.

"Oh, come on. Give me a better excuse--that's what you said last time," Angelica laughed as she tapped her many make-up containing jars with her wand.

"Well, when I think of a better one I'll tell you." Quiana retorted from her bed.

Angelica rolled her kohl-rimmed eyes. "I'm trying to do my part as your friend, dear. If you don't come with me I think I'll simply have to drag you kicking and screaming."

"You do that..." Quiana trailed off, rolling onto her side.

Angelica sighed exasperatedly and put her hands on her hips. "I wasn't planning on telling you this because I wanted him for myself--"

Quiana rolled over and sat up in the blink of an eye. "Who?"

Angelica's eyes widened in surprise. She had never seen someone react that quickly to any of her comments. "I heard from Lavender that Harry Potter was going to be there, and I didn't really want to tell you because I wanted him for myself." She turned back toward the dresser mirror. "Ah, selfish me." She laughed.

Quiana hopped off the bed. "Fine, I'll go," she relented exaggeratedly, moving toward her closet. "So what do I wear?" she asked the now gawking Angelica.

~ * ~ *

The party was more like a small coed get-together of some Ravenclaw and Gryffindor seventh years. It wasn't anything wild; nothing like the raves Quiana heard so much about when she was in the Muggle world. So why does Angelica always come back so trashed? Her eyes answered her own question--there were drinks everywhere. Spilled margarita mix and vodka stained the ground. Loud and soft conversations were everywhere; some people were all over each other. Quiana looked away in disgust. This was a mess. What is this, alcohol happy hour? I so shouldn't have come. The moment they stepped through the threshold of the once-storage room of the Astronomy Tower, Angelica hurried in the opposite direction to retrieve her nightly boost. Quiana wandered about in wonder--this place is actually pretty big for a storage room...a hand was placed gently on her shoulder. Instinctively, her right arm flew across her chest and grabbed the wrist of the hand on her shoulder, whirled around, and brought the foreign arm behind the back of its owner. It was a guy; he had on a Gryffindor Quidditch practice shirt (there was a lion on the back of it, plus the fact that 'Gryffindor' was written in a large script along with the lion) and loose black jeans that matched his hair color.

"Is this how you greet everyone?" the guy asked, trying to release his pinned back arms from her iron grip.

"That depends on how you greet me." Quiana responded. Then, deciding that he wasn't going to try and attack her, she freed him from the broken arm position. When she saw his face she was so startled her usually pale complexion actually turned a reddish hue. "Harry? Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to...are you okay?"

Harry stretched his arm. Little jolts of electricity ran through the nerves. "Yeah, I think it'll be back to full mobility in about 6 months," he smiled at his own dry humor.

Quiana sighed. "I don't think I'm meant to be in society without hurting at least one person."

"Malfoy can't be in society without at least traumatizing someone for life, so you're not as bad. Come on, my arm's not that bad off...how'd you learn to disable someone so fast?" Harry said while shaking his arm.

She shrugged. "It was something I picked up, I guess. I think I'd better leave...I don't really fit in."

Harry looked around him bemusedly. "I don't think I really belong here either. This was Ron's idea... He wanted to get out of the dorm for a while. He should be around here someplace, talking to some Ravenclaw girl..."

"What is with Gryffindor guys and Ravenclaw girls?" Quiana laughed. "You'd think that Gryffindor girls had some sort of invisible repellent against you guys."

Harry blushed at the thought of Cho, but it quickly evaporated as it had appeared.

"We don't have anything against Gryffindor girls..." he defended unconvincingly.

"Uh huh... sure..." she gave him a knowing glance. "Look, I really don't want to be surrounded by these booze addicts, so I'm going to head back to the common room and try to get some studying done...I'll see you later then," she gave him a cursory wave and started to walk when he ran to catch up with her.

"Wait...I'll come with you."

~ * ~ *

(Gryffindor Common room, 1 AM)

Quiana yawned. "No seriously, Harry, your aunt Petunia could never compare to what my drunk mother was like..."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Try adding a pissed off Uncle Vernon and a ravenous whale named Dudley to the mix. I'd like to see you kick his ass."

"Bring it on," she said mockingly.

"Don't you ever get tired of being the unofficially named 'head girl', the untouchable ice queen, the dominatrix to rival McGonagall? I mean, I'm pretty sure that every 7^th year girl is jealous of you, and who you are..." Harry rested his chin on his hands. The fireplace in the common room was still going, and it burned as brightly as it did when he first arrived at Hogwarts. He sat on a wine-colored, cushioned couch facing Quiana on the opposite loveseat, and they had both been talking since the 'encounter' at the party.

"They have no idea of who I am. No one knows what it's like to be me..." Quiana let her gaze wander to the flames. They were so natural, so beautiful, and so utterly perfect. If only life were that simple...

"Well then, what is it like to be you? No one can understand if you don't open up and tell someone." He pointed out.

The boy does have a good point, she thought wearily. Keeping up her cold front was often a difficult and trying task. "I suppose you want to be the first to know what's behind this face of mine."

Harry shrugged. "It's not important whether you confide in me or anyone else, just the fact that telling someone might release some stress."

Quiana motioned to the cushion next to her and sighed, "Sit by me, I want to show you something."

A blush slowly crept up his neck. He rubbed it with his hands in an attempt to return it to normal color.

"Are you sure?" he said hesitantly.

She folded her arms as a sign of slight impatience. "Would you like to know or not?"

"Okay, okay."

Harry climbed off his couch and settled next to her. She even smells like Cho, he thought, catching a faint scent of the cherry blossom, mixed with a stronger citrus scent, somewhat orange-like. Taking out her wand, she whispered a short incantation and within a cloud of green smoke, an old, heavy photo album appeared on her lap.

"Nifty trick you've got there," he commented.

"I'm sure you have plenty that are better," she replied, flipping open the book, causing a few green dust particles to scatter into the air. "It's a locking spell my grandma taught me for keeping personal things strictly personal."

"She wouldn't have taught it to you if she didn't think you had something to hide," he commented.

"Smart boy," she smiled. "Check out this picture...that was my mom and dad's wedding picture. This is the only copy I have. God knows what my mom did with hers."

The photo remained fully intact. A regal, smiling woman and a tall man with light green eyes stood side by side in front of a majestic background of tropical landscape.

"This picture was taken a few years before my dad was murdered. I didn't get a hold of it until my grandma gave it to me. Then again, I didn't even get it until I turned 14...that was when I first met my grandma Ophelia. Out of the blue, she sends me an owl telling me that she wants me to come live in Liverpool with her." She turned a thick page.

Harry leaned over her shoulder. "Is that you?" he pointed to a small, unhappy looking girl posing with her mother.

"How'd you guess?" she said sarcastically. "This was a picture of my mom and me, 2 or 3 months after my father first disappeared. Half a year later the police decided to drop the bomb on my mother. They told her that he had been found dead, apparently murdered by a notorious gang called the Death's Angels. Ironic, isn't it? It's not all that common for Death to be associated with angels."

She yawned, but Harry was enthralled. She has such a rich history, he thought. He looked past her and back into the fire. Her serious, dark silhouette against the flames made her appear like Cho, but with a stronger and sharper edge. Her eyes are incredible... the twin orbs of the lightest green. Slowly stretching out his hand, he shifted closer and moved a stray lock of hair from her face.

"Your eyes are beautiful," he said softly.

She made no reply, only stared back in wonder. "Harry?" she asked unconsciously. Her body felt loose; she was too tired to keep up her guard.

He leaned forward, but instead of kissing her, his lips simply brushed her cheek and his head landed on the corner of where her neck and shoulder were joined. His eyes were half-lidded already as he smiled at her.

Quiana's heart rate was through the roof. She couldn't believe what just happened. Deep breath, deep breath. She gripped the armrest tighter. Is this reality? Or am I just...dream...ing... Enveloped in a state of relaxation, she surrendered to sleep.

~ * ~ *

Lavender pranced happily down the stairs to the Gryffindor Common Room.

"It's a beautiful day, no?" She screeched to a halt when she came upon Harry and Quiana, still sleeping in front of the fireplace. Her head was on top of his, and he was settled comfortably on her shoulder.

"My goodness, what have we here?" she squealed with girlish glee. "Wait till Parvati hears about this..."

She skipped quite zealously all the way to the Great Hall.

~ * ~ *

(Great Hall, Breakfast)

Lavender kept her promise. By the time Hermione and Ron had arrived at the Great Hall, the Gryffindor table was abuzz with the gossip. Or, at least the girl's section.

"Go ahead, Parvati, you tell them." Lavender beamed like a proud teacher.

Parvati grinned back, then proceeded to spill the news. "Lav was innocently on her way to the Hall when she beheld the two--"

"The two what?" Hermione interrupted quickly. She knew where this was going. It was always the same with Lavender, Parvati and the other gossip-hungry vultures. She had been the subject of their slanders so many times it wasn't even worth the effort to quell it because it disappeared within seconds of a fresh scandal.

Parvati's face grew taut upon glancing at Hermione. "Oh, nothing. Just that Harry and that new girl were found sleeping in the common room. On the same couch." Parvati made sure to emphasize 'same'.

Hermione couldn't find the words to speak. Grabbing Ron's arm, she turned around and dragged him to an empty space at the end of the Gryffindor table, as far away as possible from Lavender and Parvati's little crew.

"What, what, Hermione? Do you mind letting a little blood flow through my arm, at least?" Ron shook free of her grip. "And what was up with you and Lavender talking? I know you, and somewhat Lavender, and you two never get along."

Hermione rolled her eyes and sighed exasperatedly. "This isn't about me or Lavender being insular, this is about what she said." She looked Ron straight in the eye. "Do you think it's true?"

"Think what's true?" Ron pretended to evade the question, staring up at the banners that decorated the Hall.

She folded her arms. "Are you really that obtuse? Just answer the question."

Ron's cheeks flushed as he replied angrily, "What is this, Herm, a bloody interrogation? Harry's business is his and his alone. We're his friends, Hermione, or at least I am. If he feels like telling me about his little romp with Quiana, I'll be glad that he wants to share it with me, but even if he doesn't that won't matter all that much to me."

Hermione instantly backed off. Ron was usually passive, but if threatened he could be quite mean.

"Ron, I'm sorry. Please don't be mad at me, I can't stand the thought of having more people mad at me already. Truly, I didn't mean to be harsh with you. It's just that--"

"That what? Herm, you've been acting like this since school began. When are you going to tell Harry or me what's so bothering? And don't try telling me it's the NEWTs, you've taken harder stress than that before."

"It's not just the NEWTs, Ron, it's also the fact that I'm under a lot of ... emotional ... stress, which is the only way I can explain it." Hermione rubbed her head, hand shaking. "This year hasn't been going so well for me."

"I can tell," Ron said, sitting down beside her. Putting his arm around her, he grinned and said, "Cheer up, Herm, just think--it's almost Christmas, and the Yule Ball is coming up...if you picture the year in weeks it goes by much quicker."

Hermione made a feeble attempt at a smile. Count on Ron to always have a 'brighter' side to life, she thought. "Thank you, Ron, for sharing with me your profound method of speeding up time."

Ron's attention was instantly swept away when he spied Harry approaching the table. "Ah, Sleeping Beauty has awakened," he laughed quietly.

Harry straightened his glasses. "Hey Ron, Herm. I suppose I didn't miss much, did I?"

"Not much," she said, with a trace of falsetto in her voice. She looked around for someone invisible. I really should let out my true feelings to Harry; it's not fair to him for me to harbor a grudge when I don't even have that great of a reason...she thought guiltily. But I don't need the extra tension between us. "I'll see you guys later, I'm going to the library to do research on Euclid."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "You said that Arithmancy report on Euclid was due last week."

A tiny bit of pink colored her pale cheeks. "Oh, well... I need to go to the library anyway. Good bye."

She left the table and practically ran out of the Hall.

Harry sat down in her place, next to Ron. "I don't suppose that was her 'normal' state, was it?"

Ron shrugged. "These days, who knows what 'normal' is anymore?"

~ * ~ *

Draco was seething with rage; at both himself and Potter. The gossip about Harry and Quiana had just reached him. He didn't even know why he felt so angry and jealous. You don't even know if any of that rubbish is true. And moreover, why should you care about Potter's business? He slammed his fist hard on the Slytherin table. Crabbe and Goyle merely continued shoving food obliviously down their throats. As he reached to seize his silver goblet, a blinding flash quickly and suddenly overpowered his mind.

<< Flash >>

A door, a large and thick door; Draco stood on emptiness, but all he was conscious of was that one door in front of him. It shook terribly, then creaked open; slowly and torturously. From the open door, a gray mist poured forth like an open floodgate. The fog curled around his feet and rose up to his shins. The fog was an unnatural shade of gray, like storm clouds that washed over his mind, body and soul. It called to him, pulled at him, dragging him to the edge--the boundary between two worlds. The darkness enclosed him in its chilly embrace. Thrashing about, it was no use. The inter-space was dead, silent. No one can hear you scream. His heartbeat echoed in his brain. It was the only sound that could be heard. But a small pool of light was ahead of him. All he could do was watch helplessly as a tall, slim woman appeared, dressed in black silk and shrouded in shadow. The only features of her face he could see were her eyes. Two bottomless lagoons of the lightest green. Her eyes bore into him, peering into his soul. He felt so alone in front of them, so judged.

"Quiana?" He called to her, uncertainly.

The figure tilted her head, and the black silk flowed around her like a dark cloud.

She parted her lips, but no sound emerged. Seemingly noticing her dysfunction, she stopped, and instead, held out her hand, as if in offering.

Her fingers were that of Quiana's, long and slim, built for the arts, but he noticed nothing on them but the gleaming silver ring in her palm. It was crafted of wrought silver, with emeralds and amethysts embedded on the outside. There was a message carved on the inside, but he could not get close enough to read what it said. But soon his arrogant second nature overwhelmed him, and his face regained the cold sneer that he had used many times before.

"Go away, you MudBlood tainted filth!" He screamed instinctively.

He turned and forced himself over the boundary, then slammed the heavy door behind him shut.

Behind the door, the figure's eyes narrowed. The only sound that Draco could hear were not her footsteps, but the sound of cold metal falling on the floor.

<< End flash >>

Draco opened his eyes. His mind was still whirling after the blinding flash. His thoughts were completely occupied with the mysterious figure. And the ring...where did that come from?

"I'm going crazy, that's all... there's too much stress in this damn school...damn father and his stupid 'honors'. Damn this whole bloody life of mine."

A low, soft voice reached his ears. "It's nice to know I'm not the only one here with stress," The voice was followed by a light scent of orange, and a sleek, swaying ponytail.

His eyes widened. That's her... Unbeknownst to himself, he stood up and began to follow her back. "Wait," he called out to the figure.

She halted, and turned as if professionally trained in the military. She had a smile on her face, thinking it was one of her roommates in the Gryffindor Tower, but it quickly disappeared as she recognized Draco.

"It's you," was her acknowledgement of him. She raised her eyebrow and glanced longingly at the large clock in the Great Hall. "What could you possibly want with me? I don't have time for dabbling, please make it quick."

Draco's heart pounded in his chest. She actually looked friendly when she was smiling...Snap out of it, Draco, what are you doing? "I need to talk to you," he blurted.

"And what do you supposed you were doing right now?" She retorted, picking a stray piece of lint off her robes. "I'm leaving."

"No, wait," he reached out and seized her by the arm. She's too close to slip away now, he thought, strangely excited. "It's important. Please, trust me."

Quiana's own pulse quickened. Why would he want me to trust him? And what could be so important that he wants to talk to me about? She thought. "Why should I?" she protested feebly. Her guard against him was weakening; she felt it crumbling before her.

"Just trust me," he said, pleading with his eyes.

Stones of gray...stones of gray...his eyes are exactly like the ones in my dream, she thought. Am I a complete lunatic or am I just experiencing déjà vu? I can take care of myself, I can probably meet him after Potions class...No! You're not giving in...but why not?

"Fine," she relented. "If you wouldn't mind letting go of me first."

His next statement caused her to almost lose her balance and consciousness.

"No, Quiana." His eye color darkened a few shades. "I'm never letting you go."

~ * ~ *

(Great Hall, almost time for the first class)

"What do you mean?" she asked, bewildered. Her other arm poised itself against his wrist. "I don't want to hurt you, but I will if you force me."

So independent, wild, free... Draco shook his head, as if coming out of his trance. "No, no, I didn't mean it that way...I didn't mean anything...I mean..."

Pushing his wrist away gently, she gave him a sad, small smile. "You don't have to say it. I have extra time after Potions, I'll talk to you then." With that, she turned and walked away.

Draco breathed in deeply. The irony of it all, he thought to himself as he turned in the opposite direction, back to the Slytherin table.

~ * ~ *

(After Potions, just outside the dungeons)

Quiana leaned her head against the wall. You idiot! Why did you agree to meet that pompous, arrogant, white-haired snob? What the bloody hell were you thinking? She closed her eyes and hugged her books to her chest. Life could not possibly get more ironic than this. I hate him, yet I still can't completely resist him. Sweet irony, if there is such a thing. That's what Grandma would say...

"Quiana..." The lack of rudeness in his voice was surprising.

"Draco," she said, partially taken by surprise.

"Come with me," he said, after getting her attention. "I don't want anyone to follow us."

Quiana gave him a withering look. "Is there something you wanted to hide with me?"

"Yes." He replied, and commenced walking quickly in the southeasterly direction. Reluctantly, she followed behind him, mumbling something about being insane.

"And why are we in the Library?" she whispered to him, slightly confused, but oddly thrilled.

Draco extended his wand hand and put the other to his lips. Quiana hesitated. Is this going a bit far? Suck it up, you're already here. You might as well just go along with it. She took his hand, shivering a bit from its coldness. He drew her into the shadows and around the library. Opening what appeared to be a random door, he motioned her to go inside and proceeded to shut the door.

"Lumos!" he muttered, lighting the once dark area. "This is the old Transfiguration classroom. I remember having my First and Second year classes in here."

Littered about were ancient desks and chairs. Cobwebs on the ceiling gave it an eerie, ghostly feel.

Draco unwillingly released Quiana's hand. It had made him so happy that she was finally opening up to him, at least somewhat.

"I suppose by now you're wondering why I asked you to meet me."

"Actually, dear sir, I've been wondering that since you approached me in the Great Hall."

Ignoring her reply, he continued to tell her about his visions. The one he received when he touched the silver goblet was not the first. For many nights, the figure in black silk had chased him through his dreams. And now, he was coming face to face with her.

"Quiana, for the past few nights and occasional days I've been haunted by images. Images of darkness, but also of light. The most common one is a door, opening into a separate dimension or realm, whatever you'd like to call it. But that's not what bothers me. It's the fact that that door opens into another life, a life that I had before. I don't know how, or when, or where. Feelings and thoughts overwhelm my mind. Sometimes I'm there with my Dragon Staff, sometimes I'm not." Draco took a deep breath. "The thing I see the most frequently is a pair of eyes. Not just any eyes, because they have a certain jewel-like quality to them."

Quiana was interested, but at the same time, she could not understand his point. "That's all nice and dandy, Draco, but what does this have to do with me? I must inform you, I'm no dream reader. Just because you have your Dragon Staff with you in a few dreams doesn't mean that it has anything to do with me."

"But that's the whole point. It has everything to do with you. I know that these two eyes I keep seeing belong to a woman that I loved and loved me. And now, I've finally figured out whose eyes they belong to." Draco shifted his gaze towards the ground, then back up and straight into her eyes. He took a step closer to her, so that both of their eyes were barely a few inches apart. "They're yours," he said as he leaned forward and kissed her.

~ * ~ *

(Forbidden Forest)

"My Lord, you summoned." Lucius Malfoy nodded his head towards a red, glowing figure.

Voldemort lifted his wand, and in a bored tone ordered, "Crucio."

Lucius crumpled to the floor, groaning in pain. He knew once more the pain of a creature in its death throes.

"My Lord--why?" he managed to squeeze out of his pained throat, also sparing enough energy to clutch at Voldemort's robes.

"Two very good reasons, Lucius, my pet. One, you did not bow to me, the Dark Lord. You may be one of the highest of Death Eaters, but that does not make you above giving respect to your superior." Voldemort's eyes flashed black, then returned to their blood red color. "Second, you have not watched your heir closely enough. Events are occurring that could endanger the whole of the Dark Side, even with the seed of loyal followers already being planted."

Suddenly, Voldemort let fly a harsh kick into Lucius' already spasming side. "Furthermore, you will never again demand reasons from your master! Ever!" Relaxing, he ended the torture. "Finite Incantatem."

"Never, never again, my Lord, I beg forgiveness," said Lucius in a broken tone. "But, my Lord, the Alterius Spell--"

"Fool," Voldemort spat. "It has already begun. We have put too much trust in the girl's willpower. The power of the Code of Evangelia is too great. Their predestined match surpasses the strength of the Alterius. But this will not be an easy path for them. Evangelia may have their destinies entwined, but Slytherins and Gryffindors were never meant to be together."

"My Lord, surely Draco does not love this tainted MudBlood?" Lucius seemed shock. He had been too out of touch with his son to be sure.

"The girl's deteriorating front against him as counteracted the effect of the Alterius Spell." Voldemort frowned. "You knew your son was not a fit heir, Lucius. You have failed in that respect." The Dark Lord stroked his wand, waiting impatiently for Lucius' reply.

"It was not I who instilled the love of MudBloods into him, my Lord! It must have been Narcissa!" Lucius protested wildly, flailing his arms. "Yes, I am quite sure it was she!"

"Your marriage was one of stupidity, I could have told you that, had I not been weakened by that imbecilic Potter boy." Voldemort laughed harshly. "Narcissa possesses beauty, but no loyalty. You could never keep your hands off the women, could you Lucius?"

"I deeply regret my marriage to her, my Lord. I am sorry."

"This will not be the end of your sorrow, Lucius, I can sense it. You think you are controlling them, but in reality, they are the ones in control." Lucius was caught up in the profoundness of his master's statement. Was his docile, manipulated Narcissa controlling him? It seemed impossible.

"Returning to the matter of your disgraceful heir and the tainted MudBlood..."

"My Lord, is there any way to avert the disaster?" Lucius was not even aware of the disaster that would occur.

"You fool, there is no need to avert it with those two. Being Chosen by the Staffs and being of opposite Houses have already cursed them. Lord Salazar and Gryffindor have seen to that." Voldemort pulled out an ancient book and flipped to a page.

"But my Lord, I do not understand."

"It means, Lucius," Voldemort said condescendingly, "that if they should fall completely in love but eventually fall out, one will become Slytherin's heir and the other Gryffindor's heir. In the end though, only one will come out alive." Voldemort seemed preoccupied with something otherworldly. He seemed lost in a dream.

"But the rest of it, Master, blood of the old to replenish the new?"

"The war, my pet, the war..."

~ * ~ *