That Which does not Kill

~ * ~ *

"Really, Albus, I understand extra precaution and practicality, but this is just paranoid," said Minerva McGonagall, impatiently.

"I am not paranoid, Minerva, I can feel something about." Albus Dumbledore sighed and removed his half-crescent spectacles. "It just has yet to surface. Perhaps it is just Christmas; there is an odd feeling in the air. The last time I felt this apprehensive about the feast was James and Sirius' seventh Year." Dumbledore smiled and the creases in his face were lost. "Ah, the memorable time when everyone who tried to kiss under the mistletoe found themselves turned into it."

"Let's not forget the cake that turned Lucius Malfoy into a reindeer with a red nose...And those blasted explosive Christmas crackers." Minerva shook her head.

"But the best thing was the trick on you, Minerva, absolutely priceless. I can still see the--"

"Please, Albus. No more discussion of that." Her cheeks colored a slight pink.

"No...enough reminiscing." Dumbledore's face regained its solemnity. "The present and future are concerning enough. I am telling you now, Minerva, for better or worse, something is positively brewing."

Minerva sighed and crossed her arms. "I will keep on the lookout, Albus, but what good does that do if trouble is everywhere nowadays? The Daily Prophet can hardly keep up with all the acts of madness that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named performs."

"I know, Minerva, I know." Albus Dumbledore leaned back in his seat. "Just the same, it would be best if we postponed the Yule Ball until after Christmas. It would be the perfect time for a Death Eater to strike. Everything gets rather disorganized then..."

"Very well, Albus. The students won't be pleased, I'll say that much."

~ * ~ *

What is this place? Where am I? And why am I dressed in this funeral wear? Quiana stared down at her feet, shrouded in a mist of black silk. It was almost as if she had no feet, for her clothing blended them into the ground she stood on. Stay calm, there must be a logical explanation...She tightened her fists. In one of them, she felt an obstruction of metal. Curiously opening her hand, she peered at the shiny ring in her palm. It was a beautiful piece, with jewels studded in it and even an inscription. Looking closer, she mouthed the inscription:

"Dulce et amor donec abnocto abs sanusa." Her forehead creased as she attempted to translate it. I knew I should have paid more attention in those imbecilic Latin classes...she thought impatiently. "Sweet is love...when all...is sane..." She could feel the blood rush out of her face. This phrase was taken from a complete saying:

"Dulce et amor donec abnocto abs sanusa

Atrox et amor donec abnocto abs elleborus."

Sweet is love when all is sane, sweet is death to rid the pain. Cruel is death when all is well; cruel is love when all is hell. Somehow, I have a feeling I don't want to know what this pertains to, Quiana thought. A strong wind blew by, and out of the smoke appeared a door. She swallowed hard. Just when I thought things could not have gotten any weirder... The door creaked open. A familiar voice reached her ears.

"Quiana?"

Draco. She thought instantly. Wait a minute, this is his dream. This is his vision.

Back in the real world, Quiana's conscious resurfaced. She pushed him away roughly, breaking the kiss.

She knew she had a terrified look in her eye. "What...what was that?" she asked hesitantly.

Draco seemed sad and a bit hurt. "That...was my vision. You were on the other side, and for a moment we were connected. Except that you took part on your side of the door."

Quiana turned away. She didn't feel like facing him. A layer of her guard felt like it had melted away, leaving her vulnerable and fearful. "But that wasn't the whole thing, was it?"

"No," he sighed, agreeing.

A tensed silence filled the air. Neither wanted to say something for fear of hurting the other.

"Draco--"

"Quiana--" they said, simultaneously.

"You first," he said, offering her a chance to explain.

She laughed. "I thought that...for a moment, I actually thought I liked you. Really, I did. But that was a side of me I didn't want to face. Loving a Slytherin, from a distance, seems attractive...but at the same time I can't help it. Even if I didn't love you, I still have to..."

"What do you mean 'you have to'? You know what I think? I think you're just afraid." Draco said, bitterly. "Afraid of what everyone else will say to what you feel. You know they would shun you for even having the idea of loving a Slytherin."

Quiana's temper slowly began to boil. "If that's what you think, then you can forget about me. I could care less about what everyone else says. Fine, I'll admit it. I am afraid. I hardly even know you, and here you are, ranting about love! I just don't think it will work so fast."

"Well, I do!" Draco hissed angrily. "I do! I'm putting so much more on the line for you, Quiana. Do you have any idea what my father, no, the Dark Lord himself...can you even imagine my fate if he heard those words I just said to you?"

He seized her shoulders, leaned close and shook her. He stared into her eyes with the same cold power that he exerted over Pansy. Only this time it was stronger, fuelled by his frustration, his fear and his anger.

To his surprise, Quiana only smiled back at him. Another hypnotic force pushed his own back and was gradually taking control.

Suddenly he pushed her away. She hit the blackboard with a snap and slowly crumpled to the floor. A small cut appeared on the side of her neck. Drops of crimson blood traveled slowly down her throat.

Draco held his face in his hands. "What have I done? What did I--...no..." He muttered, breathing hard. He moved quickly to Quiana's side. She was turned to the side, staring up at the ceiling, a small smile still on her face. "You're bleeding..." he breathed, taking out his wand. "Quiana, I'm sorry, I don't know..."

Her hand flew up and caught his wrist. A tear formed at the corner of her eye. But it was blinked so quickly out of view that Draco had second thoughts on whether it truly had appeared. "Don't," she commanded. "Everytime you look at me, from now on, I want you to remember who gave me this scar," she said, taking out her own wand. Healing it, a light pink line appeared. Facing him, she laughed, "I guess I'm not as invulnerable as you thought."

~ * ~ *

The wind whistled through Harry's hair as he scanned the area for the whizzing, fluttering Snitch. Draco hovered nearby, watching his every move.

He doesn't look too good, Harry noted.

Gryffindor and Slytherin had been trained well in the past months, and were almost equal in skill. Draco and Harry had both been offered captaincy of their respective teams but both had turned it down for different reasons. Harry, because he could not see himself motivating the team and yelling like Wood, and Draco because he knew that he could control the team without being captain and taking on the responsibility of the game. Besides, this way, if Slytherin lost, Lucius would not be able to blame Draco completely.

Draco tightened his grip on the broomstick; it seemed a little slippery today. The air looked hazy around him and he felt feverish. I must be sick, he reasoned. But if I call the match off, they'll think that I'm too afraid to play with I'm-So-Famous-Potter. Get a hold of yourself, Draco, it's just the flu...Inside, Draco knew it was much more than a simple flu. His head ached and his organs felt like they had been placed in a giant blender.

The door in his head kept trying to force itself open again. Draco's mental strength was spent trying to keep it shut. I don't want it open, damn it, I want it shut and out of my life! He screamed inwardly. Damn curse. Why did it have to be me? Why not Potter? Alerted by his Quidditch reflexes, he looked up, and all of the sudden a Bludger was flying straight for him. He swerved out of the way, nearly missing it, but his broom turned in the air. He was upside down for a moment, and as if he was someone else from far away, he watched himself lose his grip on the broomstick and fall in slow motion to the ground with a sickening thud. Still observing himself neutrally, he calmly noted that his right ankle was positively smashed, and his robes were torn and bloodied. He looked into the observation stands. Quiana was there, as well as Her--Granger. But while Hermione stared down at the field, Quiana was looking up, straight at Draco's second form.

With a sudden gust, he reentered his body. The pain surfaced; his ankle felt splintered and the gash on his arm burned. He felt a warm touch on his hand. "Are you all right?" Quiana? What's she doing...? Draco managed to nod and propped himself up on his arms. "Don't move, someone went to go get Madam Pomfrey. Is the pain manageable?"

Christ, Quiana, you stupid git, what did you think? A fall from nearly 200 feet wouldn't hurt? She said to herself. It was really odd how she ended up at his side. At first, in the stands, her gaze had been drawn to the sky, right after Draco released his hand from the broom. She couldn't see anything, but her eyes had been held there by a far greater energy.

"Father's done worse," he said quietly, wincing. "I'll survive. It's just a scratch--"

"Draco, are you okay?" Hermione dashed to his other side. She caught sight of Quiana. "Oh, um...Hello."

Quiana smiled. Now was definitely not the time to get into a fight. She had wanted to smooth things over with Hermione anyway. "Hey there."

Hermione herself was a bit shocked. Quiana didn't make any sort of attempt to bite her head off. In fact, she was actually being...friendly...somewhat, at least. You can always be hopeful, Hermione chided herself.

Quiana looked around the field. So far, there was still no sign of Madam Pomfrey. She turned to Hermione. "We should probably get him to the hospital wing before infection sets in..."

Pansy Parkinson shoved her way through the gaggle of Gryffindors and Slytherins that had amassed. "Get off him, you tramps!" she cried shrilly. "Draco, that was such a big fall! You are so brave."

Draco sighed. "Pansy, I think you're making my ankle hurt more. Get off me, now." Flicking his wand at his mangled ankle, he said, "Reparium Fractura." The bone mended somewhat, but it was too broken to heal completely.

"I see, Mr. Malfoy, that you have decided to make my job a bit easier. Come along, I'll have you fully healed by this time tomorrow." Madam Pomfrey watched in amusement.

"I'm fine, Madam Pomfrey, really." Draco tried to stand firmly, but his ankle shot waves of pain up his leg.

"Perhaps you did not hear me, Mr. Malfoy. Come with me, now." She snapped, seizing the back of his robes and muttering something about 'dangerous sports' and 'self-healing know it all's'.

"This isn't fair," Draco protested helplessly, as Madam Pomfrey dragged him away. Hermione and Quiana simply looked on, stifling giggles. The sight of the tall, 'manly' Draco Malfoy being led away by the collar by a short, determined witch was just too much.

"Very little in life is, Mr. Malfoy. Now come along and stop acting like a First Year or I'll be forced to stun you."

Harry, too, watched as Malfoy was dragged away by the collar. Only he didn't find it as funny. He spied two girls against the backdrop of the Quidditch arena. Quiana and Hermione? That's definitely odd...But I guess I can't say that things have been normal lately...

~ * ~ *

Lying in a cold bed, Draco's eyes wandered aimlessly. They stared at the wall, the ceiling, and the other empty beds...His mind was in a whirl. He still wasn't totally sure of what happened. Moreover, he just told Quiana that his father hit him. Not like she didn't know anyway, he thought. I wonder what she thinks of me now, besides arrogant, unfeeling, and harsh? "You do the most idiotic things sometimes, Draco Malfoy." He said aloud.

"We all do." Draco turned, and as his eyes fell upon the speaker, the door in his mind came crashing down.

"Potter!" he choked. "What do you want?"

"That isn't the question, Malfoy. What do you want?" Harry's face twisted as if he was fighting an internal battle.

"What do you mean?" Draco's eyes regained their icy appearance. He calmed and took control of his mind.

"What do you want with Quiana?" Draco's face paled even whiter.

"You're mad, Potter, absolutely mad." He spat angrily. However, his barbs did not deter Harry. He was determined to get his answer.

"Look, Malfoy, I'm not stupid..." Harry said, narrowing his eyes. "I've seen you two when you pass by each other, the little looks, the way you are so terribly uncomfortable with each other. I'm here for her sake."

Harry sat down in the chair next to Malfoy's cot. "What interest do you have in her? She's not a Pureblood, she's not blonde, she hasn't got point Malfoy features, and she isn't exactly the popular socialite, as I'm sure you've noticed. Doesn't your father have requirements or anything?"

Draco's mouth curled in a semi-smirk. "And why the sudden interest in Quiana for you, Potter? Still feeling a little yearning for Cho?"

Harry reddened, but didn't respond. "I'm just going to sit here until you tell me, Malfoy."

"What, you're going to manage without your little fan club--oh, I spoke too soon, here comes one now." Draco smiled maliciously as Ron walked in.

"Harry, what the bloody hell are you doing here?" Ron asked urgently. "Are you all right, what of the match?"

"It's off, Malfoy isn't exactly at the top of his game." Harry responded, without looking away from Draco.

"A piece of advice, Potter: sarcasm doesn't suit you." Draco settled back onto his pillow. "Where's Pomfrey when you need her? Must you cluster around my bed?"

Ron glared at him. "I'm here for Harry, Malfoy. Don't flatter yourself."

"Well, you've seen him, haven't you? Now take Scarface and leave me alone." Draco seemed impatient.

"Ron, you can leave. Malfoy and I need to have a little chat."

Ron looked aghast. Harry glanced at him quickly, and he stalked off without a word.

Harry turned back to Draco. "Okay, Malfoy, this started off wrong...let's put it this way. I want to know what your deal with Quiana is." He misinterpreted the look on Draco's face for impatience and continued quickly. "But you don't have to tell me. When I came in, you were saying something about idiotic things..." Harry's internal conflict seemed to have been solved. Draco bit his lip. Maybe I can just tell Potter and put a Memory charm on him, then he'll never know...it would certainly make me feel better.

"...I was actually thinking that I was stupid for being attracted to her. Don't you ever read your history assignments? We're supposed to be destined for each other, but I found myself falling for her anyway."

"Oh." Harry tried hard to keep a straight face, but his worry shone through.

"To make it short, Potter, I like her...I like her so much that it fills every corner of my mind. Unfortunately, she doesn't like me back. She thinks I'm cruel, harsh, and arrogant. And that's basically it...the truth."

"Why should I believe you, Malfoy? How do I know you're not using her?"

Draco sighed impatiently. "Even if I could was using her, do you really think I would tell you? And anyway, do you honestly believe that anyone could have more control over her than she has over herself?"

Harry considered this for a second and then nodded, still dubious. "What about your parents and Voldemort? I'm sure they would adore you even more for dropping the Holder of the Blade in their laps."

Draco looked around nervously. "Potter, watch the name dropping." At the Manor, it was completely forbidden to even think the Dark Lord's name. "As I said before, I would highly doubt that I would be able to subdue her and hand her over to my father and the rest of his Death Eaters. But I guess it's good for me that I'm here and not at the Manor. I'm sure that they would just love to kill me...no, worse...throw me to the dementors."

Harry looked shocked. "Your parents would actually...do that?"

You can drop the act, Draco; he's never going to remember it..."My father would."

Draco laughed. "No loss to you though, huh, Potter? You hate me, don't you?"

Harry faltered. "No, Malfoy. I just, well, I just dislike you. I really dislike you."

Draco seemed satisfied with his answer. "I'd like to say I'm sorry for this, Potter, but..." he said as Harry looked bewildered. He drew out his wand. "Obliviate!" To Draco's horror, Harry flung himself to the floor. Damn those Quidditch reflexes! He thought angrily.

"Is that the only reason why you said those things, Malfoy? Because you were going to wipe my memory?" Harry seemed hurt.

"Correct, Potter. Did you truly think that I can trust you at all, Scarface?" Draco snarled as he sprung off the cot.

"Expelliarmus!" Draco's wand suddenly flew out of his fingers and he let out a hiss of rage. Harry stood there, with both wands in his right hand. "Let's not have a repeat of that day on the train, okay?"

Draco tackled him and pushed him to the floor. Harry gasped for air as Draco crushed his chest. Draco tried to pull the wands out of Harry's fingers but Harry was too quick. He drew up his right hand and punched Draco in the face as hard as he could. The two wands left thin red marks in his cheek. Draco tightened his grip on Harry's wrist and drove his knee into Harry's side.

"Malfoy, get off of me! You're cutting off my air!"

"Dammit, give me back--"

Draco stopped suddenly and stood up stiffly. Harry followed suit, puzzled. "Good afternoon, Professor McGonagall."

Oh, shit...Harry thought and glanced at Draco. Their eyes met in a moment of mutual sympathy and then broke instantly. Professor McGonagall's face had two angry patches of red on her cheeks and her eyes glinted bloody murder.

"Mr. Potter, Mr. Malfoy." Her voice was very strained, extremely formal. She swallowed, and closed her eyes. Upon opening them, she let loose her rage. "Just WHERE do you THINK you ARE?" she demanded. "THIS is a HOSPITAL WING! YOU ARE SEVENTH YEARS, WHAT KINDA OF EXAMPLE TO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE SETTING, BRAWLING LIKE MUGGLE DRUNKARDS!" she regained slight control over herself, and the ceiling stopped convulsing. "Detention, both of you. Transfiguration room, after classes tomorrow." Turning on her heel, she stalked out, visibly shaking.

"We're in for it now," Harry whispered.

"Bloody hell," Draco hissed, snatching his wand back. "This is all your fault, Potter, if you had just given me my f---ing wand back decently..."

Harry bristled. "Put a lid on it, Draco, it's your fault as well as mine. You should never have said those things if you really didn't want me to know. I didn't force you to tell me."

Draco laughed ruefully. "Easy for you to say, isn't it, Potter? You have all those sappy friends who want to listen to you. I don't."

~ * ~ *

Professor McGonagall walked into the room with an expressionless face. With a sinking heart, Harry saw Professor Dumbledore enter behind her. His eyes were confused behind the half-crescent spectacles. Professor McGonagall folded her hands and pursed her lips.

Professor Dumbledore was the first to speak. "Harry, Draco, Professor McGonagall has been telling me some very disturbing news." Harry jolted with surprise when Dumbledore called Malfoy by his first name and not his title.

"Fighting, Albus. They would have killed each other if Malfoy had not seen me." Professor McGonagall explained.

Professor Dumbledore turned back to Harry and Draco. "May I inquire as to why you two were fighting?"

Harry and Draco both looked at their feet.

"I see. It is your choice to keep this to yourselves. I would just like to know if you intend to do this again?"

Harry cleared his throat. "No, Professor. We're sorry." Draco shot Harry a look that clearly said, Speak for yourself.

"Our problem has been...um...cleared up," Draco said, his eyes glinting.

"That is all very good. The door to my office is always open. As Seventh Years, I expected you to behave a little more responsibly." Professor Dumbledore looked at both of them with his piercing gaze. "We don't usually give detention to Seventh Years, but I am afraid in this case we will make an exception. I leave this to you, Minerva." He sighed. "Please don't make me have to talk with you about this again." He swished out of the room as Professor McGonagall began to speak.

"You are to clean the Quidditch hoops...without magic besides your brooms."

Draco groaned wholeheartedly. This is just not my day.

~ * ~ *

Harry balanced a pail of water precariously on his Firebolt Extra. He started to scrub the grimy hoop halfheartedly. It was still quite warm, even though the sun was starting its descent. He was sweating profusely as he looked around for Draco. He couldn't find him.

"The bastard's gone!" he commented to himself.

"Guess again, Potter!" Harry looked up just in time to see a bucketful of dirty brown water cascade down on him. Draco grinned gleefully. "I'll get you for that, Malfoy!" he had meant to say that in a more threatening tone, but it sounded only like a good-natured retort.

"I'll believe it when I see it, Potter!" Draco shouted, whizzing past on his own Firebolt Extra.

Harry held the pail in his hands and started to chase Draco. He sloshed the water at him, but only managed to get his back. "Ha, got you there, Malfoy!"

Draco simply laughed, dove down, and picked up another bucket of water. Harry retreated as Draco ascended. "Scared, Potter?" he asked as Harry edged backwards.

"Not on your life, Malfoy!" Harry suddenly zoomed forward and grabbed the front end of Draco's broom. In a split second, he pushed it upwards slightly. The bucket Draco was holding fell on him, drenching his hair and face.

"No fair, that water's freezing!" he said, shivering.

"That's what you planned to do to me!" Harry yelled back. Draco picked up another pail that was half full and launched it at Harry with all his might. Harry saw it and avoided it easily. "Oh, shit..." he said when he realized where it was headed.

The doomed bucket was heading straight for the windows of the team dressing rooms.

Draco and Harry both concentrated on the pail and flew as fast as they could to get to it before it cost them another afternoon.

"McGonagall is going to kill us," Harry muttered as he pushed the Firebolt Extra to its highest extent. "It's going too fast!" he yelled to Draco, who was behind him.

Harry outstretched his hand...it's only a few inches away...if only it could go slower... Both of them knew that Harry wouldn't make it.

"Impedimenta!" Draco shouted. The pail slowed down and Harry plucked it out of the air easily. Draco breathed a sigh of relief. He looked at the frozen worried look on Harry's face and burst out laughing. A second later, Harry, who was still holding onto the pail for dear life, started to laugh as well.

"Thanks, M--" Harry reconsidered. "Thanks...Draco. That wasn't so bad."

Draco stopped laughing immediately. His face looked confused. He's never been that friendly before..."You weren't so bad yourself...Harry," he said, stiffly. The name sounded different when he spoke it. Looking at the expressions on each other's faces, they burst into helpless laughter.

~ * ~ *

It was the night of the Yule Ball; Draco's time had run out--he had not asked Quiana as his date. Lately, she had been avoiding him, and every time he attempted to talk to her, she never said a word back. Except for that one time he fell off his broom during the practice session. But that was just different. The scar on her neck was still there, but less visible. It was fading quickly, but an invisible wall between them was still there. It's my entire fault, he thought helplessly.

For Harry, the situation with Hermione was growing considerably worse. Lately, she had been probably everything but herself. All she did after classes was hole up in her room and cry, study, mope, or stare out the window, according to Lavender. It was safe to say that Hermione was extremely depressed. He had to think fast. Is there anything that could make her feel better? It's the day of the Ball and she still doesn't have a date...maybe I could get Malfoy... Harry stopped his train of thought and instinctively frowned. There was no way in hell that he was going to beg Malfoy to take one of his best friends to the Ball. Harry slapped his forehead and let his hand slide down his face. Maybe--No way. No way in hell...

~ * ~ *

On the girls' side of the Gryffindor Tower, Quiana was on her way to wash up for the Ball when her sensitive hearing picked up the familiar sound of sniffling. Quiana was in a particularly saintly mood at that point, considering no one had asked her to the Ball. She was free to look as good as she wanted to. If someone boiled away her cold exterior, all they would find would be another huge chunk of ice that was so desensitized to feeling that she just didn't care about anything anymore, as long as it was fun.

Her original destination was the bathroom, but she was distracted by a sniffly sound coming from...Oh God, is that Hermione's room? Oh, shit...Quiana quickly diverted her route to the source of the sniffling.

There was a strong, consistent knocking at Hermione's door. Lifting her head from her tear-soaked books (which were her only comfort these past few days) she paused her sobbing for a moment to holler back, "Forget it, Lavender, I don't want to go, there's no reason! Just leave me the f--- alone!"

Quiana pressed her ear to the door. "Hermione? It's me...Quiana...Listen, I wanted to talk to you, could you please let me in?"

Hermione stopped crying. What in the bloody hell was she, of all people, doing here at my door? Hermione got up and opened the door to let Quiana in without letting her seeing her (Hermione's) face. The door closed quietly behind her.

"What do you want? And make it quick, I have studying to do." Hermione instantly attacked.

Quiana was caught off guard, but managed a response. "What do you mean? I heard someone crying and I realized that it was coming from your room."

Hermione's eyes narrowed. "You know exactly what I mean."

Quiana was quick--things fell together in her mind as fast as she heard them. "You mean my 'relationship' with Draco."

Hermione nodded. A fresh batch of tears threatened to run down her face.

Quiana smiled a friendly smile. Hermione was utterly surprised. This was the second time. She didn't know someone with Quiana's personality could smile like that again.

"Listen, Hermione, he didn't ask me to the Ball. I'm going alone this year, I guess," she smiled again, this time a little sheepishly.

Hermione could barely believe her ears. Draco didn't ask her? But that was... "It's impossible," she insisted. "Impossible..."

Quiana twisted a strand of her hair. "Actually, it isn't. To tell you the truth, it doesn't really matter if any guy invites me as their date. I prefer it if nobody asked me at all. It gives you such freedom from all those petty 'fights' over guys." She laughed. "Honestly, Hermione, we should enjoy this time together, as a group. It might be our last chance...And I definitely wanted to make amends with you..."

Hermione looked stunned. The tears threatening to leak had long since dried. "The Second Mage War?"

Quiana nodded sadly; a cloud was cast over her light eyes. "I try not to think about it, but everyday is one step closer, the clock advances one tick faster. It's a curse, being me. No matter...we're going to have fun tonight, aren't we?"

Hermione laughed. "Yeah..." then with more confidence: "We are." Wow, who knew that Quiana could be this...friendly? I can't believe you were so blind before; you created tension for no reason! Well, except that you were jealous and miserable over Draco...whom you knew didn't love you anyhow...

Suddenly, Hermione looked down. Her face reddened, and her voice was laced with embarrassment. "Listen, Quiana, I'm sorry about the way I acted before. I just realized that I was so stupidly jealous because...because I didn't want to face reality."

Quiana placed a comforting hand on Hermione's wrist. "I know how you feel. I'm sorry too, for the stupid way I acted. I should have realized that before, and yet I acted so...callous. Friends?"

"Friends." Hermione reached out and hugged her. It's nice having one less enemy, she thought genuinely.

Both girls were giddy from excitement. Quiana grabbed Hermione by the hand. "You would look great in this dress I brought..."

"And I have this necklace that would look great on you..." Hermione added, as Quiana pulled her out of her room.

~ * ~ *

(Slytherin 7^th year boys' Dorm)

Draco banged his head repeatedly against one of the walls of his room. How could you have been so stupid? You probably passed up every chance you had to ask her to the Ball, and now look at you!

"Hey, I know it must be real interesting to kill all your brain cells right before the NEWT reviews but as your friend, I advise you to get going." Darrel MacNamara, Draco's roommate, poked his head in the door. His dark hair was already slicked back, complete with a handsome set of black robes. He was the epitome of a Slytherin Seventh Year. "The ball starts in about an hour." Darrel, noticing that Draco did not respond, retreated from the door and back into the hall to meet up with more of his Slytherin friends.

"Thanks, Darrel," Draco muttered to the wall. He had one chance to redeem himself, so he gave up the wall for the bathroom. At least there he could make himself look semi-decent for the Ball.

~ * ~ *

"There, you look 'astonishingly beautiful'." Quiana beamed with a playfully exaggerated remark. She had just finished completing Hermione's look for the ball. "I'm sure all of the guys will want to dance with you."

Hermione twirled in front of Quiana's full-length mirror. She looked like one of those pretty models from some teenage, Muggle girl magazine. Her hair was pulled up in an elegant French twist, complete with a silver, pearl embedded clip. A few stray curls framed her girlish face yet gave her a sophisticated appearance. Hermione was so excited she pounced on Quiana and circled her in a hug.

Surprised but definitely not offended, Quiana had never felt this close to anyone but her grandmother and Celeste in her life. She returned the hug and gave Hermione a little shove toward the hallway. Making a 'shoo' motion with her hand, she said, "Go get your dress on. I can take care of myself."

Hermione was in another world, she was so excited. Dressing up was always a thrill for her. And Quiana had totally surprised her--they were quickly becoming the best of friends and just moments before, Hermione had been ready to commit suicide because of her. She flashed Quiana a wide grin then raced to her room to put on her own dress.

~ * ~ *

(A half-hour later)

This time, it was Hermione's turn to come knocking on Quiana's door.

"Quiana, are you done yet?" she said with feigned impatience.

The door slid open. Quiana looked like some sort of goddess out of the pages of one of Hermione's textbooks.

"You look wonderful!" Hermione laughed, smiling broadly.

"You think so?" said Quiana, a bit unsure.

That's twice again. I never thought she could be unsure about anything... Hermione thought.

"I couldn't decide between the blue or the black, so I just picked the black because I guess black is easier to look decent in." Quiana smoothed the folds of her dress robes, an elegant black number with a few crystals studding the collar.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Come on, you know every guy would swoon over you just the same if you showed up in bright orange."

"These heels are so hard to walk in. I don't know how Daniella or Lavender manage them everyday." Whined Quiana, who usually wore broken-in boots to class.

Hermione nodded to Quiana's hair. "So how long did it take you to construct that? I know it would have taken me at least a day." She giggled.

Quiana shrugged. "It just depends on how well my hair is behaving," she patted her head, making a few curls bounce. After one final glance in the mirror, Quiana flicked her wand, turning off the light in her room. Angelica was long gone. She seemed to have left with the rest of the female socialites of the Gryffindor tower.

"Enough mirror staring. The guys have to get some fun too." They both laughed and locked arms. "Come on...we'll be late."

~ * ~ *

"Lucius, Lucius, Lucius..." The voice of the Dark Lord was faintly mocking. "You are most impatient."

"I am sorry, my Lord, I thought it would be best if I were to consult you before carrying out the 'plan'." He bowed low, remembering the punishment for pride.

"My Lord, I was to ask what would happen to my family name, my position, after the war--"

"It is nothing! Nothing compared to my Plan, Lucius. A Wizard War is brewing and we must not make an enemy of your little traitor, although I am quite sure that has already been done." Voldemort's eyes gleamed. "A War of Mages is unlike any other."

"But--"

"But nothing, Lucius. Your family name was soiled beyond repair when you married your Narcissa, for she was not yours from the start. Didn't you know? She belonged to a Mudblood before. What your weakling heir has done is no worse."

Lucius Malfoy shuddered slightly. Could it be that Narcissa had a second child? A child of a Mudblood? Shame enough to have married a used woman, but with a Mudblood?

"Besides, your son has powers which you cannot imagine. It would not be prudent to alienate him. Already the Muggle-loving fools, Dumbledore and the Boy...Harry Potter." He spat out the name like a bitter taste. "They have amassed an army, unequalled, apart from my own."

"Why is an army required, my Lord, pardon my incomprehension."

Voldemort looked at Lucius Malfoy with utter distaste. "Have you not been schooled properly? Are you that ignorant? Surely you are aware of the fundamental rules of Wizarding. The first one, at least."

"Yes, master. Magic per unit area."

"And you must also know that because of the increase in the Wizarding population, more residual magic is free in the world. Mage Wars, spell wars, were possible, but are no more so. An excess of magic in the battle area will cause an overload, especially since powerful magic is needed for the Time Freeze in my Plan. Our spells will either become useless or absorb too much power to master. This is because magic attracts other magic." The Dark Lord spoke slowly, as if to a moron.

"Forgive me, master, I see it now."

"Of course you do." Voldemort smiled evilly. "Back to the matter of your Gryffindor sympathizing brat, do nothing more. You have done enough already, pushing him away and leaving him open to be taken by the other side. I will send my loyal emissary to deliver him a message." He stopped suddenly and laughed. "Time, Lucius, is on our side."

~ * ~ *

Harry and Ron, bored with each other and their dates, sat at a table not so far away from the musicians and the door to the courtyard. Upon entering the Hall, everyone began to socialize with his or her friends from other Houses. Ron's date, Lavender, had long since left their table to catch up on the latest gossip. Harry decided to remain dateless; that or he didn't feel like going through all the trouble of asking someone. There had been too much on his mind lately.

Harry sipped his glass of firewater. The hint of cinnamon had suddenly appealed to him. "Ron, have you seen Hermione? She never took this long to get here before."

Ron was snapped out of his dozing period. "Hmm? Oh, Hermione...Lavender said something about her not wanting to come..."

Harry sighed. "Maybe we should go get her..." there was no answer. Everyone continued to talk, but Ron was suddenly awakened and staring forward.

"Ron? What's the matter with--" Harry realized what Ron was staring at. Hermione and Quiana stood in front of them, peering curiously.

Harry smiled. "I'm guessing you two are playing nice?" He tried to hide his surprise, but he was never any good at that.

"Playing?" Quiana said with feigned exaggeration.

"I'm sure he means behaving," Hermione noted, as if in deep thought. The girls exchanged looks, and they both burst out laughing. Their caricature of their 'before' personalities was laughable...now.

Draco wandered up and down the Hall searching for his lost 'date'. There's only one voice, one face like hers...he was extremely desperate, for he disturbed nearly every table. It was nice of the musicians to resist playing ballads. Who knows what I would do then, mow over everyone just to get to Quiana? Now that would be a sight, he mused to himself. I wonder if P--Harry...knows where she is. He stopped in mid-thought. His eyes traced the room to a discreet table among all the rest, with only four inhabitants. That's it, all I have to do is walk over and...

"Draco..." A sickly, syrupy voice with an equally sickening looking hand latched onto Draco's black sleeve.

Pansy, he thought darkly.

He spun around, impatient. "What do you want now, you ever-annoying creature?"

Pansy's smile was lost in her folds of fat. She was exhilarated, having caught Draco's attention for more than a second. "I asked the musicians to play a ballad following this waltz," she informed him with an air of importance. "I was--"

Draco cut her off in less time than she took to say 'I was'. "No."

And with that, he left the gawking Pansy for his intended table.

Quiana was having a wonderful time. She enjoyed chatting with Harry and Ron--they were remarkably comical and witty. But she enjoyed the most getting to know Hermione. She was probably the only one who understood beyond shallow gossip and parties. After all the laughing had died down, Ron came up with a plan to pry a little more information out of Quiana.

"So we're friends, right?" he said, raising an eyebrow.

"Correct, dear sir. I would curtsy, but that's too much effort for me." Said Quiana, pulling at her dress robes.

Hermione stifled a giggle. "Rhetoric questions... But do tell us something about you, Quiana. The most we know is that Cho is your half-sister." She flashed a glance at Harry, then went back to Quiana.

"Well...if you must know..." Quiana sighed. Hermione's right...again. They're your friends now, you can trust them, right? "I lived in China for 9 years of my life, until this owl showed up and it turned out that my grandmother on my father's side realized I existed."

"You lived in China?" Hermione was enthralled. "It must have been so interesting to live in such an 'exotic' place."

Ron laughed. "Oh, Herm, anything outside of London is 'exotic' to you."

Quiana smiled. "It gets boring after a while. I found out more stuff about my grandmother...she was a former Auror, and my father actually was on a story about the Death Angels in China when he met my mother. Fate, it seems, is not without a sense of irony."

Hermione's mind was confused. "Irony?"

Harry's the only one that knows what I'm talking about; Quiana thought nervously, as Harry stared right through her. Should he remain the only one?

Harry was about to change the subject, but he only narrowed his eyes. "Look who's here..."

Draco couldn't find the words to say. Four pairs of eyes were on him, and yet he wasn't able to force his mouth to speak.

"You look lost, little boy," Quiana said quickly, trying to prevent any potential tension buildup.

Dry humor, always a pleasure... he thought, and flashed her a winning smile. "And you look...stunning. Would you care to dance, fair lady?"

You have to give him credit for his charm, Quiana thought. She extended her hand but looked back at Hermione, worried that she would burn the bridge she had just created between them.

Hermione sighed mockingly, and then winked to show no hard feelings. Quiana laughed internally. There's got to be a catch somewhere...

Draco was nervous as he strode onto the dance floor with Quiana's hand in his. He must have been obvious, for she said, "Don't be so jumpy, I don't bite." She patted his cheek and smiled. Her touch felt like healing salves, however, his face felt red anyway.

"I'm sorry," he blurted.

"For what?" She said obliviously, stepping in with the rhythm of the waltz. This was grandma's favorite dance...

"For...For hurting you, for anything I did wrong. I wanted to make it up to you, but I didn't know how..." all of his thoughts spilled out in one sentence.

"Is that so?" she replied solemnly. "Well, Draco Malfoy, I don't know how you Pureblood wizards apologize, and I surely don't know how you accept apologies. But I will accept yours, for a small price."

"Anything," he said hastily.

"A promise--that you won't, or at least endeavor, not to hurt me any more than you already have."

He leaned closer, startling her a bit. "Your wish is my command."

~ * ~ *

"Professor, I mean, Albus, will you have a look at that?" Minerva McGonagall tugged on Dumbledore's heavy blue sleeve.

"What is it Minerva, this apple pie is absolutely delectable, you must try some."

Minerva ignored the latter comment and proceeded. "Albus, look on the dance floor."

Dumbledore turned his head toward the direction in which she was pointing. He noticed that most students had cleared off to the side, leaving only two in the middle.

"Don't you think that interesting at all?" Minerva crossed her arms.

Dumbledore replied, "Yes, it is so sweet. Just like this apple pie."

~ * ~ *

Draco and Quiana left the floor, following trickles of applause from their classmates.

"Draco Malfoy! I've been looking for you," a tall girl with black eyes and electric red hair touched his shoulder. She was not exactly pretty, but her eyes glinted in an exotic way and the very way she stood told of her inner power.

Draco paled but recovered quickly.

"Parry, it's been a long time. What brings you here?"

She smiled alluringly. "You will see soon enough, my dear."

Quiana rolled her eyes. What was with these girls and calling him 'my dear'? I wonder if he ever gets tired of that?

"Ah, Parry, may I introduce you to Quiana Llewellyn?" Parry's eyes narrowed and her frigid face turned hard and brittle. "Quiana, this is Countess Parthenope De Maurier of Roscirca."

"The word's out that you have changed, but you can't change blood." Parthenope snubbed, without batting an eyelid. Hardly anyone ever remembered her words, just her voice; it beckoned to them in a supernatural way.

"I have to leave, see you...later." She turned and walked away slowly, turning back to give Draco a lingering glance.

"And who might she be?" Quiana asked, attempting to look amused.

"Oh, just a family friend..." Draco replied, a trifle snappish.

Quiana glared at him. "What, you want me to make you promise not to lie to me either?"

"Fine," he relented. "She's an ex-girlfriend of mine."

"There's still something you're not telling me."

"She's not exactly the most passive person in the world. She tried to curse the girl I went out with after--"

Quiana was spared having to hear about Draco's next make-out partner because a melodious yet melancholy voice invaded the Hall. The sound was rich and pure, laced with emotion and sadness.

Quiana glanced at the stage. "Parthenope," she said with an air of resignation.

Draco didn't look surprised, but he definitely looked agitated. He glanced around and seemed to be looking for an escape. Like a Veela's dancing, the Hall was entranced, lulled by this all-omnipresent song. But the singer seemed to be singing only for one person. Only for Draco Malfoy, thought Quiana. He touched her arm.

"Let's go for a walk. Her singing isn't safe."

Quiana nodded reluctantly as they walked silently and abandoned the haunting noise. Like a banshee's soft wails, it followed them out of the corridor and all the way outside. Berating, blaming and chastising them for leaving its all protecting embrace.

Draco glanced uncertainly at Quiana's face. Her eyes were unreadable, closed. He had tried to tell her this before. He didn't want to hurt her again.

"Just refrain yourself from cutting me again, okay? I have enough scars as it is." She said, undoing her hair, then tying it back up again.

"How did you--" Draco snapped, unnerved.

"Be careful of what you say around me. We're 'connected', remember?" she said, looking up at the sky, then back at him.

"But I didn't say anything!" he protested, confused.

"I guess you wanted me to hear it then," she shrugged. The moon was in its waning stage, but its light was still bright enough to bring the gardens to life. "Isn't this just amazing? It's so serene."

Draco moved toward her and tilted her chin so she could see his eyes. "Nothing parallels you," he said as he kissed her forehead. Quiana closed her eyes. Give in, a voice said from her mind. Just let go...

~ * ~ *

Harry observed the pair in the courtyard. And to think that I confused her for Cho when they are so incredibly...opposite. The simple memory of Cho flashed across his mind. Her eyes were the color of rich earth, deep and caring. But that day they were closed, as if under a spell. It was as if she wasn't completely there...

"Excuse me, do you know where I could find Quiana Llewellyn?"

Quiana...? "Huh?" Harry's mind bounced back to the present. A pretty girl with short black hair and steel gray eyes that looked awfully familiar stood before him, donning simple but refined cream-colored dress robes. The pearls she wore around her neck didn't quite match, but Harry thought they looked stunning on her anyway.

"I'm looking for Quiana Llewellyn, is she here?" The girl repeated her question, but then carefully scrutinized Harry's face. "Is something wrong?" She said, with genuine concern.

"Was I that obvious?" Harry said, trying to laugh it off.

The girl didn't seem fazed at all. In fact, she actually chuckled as she said, "Maybe I could spare a moment of my search. Would honor me with this dance, good sir?" She bowed, and a few strands of her hair fell from behind her ear.

Harry resisted the temptation to let his jaw drop to the newly polished floor. "...Sure." He said, enthusiastically as possible.

"Then what are you waiting for, next year?" she threw her head back and laughed, then started walking to the dance floor, with Harry running to catch up with her.

Funny, you didn't even bother to ask her name, he mused to himself.

~ * ~ *