Disclaimer: I own only the characters I create. The castle and recognizable faces are all J.K's.

Friday, March 23rd

6:00 am

The clearing hums with morning life and I kick huge clouds of woody dust in the air just to watch them languorously float back down. Sunlight trickles happily through shafted trees as the lake sloshes slowly around. I exhale and enjoy the sensation of aggressively pushing all the air from my lungs.

My cheeks smart as Grant's face springs to mind as it almost always does recently.

He's tried to talk 5 times in the last 7 days. Each time I hustle off, pinching Cass' elbow or speeding up to walk with Archie, pretending I don't see him loitering outside of class. I do want to speak to him though. It's just each time the chance presents itself, I panic, that horrid heartbeat drumming through my veins.

The issue is, I don't know if I miss him or the attention. If I miss the attention I'm as shallow as I've always thought myself to be. If I miss him I'm an idiot because everyone seems to know some great truth about him.

Fuck. My breathing becomes shallower as anxiety slips a sultry hand around my throat. Anyone will tell you, I hate confrontation more than anything in the entire bloody universe. My hands shake and for some reason I revert to speaking French, which works entirely zero per cent of the time in England.

I'm a runner. Always have been. Any type of confrontation, serious conversation or 'discussion' and I will bolt. Daddy found me on top of various cliff tops more times than I can count in fourth year. His face was so serious and sorrowful as he trudged up each time and brought me back home, replete with the warmest Weasley jumper he could find and a bear hug. I put them through so much pain that summer. Hot tears sting my eyes as I think back to the worry lines seemingly conjoined on their foreheads as they practically begged me to talk to them.

But.

That was then.

I'm so much better now. Even Cass says so.

I still remember her face on the first day of fifth year, set into determined, ferocious lines. She held my hand as we walked through the barrier and squeezed three time as the bricks dissolved around us. She told me it was a way to tell someone you loved them. I loved her in that moment. She stuck to my side as if we were conjoined for that first month. I couldn't do anything but sleep without her little face next to me and even then that was sometimes too much to ask for.

My heart fills as I think of how much Cass fucking does for me. And Spence. Just two fucking stars really.

Cass would go absolutely bat shit if she knew I was thinking about talking to him. She totally lost it when I told her including the surprise party Max, Lara and I had, where they were naked and back together and I was a moron.

Truth be told, Grant was probably having a shit trip. Taken something with Jack Emmory and washed it down with copious amounts of firewhiskey. And I don't blame him for it. Each to their own. But it was the dead stare. I've only ever seen a look like that once, and it was Teddy morphing into a werewolf when we were little.

Spence says that she hasn't heard much from Archie about Max. I know the boys had an argument of some sort the morning after their birthday because Ava hustled back to the dorm much earlier than usual.

She had crawled into my bed, her eyes red-rimmed and hair resolutely tangled. Apparently Archie had found her eventually, taking her to the Astronomy tower to let her cry out whatever her drunken mind was fixated on. We had whispered furiously under my duvet as I tried to make sure she was okay after running around half the castle like a mad banshee.

She had said that she was fine, but Arch had asked her to leave this morning, which was bizarre. But Max had come back from god knows where and Spence says that she knew it was time to go. Apparently their air had been like steel and the boys were one sharp word away from squaring up. Complete Scottish wild boys. Complete fools.

We spent the morning together that day and it was perfect. Just me and my best friends in the world and a heart that kept hurting whenever I thought about what had just gone before.

I should make peace with this Grant thing. If not for the only reason that he's a person too and I've offered him no chance for explanation. And also because the tiny part of my heart hurts too much to keep giving it to Max.

What does Granny always say? 'The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result.' I see her warm creased face and yearn to be back in the burrow with her and Granddad and lots of tea and love. Thank God for Easter next week.

I square my shoulders and stretch, allowing the relief to spread through my stiff arms and set off for the castle.

7pm

"So what did Lucy say?"

Cass interrogates Ava over supper, much like a bad cop on a drug bust.

I, the good cop of course, take my time to ponder all the information, weighing up each individual iota of detail.

"Dom. You look deranged. Are you okay?"

Shit. Good cop is not suited for my face. Abort.

"Yes thank you Cassandra. I was simply mulling over all the possibilities!"

She absentmindedly pushes her food around, piling mashed potatoes into haphazard mountains.

"I think Kit probably just got bored. You know what he's like." Spence, already tired of the conversation, picks at her nail polish, giant glitter flecks flaking onto the bench.

"Yes, but why would he bother to tell Liv there was someone else if he wasn't serious about this new one?" Cass is persistent today.

I scoff. Kit would never be serious about a woman that wasn't his own reflection in a wig.

"Look, all I know is that Lucy told me that Kit told Liv he couldn't see her anymore. So she tried to set his hair on fire but somehow managed to burn her own hand by accident. He told her she was a fucking maniac and that was why he had to end it. She told him she knew there was someone else, and he all but admitted it and took her to the hospital wing and now refuses to speak to her."

My mouth drops open. Where Ava compiles and stores this information is beyond me. She's the gossip equivalent of a prized antiques 'collector' who then recounts the tales for our amusement.

"Stop." Cass is clearly as stunned as I am.

"I know."

"No way."

"Yes, I know."

The two goldfish gape at each other, although Ava's expression is clearly mocking Cass' gormless look.

I rub my hands together, reminiscent of a detective with a new vital piece of juicy information.

Well, well Mr. Macmillan. What have you been up to?

Sunday, March 25th

4:00 pm

I pore over Vic's neat script trying in vain to understand how she perfected the Hinkley Hiccouph charm with such ease.

One flick down, with a slight twist to the left, simultaneously maintaining counterbalance stability.

I wave my wrist in lame imitation, accidentally snagging my tights in the process, drawing a trailing ladder up my thigh. Brilliant.

Kit sits opposite me, surrounded by more textbooks than I have ever seen a single person attempt to decipher. It appears that he has adopted a new method of trying to study for each of his classes, simultaneously. This feat would be helped massively if Ava weren't drawing ink tattoos on his forearm, the moving doodles flitting gleefully across his skin.

They whisper furiously to each other, lamenting over the fact they haven't got real tattoo ink with which to try and so instead pressing doubly hard with the regular quill nib.

'Holy fuck Spence!' A tiny drop of bright red blood drips onto 'Molecularly Magnificent Magical Potions'. Kit scans wildly around for Madam Pince's looming figure.

"Shit! Sorry, sorry. Wait I have a tissue!" Ava frantically rifles through her bag, finds a half-used pack of tissues and dabs manically at Kit's tattoo-gone-wrong.

"You two are morons." Archie whispers across the battered table and the two offending culprits jump, their bubble of artistic bliss burst.

Kit smirks and licks his thumb, rubbing the spots where the ink is still visible, erasing all evidence of their exploits. Instinctively he twitches to run a hand through his hair and the tiniest greeny-black splodge is visible inside the crook of his left elbow.

Spence, misses nothing and grabs at his limb inspecting the simplistically inked 'M'.

"When did you get this one?" She asks, twisting her neck for better vantage.

Kit stalls for a millisecond, shaking her off gently and pats the spot subconsciously.

"A few weeks ago. It's still unfinished."

"Ooh, I like it." Spence gushes.

"What does your lady friend think of it mate?" Archie grins and darts out of the way as Kit attempts to swing for him.

"Lady friend!" I echo, whispering furiously. "That sounds like she's a scarlet lady!"

"She likes it very much, thanks mate. Says it's very becoming of my fantastic physique, which I was gifted from Merlin and Dumbledore themselves."

"And what was her name again, I've forgotten?" Archie bolts forward but this time Kit's blow makes contact and he winces at the force of the knock.

"I'm telling you guys exactly jack shit. You will tell her all about my past misdemeanours and she will forget to concentrate on how charming I am."

"You really are the most self-absorbed prick, Macmillan." I retort, his smug grin practically stifling all air from the library.

"Now, now Dominique. That hurts." He thinks for a minute, his cheeky face in its element. "And something I just cannot allow to slide."

Jumping with supersonic speed, he plucks me from my seat and throws me over his shoulder.

"To the lake we go!" He makes great strides towards the door and I attempt to keep my top from flying up past my head.

Were it not a Sunday, Kit would have been kicked out long ago but the library was far rowdier than normal, with deadlines and mock OWLS in full swing.

"I have to see this." Archie scrambles from his chair, bags and books forgotten as he and Ava trail behind us. Of course they have to hold hands so we look like the weirdest procession of people to ever wander the corridors.

"KIT!" I squirm and wriggle as he resolutely ploughs on, carrying me as if I was a pesky broomstick and he was taking me out for a good fly.

"Arch, can you hear something mate?" I feel Kit's grin as Archie smiles wickedly at me in my most ungracious position.

"No mate, I can't hear a thing." Bastard.

"If only, IF ONLY, you had kept your horrible words to yourself my darling Dommy. If only."

He shakes his head in mock remorse and I pound at his back, the force making absolutely no difference to his Quidditch honed muscles.

The brisk, spring air makes my teeth to chatter and the thin long sleeve shirt proves to be absolutely useless at keeping in any body heat I once possessed. I had dressed for a day of library-ing, not being a sack of potatoes in the musical that is Kit's life!

I flail my legs, wildly trying to make contact with any part of Kit's body that is within swinging distance.

"Kit I am going to get pneumonia and lake-poisoning and die along in the hospital wing with no family or friends all because you threw me in this bloody lake!"

He snorts, clearly enjoying the dramatics and secures himself out of harms way from my kicking limbs.

We stop suddenly, the force jolting me upright and able to look into Spence's sympathy filled eyes before Kit propels me away from his shoulder and I ungraciously hit the water with the grace of a brick.

The water is like ice, murky black and chilling me to the bone. I splutter as water rushes into all available cavities and gasp as my face breaks water once more. Gasping wildly I push hair away from my face and tiptoe warily towards the edge, careful not to step on anything too slimy.

I shiver uncontrollably as my thin top clings to any part of me it can stick to. My feet are blue with cold as both my shoes are now giant squid and lake life fodder. Shit.

Spence rushes to me with Archie's sweater, all ready to try and bring me back from the depths of lake death, however I only have eyes for the two twits, who can barely breathe for guffawing. Kit receives mock applause from some 7th years that had been trying to enjoy some peaceful Sunday lake time serenity before our arrival, however now had some entertainment in the form of my death by hypothermia.

"Dom, I'm sorry!" Enemy number one approaches, arms outstretched to cuddle out our apology. His eyes twinkle and grin widens as I near them with all the grace of a murderer on the war-path.

I stand uncontrollably shaking and do the best impression of Maman I can muster.

"Demain. Tu meurs."

Kit's face drains as I bore into him, the full Veela force coursing through my numbed veins.

Then with all the power given to aforementioned war hero, I let out the first battle cry of our feud with the boys.

"EVANGELINE! AU CHÂTEAU!"

My faithful ally disentangles herself from the clutches of Archie who was using her as a human shield and hustles us back up to the castle as quick as a shoeless-twosome can go.

8pm

The common room is bustling, a ginormous fire roaring and gobstones flying as second years enjoy their pre-pubescent bliss.

No Michael, if the jack jumps six places you do have to forfeit!

What twits.

Twirling one sodden strand of hair, still warm from the bath, I continue my letter to Maman, comfortably re-adjusting my legs on Cass' lap. She pays my leg absentmindedly, her brow furrowed determinedly on her own parchment. I scratch resolutely more ink blotted words, detailing exactly how charms was going (hideously) and how excited I was for it to be over (monumentally), whilst airily glossing over how much trouble Lou had been getting in.

Little cherub brother had cornered me after another recent catastrophic charms lesson.

...

"Ne dites pas à maman!"

"Hello to you too Louis!"

"Oui bonjour Dominique." He is frantic, having obviously bolted from whatever class he had just been in.

"Mcgonnagall wrote to Mum, who wrote to me, who is now asking you to not tell her anything when she asks!"

"What have you done?" I examine his earnest face, the tie is knotted incorrectly and various pieces of his ashy blonde hair which appear to be singed by.. fire?!

He swats my hand away as I go to inspect the flame tinged locks more closely.

"Potions" he says by way of explanation. "Je suis en retard pour l'histoire de la magie, mais s'il vous plaît ne pas dire maman!" He continues before patting my head like a good dog and sprinting off.

Do not tell Mum anything. Hmmmm. Easter was looking more interesting by the minute.

...

Yawning, I gingerly extract my legs, careful not to disturb Cass from the veritable tome she was penning.

"I'm going to go and get some chocolate from the kitchens. Do you want anything?"

She quickly glances up, unawares of anything going on around her.

"Ummm. Yes. Something sweet please. Preferably pumpkin. No liquorice."

Instructions given she returns to studiously scribbling onto the parchment and leaves me to find a chocolate quest alone.

I pad through the quiet stone hallways, the sconces burning comfortably low on a routine Sunday night. The tapestries are dozing after hearty Sunday lunches, replete with red wine by the gallon and numerous medieval concoctions of full-fat cream and lard.

I smirk at their languorous gluttony, each confined to reside in perpetual artistic luxury with little to do but eat, drink and heckle passers-by.

I turn left away from the kitchens and continue down hallways reminiscent of little rabbit holes, growing smaller with each passing step.

Now for the most uncomfortable part of the plan.

I lurk awkwardly around the corner, waiting for some unsuspecting first year to help me in my task. My nails are bitten down as I anxiously chew on the damaged skin.

Part of me wishes I had just called this whole palaver off and waited for him to find me again.

Luckily, the portrait swings open and a tiny first year tumbles out, missing the step down but righting himself just in time. I feel like a looming gorilla as I edge over to him, painfully aware of exactly how creepy the situation is.

"Hi!" My voice echoes around the cavernous round hallway, reverberating with no corners to die in. The little boy jumps out of his skin, observing me with as much trust as he might an axe murderer.

"Could I ask you to do me a favour?" Said boy is still cowering, frozen in shock.

"Would you mind jut popping back in there and finding out if Grant McLaggen is in please?"

His little eyes are darting everywhere, looking for any escape from the weird blonde predator lurking around the Hufflepuff Portrait Hole. Weighing up all his options and seemingly realising that his best bet would be back inside with his housemates rather than out here with me, he nods imperceptibly and all but sprints back inside.

I am the most unfrightening person ever. I don't even scare myself. Hence why I can never get any work done. I just don't take myself seriously enough to actually buckle down.

The portrait swings open once more and my heart skips a beat thinking the same tiny boy has come back to be terrified of me once more.

But instead Grant's easy form steps out and his face breaks into an uneasy smile.

"Hey, Dom."

I laugh nervously, acutely aware of how staged this entire meeting is now.

"I think you just really scared Tom Humphries."

I groan, my cheeks beginning to burn with flush as Grant's eyes twinkle good-naturedly at me.

"Yeah. I think he thought I was going to actually murder him. Or convert him to Gryffindor."

Grant laughs and the deep sound easily fills the silence.

I continue self-consciously, "I just wanted to know if maybe you wanted to talk?"

"Yeah, I'd really like that actually." His gruff voice is comforting.

"Okay, well I'm headed to the kitchens anyway if you wanted to join?"

I hug both arms around me to fight some of the draft creeping through the brick cracks and we head back towards the house elves kingdom.

A/N: French Translations

"Demain. Tu meurs." - Tomorrow. You die.

"EVANGELINE! AU CHÂTEAU!" - Evangeline! To the castle!

"Ne dites pas à maman!" - Do not tell Mum anything!

"Je suis en retard pour l'histoire de la magie, mais s'il vous plaît ne pas dire maman!" - I'm late for History of Magic but please do not say anything to Maman!