Chapter Four
In Which Harry and Malfoy Are Understandably Confused

Sigh. It's been one hectic two weeks.

Yes, sigh. On paper, mind you.

I got through the usual beginning-of-the-year talk with Professor Snape, as is the tradition that happens every year. As far as we know, from Steph, the professor is the only head of house that does this to his students. He does it every year at the beginning, middle, and the end of each year. It's his way of checking up on all of us, keeping an eye on us. Discusses our friends, home life, how are classes doing, that sort of thing. From then on, a couple of the kids in sixth year in the house are chosen to look after them when the professor can't, at least until they get settled, which is usually around the end of second year. It's a requirement that the said student maintain their ties with their older student (at least until said older kid graduated).

Never say that Professor Snape doesn't give a damn about us.

I remember my 'watcher', as it were. Her name was Hypatia Macklin. We didn't get along too well. She was extremely prissy, even more so than Cordelia. And that's saying something. I just made up some crap that she didn't listen to, so on and so forth. I guess it served her right at the end of my second year, when Professor Snape gave her twenty detentions during the last month of term. He was furious (you could tell, because his robes…billow more than usual). Hypatia was apparently intimidating a then firstie into setting fire to the bubotubers in Greenhouse Three.

But no one really paid attention to that since Harry Potter went into the Chamber of Secrets thing. Ah well.

I got a few kids this year: Gustavo Landry, Varian Ezekiel, and Frances Raleigh. I find it strange that Professor Snape would trust me with these three though. All three of them are halfbloods and here they are assigned to the Dark Lord's daughter. Of course, my first gift of advice was to tell them not to talk about their families. Or maybe it isn't so odd. No one knows about that little facet about my…heritage. Maybe it's because I take Muggle Studies. And as far as the girls in my year go, I'm probably considered the least likely to go 'dark' in the eyes of the typical obsessed light fanatic.

There are a lot of them around lately. According to the usual Hogwarts grapevine, a couple of students have been trying to promote the side of the Light (I hate saying that!). Most seem to be of Potter's DA club. Personally, I'm surprised Granger hasn't been handing out pamphlets. The way that they're doing it is the worst kind of advertising: the blatantly annoying kind. They're not going to get true believers; they're going to get those who just joined to get them to shut up. Steph mentioned something about a previous movement among the Gryffindors about house elves that Granger started. What it entailed exactly, I didn't know. House elves should do what they wish. But it had something to do with 'spew'. I may not be some media mogul or anything like that, but that alone would repel potential people. But that's just me.

It's been horrible walking into the commons lately. Malfoy's been hitting on me and he isn't being exactly…discreet about it, if you will. Unfortunately for him, I'm not very interested. If he would lose the 'stuck-up bastard' attitude (or at least diminish it to at most around 58 of the time), I probably would give him a shot. Doesn't seem likely that he will, though. Problem: nearly all of the girl population of Slytherin dislikes me now because of it. I don't see why they like him so much. Sort of like how the older girls (and, according to Theo, some of the older guys) are infatuated with Snape. That in itself just boggles me.

But it seems no matter how many times I tell them, they won't believe me that I'm not interested in Malfoy and that they could have him for all I care. I do feel sorry for Pansy, though. She's had her eye on him since first year and they went to the Yule Ball together in fourth year. At the time, she was squawking about it like some puffed-up duck that she was going with the Draco Malfoy, while Millicent went with Vincent Crabbe, Cordelia with some Hufflepuff boy, and I went with Theo. Why Theo? I broke up with my first boyfriend at the time, Kenneth Bates (a Ravenclaw 5th year then) when Steph reported to me that he was trying to nab Cho Chang as his date.

Revenge was sweet. He had no date. Ha.

…Moving on.

But let me put it down straight: Draco Malfoy maybe is sort of cute, but I am not interested in him at all. End of story. Caput. Finite. Done. I wipe my hands clean of the matter.

I better head off to detention now with Professor Snape, who thankfully interceded into the situation. Thank Merlin that he understands! Though we didn't get in trouble in Potions (obviously), but rather with Professor Hartwell. He's the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. Idiot. He doesn't teach the things that Death Eaters would use in a fight. I think I would know. Also he can't defend himself at all in a hand-to-hand fight. It was that part that got me in trouble. Worst yet, he knew my mother. Intimately, as it were. Joy. You could see it on his perverted face when he came to the last name of 'Knight' on the roll, that self-satisfied smirk. Probably thinks that I'm easy like my dear mother was. He couldn't be more wrong.

Blaise and Theo will be with me during the session. They also were…involved. You can't blame them, they were trained to be my bodyguards and protect me! Instinctively. Besides, they're my best friends! Let's not forget the fact that a professional assassin/Death Eater (a nice one, but still) raised me! And Hartwell didn't exactly say it was a demonstration. So we shouldn't be in trouble for knocking him out and giving him some really nasty bruises (from Blaise, who had woken up and wasn't happy to begin with)/flooring him (a la moi) /smashing him into the chalkboard (courtesy of a very late Theo). The stupid excuse for a professor was practically crying (though he was definitely whining) when he reported us to Snape. To our Head's credit, he looked like he was thinking the exact thing as we were: Hartwell's a prick. A prissy prick, if one was to continue on. Blaise managed a complete twelve word alliteration of "p", those previous words, and the professor in a burst of creative genius that gained instant appreciation from all those who had a brain that had heard it. What do you expect from the person who created 'Weasley is our King!" (even if the Gryffindors ruined it)?

Professor Snape rules.

-----Maia

P.S. Sadly, I still haven't given back Potter's Charms essay yet. Thank goodness that Flitwick hasn't collected it yet. Though Blaise says he has a plan. Theo has this…grin. Needless to say, I'm apprehensive about all this…

P.P.S. The Falmouth Falcons are first in the National League!

"See, Headmaster? Look at her last comment before she finishes the entry. She's an intelligent girl, much better than Granger."

"Most assuredly, Severus. But I don't think the Head Girl nomination should be given to a girl simply because she has fantastic taste in professional Quidditch teams."

"…I didn't mean it in terms of Quidditch, Headmaster."

"Then on what terms do you mean? Her last comment is about her favorite Quidditch team."

"…Never mind."

"Personally, I don't know why we're bothering."

"We're bothering because we'll lose points if we don't show up."

"I know that, Blaise. But you know how Defense Against the Dark Arts is! We haven't had a decent teacher since Lupin and even then, we didn't focus on dueling, but on magical creatures."

"Sad but true. We'll just have to put up with this latest failure like we have done for the past five years. By the way, where's Theo?"

"Left a book about Transfiguration theory in the dorm. Went to go get it."

"He should have known better than to come to this class without something to do. What do you have?"

"The Importance of Magical Runes in Ancient Civilizations. You?"

"That muggle thing…paddle with the red rubber ball attached to it by a string. That…thing."

Two students joined the excited throng that was gathered outside the classroom, both looking out of place. Indeed when they arrived, they stood slightly away from the others, leaning against the wall in the shadows. One was a tall boy with violently long blue hair in expensive robes, who had promptly began to play paddleball while talking quietly to his companion. The other was a moderately pretty girl with dark brown hair and light brown eyes, much shorter than her friend. The main things that separated them from the rest were the badges on their robes. Very few individuals from Slytherin deemed it worth the time to bother taking the class again when in the past it had proven to be nothing more than a waste of time. And very few individuals outside Slytherin would welcome them into their conversations.

Blaise Zabini and Maia Knight did not even bother pushing their luck.

Most of the talk seemed to be centered on a young man with glasses and messy dark hair. Near him stood a tall gangly boy with red hair and a freckled face, beside him also a bushy haired girl that was talking a mile a minute. Almost everyone appeared to be drawn to him…though he didn't look like he enjoyed it much. More than once his gaze turned to the girl and the boy in the darkened corner, almost longingly. But neither Maia nor Blaise noticed this. Their conversation had shifted to how Arithmancy was the chosen favorite subject of the devil, along with many quite convincing arguments for this point of view.

"Draco? Draco!" Pansy screeched in indignation. Draco Malfoy, however, wasn't paying attention to the pug-faced girl. The blonde aristocrat was instead focusing all his interest on Maia (she didn't see this), an intense gray gaze fixed on the oblivious girl, a sly smile gracing his face, his thoughts completely somewhere else entirely. While Pansy was completely besotted with him, she wasn't an idiot. She glanced at Maia with hurt in her eyes, before turning to Malfoy with considerable ire. "Draco, sweetie?"

Malfoy merely grunted in response, still looking at Maia. Pansy's eyes narrowed even more, though she kept her tone completely innocuous. "I was wondering what you would think about this." No answer from the still spaced-out blonde. "If you had the chance, would you grab Weasley over there and snog him senseless in the nearest broom closet?" Still nothing.

Pansy bristled in obvious agitation. "Draco!" she shouted into his ear, which did effectively bring him back down to Earth. He gave her an annoyed glare, but she covered up her expression of fury. "Would you?" she asked.

"Yes, yes, of course," he said offhandedly. He then resumed staring at Maia. Seconds later, the smirk was forming again. Obviously, he wasn't paying attention. Upset, Pansy flounced off to the object-of-Malfoy's-desire and said object's blue-haired friend. If she wasn't going to be the one he was looking at, at least she was in the view.

"Hey, Pansy," Maia greeted warmly. "Surprised you bothered, as well." Seeing the look on her face, the dark-haired girl gave a grim sigh. "Malfoy again? I told you already. I don't like him and that he's all yours."

"I know that, I only joined up because he did," Pansy replied back. She sniffed in wounded pride. "There's no point in talking to him. I mean, if he just admitted that he would want to bang Weasley in a closet-"

Blaise gave a low wolf whistle, still playing paddleball as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. "Didn't know he swung that way. You shouldn't bother with him then." He gave her a sorrowful look, while placing his free hand on her shoulder, completely ignoring Maia's chuckles and Pansy's expression of shock. "There isn't any point in going after one that doesn't even go for your gender. Think of it this way, he's not worth it. You deserve much better. I mean, if he's actually willing to go at it with Weasley…" The teen's expression contorted with a grimace, letting his face tell the rest. The two girls erupted into appreciative laughter.

The door of the classroom opening, revealing the handsome countenance of Professor Hartwell, interrupted the moment. It didn't escape Maia how his glance took in the faces of every girl waiting outside, lingering on that of Parvati Patil's for a long moment as well as Granger's. He didn't look in the corner, so he didn't see herself, Blaise, or Pansy. Which she was thankful for, actually. From first glance, it seemed as if they were stuck with another…dud.

Blaise was the epitome of calmness – well as calm as you can look while playing paddleball. The glare at the Slytherin badge did not go unnoticed as they walked in, Maia being one of the last to enter the room. She and Blaise took desks near the back, by the window. Placing her bag on the seat of an empty desk (for Theo when he showed up), she took out her textbook, a few leaflets of parchment, a quill, as well as the book that would provide her distraction from the inevitable boredom that would accompany a Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson. Though she did hold some admiration for her blue-haired friend – seriously, he was good at paddleball.

"Well!" She winced at the utter…happiness that this blonde and clean-cut professor exuded. Great. Now not only do I have Arithmancy to hate, but now also DADA. Fantastic. "I'm Professor Hartwell, you're new DADA teacher. Hopefully, I last longer than just a year." He sat on the desk, smiling a grin that seemed to include the entire class. It certainly put most of the students at ease. In the front row, like they were nearly every year, she saw the Golden Trio visibly relax, exchanging glances that plainly showed acceptance. Maia, on the other hand, was not so easily placated. Besides, she hated happy people. Though she personally attributed this trait to her father – he preferred people serious, grave, afraid. Not cowering in fear, however, but still afraid.

Yeah.

So she wasn't as muggle-hating as her ancestors, that didn't mean she wasn't Slytherin. Not meaning the house name, but the family. Even when the family changed their name, it didn't change their actions. If anyone found out that she was a direct-line Arsenys (and it wasn't widely known that the Arsenys family were in fact, Slytherins), she'd be thrown out, if not lynched. It was why she carried her mother's name. Sure, Gloria Knight had hardly given it a good reputation, but the Knights were considered to be among the more tolerable pureblood families.

Silence reigned for a brief moment before the rhythmic rapping of the paddleball became apparent. Most of the class turned to look at Blaise with scowls and dirty looks, but Blaise really didn't care. Hartwell's smile tightened at the sight – evidently, he wasn't used to the cool reception that Blaise was giving. He had better get used to it.

"As I don't know you all," Hartwell continued, "why don't you tell me your names and something about yourselves." He started at the other end of the room, so, logically, Maia didn't really have to worry too much until the end. Besides, she didn't really hold Neville Longbottom's toad Trevor in so high a regard that she'd pay attention to the drivel of the amphibian's loyalty any day.

In about ten minutes, they had gotten to where the Slytherins were gathered in their little collective group near the back. It was obvious from the change in Hartwell's tone that he didn't like them. Maia rolled her eyes at his lackluster remark to Pansy. The feeling's mutual, imbecile. Draco and Pansy were terse and direct, barely saying more than ten words. Then they needed to explain that Theo was late, which lost five points. Another ten points were lost because Blaise fell asleep (more accurately, through Lavender Brown's accolades to Divination twit). Nevertheless, he still was playing paddleball while snoozing away. A further five were lost for not waking Blaise up.

Though this last one was worth the loss. Everyone in Slytherin knew, Malfoy especially, that you don'twake up a sleeping Blaise unless you have a death wish. Everyone learned that on the first day, when Goyle was not only beat up, but hogtied up in a sheet (Goyle was still in boxers) and dragged down to the common room, where Blaise promptly explained that this was a 'warning'.

Finally, it was her turn. Hartwell seemed relieved about it. "You, young lady? Your name and something about yourself."

"Maia Knight," she simply replied. She had prepared her reply that claimed she hated Arithmancy (everyone said which subject they liked, not what they hated…losers). But she was interrupted by the professor's gasp of surprise and…Maia's left eye started twitching (another thing she shared with her father).

Happiness. Didn't this guy frown?! Or at least, stop smiling?!

"Knight?" Hartwell was practically jumping for joy. And that was not lost on the rest of the class. "You mean like the Knight family of Manchester?" Maia nodded wordlessly. Of course, she had only been to Manchester to pay homage to the grave her mother's respectable brother Charles (her father killed him, personally) and to see what she inherited. That's it really. But where was this going? "Are you by chance related to Gloria Knight? She was a…very good friend of mine. Very good friend."

Maia sent a wide-eyed look at the professor, complete with raised eyebrow. This cannot be happening. She did not need an admirer (probably more than just one) as her teacher. This was disgusting, wrong! And it would most likely embarrass her. She did not want anyone comparing her to…her mother. That was insulting, as well as demeaning to her pride! And pride was one thing that Maia held dear. "She was my mother," Maia answered tightly, her fists curling beneath the desk out of sight. She did not like the curious glances that she was getting…

"Excellent!" The smile was obviously fake now. "Perhaps you can send her a message for me. That old Markie says hi. Maybe we could arrange a meeting-"

"I'm afraid you would need a medium for that, sir," was Maia's dry response. Great. Not only did he know her mother, the idiot didn't even know Gloria Knight was dead. Why can't I have a normal life? You know, with my friends, a decent mother, and a father that doesn't look like an albino snake who would never go around killing people? Was that too much to ask? It certainly seemed like it. "She died when I was three months old."

"Oh." As predicted, he wasn't too thrilled about that. But, if you consider that he had a thing for her mother, then the guy would get over it soon enough. "I'm sorry for your loss then." Maia shrugged indifferently. Personally, she thought she was better off without her. And Bradley was cool. She certainly wasn't in want for a mother figure. Hartwell was giving her an intent look, one that she didn't like. The same went for Potter, but it was more out of compassion and sympathy than of (what she assumed) lover's jealousy. In this case, Hartwell's anger that Gloria Knight had a kid with someone else. Though, seriously, I would not want to see the result of that union. Look what happened with me. Across the aisle, she didn't see Malfoy presenting the professor as well as Potter with a quite menacing warning look. Though that latter fact had to do more with the little detail that Maia never paid much attention to what Draco Malfoy did anyway.

"I...see…you really don't look too much like her." No, really? Of course I don't look like her! Maia didn't have blonde hair, pale skin, and a perfectly flawless face of regal beauty, nor was she tall or have the slight figure. She was darker in hair and complexion, she wasn't that bad looking, and if her petite figure was anything to go by, then she was all curves and legs. Which, if Malfoy's behavior in the commons and the fact that her ex-boyfriend of two years ago was trying to talk to her, did appeal to some people.

She wasn't very appreciative of the attention. No, not at all.

"Well, perhaps you can help me with this demonstration!" No, Maia wasn't appreciative, or amused, in the very least. Must you practically jump for bloody joy when you talk? No, I wouldn't like to help you! But she was obliged to: Hartwell hadn't phrased his exclamation as a question. As she stood up, she felt a hand brush hers before she made her way to the front. She looked over to see Malfoy smiling at her…and behind him, Pansy looking like the apocalypse would give the blonde more mercy than she would. She passed the still sleep-paddling Blaise, to stand in front of Hartwell's desk.

"I'm now going to show you," Hartwell started, "how easily a person can be overpowered." Maia refrained from showing a look of utter boredom. Bradley covered this when she was eight – both in Death Eater and Auror usages of self-defense. She was okay at it, nothing brilliant or notable. "This method is quick and simple…"

Still, he just had to choose her. A sense of foreboding twisted her stomach as Hartwell went into the most typical technique that Aurors used to hold a person: the grab of the wand hand and hitting a pressure point in the lower back. This would effectively not only hurt a lot, but also weaken you. It took most of her self-control to not just demonstrate on Hartwell exactly how to get out of this. Looking across the class, she saw that most of the students were eagerly waiting for the result of this. Weasley, in particular, was looking like he was watching a very interesting show. Granger appeared skeptical, while Potter…she couldn't really decipher what went on in his mind.

Though that probably had something to do with being the daughter of his enemy. Not her fault.

Pansy's face was frozen in an expression of cold distaste, probably toward how the teacher chose a Slytherin out of every person in the class to display what would be a very painful maneuver. She had been especially vocal as to how the rest of the houses were spying on them, like they were planning to kill every single person in their sleep. Malfoy, however, was shaking with rage. Blaise…was still asleep?!

"The technique is performed like-" She sighed and waited for the inevitable pain.

It never came. Rather, several large crashes, a rather girly scream followed by quite a few startled shouts. Maia blinked before smirking slightly.

…Yep. Blaise was absolutely lethal when woken up.

She groaned at the sound of the alarm, it's overly cheerful rings far too cheerful for her that morning. Or any morning for that matter. Half-heartedly, Maia tried to block out the noise by putting her head to her pillow, but to no avail. Without a doubt, she would get used to it – she did so every year – but the beginning of term was always the toughest. During the summer, she had awoken to the sound of a funeral march. Her father had a very macabre personality (this was a well-known fact) and it gave him a good mood to start the day off with. Never mind that it sounded as if the Grim Reaper had come to visit the house to take one of its inhabitants to the Great Beyond…whatever.

But until they all got up, that thing would not stop its perturbing jingle. This, of course, was made exceedingly difficult – Millicent was a very heavy sleeper. Even as Maia dragged herself out of bed, succeeding in only toppling to the floor, the larger girl slept on. Through the gap in the curtains, she blearily saw Millicent's mouth open, snoring, though its volume was severely diminished by three strong silencing charms. It was the only way the other girls would be able to get any sleep at night. Moaning again, she picked herself up and preserved to the bathroom, where she was able to shut out the noise for at least a little while.

The last girl in their year, Daphne Greengrass, wasn't present in this dorm room. This was nothing new or shocking. A raging and jealousy-mad Pansy kicked out the girl when Daphne said she was dating Draco Malfoy. Daphne had to spend a week in the hospital wing due to the curses and hexes Pansy used. Seeing where a problem could arise, Professor Snape moved Daphne to the now-fifth year girls' dormitory. Though she and Draco stopped dating two weeks after the whole incident, Daphne made no attempts to move back in with them. After awhile, Maia herself stopped thinking of Daphne as part of their year. It's just one of those things that affect the way you think of people.

She took a seven minute shower, like she always did. All of them did – there were four of them in there after all. The steam billowing out as she stepped back into the main dormitory, in only a fluffy light green towel and her hair wrapped up around her head in another, Maia growled at the still prevalent sound of the alarm going off. Cordelia was hiding her head under a pillow while Pansy was sitting up, firing curses, all of which reflected. Reaching the end of her patience, she strode over to her bed and pulled out from underneath a muggle baseball bat made of metal.

Bradley had given her this for Christmas five years ago, thinking that this was the epiphany of all muggle things as well as a very good weapon.

He had the last part right, was Maia's thought as she raised the baseball high above her head to bring down on the hellish machine.

Two minutes later, the now blissful silence of the dormitory was shattered by two screams of surprise and one shriek of indignation. Pansy and Cordelia immediately pulled the curtains of their beds closed. Millicent practically jumped out of bed at the sounds, grabbing a pair of magical nunchaku that she kept by her bed for probably the same reasons Maia kept her bat. The way she got into a martial arts stance reminded of some movie that Bradley liked to watch starring some guy named Bruce Lee or Jackie Chan.

Muttering angrily and bat still in tow – for this was nota good way to start off a day and one never knew when they might need it – she went out the dormitory door, pulling the wide-eyed and shocked Draco Malfoy by the hand with her. When they reached the hallway, she closed the door behind her, shaking her head at what was no doubt about to happen on the inside. Not to her surprise, she heard Pansy's squeals and frantic running to the bathroom joined with Millicent's questioning grunts.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" she asked, not looking at him but concentrating on the door. She wanted to make sure that Pansy didn't throw a fit or something. Those were never good. "I assume you had a good reason for using your prefect status to come over to the girls' dormitories."

He didn't answer. Which only got her more annoyed.

Nevertheless, she turned to Malfoy, who was looking at her like he had never seen anything quite like her. She gave him a skeptical look, because lately she had been wondering if he really was 'all there' so to speak. It was then that she noticed exactly why he was staring.

It was because she was still wearing only a towel. And he was staring blatantly at her body – in particular, her chest.

Putting a finger under his chin so he could look at her face, Maia said in a low, threatening voice, holding his gray gaze with her own brown one, "Just because I'm only in a towel and wearing absolutely nothing underneath does not give you the right to eye me like some piece of candy. Got that?"

She wrenched open the door and went back into the dormitory, slamming it shut and leaving Malfoy outside. She needed to get dressed.

Maia Knight hated mornings. She was never in a good mood then, especially when woken up by an evil alarm clock. After breakfast, she usually returned to her normal, less-prone-to-violence-or-curses (or, as Blaise called it, when she wasn't in the throes of her 'Slytherin tendencies') self.

She didn't see Draco Malfoy drop to the floor, still sporting that shocked look. Nor did she hear him say, "Merlin, that was better than the dream."

"I heard something happened in the Slytherin dormitories between you and Malfoy. And sordid details?"

"Leave it, Steph."

"C'mon! I'm the best girl friend that you've got! I can't imagine you talking about it to my dear older brother. He just isn't the type – and he'd probably go after Malfoy and beat him to a pulp."

"Actually, I've been considering…"

"Maia!"

"Just kidding, Steph."

Maia always felt that she was decently tall – not too short, not too tall. Just about right. But when she was next to her best friend, she always felt a bit like a giant. She always assumed there was something in the Nott genes that promoted smallness of stature. But Steph was one of the prettiest girls in her year and got along with everyone, unlike her Slytherin brother.

Amarantha Stephania Nott, commonly known as 'Steph' to friends and housemates, was about 4 feet, 9 inches. She used this value more often because the height difference sounded more incredible. Steph Nott was no stranger to the uses of exaggeration and hyperbole. She was, in short (pun not intended), a drama queen. Where her brother Theodore had dark hair and olive skin, Steph was blonde and pale. They even had different eye colors. Theo had confessed to her that they were actually half-siblings, but Steph didn't know that. And Theo loved his sister too much to care about the technicalities. Even if they showed their affection by arguing.

Also, where Theo was quiet, sarcastic, and understated – Steph was loud, outrageous, and direct. Not to mention, boy-mad. But both were the most reliable sources of information within all of Hogwarts – Theo through stealth, Steph through connections.

"Don't clam up on me, Maia!" Steph pleaded, pouting in disappointment. "I hear all these second year girls practically screeching how evil you are to take away all chances of the handsome and dreamy Draco Malfoy away from them." The shorter girl flashed her a sly grin. "Something about you strutting in front of him starkers? Here I thought you were supposed to be catching someone else's attention."

Maia scowled, growing tired of this explanation. "He burst into our dormitory," she replied tersely. "To spare the dignity of Cordelia and Pansy, as well as the Malfoy family jewels if Millicent got her hands on him, I dragged him out of the room. I was only wearing a towel because I had just come out of the shower." She shook her head and growled angrily, drawing a look of disapproval from the painting woman named Violet as they passed. "I don't see what's the big deal! Besides, I'm not even remotely interested in Draco Malfoy!"

Steph waved this off as if it were nothing. To her, it probably was. "You may not be, but he's certainly interested in you. He hasn't been exactly subtle, you know." She grinned widely. "So, Pansy got to you already."

"Don't get me wrong, Pansy's a good person. But mention Draco Malfoy and she goes crazy. Remember what happened to Daphne Greengrass three years ago?"

"How could we not? Those were some nasty spells," the blonde concurred. Steph sent a flirtatious grin and a blue-eyed wink at some Hufflepuff boys, who eagerly waved back. With a flip of her shoulder-length hair, she caught up with Maia again, who did not bother to wait up. "Can't wait until we get to breakfast, if this is what a bad morning's like. By the way, nice look. Does this have to do with…"

"Yes. It's too bad that I won't be getting his attention if we go by how his taste in girls goes." Her father told her to grab attention and she was doing just that. It was scary to hear the sort of things that her father said Potter liked (when questioned about this, he mentioned something about a mind link and not to ask) about girls.

Only problem was, Maia was hardly any of those things. Potter liked sporty girls, ones who were nice and popular. The kind that would snuggle up with teddy bears even if they were seventeen years old. The kind who were feminine and delicate but could still put up a fight.

Right. She was practically the antithesis of this idea. As Blaise pointed out to her, very bluntly, she was not sporty. Quidditch was something she never took seriously, even if she loved watching it as a spectator. She was popular among Slytherins, who were practically regarded as a entirely different species in Hogwarts in these days. She wasn't exactly 'nice' – friendly and approachable, as well as witty and intelligent – but 'nice'? Nope. She got rid of that proverbial teddy bear when she was three. And it wasn't even a teddy bear but a stuffed werewolf. She was feminine, but hardly delicate.

"You're feminine, Maia. But you're not delicate. You've got an edge and self-confidence. To be put mildly, you've got that dangerous look. You know you've got power and authority and aren't afraid to use it. You've had it before even when before the summer when you weren't…you get my idea. And that is the opposite of what Potter allegedly likes."

Theo then added to Blaise's assessment, for good measure, "But it's what Malfoy certainly likes."

Theo was given a sharp rap to the head with her baseball bat.

At the moment, she was wearing high-heeled ankle boots, her green socks reaching mid-calf. Instead of the usual white, she wore a dressy silk green shirt under the usual sweatervest. The skirt was black and knee-length, longer than the Hogwarts skirts so McGonagall couldn't complain. The green-and-silver tie was being used to tie her French braid. But the robes were usual Hogwarts standard. She turned to Steph, asking, "I suppose Theo told you?"

"Yep," Steph nodded. "And I have to agree with Blaise. You aren't what he'slooking for-" Maia didn't hear the rest of what Steph said, and she turned around. I could have sworn that I saw something…something blonde… "It was probably a ghost," her friend remarked nonchalantly, without even asking. "Theo does it all the time at home."

Brushing this aside, they walked into the Great Hall to be greeted with an interested sight. This sight was occurring at the Gryffindor table, whose occupiers were not amused at all, for the instigator of this was a Slytherin. Ron Weasley was red as a beet, while the ever-creative Blaise Zabini was waving a banana in front of his face.

The monkey trick – something that really got condescension across in a truly humorous way. It involved waving a banana in front of the offending person's face while dancing around them in a very amusing boogie in time to a very catchy jingle. Then, at the end, you are to smash the banana in the person's face. It was imperative that you kept the peel for the getaway (there was a trick to this part, ask Blaise for details), because the 'monkey' slipping on the banana peel would not only buy time but add to the hilarity.

Blaise Zabini was a master of advertising and propaganda, as one would imagine from the creator of that smash-hit 'Weasley is our King!'. But if you really wanted to make it awful, then Maia had to hand it to Blaise. Recruiting Peeves was a stroke of brilliance.

Peeves was playing an accordion (rather well) to add to the situation and dancing along as well. They were reaching the end verse…

Monkey, monkey, monkey, monkey
Wanna banana-nana
Bad monkey, monkey, monkey
You can't get a banana-nana
'Cause you smashed it in your face!

The coup de grace! Peeves cackled as Blaise smashed the banana and took off. He gave the two girls a triumphant grin as he streaked by. Weasley, his face covered in banana, took two steps before slipping on the strategically dropped banana peel before falling on his ass. Neville Longbottom, who was passing by with a new plant, was so startled by this that he fell on top of Weasley. The plant was not pleased and splattered them with slime.

The Great Hall burst out laughing and she could swear that Snape was actually smiling. And Dumbledore seemed to be muttering over the words to the song – to McGonagall's dismay.

"Now that, Steph, is true beauty."

"Hear, hear to that!"

He did want some alone time, away from all the questions and worried glances. The last time he remembered being talked to normally was two weeks ago in that Slytherin compartment on the train. Granted, he doubted that either Theodore Nott, Blaise Zabini, or Maia Knight cared all too much about his well-being. They weren't exactly long-time friends with him, he thought with a frown as he dragged his eyes along the pages of his transfiguration textbook, not really taking in the real words.

It was a pity really – and he did feel a twinge of regret when he thought about how much fun he had on that train ride. For the first time in many months, he had actually laughed. And that short nap, though interrupted by a raving and angry Malfoy, was the best he had in a long time. He didn't know why that was. Perhaps it was just because he was comfortable with the fact that they wouldn't discourage or encourage him – he was there and they saw him for both his strengths and his flaws.

Harry did keep an eye out for them in classes and in the hallways. They all shared the same Charms, Transfiguration, Potions, and Defense Against the Dark Arts classes. He found out that Maia and Blaise both took Arithmancy, though Maia seemed quite vocal as to how much she despised the subject. Theo's electives were Care of Magical Creatures and Divination. Blaise had the latter as well, while Maia took (and when she confessed this, he thought he had a small heart attack) Muggle Studies. All three were in the History of Magic class, due to his abysmal performance on the OWLs he wasn't taking.

And they were right: they were quiet. And with the exception of Snape and the new teacher Hartwell, none of them seemed to get any recognition in their classes. Granted, Hartwell's attention towards them seemed to lean more to fear than appreciation of their talents. Most of the time, they seemed bored in that class.

Every time he had tried to speak to one of them, he was always stopped. He couldn't talk to them with Ron or Hermione with him. They wouldn't like him 'fraternizing with the enemy', as Ron put it. Sure, Hermione wouldn't say anything, but she would get that look that he hated to get. Also, Malfoy seemed to be tailing Maia everywhere. Each time that they caught each other's eye while in her presence, Malfoy always gave this smug smirk combined with a malicious stare. Probably because they were in the same house and he was the Gryffindor.

Maia was the one that he tried to get to most often. He knew that Theo and Blaise were slightly more approachable in terms of convenience, but she seemed to be the key to gaining that group's trust – something he found himself wanting. Harry sensed that they were good people past that sarcastic exterior and would make powerful allies. And Maia seemed to be their ringleader. Blaise and Theo always listened to her, in the sort of way that Crabbe and Goyle listened to Malfoy, but he could tell that they were all friends and not followers.

Not to mention, he was a bit curious about her…

But it never failed – he never had the chance to get near her without some obstacle in the way.

Nervous giggles and the sheepish shuffle of feet drew him from his thoughts, and he looked up from his seat on the floor in the library's back aisles to see a small group of Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff fourth years standing not too far from him. When they saw that they had caught his attention, they giggled again and then started a whispered small argument before a Hufflepuff girl with her light brown hair in Chinese buns was pushed forward. She didn't speak right away, but looked back at her comrades, all of them tittering again as one.

Truthfully, this was frustrating Harry immensely.

"Umm," the Hufflepuff girl said unsurely, "hi, Harry Potter." More silly laughs – he could feel his left eye twitching. From what he could gather, this was a habit that Voldemort had when annoyed as well. Which, now when he thought about it, Maia did as well. But that little tidbit of information wasn't particularly important. "We were wondering…if…you know, what they were saying…" She broke off, sighing, before blurting out, "Is what they're saying in the newspaper true about…you know…?"

Harry gave her an incredulous look, his green eyes behind his glasses wide in disbelief. Even after all this time, they still don't believe me?! After all that work, nearly getting killed and his godfather dying, after having Voldemort appear right there in the Ministry of Magic, they still couldn't grasp that the Dark Lord was back! "Of course, it's true," he said slowly, making sure to enunciate each and every word. Figuring that to be the end of the conversation, he returned back to his book, surprised to find himself on human transfiguration (which was a good hundred pages beyond what he was actually supposed to read). He wasn't prepared for the excited response that the Hufflepuff girl yelled to her friends.

"Oh my God! It's true! Harry Potter is engaged to a pureblood heiress in Slytherin!"

All conversation in the library ceased even more effectively than Madame Pince's famous shushes. They turned back to him, naming names of girls in Slytherin that they knew to have money and fortune. But it was all that he could do but stare at them blankly in shock. They're saying in the newspaper that I'm engaged to a Slytherin heiress?! While this did prove the complete 'objectiveness' of the magical Britain's press, he was still stunned.

"Cordelia Flemming? Pansy Parkinson? Are you mad, of course not Millicent Bulstrode! What about that dark-haired girl, you know the one that hangs out with that blue-haired guy, who's supposedly one of the richest in the country? Knight or something?"

Knowing exactly who they were talking about, he said dazedly, "Maia?" This utterance effectively caught the attention of the girls, who gave him another knowing look, before scampering off. They were so excited by this news, that they didn't even hear him call after them.

One statement said it all: I am in serious trouble.

"There's a rumor going around, Maia-"

"I haven't heard it."

"That's because everyone wants to talk about your escapade at breakfast, Blaise. Now let me talk."

"You know, I heard Dumbledore humming it in the hallways."

"I thought you wanted to know why everyone was staring at you, Maia."

"I do, but I wanted to share that tidbit of information before we moved on. Continue please?"

"Fine. The newspaper printed some story that Potter, to help with the already tense relations between the pureblood families and the muggleborns, is engaged to a Slytherin heiress."

"Now that is the biggest load of crap that I've ever heard."

"Really? How so? I thought you were going to marry him and everything."

"Blaise, I told you I was sarcastic! That doesn't say much, Theo."

"Yes, it does. They think that Potter is engaged to you."

There was a short pause before Maia smacked her head against the desk. Theo, seated next to her, patted her back comfortingly. Blaise was sitting backwards in his seat, making it easier to talk to them. Cordelia, seated ever vigilantly next to Blaise, looked at her with snobbish annoyance at the fact that it was Maia that held the blue-haired boy's attention. Seated next to Pansy in front of Blaise and Cordelia, were Draco and Pansy. Draco was looking back at her intently and Pansy was trying to catch his attention. On the other side of the room, the Gryffindors were talking amongst themselves, seeming quite angry about something and throwing suspicious looks across at the Slytherins collectively. Weasley was glaring daggers at Blaise, who wasn't paying attention.

Snape hadn't made his appearance yet. It was ten minutes into class time and some were already thinking of leaving. All who had some intelligence realized that it was better to deal with the terror now than later.

"Great," she muttered, sitting up straight once more. "I'm going to get lynched. Who gave them the idea that it was true in the first place?! The very notion itself is impossible, so how come everyone believes it?" Theo pulled at his collar nervously, looking at Blaise for guidance. Blaise just shrugged. Maia, getting more angry, folded her arms across her chest and glared. "Theo…why does everyone think this?"

"According to my sources, Potter himself said it was true."

"What?!"

"I told you she wouldn't take it well!" Theo accused, glowering at the still calm and collected Blaise. This admission, while true, didn't help her mood at all.

Blaise shrugged once more. "Who would? But the thing is now she knows. That's important. Now we need to think of some way to get her out of this mess."

Cordelia sniffed and Maia resisted the urge to rudely cover her ears to save herself from the high-pitched tirade she was about to hear. "I don't see why you should have to help her, Blaise. I mean, after all, she has Draco wrapped 'round her finger and she's going after that ugly runt Potter! And let's not forget that other guys have been eyeing her up. Maia's turning to a kind of scarlet woman, especially now that she finds that she has a liking to those disgusting Gryffindors."

The tall blue-haired boy gave her a long-suffering look, which Cordelia (for some reason) felt was genuine attention. "Maia is not turning into a scarlet woman, Cordelia. It's hardly her fault that Potter is spreading this rumor around."

"How do you know it's not true?" Cordelia retorted. "They say he was in your compartment on the train and no non-Slytherin is allowed there! How come he was there? Also, I heard Longbottom say that Maia was in his lap and they were snogging when he was looking for him! And Potter was sleeping in her lap when Draco found you guys." She gave a victorious smirk towards the restrained Maia, who was watching with a cool and detached expression that Theo would later say would've made her father proud.

"The problem," Maia replied smoothly, "with that is the fact that if Longbottom knew that it was Potter, why didn't he say anything? So what if Potter was there with us. I personally can't blame him." She nodded towards the still gossiping Gryffindors, all of whom seemed to be assaulting a rather flustered Harry Potter with questions. "With those vultures, who wouldn't want a change in company?"

Cordelia, who paled in annoyance, was about to respond when Snape slammed into the classroom. Literally, and the knob of the door smashed into the stone wall of the dungeons. As one, the whole class jumped. Everyone returned to their seats, Blaise turning around to sit properly.

He's in a bad mood. His robes were billowing much more than usual. Striding over to his desk, he slammed his hand down on the desk to grab everyone's attention – which was a bit unnecessary. "You're going to brew the Crystalis Concoction," he snarled. Yes, snarled. He probably met with Dad or something. Dad's meetings do that to already stressed people. "This potion turns anything it touches into ice. We went over this yesterday, so get straight to brewing. Make sure it is a weak potion, I don't want potions that freeze something to the point it'll shatter if touched." Snape glared at Longbottom (he needed Potions to be an herbologist and Sprout vouched for him until Snape gave in, just like how McGonagall pushed for Weasley and Potter) in particular over this. "You will work in pairs. Thomas, Parkinson!"

And so it went on. She could see that the professor was in pain over something. Whether physical or mental, she wasn't sure. Yes, he had probably met with her father over some matter. What though, she wasn't supposed to know. Knowledge of such things in her case was dangerous, her father advised.

"Knight, Nott!"

She let out the breath she was holding and sent a grateful grin towards Theo. When it came to theory, she was very good at Potions. That was probably how she got in this class to begin with. But the actual brewing she needed some help with. Theo was pretty good at the subject when it came to brewing (but not so much theory), so it was a good partnership.

"Longbottom!" Everyone held their breath. "Zabini!" Cordelia looked as if she were about to cry. Blaise looked unperturbed as usual and began to collect his things. Longbottom, sitting in the back and the empty chair looming a bit menacingly, looked scared. It didn't look like anyone enjoyed the arrangement.

Before he left them, he said nonchalantly, "No white lilies, I prefer roses. And I want some good eulogies." With that, he went to sit with Longbottom, who shifted his seat away from Blaise as far as he could without being at another desk.

"Potter and Malfoy, begin!"

"Please tell me he did not say that," she said fearfully to Theo, an imploring look in her eyes. "Please tell me he did not say that!"

"He did."

"Shit."

"Indeed."

As Potter passed by her desk to walk to Malfoy, she noticed he wouldn't look at her directly. Finnegan, sitting across from her, whispered loudly, "At least you picked a decent-looking one, Harry!" He was promptly the receiver of a sheep's stomach and intestine to the face. Snape, in his bad mood, took points of Gryffindor and told him to wash that mess off – there were other places to eat haggis, particularly haggis that was cooked.

Ten minutes later, one Harry Potter and one Draco Malfoy were sent to the Headmaster's office for fighting in class. In those five minutes that it took Snape to notice that there were two students trying to kill each other in his classroom, they had done a lot of damage to each other.

In between classes later in the day, Cordelia Flemming proudly proclaimed that it was because Harry Potter was trying to take away Draco Malfoy's girlfriend.

At least, that was what Maia Knight wanted to think of herself when she crept into the dark Gryffindor common room. But she wasn't that idealized. Inside, she was shaking like a leaf. But what had to be done, had to be done.

Stupid Gryffindors. They just have to leave their homework behind.

What Maia held in her left hand (she was right handed, therefore her wand was there), was Potter's summer Charms assignment. Potter was lucky that Flitwick gave them more time to research using the Hogwarts library, but he still didn't even think that he had left in on the train. He was also lucky that Maia was…nice enough…to take it with her.

It had taken a few younger Gryffindors, some persuasion (Theo's favorite: good cop/bad cop), and some skillful memory charms to find out the exact location of Gryffindor Tower. It was two o'clock in the morning and she made it through the first leg of the operation just fine. She had gotten past the patrolling ghosts and Blaise had Filch tied up in a closet. He mentioned something about giving Peeves a few bananas to relieve his boredom. Theo would handle her alibis in the Slytherin common room.

She had waited in the shadows for the Gryffindor portrait to wander off. And she couldn't really hide her revulsion for the woman. Things have changed since the seventeenth century, get a diet plan or something! All it took was a short command in parseltongue and the portrait opened for her. It was a little known fact that her father told her – the heirs of the founders could control the castle. But because Slytherin left, the spoken commands in English didn't work. The parseltongue ones did – though it always took her a bit of awhile to actually speak it.

Now why they both demanded that she do this in high-heeled black leather boots, tight black jeans, black leather jacket, and tight black tank-top were beyond her. Camouflage, they claimed. Camouflage, my arse, she thought angrily as she took cautious steps further into the common room, wand ready. Don't they know how hard it is to be 'sneaky' in high-heeled anything!

They were her best friends and polite pureblood gentlemen, but that did not mean that Theodore Nott and Blaise Zabini weren't full-blooded males as well.

Stealthily, she climbed the stairs of the boys' dormitories (they just had to put signs on everything, really). They creaked under her feet, since she wasn't a prefect nor a member of the house, but an urgent hiss stopped them. She climbed higher and higher, keeping an eye out for any proverbial night owls and which dormitories belonged to which year. Finally, near the top, she reached 'SIXTH YEAR DORMS'.

It's about bloody time. She opened the door carefully, peeking in. Good, all of them had their curtains closed. Keeping low and out of the moonlight streaming in, she slid inside, closing the door quietly after her. It was easy to pick out Potter's bed – she remembered his ratty trunk from the train ride. Taking careful steps, she made it to Potter's bed, though Weasley's abrupt snort nearly gave her a heart attack. Checking the room again, she moved the curtains aside slightly and climbed onto the bed, closing them behind her again and casting a strong silencing spell.

She didn't want anyone other than Potter hearing her or finding out that she was here to begin with. Now, to the task of waking up Potter…

Maia jumped nearly a foot in the air when Potter's leg kicked her. What the hell?! She looked at his face carefully. Yes, he was asleep, but he was thrashing about as if in pain. He was grimacing, a hand rubbing his famous scar, scratching it, as if he wanted to rip the very thing off his head. If she had any other adjective to describe his movements, he was convulsing and under a great deal of torture. Typical Gryffindor, he was biting his lip so hard it was bleeding just so he wouldn't yell out. But she could see nothing that would account for such a condition…

He and dad have a mind link…great, Dad. You have wonderful timing! I go through all this trouble and instead of getting the usual Potter, I get you complicating things!

Well, if he kept on going like was he was going to hurt himself. She would have to take the chance that the link would break when Potter woke. Maia cast a strong binding spell, and metal cuffs and chains held Potter's arms and legs. But he was still having that strange seizure and even her spell was having trouble holding him.None of her spells were working. How is this possible? she thought, panicking slightly. He couldn't break through this! And why isn't 'Enervate' or any other reviving spell working?! But the spell did snap and the bindings disappeared.

Damn you to Hell, Potter! She managed to pin him down and straddle him, trapping his legs between her thighs. With great difficulty, she was able to grab his arms and hold them above his head with one hand. It was a martial arts move meant to restrain, but it was one she never thought she would have to use. Most of the time, she would rely on Blaise or Theo to take care of such things. Note to self, send note to Bradley.

With her free hand, she slapped Potter hard across the face. When he didn't come out of it, she slapped him again and again. Finally, she noticed he was awake when he wasn't moving about so much and his eyes were open and slightly unfocused.

Of course, she had slapped him one too many times to notice that part. But she really didn't care about that. What she wanted to know was why he wasn't giving her an answer to what was going on. Or at least wondering why she was here to begin with. Hopefully, that wouldn't be to far beyond the mental capacities of a Gryffindor.

He was blinking up at her, squinting, until she realized the problem. Reaching beyond the curtains and the boundary of her silencing spell, she grabbed his glasses from off the adjacent nightstand and put them on his face. When she was sure that he wasn't still suffering from whatever backlash he was going under, she let go of his arms. She lit the tip of her wand to provide a very dim light and placed her hands on her hips, looking down at him in frustration.

"Maia?" he questioned weakly, looking up at her in shock.

"Yes, Potter, Maia," she retorted. She wasn't in a very good mood. "It's wonderful that I risk my neck and come in on you like – Potter, are you paying attention?!" It was then that she noticed he wasn't exactly paying interest to her words, but certainly to her. His eyes traveled up and down her body, in particular, to where she was straddling him. Even in the dim light her wand was producing, she could see the blush staining his pale cheeks.

Maia slapped him. "Get your mind out of the gutter, Potter. I came to return your homework."

"Oh." She slapped him again. Why? Because he sounded disappointed. Whether in the perverted sense or for not wanting the homework back really didn't matter to her.

"I'm sure it does, but it certainly doesn't explain how you got into the Gryffindor common room, much less into my bed!"

"Potter, you make it sound as if I came up there for the sole purpose of getting into your bed!"

As soon as the words flew from Maia's mouth, she smacked herself. By Merlin, those words sounded wrong. And from the fact that she bumped right into Potter's back when he suddenly stopped showed that he was shocked at the fact that she said that as well.

They were under Potter's invisibility cloak. After explaining that she had snuck up there to give him his missing Charms assignment, she gave him an exact description as to his state. He wasn't pleased at all and there was some yelling before she threatened to smack him again for being completely unreasonable.

Maia was now under the belief that Potter was extremely used to having people actually care about his discomfort. She was just being considerate and he was reprimanding her about privacy and sneaking into the common rooms of other houses! All that risk to give him back an assignment due in three days – enough time so he could work on it, as well as with her own notes and what could be improved (and there were a lot of those) – and he shouts at her.

The nerve! And add that to the fact that he said they were engaged? Well, she was one unhappy and pissed off witch!

Okay, he did explain to her about that whole thing when they were outside the Gryffie common room and it did sound believable when added to the fact that she knew that particular group of Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw girls had barely had a brain the size of a pea to share between them. That still didn't excuse himself completely though. Potter evidently felt it did and was muttering something about a 'stupid ferret' under his breath.

Potter, after being told to do many things with himself that would have taken points from Slytherin if told in the presence of a professor, apologized for that whole seizure. He hadn't said much, just took the roll of parchment and got out of bed quietly. Potter just placed the assignment in his trunk and dressed himself hastily in his uniform. When he noticed her watching after she made a dry soft comment of 'nice boxers', he closed the curtains and whispered to her harshly about his privacy again. She replied back that his privacy wasn't his anymore now that she was in his bed.

He took that the wrong way. Maia knew because he wrenched open the curtains and looked at her in disbelief and shock, blushing again. She had meant it innocently and literally. She told him so and said that she felt that he had gotten enough slaps from her already, didn't he think he was pushing it?

It wasn't until later, when he pulled her up from his messy bed from where she was sitting and waiting Indian-style, that he told her that he was escorting her back to her common room. The next thing she knew, she was out of Gryffindor Tower while under an invisibility cloak, Potter's hand grasping hers both warm and firm. He claimed he wanted to make sure she did nothing to his fellow housemates.

Pity, she wanted to pay Weasley a visit. He gave her a startled – hurt? – look before she explained, again, she wasn't serious. Besides, he would know in the morning if Weasley came down completely green.

…He seemed relieved at that comment.

"Potter," she growled from where she had fallen to the floor. Damn high-heels! "You have a very perverted mind. Why in the name of Circe do you keep thinking like that?!" In the minute light they had, she saw the dark shapes of Potter's arms help her up to her feet. From what Maia could see of his face, he looked contemplative and a bit annoyed.

"Listen, I don't know why, maybe its hormones or something!" He continued on before she could lash out another sarcastic comment (and it would've been a good one: 'that explains why most of the male population acts, but I'm not letting you off that easily') "Or maybe it's because you don't treat me like I'm glass! You're probably the only person in the world that isn't pitying me for what I went through back there!"

"Potter, your problems are your problems. I don't think you need them even further complicated involving me in them!" And there goes her shot at doing her father's task. Unless you counted the fact that Potter was paying a great deal of attention to her to begin with, just like dear ole dad wanted. "I'm not here to help you pity yourself! You get enough of that from everyone else and I certainly don't have the capacity of patience that is required to do that," she admonished. "If you have a problem, solve it! If you can't on your own, look for help and then solve it! Don't just sit there and moan about it, do something!"

Her words seemed to ring in the silence and the grip Potter had on her arms was tight, nearly painful. Potter was giving her an inscrutable look, an indecipherable one, as if he weren't quite sure that she was right in front of him yelling at him.

Clearly, more people need to yell at him. Seriously.

"That's what I mean," he whispered loudly, indirectly hinting at her to keep her voice down as well. "You care – oh, shut up, I know you do even if you are hiding it under all that annoyance – but you aren't telling me that it's going to be alright, that I'm brave or anything. You're telling me to shut up and help myself!" He shook her lightly, which made her nearly lose her balance again. She didn't like the look in his eyes. They were shining dangerously, the emerald focused completely on her, as if she were his anchor to the world. "Why?!"

She raised a skeptical eyebrow. Why? What kind of question was that? "What do you mean 'why'?" she asked back. " 'Why not' is a better thing to be asking in this case." She sighed, wondering once again why she was in this situation when she could be back in the Slytherin dormitories, sleeping in her wonderful bed and getting some sleep. But no, she had to be here having a conversation with an increasingly-unnerving Harry Potter. It has to be Dad's bad karma passing on to me, isn't it? "I'm not seeing your pain, Potter," she explained, "I'm being objective. That's the difference."

She was relieved when the grip on her arms loosened, though she teetered precariously on those blasted shoes. "Now let's go. I've got to tell the whole house about how I got into Gryffindor Tow – oof!"

Maia was now definitely disturbed when Potter returned the firm hold on her arms again and pressed her up against the wall, using his own body to pin her there. He leaned in close to her, his face centimeters away from her own. She looked up at him, determined not to show that she was inwardly frightened by what he was doing nor was she concerned by his extremely close proximity. Neither of them noticed that the invisibility cloak slid off them, falling into a pile of pale silver on the stone floor. "Promise me, Maia," he said urgently, and she could feel a push of magic into her, as if he were trying to bend her will. Her father had a habit of doing this – he explained part of the theory to her – but she doubted that Potter of all people was doing this deliberately. "Promise me, you won't tell anyone! I don't want to have to Obliviate-"

"What is going on here?!" a familiar, bad-tempered voice, rang throughout the hallway. They turned at the same time to see Professor Snape, in all his snarkish glory, looking down on them in anger. In particular, his black gaze was hard on Potter. Both immediately realized they were visible, looking at their feet to see the cloak on the floor. Potter, in his shock, let go of her arms.

Yes, the high-heels failed her. This was Potter's fault – he slammed her against the wall. She didn't have the necessary time to find her balance.

As soon as she let go, she wobbled on her feet. Instinctively, she grabbed the nearest thing to keep herself upright. The unfortunate part of this was that the nearest thing happened to be one Harry Potter. She fell right into his arms, desperately clinging to his neck while he grabbed her waist to help her.

This did not look good.

It has to be the bad karma.

"You're the only one I could go to for help. I can't go to Blaise – he's just odd. And definitely not Theo – he's just plain difficult. It's just that…ugh! I need help! You're her best friend, you know her just as well as Blaise and Theo. Please help me!"

"Okay, okay! My, she really has a hold on you, doesn't she?!"

"If you're going to mock me, I'll just Obliviate you and-"

"Now, now, calm down tiger! Put that wand down and let's talk. I said I'll help you and I will. You just have to remember that I'm step below my brother when it comes to difficulty, my dear Malfoy."

"What have I gotten myself into?"

"The best thing that could get you on the fast track to Maia's heart, that's what. Just trust me on this, Draco!"

"I think I'm beginning to regret this."

"Too late, buddy-boy."

This deserted hallway, if it could talk, had seen a great deal of interesting things in its existence. From the time that Rowena Ravenclaw had lost control of her Animagus transformation into a hawk and thus had to be chased down the corridors of Hogwarts by a very angry Salazar Slytherin (the woman had been shrieking and flapping her arms like wings at the time), to the time where an intrepid and forward-thinking young man by the name of Sirius Black accidentally cut a hole in the fabric of time and space into another universe and thus becoming by proxy the inventor of a strongest form of firewhiskey to ever exist. Sirius Black thus drank the alcohol (the entire bottle), at the ripe age of eleven, and never quite recovered from the easy-going and joking inebriation it produced, to the dismay of both school faculty and family.

Just the night before it had witnessed a scene between the savior of the wizarding world, the daughter of the Dark Lord, and a very angry and pissed off Potions professor. And the drama didn't get better than that.

Draco Malfoy was in a right state, having stayed all night waiting for one Maia Knight to return to the common room after he saw her sneak out before curfew. After his patrol, he came back fully intending to ask her out to the next Hogsmeade outing, but found only a sarcastic Theodore Nott being exceedingly difficult about her whereabouts. Though Nott had claimed that Maia went to sleep early, he had Pansy's word that Maia wasn't there. His suspicions were confirmed when she helped him up to his own bed at three-thirty in the morning, since he spent nearly the whole night crashed on a couch.

Rubbing his stiff neck, he thanked Merlin that it was a weekend. And he couldn't help but notice Maia's attire, even in his half-asleep state. Maia had that kind of effect on him.

Of course, he didn't look like he had. He made sure that he didn't. Nope, he still looked like he always had – impeccably good. His robes as impressive and expensive as ever, his shoes polished, and his uniform in perfect order. His face showed no gray shadows under his gray eyes and his hair was slicked back as it usually was. No, he looked like he normally had, even though he was forced to sleep on what he now thought of as an uncomfortable couch most of the night, waiting for his lady love.

She was out practically the entire night! And she was obviously with someone! And if he could guess out of the entire population of Hogwarts, then it was with that scrawny idiotic prick Harry Potter. Potter was already spreading around that he and Maia were engaged, who knew what that black-haired dork was trying to do!

Maybe, just maybe, Potter was trying to seduce her last night! And lured her out of the safety of the Slytherins to do who knows what until Professor Snape or Filch interrupted! While he was now quite grateful for the actions of the two most hated men in all of Hogwarts, he was still not in a good mood. If his theory was true, then Potter was trying to steal his girl!

And no Malfoy would lose out to his rival! Maia was the perfect woman for him, absolutely perfect, and he would not allow Potter to ruin both his future happiness with Maia and the purity of blood that the Slytherin line possessed. It was unheard of and disgraceful!

He, Draco Lucius Malfoy, would not stand for it!

Which was why he was now groveling at the feet (no, not literally, for Malfoys never grovel at the feet of anyone except the Dark Lord himself) of the pixie-like Amarantha Stephania Nott, the blonde and popular sister of the very boy who was covering for Potter's transgression against him!

Yes…Theo and Blaise would have to be dealt with later. Though in a way that didn't get Maia angry with him. He heard she wasn't too happy with the whole fight in Potions. Draco couldn't bring himself to get too worked up about it – Maia was a lady of one of the highest standards, of course she wouldn't want fighting in her presence like that. But he was defending her and his right to be the man in her life, so he felt he was otherwise justified.

Maia Malfoy, I like that a lot. It would take a lot of cunning to win her over. Maia was that kind of woman. But he always enjoyed a challenge.

Steph Nott was Maia's best friend and thus, a well of information on the very girl he was interested in. Add in the fact that the girl was Hogwarts' most accomplished gossip-collector and matchmaker. With this Nott on his side, he doubted Potter had the chance. Of course, there was the fact that this was a Nott. That made everything a bit more difficult.

The shorter girl looked to be pondering something before she snapped her fingers. "I've got it! Okay Draco, what does advantages does Potter have over you?"

Draco snorted in disbelief. "Nothing. Which is why I don't see how Maia can be going along with him." He thought he saw mischievous amusement playing behind those blue eyes, but he couldn't be sure.

"No, there is," she prattled on. "If you go on terms on looks, then you do win. But there's something you don't count – approachability. And Potter beats you in that."

"What?"

"Draco, you look perfect."

"Thank you. Now, how could Potter beat me if I look better than he does?!"

"Because you're perfect, Draco! You look like you spend hours in front of a mirror. And if Theo's right, then you do. You're like a statue or painting that is beautiful, but no one feels that they have a chance with." The girl sighed, seeming to go off in her own world, a Potter-filled world, which made Draco both uncomfortable and disgusted. "He has those hands, rough and tough from hard work and Quidditch. That messy black hair that you just want to run your fingers through. Then there are those wonderful green eyes that you could just drown in…"

"Nott. Back to me, here."

"Oh, yes, right. Excuse me. Lost in Potter-fantasies there."

"You have fantasies about Potter?"

"What girl in Hogwarts hasn't? He does have a rather fine arse – not the finest, but quite fine. But moving on. I'm sure you don't want to hear about them-"

"You've got that right."

She nodded enthusiastically. "Right. Now we're going to give you a makeover – shut up, let me finish! We're going to make you much more approachable and less like a pampered rich pansy." He opened his mouth to complain, but Steph cut him off by dragging him to where she wanted to go. "Don't worry, you're in my hands!"

"So, who does have the greatest arse in Hogwarts? Me?"

"Good heavens, no. That honor belongs solely to Professor Snape."

Draco gagged on whatever words he was about to say.

It's been awhile, but I hope you liked this chapter (22 pages). More Harry/Maia interaction, just like you asked. And if you're wondering why she's so frustrated lately - can you blame her? You get all these girls cursing your existence for attracting the eye of Draco Malfoy, a guy you're not even remotely interested in, while being the exact opposite of what they guy you're supposed to be attracting is supposed like!

Really, she has the right to be angry here. And if she seems a bit too extreme, well she's the Dark Lord's daughter.

As for Harry's behavior, we don't get too much from his point of view. He's still suffering from Sirius' death and everyone around him is being extra careful around him. Harry's desperately looking for something more than pity - which is why is attaching himself to Maia. She doesn't put up with that, like any Slytherin wouldn't.

By the way, Snape is not extraordinarily handsome in this story. He's just how he's described in the book. This is a mild jab at the Snape-fangirls and how he would react to the fact that he has a fan-following and is admired for more than his smarts. Nothing more than that.

I won't say what will happen in the next chapter - I have to wait for my Dark muse to come up with some new inspiration for that.

Elemental Sight and Elemental Maliceare up, if you want to take a look.

---Raven