December 25th, Second Year

If first year had taught me anything, it was that Christmas at Hogwarts was beautiful. It was beautiful most of the time, but with its decorations and the merriment that seemed to dissolve rivalries and ease even we of the most violent minds, Christmas was the most beautiful of all days. This year was no exception, of course. In fact it looked even more beautiful. Maybe it was because there were fewer people here for the holidays this year, so the feast looked bigger by comparison. Maybe the decorations were a little bit more extravagant, because I had gotten to help with them during a few of my detentions. Maybe they were more extravagant because the teachers were trying to give some semblance of calm while some muggle-hating attacker was out petrifying victims in the middle of the corridors...

It was probably that last one.

The castle, as beautiful as it was, still had an air of fear that you couldn't help but feel no matter what room you walked into. You couldn't help but hear it while students whispered to each other in alcoves and corridors, while they scurried nervously from room to room, hoping not to be caught alone or off-guard.

Then again, there were some things you couldn't scurry away from – no matter how close to your common room or dorm room you were. For example, you couldn't run away from your best friend. This I had found out the past few weeks after the newest gossip – which was sadly completely true – that Draco Malfoy fancied me.

"But you don't even like him a little bit?" Daphne asked me again. Her scowl pulled at her face so much I was surprised that her face hadn't stuck itself like that...particularly since she'd pretty much held it there for the entirety of the day. "Draco Malfoy's good company, Audrey. If he likes you, you should take him up on the invitation to be his girlfriend."

"Except that I don't like him," I stated with my nose wrinkled. Theodore walked lazily beside us. He seemed nearly as annoyed with her persistence as I was. "Draco Malfoy is a cruel, spoiled brat – even if he does have nice hair."

"He does have nice hair, doesn't he?" Daphne sighed dreamily. I couldn't help but look at her with a dark expression – first she was trying to convince me that I liked him and now she was fawning over how much she liked him? This girl needed to make up her mind. Theodore, who had moved away from her to be on my other side, looked about ready to gag at her reaction.

"Even if he does," I continued with a pointed look to both of them – even Theo had tried convincing me that maybe I should just 'give into my feelings', which everyone had yet to understand didn't exist. "It's not enough to replace his terrible personality."

"I guess you're right," Daphne sighed. "I just think it's about time for you to find yourself a well-thought-of, and close-to-pureblooded boy-"

"You don't have any of those things," I pointed out with a glare.

"Well, at least I've kissed one. And don't you start! Flint is a very good kisser," she began defensively, seeing how Theodore and I were ready to jump on the topic. I couldn't help but let out a loud laugh.

"Flint is not a boy," I said once I had calmed down. I ignored how offended she looked, the most offensive part of this conversation was that it started from her not letting up about Malfoy and ended with the traumatic memory of Daphne Greengrass and Marcus Flint sucking face.

"Audrey's right, Flint is unsanitary."

"If you happen to mean that you only kissed his teeth – did they cut you? It's like he's a vampire that got his teeth knocked about. They point every which way, so I worry you may have tetanus or rabies or-"

"Enough," she crossed her arms over her chest. "Let's make a deal: if you stop talking about Flint like that, I'll stop pushing you towards Draco. Though for the record, I'm only doing that for your own good."

I thought about that deal for a long moment, thinking about what life would be like if I didn't have to hear about how perfect Malfoy and I would be every day. What would life be like if I wouldn't have bruised ribs from her nudging them every time Malfoy flirted with me? What would life be like if I could actually insult him without being berated and losing a friend for a meal? That was definitely worth a shiny sickle...but then again... "No deal."

"No deal?" Theodore asked with wide eyes; clearly he had gone through the same mental checklist of benefits that I had.

"Why, is it that you secretly like me pushing you towards Draco?" Daphne smiled. "I knew it! If you would just admit that you two are perfect for each other, you could be that couple that marries right out of school! It would be so romantic..."

"I'm not going to take the deal because I can always say no to Malfoy," I gritted my teeth at the idea, but raised my eyebrows tauntingly. "But you'll always be the idiot that kissed Flingivitus!"

Daphne frowned even more, taking a deep breath and turning on her heel away from us. "You know, the feast is still going on and I feel like I want to talk to Pansy and Millicent. Millicent's older sister is graduating this summer and she's having a ball that's just been announced. Pureblood's only. So almost the entirety of Slytherin is going, isn't that right, Theodore?" She gave me a pointed glare that I returned darkly – yes, Daphne loved pointing out that I was not pureblooded. "Theodore, are you coming?"

She didn't wait for his answer before she stomped off towards the Great Hall again. I rolled my eyes and thought better than to watch her go. I didn't want to give her the false sense of security that she'd actually wounded me if she dared to look back over her shoulder. Turning to Theo, who looked almost as annoyed as I felt, I waved him off.

"Go ahead and join her."

"You sure?" he asked with a frown. "I'd really rather stay with you, she shouldn't have said that to you."

"It's nothing I haven't heard before, she always talks too harshly when she's angry," I shrugged with a sigh. "And I'm just going to go find Harry. I want to thank him for the book from today. If you see him in there, tell him I'm headed t'ward Gryffindor tower to look for him."

My brother had given me a book on common natural herbs and potions for simple ailments this morning. He'd even left me with a note that the book had a specific chapter with tons of solutions for headaches. My headaches had gotten a lot worse this year and they would continue into vivid migraines up to three times a week. The migraines would last all through the night, with nightmares that made me wake up in a cold sweat even though I could never remember what had happened in them.

The walk to the seventh floor was terrible. As many people that were in the Great Hall for the feast, I still tended to run into all the groups that hung out in the halls and thought I was a monster. Considering all the attacks on muggleborns this year and my brother's ability to speak to snakes, everyone had taken to avoiding us in the halls. At first it had just been about him thanks to the little episode with Justin in dueling club – and I had been fine with ducking in the background during that. But people started to point fingers towards me once they started putting two and two together...or maybe four and four. All the evidence did kind of point to me; I mean if you considered that I was a Slytherin, that I somehow had a bad feeling that let me know pre-emptively about the first petrified victim, the completely true rumours about my speechless spells, or the completely false rumours about me being betrothed to Draco Malfoy...how could someone not think I was the Heir of Slytherin?

A group of third year Ravenclaws whispered and threw glares at me. I sent them one back that made them look away nervously. I guess there was one good thing about the rumours: people were too scared to ogle my scar this year.

When I finally got to Gryffindor tower, I was not in the best of moods. Besides the fact that the fat lady would not let me in without the password – she and I would never get along – my brother was nowhere to be seen, but I had found a splitting headache which had begun behind my short, chopped, red bangs.

Seamus Finnegan let me in when he saw me arguing with the infuriating portrait and as always he took the time to flirt with me. He had been doing this all year and while I tried to do it back, I knew that it was not nearly as smooth as him. I probably just made a fool of myself; I was no good at flirting.

"He and Ron aren't up there. Sorry, Audrey," Seamus had even gone up to check the boys dormitories for me as well, but it seemed like I wouldn't be able to talk to my brother tonight. As it was I wanted to proclaim it a lost cause and get back down to my dormitory and that new book of headache remedies as quickly as I could.

"That's alright," I smiled slightly at him, trying to distract myself from the growing ache behind my temples. "He's probably out breaking some rule or other."

"He tends to do that," he smiled back. Seamus had a very cute smile – mischievous, like Fred and George. But in the back of my mind I could always see him blowing up something or other and it made his whole demeanor somewhat more innocent. "Are you headed back to Slytherin, then?"

"Probably," I sighed, not enjoying the idea of who I may run into on the long way down to the dungeons. "Harry gave me a book I want to read with simple cures for common ailments."

He frowned empathetically. "Headache?"

"As always," I frowned, pushing my hand up to my forehead. Seamus' eyes flitted up there, as if he was looking for a scar there. When he couldn't find one beneath my fingers, his eyes slid down to the marking my neck...my cheeks burned while I turned away from him and toward the portrait hole. "Well Seamus, I'll see you tomorrow, alright?"

"Yeah, come sit with us at the Gryffindor table for breakfast!" I frowned a bit.

"I think I'll stick with the Slytherins. You Gryffindors aren't quite happy with us right now and just because you and my brother's friends are slightly more understanding doesn't really mean that the rest of your house is as sympathetic. Thanks though," I told him quickly, trying to make my way out of Gryffindor tower with as little conversation now as possible. The more awkward this conversation got, the worse the distraction it was for my headache. I needed something to remedy it before it turned into a bloody migraine.

Moving down from the seventh floor and down to the dungeons, I tried ignoring all the people who stopped to glare and whisper as I walked by. I didn't care who did or didn't think that I was Slytherin's Heir. I was not in the mood to defend myself or give them any thought. A few times in the past I'd been berated by Snape after he'd found out I'd threatened some students after they gave me a hard time. Really, they made it too easy for me: they were rude and all I had to say is "I'll open it!" before they'd run away scared and leave me alone. Who wouldn't take advantage of that?

Three detentions later and I was exactly where I'd left off before Snape had tried to punish the genius out of me. I was almost relieved to escape the hissing of the gossipers and get down to the safety of the dungeons. Not that I liked being under the Black Lake, or that it was really anymore safe than the corridors with the likes of Crabbe and Goyle here in the vicinity. Even though they were currently following Malfoy – who sadly was a decent wizard – they were still a danger to everyone around them by their bulk and stupidity.

I was out of breath when I made it to the wall covering the entrance to the Slytherin common rooms – going up to the seventh floor from the first floor and then back down to the dungeons was quite a work out. It amazed me that those two oafs could be so fat considering how many stairs we had to climb each day. They must eat twice their weight a day in sweets to keep that girth.

"Pureblood," Malfoy said to the stone wall which groaned as it slid open. The portrait that happened to be placed on it – but not to be confused with our opening – gave a slight hiss at being woken up.

"Too many sweets make you tired, Augustin," I informed the portrait, who scoffed at me and patted his overstuffed belly while I passed in front of Malfoy.

"Oi, Potter!" Malfoy shouted as I passed him. I closed my eyes, his voice had reverberated in my mind a little too painfully for me to be able to be patient enough not to hex him. I turned back to look at him and Crabbe and Goyle with a frown – both of his goons looked even more nervous and oblivious than normal when I did it.

"Can I help you?"

"Depends, you considered being my girlfriend yet?" Ah, the dreaded question that I've already answered eight times.

"I never gave it any consideration at all," I said simply, watching as the three stepped into the common room to have the wall groan to a close behind them. "Why do you want me as your girlfriend anyway? Puginson had a point: I'm a halfblood."

He grabbed my arm to stop me from walking and talking. Goyle looked like he was going to say something but closed his mouth when Crabbe nudged him in the ribs. I wonder if he would have tried giving me a talking to? I'd like to hear that – a talking to from Gregory Goyle; would it just be a list of his favourite foods? I looked at Malfoy carefully, fingering at the wand in my robe pocket.

"What are you going to do, jinx me?" Malfoy asked, looking at the wand as it slipped into my fingers. "I'm not stupid, Potter, I've noticed that you don't say spells. It means your better than a halfblood. It means that you're more pure than half the idiots here."

"Well, that was obvious," I smiled thoughtfully – and admittedly somewhat cruelly – while I thought about how much better I was than idiots like Crabbe and Goyle or Parkinson and Bullstrode. Malfoy smirked a bit himself, probably thinking along the same lines. It was almost bordering a smile – but it was something I knew I wouldn't see. No one would. Malfoy didn't smile. Ever. I doubt he knew how.

"I've seen what you do when no one's looking; you can do magic halfbloods and mudbloods can't. It makes you strong. And better. And that means that I can be with you."

"'Can be with me'?" I repeated, my face slowly growing red thanks to anger and the throbbing behind my skull. "As in now you can lower your standards enough?"

"No, closer to-"

"Because I know 'mudbloods' that are stronger and better and more worth my time than you," I hissed back to him, yanking my arm away and turning around, only to swivel in a complete circle to face him again. "Oh and if you ever call one of my friends a mudblood again, I'll beat up in the most embarrassing way I can think of: the muggle way."

He didn't try to stop me when I turned and headed toward my dormitory. My kneazle, Circe, came looked up from my pillow when I walked into my dormitory and went looking through the pile of gifts at the end of my bed for the new book on ailments. Now my brain was hammering against my skull, I was surprised that blood wasn't pouring from my ears. I tried reading the pages in the dim light of my empty dormitory, but my vision was starting to blur from the pain. It was excruciating and after a long moment of staring at the page my vision cleared enough to see that moonstone seemed to be the main ingredient for headaches and migraines. It looked like the powdered form was good if you planned on staying awake and continually ingesting it, but if you wanted to sleep you should sleep with a moonstone under your pillow: the clearer the rock you could get, the more effective it would be.

Circe licked at my temple, she could probably sense the pain rolling off me in waves.

"Alright, I don't have clear moonstone," I sighed to her. "Time for another visit to Snape, then?"

Circe mewed at me again with another lick to my temple. I guess I'd have to do more adventuring, though I'd done way more than I should have done in one day. Snape was not happy with the many visits I'd been making lately to his office, either. Besides the detentions from the whole 'flying car incident', as well as the threats and detentions due to the whole 'Heir of Slytherin' thing, I'd been gathering ingredients and trying to make new potions. In November I'd been able to get my hand on a fifth year textbook thanks to Bole wanting a reason for not having to do one of his potion tests. Snape had been all for the idea of me practicing and refining my art, but he did not like that I was out and about at night what with all of the attacks.

"You stay here," I told her. "Malfoy's in the common room and I don't want him making you act all stupid again."

She let out a bit of a growl at me but curled up on my pillow, her amber eyes watching me. I didn't want her to go and start being friendly to Malfoy again – the point of a kneazle was to protect you from people who could be a danger, or hate the people you hated, or like the people you like...that Circe was broken and happened to get along with Draco Malfoy was incriminating. I smiled at her lightly before scratching behind her ear and headed out the door.

I had planned to walk straight past Malfoy and his goons, I really did, but their conversation was something that just couldn't be ignored.

"Saint Potter, the Mudblood's friend," Malfoy was hissing to them – and not very quietly. Apparently he didn't mind who heard. "He's another one with no proper wizard feeling, or he wouldn't go around with that jumped up Granger Mudblood. And his sister? Sly as a fox, but definitely not Slytherin's Heir like everyone thinks...I wish I knew who it is. I could help them."

"You'd love that, wouldn't you?" I turned to him, my headache screaming in my head for me to back away and find the moonstone. "Are you really on this again? You need new conversation topics."

"So you don't know who's behind it all?" Crabbe asked, looking confused in a way that he never had before...and when I say that, I mean he actually looked like he was trying to understand. This was new. I looked at him with narrowed eyes.

"Of course he doesn't," I scoffed. " Daddy doesn't even think he's important enough to know about the last time," I said with a dark smirk. Mafloy glared at me.

"He says that it was all kept quiet and it'll look suspicious if I know too much about it," he argued. I rolled my eyes, what a load of crock. "But I know one thing – last time the Chamber of Secrets was opened, a Mudblood died. So I bet it's a matter of time before one of them's killed this time...as for me, I hope it's Granger."

"Ugh!" I yelled, half from the pressure in my head that scraped at my skull and the other half out of frustration. "What is wrong with you, Malfoy? You know why people think you're vile? Because you're actually vile. You're actually a disgusting load of self-righteous bitchery who has no reason to feel as entitled as he is. Your name is just a name and your money can be stolen...as for me, I hope it is."

"You just wish you knew everything I did, have the resources I do...and you could," he raised his eyebrows. "My offer still stands."

I hissed at the idea of it, pushing against my headache. He actually looked concerned for a moment, probably knowing like everyone else that my headaches were legend.

"So if you know everything...d'you know if the person who opened the Chamber last time was caught?" Goyle was thinking and analyzing too? Did Dumbledore slip potion in the pumpkin juice?

"Oh, yeah, whoever it was was expelled." Malfoy waved off. "They're probably still in Azkaban."

"Azkaban?" Goyle asked curiously.

"Are you really that thick?" I asked him, looking at him with a frown.

"Azkaban – the wizarding prison, Goyle," Malfoy seemed to agree with me by the look of annoyance on his face. "Honestly, if you were any slower, you'd be going backward."

"If he was any more dull, he'd be grey." I agreed, Malfoy laughed darkly at his friend's expense. "Admittedly I don't care to know who it is – I just don't want to get caught up in the middle of it."

"Father says to keep my head down and let the Heir of Slytherin get on with it," he agreed. Though he didn't seem quite as into the idea of keeping out of the mess as I did. "He says the school needs ridding of all the Mudblood filth, but not to get mixed up in it. Of course, he's got a lot on his plate at the moment. You know the Ministry of Magic raided our manor last week?"

I frowned at him. "Good. Hopefully the Ministry got rid of the Pureblood filth, too."

"They didn't find much," Malfoy continued smugly. "Father's got some very valuable Dark Arts stuff, you know. Very important, very rare, very expensive. But luckily, we've got our own secret chamber under the drawing-room floor-"

"How wonderful for you," I frowned, closing my right eye as my head gave a particularly sharp pain. "Under my floor I have dirt – I guess it's worth the same as what your family has. I hope you all get locked up."

"If I left, you'd be miserable," he pointed out, pulling me toward him by the sleeve of my robe. "And as soon as you admit you fancy me too, we can stop all this fighting. It's fun, but it's old. I'll even stop calling Granger a mudblood."

"No you won't."

"No I won't," he shrugged. "But I'd stop when you're around. It'd be like not swearing in front of a lady; I was taught manners."

"You were?" I asked doubtfully. "I've yet to see proof of it."

"I've been taught manners, dancing, even wooing-" he pulled me a bit closer to him again. "Want to see proof of that?"

My headache was killing me and Malfoy was now far too close for comfort. I closed my eyes against it all, forcing myself to focus. I knew I needed to open my eyes – I knew if I took my eyes of Malfoy for even a moment he would do something stupid. I placed my hands on his chest and pushed him away from me. It lead to him grabbing my wrists.

"Go away."

"I'd be nice to your little mudblood for you. Come on, Potter. I can be very nice if I want to be."

"I don't want to be with you and if you don't let go of me right now, you won't have the ability to be with anyone within the next ten years..." I hissed, trying to wrestle my wrists from his hold again. I felt like I needed to grab hold of my head, I felt like I needed to get away from him – he was too close, I was too warm, I was too nervous.

But Malfoy didn't listen to me. Instead, Malfoy leaned in toward me, trying to come at me with his lips almost puckered – bloody hell, was he trying to kiss me?

My scrambled, throbbing brain kicked into overdrive and instinctively pushed him away from me. As he got his bearings I took a step forward and then – doing something I'd only seen in some of Dudley's favourite movies – I pulled back my right leg and kicked it up until he screamed.

It was such a scream that I knew it wasn't supposed to come out of a boys mouth. It bled pain and agony, but I felt nothing better than when I saw him drop to the floor. It even made my headache back off a bit for the moment of satisfaction.

"Don't call her a mudblood," I growled at him, watching as his face blanched. "And don't you ever try to kiss me again!"

Crabbe and Goyle looked in a mix of shock and trying to hold back laughter. I shot them both a glare that only made them look more ready to laugh before I stomped out of the common room. I had a moonstone to find – I could beat them up later. The further into the dungeons I walked, the worse my migraine got again. I was nearly stumbling by the time I knocked on the door to Snape's office.

When he opened it, he barely seemed surprised. "Headache?"

"That everyone's come to expect it is sad," I groaned, pushing into the room when he moved to let me in. He conjured up a chair to sit across from the one behind his desk, I fell into it.

"Potter, what have I told you about being out at night? There have been three attacks on people that were out past dinner-"

"Mrs Norris is not a person," I argued. "And I know, but I needed to ask for something for..." I groaned, placing both hands on my skull again. "Do you have any moonstone?"

"Powdered moonstone will not last you through the night," he informed me, looking at me closely as if he could assess me just by whatever my face looked like. It was probably an ugly sight – glazed green eyes, messy red hair, and blanched skin with a pained pink to my cheeks. "But if you need a full moonstone-"

"You knew this could be a remedy and you never thought to mention it?" I frowned at him. "Next time can you try to read my mind and tell me, please? Do you have any clear ones?"

"No moonstone is perfectly clear," he said thoughtfully, going towards his storage to look through his moonstones. "They all have a level of fog, the impurities in a moonstone stem back to where they're found and when they're harvested. Why is that?"

"Because the moon is never actually gone," I quoted, closing my eyes as he rifled. "The white moonstones represent the full moon and the clearest ones represent the dark side of the moon that we don't see during the new moon."

"Very good," I heard him say, hearing his steps echo through the back of my mind as he walked back to me. Opening my eyes I saw that he was holding out a very clear moonstone – it barely had any fog to it save for the streak of white fog right through the right side. It was perfect. I grabbed it from him without word, shoving it against my forehead.

Immediately, it began a tingle in the tips of my fingers and the bottom of my feet. I took a deep breath while I felt the tingles work through my system, calming down the tension from my muscles and working toward the throbbing beneath my skin.

"Helping?"

"Yes," I sighed in relief.

"Interesting. So you know, moonstones tend to best help magically related migraines more than average headache pains. With the amount of relief you seem to feel from them, it seems to point to the fact this may not just be a simple headache."

"I don't care as long as it can be cured," I sighed.

"Well," he continued. "After the holidays I would like to try some tests. It may be a simple solution that you haven't yet thought of. Does that interest you?"

"Very," I sighed, feeling much better though there was still a muffled drum beating in the back of my brain. At least now I couldn't tell you what song it was playing.

"Good, now get back to the common room. I told you, students should not be out this late. It's not safe."

Especially you, I could basically hear and see it in the sentence. I waved him off, glad to be feeling like my snarky self again as I walked toward his office door. "Merlin, sometimes it's surprising you're not a father. So protective..."

He scowled at me, a black scowl that made my face clear nervously. It seemed as though children may be a sore subject for professor Snape.

"Alright, alright, I'm going. Goodnight, professor. Thank you."

He did nothing else but nod and send me on my way. I walked through the dungeons quickly, ready to get some sleep and make this migraine go away for good. I was glad there was no one in the halls to gossip as I walked past or try to start any trouble. It was nice to walk in solitude and examine the moonstone...it really was quite clear. I put it up to the lights flickering from the brackets on the wall.

Something is wrong.

As the thought entered my mind – no, pushed itself into my mind, a shiver ran down the length of my spine as if cold water was dripping down my neck. The lights around me seemed to burn with such a ferocity that it charred the back of my retinas. The charring was a slow burn that seeped through me, causing goosebumps and shivers and red flags to raise in my head.

Something is wrong.

I pushed my palms deeply into my eye sockets, ignoring the voice in the back of my mind. What was wrong was the fact that my bloody retinas were burning.

Something is wrong.

What the bloody hell is this?

Why would everything burn and hurt and be ice cold...and what would let that happen all at once? It was overwhelming my senses and making me feel ill again. I groaned loudly, complaining to the empty halls. There was no one around to hear it. Somewhere between my temple and my forehead gave a painful stab of pain, causing me to open my eyes in shock and look down at the floor where the moonstone lay uselessly. I had dropped it.

I bent down to get it, pushing it against my forehead and waiting for the relief to come again. But the headache didn't cease. Instead, the headache continued to burst through toward the clear rock as if it were fighting against the cure. I almost screamed in horror and pain; why wasn't it working? could I have cracked it when it dropped? would cracking it take away its ability to heal me?

I placed it back up to the light of the corridor, looking through it to see if it was still clear and not clouded by a dark crack through the middle of it. Through the glass-like moonstone I could see a distorted version of stone and bracketed flames licking up the wall. It was still as clear as normal.

So why wasn't it working?

Something dragged itself on the ground to my side. It was a sound that I had heard before, when I had dragged Pansy Parkinson under her bed when she had been stunned and when I had seen a sixth year transfigured into a slug...but that sound didn't make sense in the middle of the night with no one in the dungeon. I swiveled toward it, the moonstone still stuck to my face, only to see giant, yellow, snake eyes.

I froze, petrified, unable to move out of pure terror that sank itself into my bloodstream and froze like liquid nitrogen.

Basilisk.

Based off of my story Green Eyed Monster.

This was edited by Angel of the Night Watchers. I do not own the Harry Potter universe or it's characters. I do own Audrey Potter, her ridiculously vivid potion-making skills, and her wicked nicknames and insults.

Enjoy the flashbacks and please review :)