Now, I know what you're thinking. You're thinking that I fell for Shea Scotsworth. Well, you're wrong. There was no way I was going to get feelings for someone as arrogant and cocky and annoying at him. Yeah, I have more sense than that.

He fell for me.

His watery blue eyes cleared, and a wisecracking grin split across his face. "If you like necklaces on witches." He knew I hated that word, Berkley had to have mentioned it to him.

I cringed and socked him in the arm with my fist. "Were those fake tears, too, you jerk?"

He nodded and rubbed his bicep where I'd hit him. When he talked, his breath came out in little white puffs. A striking, intense look came over him. My eyes zeroed in on every change in his appearance; the narrowing of his pupil in the light, the shifting of the jet-black leather coat he always wore to go riding. Resisting the urge to smile, I noted that he was wearing his scrappy indigo converses. He never did follow the safety precautions we were supposed to adhere to – even I was wearing boots. But Shea never did, and the shoes were showing wear from the constant riding.

"But my concern wasn't. Er, isn't." He pointed accusingly at the necklace resting between my collarbones. "That shouldn't be in your possession, Aimee. It's dangerous." He cleared his throat. "I don't know who gave that to you, but whoever it is…they wanted to get a message across."

"What?" I said, recoiling out of arm's reach. "What message?"

Shea stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jacket and bit his lip. A nervous jump boiled in my stomach. Why. Why did he have to look like that?! It was distractedly attractive, and I didn't have time for it. Not when Enver and Leah's griffins were swooping through the sky in big loops above us. My stomach turned sour as they spun into a turn together. I heard their tinny laughter waft down towards me.

"It's not important that you know," Shea said, interrupting my thoughts. The stitch in my ribcage loosened a little, looking at him, here on the ground instead of dipping into the air. "But I need you to do something for me."

"What?" My tone was snippy, clipped. I didn't really care about what Shea Scotsworth said I should be afraid of. What, a few dreams going to attack me? Sure, I didn't do them and could have more…but if all the "attacker" wanted to do was give me a necklace, they couldn't be that harmful, right?

The next thing the dark-haired teenager did scared me. I was fuming in my mind, towards his assuming I was defenseless, towards Enver and his stupid happy girlfriend, towards everyone.

Shea grabbed my hand. His fingertips were surprisingly warm, peeking out from the frayed, knitted edges of his fingerless gloves. "Be careful, Aimee. I don't want you hurt."

"Are you done yet?" I heard muffled words from above us: Enver's low, comforting voice yelled playfully.

"Go," I told the boy before me. "go do some tricks." Tucking a rebellious group of hair behind my ear, I turned back towards the school. "I don't feel like riding anymore."

And I ran back into the school without another word.

Once there, I found the halls and rooms eerily empty; except for the dining room, in which a few students milled around, lazily looking at the dishes spread in a cornucopia before them. I grabbed a scone and sat down, picking out all the chocolate filling from the middle.

I don't know how long I sat there, eating food without a main purpose. I watched the slim shadows from the windows turn long and golden brown through the curtains, people come and go as they pleased, a few more than others. Predictably, my friends were celebrating together and away from me. Although I had grown closer to the vibrant group of girls, I still was inherently different from them.

True, this was partly due to my being selected into the small group of students talented enough to ride the griffins, but also because I didn't know what I was doing. I came from a family of Hogwarts students, each exemplary in their own ways. Often enough, I had been told I was a Squib. And to be honest, I still felt like one.

Author's Note: This chapter is to the guest who messaged me this morning. You encouraged me to do this, and I hope you enjoy it.

-Sylvanna