Harry Potter 1. Chapter 1

"_Mia adorata, _hurry now!"

The bedroom looked as though an werewolf had transformed in the midst of it. Clothes were strewn everywhere, muggle items littered the unmade bed, and make up was scattered across the girlish pink vanity. With a flourish of her wand, old Adelinda Isis Amoretto sent everything spinning into its proper place in her trunk; she was packed and the only thing left to do before departing was prepare herself mentally for her first year at Hogwarts. Five years late but finally happening, the only comfort that the girl took in it was that she would not be the only one behind in her classes. As the war had begun, so many children had been pulled out of the school; the ones that chose to return would start where the left out.

In truth, the war was not the reason the sixteen-year-old witch had not attended Hogwarts. Adopted by a magical family who had disassociated themselves with the wizarding world and moved to Italy, her mother's native country, she had been assumed a simple, non-magical Muggle-born. As she grew, her parents realized this to be far from true; she had magic, and it was strong. Knowing the prejudice against Muggle-borns was leaking into Hogwarts more and more every day, having attended the school themselves, her parents opted to keep her in Muggle school and instruct her in the field of magic on their own time. At age nine, Adelinda's magic was too strong to hide from the other children, and her parents pulled her from school. From then to age sixteen, it was home-schooling and magical tutors. She was a bright and powerful witch, learning quickly and surpassing her home lessons, but there would still be lower-level classes to take, new things to learn, a new community to assimilate into. She had spent little to no time around other witches her age, had never met a wizard anywhere close. And yet she was excited.

She had gotten a letter each year since having turned eleven; her father was British and had been a favorite of Dumbledore's at Hogwarts, and she supposed that was why McGonagall was so keen on her coming to the school. She also happened to be particularly fond of the girl herself, having tutored her quite often over the summers between school years. As the Second Wizarding War began, however, her parents decided that Hogwarts was not safe for Adelinda, and they stayed as far off of the radar as they possibly could, making limited trips out into the magical community.

But here she was, three years after the war had ended, making her first trip to the school alongside those students who had fought in the war and had never returned. It felt shameful, almost, but she pushed that feeling aside as she closed her trunk and checked herself over in her vanity. She was dressed simply in Muggle clothing, jeans and a snug camisole, black cardigan thrown over it to shield against the wind that would surely blow against her as she flew to a portkey to begin her journey.

"I'm coming, Mama," she called out. Her voice was lightly accented, a mix of British and Italian—she was fluent in the language but spoke English as her first, and yet a sweet Italian accent, not too heavy, stuck to her words as a result of having lived in Italy since she was small. Wand in hand, she levitated her trunk and the cage which held her owl behind her as she made her way into the living room to greet the one and only Harry Potter.

"There you are, dear, you've kept Mr. Potter waiting!" her father scolded gently, rising from his seat on the couch as Mr. Potter did the same. The twenty year old looked older than his years, and much older than he did in photos—it was to be expected, she supposed, after the life he had lived. He was handsome though short, with his disheveled black hair and Quidditch-made body.

"Oh, I'm in no rush," the Chosen One told her father with a polite smile. "I remember my first year. It's very exciting." He took a step forward and extended a hand to Adelinda, who let her trunk settle onto the carpet and tucked her wand into her belt

"It's very nice to meet you, Mr. Potter," she greeted a bit shyly, shaking his hand and meeting his green eyes. They were more vibrant than the books had described.

"No need for the formalities, it's Harry," he told her warmly. "It's good to meet you too, Adelinda. Are you ready to head off? We have a lot of shopping to do."

Her eyes lit up a bit at that and he grinned at her. What girl didn't love to shop? They were headed to a portkey which would take them to London—from there they would go to Diagon Alley, a place she had visited only once in her life despite having been born very near it. Harry was returning to Hogwarts along with many others who had fought in the war beside him, now that the wizarding school had been returned to its full staff and full glory and would have enough students in attendance to be open for teaching—and she was sure the three years had been needed for many to heal after the war. It was something she would never quite understand, having been so far from it all, and she was shamefully grateful for that fact and forever thankful for those who had fought and won it. She looked up to the Golden Trio for that very reason. "I'm more than ready," Adelinda told him happily. She turned towards her parents. "I'll miss you both. I promise to write to you every week, I know you—" at this she cast a playful glance towards her mother, "—will be very upset if I don't. _Ti amo, ti amo tanto_, come hug me so we can go!"

"So excited to leave us!" her mother teased, half-joking. "No, do not feel bad, I would be excited as well. I know you have waited so long for this, and it will be good for you. I'm sure Mr. Potter here will see you along safely and I will try not to worry too much, _cara_." She embraced both her parents long and lovingly, her father telling her not to get into too much trouble and to stay away from those young wizards, her mother telling her the opposite with a teasing wink, making her blush red and exclaim, "Mama! Not in front of company!"

Harry held back a chuckle at that. "Mr. and Mrs. Amoretto, it was nice seeing you. I'll remind her to write once we get to Diagon Alley so you won't worry, and again as we get to the school. She'll be safe, don't you worry."

Her parents saw them out the door, and from there they made their way to the broom shed, where they had a moment of confusion of whose was whose. "You must be a talented flyer, for your parents to buy you the latest of the Firebolts," Harry laughed, and she turned pink in the cheeks.

"My mother taught me when I was ten," Adelinda told him, taking her broom. Her belongings were still in the living room; they would be waiting for her at Hogwarts. "I didn't have many friends out here in this rural part of Italy, so I spent my free time flying. I love it."

"It is a wonderful pastime," he agreed. They mounted their brooms and she followed him to the portkey—a heavy football that had to have been filled with something and which had been placed in a clearing in the middle of the woods far behind her house. Her parents owned acres on acres of land, inherited from her mother's family, who had owned the house that sat on said land for several generations. It took five minutes to fly to it, but it would have taken forty to walk. As they landed he took her broom, tucking both his and hers into a sort of sheath that held them snugly to his back. She wondered where he had found such a thing. "Alright, Adelinda…I know you've never used a portkey. I need you to hold tight to the portkey with one hand, and you need to hold tight to my hand with the other. You might feel a little sick, but that's normal. Whatever you do, don't lose your grip."

She felt a little queasy. It was true, she had never used a portkey—she had never used a lot of magical items, and she was nervous. But on the count of three they both grabbed the portkey and she kept a death grip on his hand, squeezing her eyes shut as she felt a sharp pull in her belly and the world spinning around her. After what felt like forever but could only have been a few moments, she felt their feet touch the ground. "Was it as bad as you thought it would be?" he asked her, removing their brooms from the strap on his back.

"Worse," Adelinda admitted with a grimace. She was a bit embarrassed when he laughed but she was sure it was not in a mean way.

"You'll get used to it," he assured her. "Follow me again. We're just outside of Diagon Alley." They mounted their brooms again, and fifteen minutes were in the middle of a busy stone road that reminded her of the towns in Italy. She had not been there since she turned eleven; her parents had taken her to Ollivander's, world's best wand shop. They wanted her to have the best.

"Is it always this busy?" she asked, glancing around. She felt very out of place in her muggle clothing, but Harry was dressed similarly; that offered her some relief as she eyed the robed men and women and children as they eyed the Chosen One and then her, surely wondering who the young girl was.

"Not quite," he told her, offering to take her broom again. "But at this time of year, yes. All the parents are here doing last-minute school shopping for their children. You have your money?" She nodded. She had worn a small black pack, which had an outfit to wear to the train station the next day, a few essentials, and her little purse full of Wizarding money which her parents had gone over time and time again with her just to ensure that she knew what it all was and would not be ripped off.

Harry assisted her in all her shopping as he did his; together they went down their lists, getting all of their books, stocking up on plenty of parchment, quills, and inkpots, and robes. Harry had outgrown his and Adelinda had never owned any. She found herself distracted quite often; she had never been around so much magic. Her parents had begun to use casual magic more in their home after the war had ended and not just for her classes, but none of it was ever like what she saw here; there were little red and orange magical fires burning in place of street lights as it darkened and moving displays in shop windows. In the wizarding equivalent of a pet shop she found small creatures she had always seen in her books but never in person and Harry obliged to let her pet and play and look for awhile, seeming amused by her amazement. She decided she was done after she got bitten by something small and scaly and odd looking that she probably should not have been touching in the first place and finally, hours after they had arrived, they made their way to The Leaky Cauldron where two rooms waited for them. Their brought all of their things to their separate rooms and went downstairs to get something to eat.

As they ate their dinner and sipped butterbeer, a drink Adelinda had never tried before and loved, they chatted a bit—in between the people who came over to dote on Harry and friends who were returning to Hogwarts as well. Everyone seemed nice enough, and she was happy that no one asked why he was escorting her—McGonagall had said that he was in Italy for the summer as it was, and it saved her parents a trip, but Adelinda found it odd that such a famous wizard would come to escort her; let alone know of her existence. As the pub grew louder and the night grew late, they said goodnight and made their way to their rooms.

"Be ready in the morning," Harry told her before they departed. "We're going to floo over to a friend's house, and go with them to King's Cross Station, where we'll leave for Hogwarts."

She went into her room. She could hear the talking and laughter of the pub beneath the creaky wooden floors, and light and noise from the street came in through her cracked window. As it turned out, Adelinda loved this magical community so far. The warm hustle and bustle, the closeness, how everyone seemed to know each other. There was no evidence in the pub of the struggle that had taken place three years ago. She took a seat in the window, leaning against the frame and curling her legs up to her chest, just watching the people on the street below her with interest, and that's how she fell asleep.

**_i've noticed that the readers who drop off usually do so after the first chapter, or the third chapter. i know they are a bit boring, but i promise it gets a lot more interesting! the first chapters are getting a feel for the story and building up to the drama. please keep reading and reviewing, compliments and constructive criticism are both very welcome :-)_**


	2. Chapter 2

Adelinda woke up to a kink in her neck, a fluttering in her stomach, and a knocking on the door that turned out to be Harry making sure she was up. As she bustled about her room to get ready, all her bags still on the bed where she had left them last night, she thought about where she would be at the end of the day. Hogwarts. The thought gave her anxiety and nervousness gave way to excitement as she did her make up—using Muggle cosmetics, of course—lining olive-colored eyes in a smoky black and putting just a touch of gloss on her lips. She didn't want to overdo it for her first day; she was already worried that she wouldn't fit in. Maybe the other students wouldn't like her; maybe they would shun her because she had never been a part of the war and that made her a coward, they were all so brave…she had many fleeting, frightened thoughts but one stuck. What if the prejudice against Muggle borns had not actually been eradicated within the student body? She forced herself to smile into the mirror. "That's silly," she murmured quietly. "Of course it has been." She gave herself one last look. The other students might not like her, but at least she looked alright; long, dark hair waved subtly down her back and her pale skin was shining. She wore her uniform skirt, black and pleated and hitting just above her knees, a camisole and the black cardigan from the day before overtop it. Simple, and once on the train, she wouldn't have much to do to get ready. Adelinda gathered herself and her belongings and met Harry downstairs at the pub, where they each got a small bite to eat and a snack before heading to the fireplace.

"Have you used the floo network before?" He asked her. He had shrunken all of their belongings to fit in the bags they carried on their backs. When she said no, he nodded. "You take a handful of the floo powder, stand in the fireplace, and say very clearly your destination as you toss the powder down. We're going to the Burrow, that's where we will meet a few other students who are returning to Hogwarts as well. You go first." Adelinda was, admittedly, a bit apprehensive about going first—she would be landing in an unfamiliar house with unfamiliar people. Harry assured her that he would be right behind her, and she took a handful of the powder, stepped into the ashes of the fireplace, did as she was told, and was whirled away to wherever "the Burrow" was.

When she opened eyes she had not realized she had closed, there were several people in front of her, all redheaded but one and looking a bit overly excited. "I, uhm…I'm Adelinda," she said, blinking at them and stepping slowly out of the fireplace. The lilt at the end of her name made it sound like a question. "Mr. Potter told me to come here…"

The family seemed to realize they were staring and who she presumed was the mother came forward, taking the girl's hands. "Oh, yes, dear! We were expecting you!" the plump woman said warmly. She reminded Adelinda of her own mother. "I'm Mrs. Weasley, this is George, Ron and Hermione, Ginevra—"

"Ginny, mum." The girl in reference stepped forward. She looked to be close to Adelinda's age and was very pretty, freckles dancing across her pale skin and her red hair long and straight. Had she said Ron? Hermione? Was this the Weasley family she thought it was? She was meeting another of the Golden Trio, and this must be his family. And Hermione! She had always read of how intelligent and brace the brown, curly-headed girl was, and she looked up to her the most…Adelinda was in awe and struggling not to show it.

"Hi," the sixteen year old greeted shyly, and Ginny hugged her.

"Mum likes to bombard people with love, and the boys were curious about you," Ginny murmured to her with a smile. "Don't be nervous." Adelinda glanced around at everyone.

"A bit hard not to be," she said back softly with a smile, and Ginny laughed. She had greeted everyone and was now leading Adelinda out of the room as she heard Harry's voice. He must have just arrived. She saw Ginny give a loving glance towards where they had just left but did not turn around. This must be the Ginny that Harry was involved with…Adelinda was ashamed of herself for knowing all of this, but she had lived vicariously through wizarding magazines and books her father snuck to her. "Do you want anything to eat or drink before we leave?" Adelinda shook her head, and Ginny shrugged as if to say 'suit yourself,' getting herself a mug of something orange and a piece of bread.

"How are we getting to the train station?" Adelinda asked. They took a seat at the large wooden table. She was only half-listening to the girl as she looked around her in amazement. The dishes were scrubbing themselves and the clock on the wall had faces and locations all belonging to the Weasley children. The house was so warm and inviting, so cozy, so magical. She loved it. Barely noticing as Harry walked in and kissed his girlfriend happily, she jumped as she felt a hand on her shoulder.

"Oh, dear, I didn't mean to scare you!" she looked up to see a happy-faced older man smiling down at her. He had red hair just like the others—the father, maybe? "Arthur Weasley, dear, the father of all these lovely children. How was your trip here? Good and uneventful, I hope. Oh, you're going to love Hogwarts." She couldn't help but smile at his unashamed rambling; he was a pleasant man and made her feel much more at home there. "Well! I hope all you children are ready to leave. I'm sure you can't wait to see the school finally returned to its former glory, and Adelinda, I'm sure, is very excited to see it for the first time at all…let's head out!"

Somehow, some way, she, Harry, Hermione, Ron, Ginny, Arthur, and Mrs. Weasley all fit into this small, rickety blue car after saying goodbye to everyone. Their trunks were all shrunken to fit into the trunk, and each other them held their caged owls on their laps. It made for a very cramped trip, but Adelinda was too nervous to notice. She gasped as the car jerked into the air, though, and Mrs. Weasley turned around to put a comforting hand on her knee. "Oh, we should have warned you, dear!" she said apologetically. "This is not a regular Muggle car." She could see that very clearly now, she thought with shock, leaning around Ginny a bit to see out the window as they ascended higher into the air. She was not nervous, it wasn't unlike flying—but she had never been in anything but a Muggle car, and those cars certainly did not fly.

"Can't the Muggles see us?" Adelinda questioned curiously as they passed over towns.

"This button right here makes us invisible!" Arthur told her with pride. She was quiet, just observing. The family was talking and laughing, Ron and Ginny bickering and Hermione joining in every now and then, all of them asking her questions about Italy and her family and her schooling. It made for an entertaining ride, and finally, after what seemed like no time at all, they had landed. "Hurry now, children!" They all spilled out of the car, groaning and stretching with the happiness of escaping that cramped space—they had certainly all begun to feel it after the first fifteen minutes—and they all fetched trolleys, putting their trunks and their bags and their owls into them.

"What platform is it?" she asked curiously, as they continued to pass each of the platforms…she didn't see any witches or wizards, but then, she didn't suspect she would at a Muggle train station. She was confused.

"Platform 9 ¾," Hermione told her. "The Muggles can't see it, we have to go through a wall—ah! Here it is." They came to a stop in front of a blank brick wall. Had she said they had to go through it?

"You just need to get a running start," Mrs. Weasley explained to her. "Don't think about it, or you will hit the wall, and you will hit it hard! We can't have that. On the other side is the Hogwarts express, we will meet you over there. You first, dear, you first!" Struck with a sudden insecurity at this family watching her do this for the first time, she swallow and kept such a tight grip on her trolley that her knuckles turned right, and getting a running start as they had said and closing her eyes, terrified of the impact that was sure to come, made her way to the wall…. ….and felt nothing. She came to a stop and opened her eyes. The train station had transformed. There was the noise of owls and excited children, the hum of an idle train and the worrying of a hundred parents. She heard the rest of the group coming through the station behind her.

"See, that wasn't so bad, dear," the eldest Weasley woman's warm voice comforted her, a hand on her back. "Let's get going, children." She had taken to the woman quite well. She made Adelinda feel comfortable, welcome. After hugs and good-byes and kisses, all of this warmly including Adelinda, they carried their luggage to their compartments and stowed it away. She noticed Hermione going a separate way after kissing Ron.

"She's Head girl," Ginny explained. "No surprise there. McGonagall was quick to ask it of her when she found out that she would be returning to finish her Seventh year. She sits in a separate compartment, with the Head boy and the prefects. I'm sure she will enjoy that."

Ron scowled. "Malfoy better not say anything to her," he said unhappily. He, Ginny, Harry, and Adelinda all sat in the same compartment. She felt the train begin to roll along the tracks and lifted the little curtain on the window.

"I'm sure even he isn't stupid enough to do that," Harry said confidently. She kept quiet, not having any idea what they were speaking of. The journey was slow. All four of them fell asleep at one point to be woken up by a knocking on the door.

"Last chance to get something from Honeydukes Express!" a woman's voice called, and the boys got up—it was the fastest Adelinda had seen either of them move, she thought—exiting the compartment to get treats.

Ginny looked after them warmly. "Just like old times," she said softly, and realized Adelinda had woken as well. She seemed to pull herself out of memories, and for the first time Adelinda wondered how hard it was for everyone to be returning to the school. There were good memories, she was sure—but for the last year or two that they had been in attendance, was it anything but bad? Were they as nervous as she was for their own, very different reasons? "We should probably get changed into our uniforms while the boys are out." The girls pulled down their trunks. Adelinda pulled the grey knit knee-high socks onto the legs and slipped her feet back into her black shoes, shedding the cardigan and replacing it with the required white collared blouse and grey knit vest, pulling her brand-new black robe over it.

"I feel a little like I'm playing dress-up," Adelinda admitted to the redhead, who smiled.

"You'll get used to it," Ginny told her. "It's hard to believe a sixteen-year-old witch has never been to a wizarding school. You're going to love it." She watched the Muggle born curiously as she fixed up her make up. "Muggle make up is odd."

Adelinda shrugged with a smile. "I grew up in the Muggle world," she said softly. "Anything that could be done without magic, was done without magic…I suppose I could learn cosmetic spells, but this is just as easy." Ginny shook her head. She didn't think she could ever tolerate the little mascara wands and messy eye shadow. As they boys returned to the compartment, arms full of goods that they shoved into their trunks as they pulled their robes out, her heart began to pound. She was unbelievably nervous now. They had explained the houses to them. They were all in Gryffindor, and she was praying that she got sorted into it. They thought that she might be. That or Ravenclaw, they said, she seemed to smart (she blushed at that comment, made by Harry). She wouldn't know anyone else in any of the other houses. She could always make friends, but it wasn't her strongest talent…it wasn't really a talent she had at all, and she was surprised she was getting along so well with Ron and Ginny and Harry. They had a knack for making people feel welcome, she supposed. She felt the train stop, and swallowed. Ginny told her to leave her belongings behind, they would be brought to the common room of whichever house she was sorted into, so she tucked her wand into the deep pocket of her robe and followed them off of the train.

Hermione made her way to them. "Adelinda, McGonagall wants me to bring you with the first years, since you're to be sorted," she explained. Adelinda just nodded, busy observing…all the smaller students, the first years, were gathering around nervously, excitedly…the students returning to Hogwarts had mixed reactions. Some greeted old friends with extreme happiness; some just walked along, staring, as if they were seeing a place they had never seen before. They greeted professors that had come to see all the students, they stood to the sides and just watched. Some seemed sad, distant, others excited. Such an odd, wide range of emotions that Adelinda supposed made sense. She followed behind Hermione and listened absently to the chatter of all the first years at her back. She felt a little silly being sorted with the first years, when she should have been five years ahead of them. Her heart pounded in her ears and her stomach was turning with anxiety, and she did her best to ignore it. They went to the castle in boats, accompanied by a large man (was he a man? Maybe a giant? Maybe mixed, she couldn't tell) that Hermione referred to as Hagrid, another person that greeted Adelinda very kindly. She was going to get along well with him, she could tell. All of the other students, Hermione told her, had gathered in the Great Hall already; as she led the first years into the Great Hall through the monstrous double doors, she was taken aback by the scene before her. Banners hung from what she first referred to as the ceiling, but as she looked up she saw the beautiful night sky, stars—or were they candles?—and the room was filled with a sweet smell. All of the students sat at long tables. There weren't quite as many as she thought there would be, but still a great amount; there were enough first years, however, to double the amount of students sitting at the wooden tables. She felt like all eyes were on here, standing at the front of the first years, and she felt out of place.

"Welcome back to Hogwarts!" a familiar voice rang out, and everyone quieted. "It has been a long three years. Some of you have been here during those three years, helping to restore the school. Some of you took time to heal, as many of us needed to. I know there are many, many students returning to us for their final year, and I welcome you especially. I welcome you warmly." It was McGonagall, standing at the head of the Great Hall. Another familiar face. She gave her welcoming speech, only a few moments long. Simple and sweet. "And now, today, we welcome all former students back, we welcome the new students in, and we welcome a wonderful year. Before we begin the traditional sorting, we have one student, all the way from Italy, who must be sorted into a house; six years late, but she is as brilliant as Miss Granger, I can tell you that." Her cheeks burned scarlet and she was certain that Hermione's did as well.

"Miss Adelinda Amoretto!" Adelinda felt her heart drop into her stomach as her name was called. The moment she was been both looking forward to, and dreading. As she walked towards the stool that sat before the headmaster, she glanced around her. Everyone stared, everyone watched her walk up, and she did her best not to make awkward eye contact. As she passed the Gryffindor table, she felt a hand touch hers and turned, her nerves were calmed slightly by Ginny's warm smile. She took a seat upon the stool and placed the Sorting Hat atop her head.

"_Ah, dear Adelinda…a little late, are we not? But oh, I see why, I see why, and I understand…"_ the scratchy voice breathed to her. "_You are a smart girl, very smart indeed, perhaps as smart as Ms. Granger when she came here…and that is quite an achievement…you are brave, like her, in your own quiet way…smart and brave a Gryffindor does make…but oh, you are cunning, so cunning, and the potential to be quite a manipulative girl...Your name is fitting, is it not? Noble and a noble girl you are. Quite clever as well, and—oh!—a Legilimens! But that is a secret, it is! Don't you worry, it is safe with me, dear girl…I believe I know just where to put you…"_

Adelinda jumped as the Sorting Hat bellowed its decision to the students who watched her eagerly.

_"SLYTHERIN!"_


	3. Chapter 3

Slytherin.

There was distant clapping, and Adelinda's wide-eyed gaze went to the Gryffindor table, where all four of her newly-made acquaintances were watching her. Ron looked surprised, Ginny and Hermione and Harry concerned…they had explained the houses to her, and they had explained that among all four, Slytherin was the least liked. In fact, the Slytherin house was _hated…_and after the war, she didn't imagine it was any more liked than it was before. She could only hope that the four Gryffindors wouldn't turn away from her, now that she was a member of their rival house; they were the only people she knew. Trying to push those thoughts aside, Adelinda stood and placed the Sorting Hat onto the stool behind her. As she made her way to the Slytherin tables, the next student's name was being called; the normal sorting of the first years had begun, and all attention was directed towards the student being sorted. She was relieved.

Of all four houses, Slytherin seemed to have the least returning students. They were prejudiced, Harry had told her, many of them being the sons and daughters of death-eaters. Many had died in the war, many had gone into hiding because of their affiliations with the late Dark Lord, and many had been too ashamed to return to the school. It made sense, and also made her dread having been sorted into this house…her heart was pounding against the walls of her chest as she reached the first table. There was a tall, thin girl smiling at her with equally thin lips. "Adelinda, was it?" she greeted. "You can sit here. Pansy Parkinson-welcome to Slytherin." The teenager gave a smile. She had been raised polite, and though unhappy and nervous, would not toss her manners aside.

"Thank you," she said softly, taking a seat beside the girl. Woman, really…Adelinda assumed her to be one of the few returning Slytherin seventh-years. She was beautiful in a cold sort of way, with black hair that provided a stark contrast against her white skin and fell just above her shoulders. That was the end of their conversation as attention was again turned to the students being sorted. Each time a student was sorted into Slytherin, her housemates clapped, some whistled, and the other houses fell silent, save for a few students who were perhaps showing sympathy. She found it hard to focus on the sorting and instead let her thoughts and gaze drift to the Gryffindors; she had wanted so strongly to be sorted into that house. Her father had been a Gryffindor when he had attended Hogwarts. Would he be disappointed upon hearing that his daughter had been sorted into the house she was _sure _he had hated in his teenage years? And what of the friends she had made? Would they still consider her a friend? The anxiety she had been experiencing before being sorted had only worsened afterwards. Adelinda was not normally such a nervous person, and the anxiety began to turn to anger; an emotion she much preferred over fear.

"And with Mr. Zabini having been the last student to be sorted, let us feast!" McGonagall raised her chalice to the students in a cheer, and food appeared in abundance before them; Adelinda realized she was starving and marveled at the cuisine before her and the way it had just appeared. Elves, she remembered. Her father had explained them to her. She glanced towards the last boy to have been sorted. He sat beside an older boy who may very well have been his brother, both with a beautiful, dark complexion and handsome features. If the last name was any indication, they had Italian family—perhaps Adelinda could use that to her advantage and make a friend or two here in this cold house.

"So, Adelinda…" her attention was drawn back to the dark-haired girl at her side. "…whereabouts are you from?"

Adelinda had begun gathering food on her plate, but stopped when she saw how little the other Slytherin girls were spooning onto their dishes; they were all so thin, she couldn't be surprised, but also couldn't help feeling a bit self-conscious. "I was born here in England," she explained, twirling her spoon in a small bowl of pudding, a nervous habit. "But raised in Italy." She glanced towards the two Slytherin boys, and met the older one's eyes. She looked away immediately.

"How interesting," Pansy said, her dark eyes fixed on Adelinda's.

"I suppose," she responded cautiously. As Pansy began to make more meaningless small talk, Adelinda observed the people around her, all the while keeping up simple conversation with the girl. All of the students seemed to know each other well, even the first years—in fact, many of the new students seemed to be family of the older Slytherins. It wasn't a surprise, really; Hermione had explained to her that almost all of the Slytherins were pureblood, and with a limited number of pureblood families left in the wizarding world, they were all connected in one way or another. With that thought, Adelinda realized for the first time that she was probably the only Muggle-born student to have _ever _been sorted into Slytherin, and the thought made her blanch; if the Slytherins were truly all so closely knit, they had to know that. She would be shocked if they didn't.

"Adelinda." The woman's sharp voice brought her attention back to the people in front of her. "Adelinda, this is Draco."

"Malfoy." the sharp correction came from the lips of a fair-skinned man, and when her eyes met his she felt her cheeks regain a bit of their color. His hair was just as pale as his skin, and his eyes an intimidating, cool grey.

"Draco, here—" Pansy seemed to taunt him, and he sneered ever so slightly in her direction; for the most part, however, he seemed indifferent to everything around him. "—is Head Boy, and will be showing you around. I would do it, but my Prefect duties require me to attend to all these useless first years." Her false sweetness gave way for just a moment with this statement.

"It's lovely to meet you," Adelinda said in a voice void of anything but a polite kindess. She extended a hand towards him, but when he did not reach out to shake it, instead giving her a curt nod, she dropped it back to her lap awkwardly. How rude.

"Draco," Pansy scolded, but her eyes shone with amusement. "Don't mind him, he's always grumpy…always has something to complain about." The blond paid no mind whatsoever to the girl's teasing, his eyes still on Adelinda. When she met them again, her embarrassment at his rejection slowly giving way to irritation, he looked away. After what felt like ages, McGonagall dismissed the students by year; the first years were the first to leave, of course, led out by their prefects, and afterward all of the younger students had vacated the Great Hall, the remaining were free to leave. Adelinda waited for Malfoy's qeue to leave, sitting quietly. The rest of the Slytherins had been quick to desert the Great Hall.

It was nearly empty. "Ah…are we leaving?" Adelinda questioned, looking over to him.

He pushed himself up. He was taller than she had realized sitting down, towering over her by at least a head. "Yes," he said simply. "I prefer not to push through the mass of sweaty students in the corridors." Adelinda could understand that, and almost appreciated it. He walked towards the large double doors at so brisk a pace that his robes billowed behind him, and she followed behind him as quickly as she could. He was silent on the walk, and she wondered if they would ever get to the Slytherin common room. "Our common room is in the dungeon, below the lake," he told her, not bothering to look at her. They were making their way down a set of large stone stairs. "It's a bit different from all other houses, not that you would know…the Slytherin numbers have been cut by at least half, though, and as a result all but the first years all have our own rooms. I will show you where yours is, and—" His hand shot out to grab her arm as she nearly fell. The staircase had moved. Who in their right mind would make moving staircases? "Watch it. As I was saying, I will show you where your room is, and after that, you can find another person to show you to your classes. I have things to take care of."

Adelinda scowled. Her cheeks had flushed scarlet at nearly falling in front of this handsome—albeit impolite—man, but his tight grip on her arm and his rude words let her replace embarrassment with anger. She didn't show it. "You're very rude," Adelinda said, her soft, lilting voice as indifference and matter-of-fact as she could make it. It crossed her mind that Ron had mentioned a 'Malfoy' on the train, and how he had better not say anything to Hermione…another Muggle-born. Perhaps now she understood that remark. "I will gladly find someone else to show me where my classes are tomorrow."

He glanced at her sharply. She noted with satisfaction that he seemed surprised to have someone speaking to him in such a way, though Pansy had spoken to him in worse manners. They walked in silence now, and Adelinda took advantage of that silence to observe her surroundings.

Paintings cluttered the walls of the castle, some scowling at her, some waving and greeting her, some speaking to Malfoy as though they were good friends; he ignored them. She was careful of the staircases, but they seemed to have ended, and now they made their way through various doors. The corridors got darker and colder, and she questioned why anyone would want to live underneath a lake…and in dungeons, at that…it was certainly morbid, but then, when your house was represented by a serpent, what was a bit of cold and a lack of light? Adelinda was drawn from her thoughts as they stopped before a stone wall, and she glanced at the older boy curiously. "Parseltongue," he said in a cold monotone, and the stone slid aside to reveal a candlelit passage. "The password. It changes every fortnight, so don't forget to check the noticeboard in the common room, or you'll be out of luck." Adelinda nodded. They moved through the passage and finally reached the common room; it was decorated in green and silver tapestries, of course, all sources of light giving off a greenish hue. Leather sofas and chairs were scattered around a large, blazing fireplace, the only source of heat in the grand room. It was a beautiful, Adelinda thought, but eerie. There were bookshelves lining the wall around the fireplace, and several staircases leading towards what she assumed to be the dormitories. There were only a handful of students there, most of them the older Slytherins, and none of them paid any mind, instead calling out to Malfoy. "It should be common sense that no student from the other houses is to be given the password."

Adelinda eyed him. Did he think her daft? "Common sense indeed," she said a bit sharply. He gave her no response, instead leading her towards the staircase to the right. She was a bit cautious until she realized these ones would not move.

"No males are able to enter the girls' dormitories," Malfoy said in a bored voice, as if he had listed these rules too many times to new students. They continued to walk further down the dimly lit hall, numbered doors on either side. "Each room has a key that knows your touch, so that even if your key is stolen, no one can access your room. It cannot be opened by magic. Professors, Prefects, and myself, as Head Boy, are all exceptions to these rules."

They finally stopped before Room #14. "Well. Here it is." He pulled a key from his pocket, and handed it to her. "Your schedule will be in the common room tomorrow morning."

Before Adelinda could even slip the key into the lock, he had turned and was walking briskly away from her. "Thank you," she called after him; she refused to be impolite.

He cast a curious glance over his shoulder. "Yeah," he said after a moment's pause, and went on his way.

"All of these 'noble' pureblood families, and this one so rude," the tired girl mumbled to herself. She stepped into her bedroom and was disappointed at the continued Slytherin theme, though no surprised. A large bed sat in the middle of it, and above it, right before the ceiling, sat a small window that let moonlight spill in; she wondered briefly if you could see the lake directly below the window. There was a desk and a nightstand to either side of the bed, and her trunk sat at the foot of it; a wardrobe had been pushed up against the wall. The bedding, of course, was green with silver accents, the carpet a very dark color, and the walls so light of a grey they were almost white. "What a dreary room." Adelinda slipped her robe off and let it hang from a hook on the back of the door. With a flick of her wand she opened her empty wardrobe and full trunk, and began moving clothing from one to the other. They had no classes tomorrow, Malfoy had told her; she might as well take advantage of her free night to make herself at home. She laid her wand down on the bed, pulling out her class books and laying them neatly on the desk, organizing her parchment and quills and ink in the drawers beneath it. After thirty minutes of thoughtless organization she had no more to do, and took a seat at her desk to begin writing her parents. She was sure McGonagall had let them know that she had made it there safely—they were very close—but they would want to hear from her regardless.

_Mama,_

_I have made it safely to Hogwarts. It was an uneventful trip, but I did enjoy going to Diagon Alley, and it feels a bit surreal to be able to say I have flown with Harry Potter. The train ride was nice, but long, and I miss you and Papa already. I met the Weasley family, you know, Ron Weasley—his sister Ginny and I seem to get along quite nicely. I also met Hermione Granger. I had been hoping to be sorted into Gryffindor, but instead was put into Slytherin, which—after hearing that house described to me—came as a bit of a shock…I'm afraid I won't fit in, but I am sure I will make friends in the other houses. It can't be too hard._

_Tomorrow I will explore the castle and find all my classes, perhaps meet a few of my professors, but right now I am exhausted and must get to sleep. I will write you again soon and let you know how everything is going._

_Ti amo,  
Adella_

She rolled the parchment and sealed it with her gold wax, setting it on her desk to be taken to the owlery first thing in the morning. After changing into her sleep clothes, she settled into her bed for a restless night of sleep.

Adelinda slept in after having tossed and turned all night; once she had tried to settle in, she found her nerves acting up at sleeping in a strange place. She realized that this was the furthest she had ever been from her parents, at sixteen years old, and the first time she had slept in a place that was not home; she would have to get used to it, though. She had nearly a year ahead of her. She lay there for a bit before forcing herself up, nervous for the day ahead of her; she had no one to show her around. Perhaps they had maps of the school…as large as it was, she would be very surprised if they didn't. Did she wear her robes today? The letter she had gotten had said the uniform only needed to be worn during classes, so she supposed not. She dressed herself in a snug pair of jeans, black booties and a black shirt that hugged her up top and flowed down her back. She pulled her unwashed hair up into a topknot and thought that she needed to find the showers later.

After touching up her make up from the day before, she slipped her wand into her waistband and her room key into her pocket, leaving her room and locking the door behind her. There were a few other girls exiting their rooms, but they did little more than glance her way; she walked in silence to the quiet common room. There was a small cluster of young girls near the passageway chatting and a few others sat quietly near the fire, reading or writing; she saw a familiar blond-headed boy seated at the couch, and when a first-year walked up to him and was handed a few pieces of parchment, she thought that perhaps he was handing out the schedules.

"Goodmorning," she greeted him simply. "Do you have the schedules?"

Malfoy looked up at her. She couldn't help but be struck by his good looks—his finely defined jaw and his pale skin, his sharp grey eyes and the blond hair that fell in straight strands around his face to frame it beautifully. He didn't answer her at first, and she sighed, taking a seat at the opposite arm of the couch and turning her gaze towards the fire. If he didn't want to give her a response, she would wait here until he decided he would speak to her, or until he gave her one of the schedules that she could see in his hands.

Draco glanced at Adelinda as she took a seat. She was a small one, he thought. Maybe it was the muggle blood. He would not let himself admit that he found her beautiful; she was four years younger than him and of dirty blood.

He looked away as she turned her head. She had caught his gaze, however, and raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. "You're late," he said stiffly. "First years were supposed to be here at eight o'clock to get their schedules and be shown around."

"I am not a First year," Adelinda told him. "And actually, you did not tell me that. I just need my schedule, and perhaps a map if you have it, and I will find my own way around one way or another."

"You're a bothersome little thing, aren't you," he muttered. To this she did not respond; her feelings were a bit hurt. She had done nothing to this boy and had been at Hogwarts for but a day, and already, he didn't like her. It seemed that she wasn't the best at making friends. "Here." He handed her a piece of parchment. "I'll show you around after breakfast. McGonagall will have a fit if I don't, being Head Boy and all…come on. I'm sure you're hungry."

"You don't have to. I'll tell her that I wanted to find my own way," Adelinda said a bit sourly. As rude as this older boy had been, she wasn't sure why she would be willing to cover for him—she would like to believe it was because she simply didn't want to deal with him, but she didn't have it in her to knowingly start trouble, either. "I'm sure you have better things to be doing with your time; am I right?" She raised an eyebrow at him without turning her eyes to his, keeping them locked on her schedule as if she were actually reading it.

"Yes," he said. "However, a promise is a promise, and I made one to McGonagall. And you _are _a Slytherin…I may have better things to do, but I can't leave one of my own, well, on her own. Now _come on." _Malfoy stood. He wore black dress pants and well-polished leather shoes to match, a grey silk shirt and a black tie loose around his neck. So formal for a day at school, but Adelinda supposed at twenty years old and after being out of school for three years, a Pureblood would grow unaccustomed to school uniforms. Or perhaps he was simply that stuck up his own arse. She felt a twang of guilt at this thought and she pushed it away—he was quite mean, but that didn't mean that she had to be, did it?

"Whatever you say," Adelinda said indifferently, standing up and brushing a bit of invisible dust from the tops of her thighs. He was confusing, this Malfoy boy. Man. Whatever you would call a twenty year old attending Hogwarts. He wouldn't leave her on her own, but he was not happy about doing that; why do it, then? Promises, he had said. Well, promise or no promise, if he was going to do something he needn't have been rude about it. She ranted angrily in her head as she followed him out of the Slytherin common room, wishing she had worn a sweater as she walked through the dungeons. It was unnecessarily chilly, but as they came closer to the Great Hall, it warmed up some. There weren't many people still in the Great Hall, but there were enough that they did not attract attention entering it. He led her to the Slytherin table and they sat. She didn't much feel like eating so instead she looked at her schedule as he spoke to other people, all of whom were ignoring her. She could hear the words 'mudblood' and 'muggle-born' and 'dirty' being thrown around quietly, but not too quietly as to not be heard by Adelinda, and the girl's heart dropped into her stomach. She would not sit here and listen to this.

"Excuse me," Adelinda said quietly to the blond boy. He turned to her with a look of slight irritation on her face. It stung. She certainly didn't have the tough skin required to be a part of this serpentine house. "What are the rules on sitting at other houses' tables?"

"Well, I supposed it's not against the rules, but it's certainly frowned upon—Amoretto!" She had pushed herself to her feet, grabbed her schedule and begun to walk away from the table, ignoring him as he called her name. She headed towards the Gryffindor table; perhaps they would turn her away, but she had to try. Ginny and Hermione sat there still, chatting away, and they glanced her way. To her relief, there was no malice in their eyes, only hesitation in Hermione's as they greeted her.

"I cannot stand those Slytherins," she said in a heated voice. Ginny slid over and let her sit down, and she put her parchment on the table. "They are rude, and they are mean, and they are obnoxious. They are _terrible _and I don't know why I was sorted into that bloody house." She turned her head over her shoulder to glance back at the people in reference; they all stared after her in shock.

"You know there are going to be a lot of them very angry about the fact that you're sitting here with us," Ginny told her gently. "We don't mind, of course—" she added hastily with a glance towards Hermione and the other Gryffindors that were looking at her. "—but you should know that. The war is three years over but I doubt that much has changed within that house."

"Well, I have already had to listen to them talk about mudbloods and muggle-borns this morning," she said a bit bitterly. Talking about it was making her feel better, and slowly the anger slid out of her. "I don't think I care much for their opinions."

Ginny just nodded. "Well, good for you," the redheaded girl said brightly. "Why don't you eat, and Hermione and I can show you around the school? I'm sure you're curious. And quite confused. I was my first year."

Adelinda nodded. "Thank you for not turning me away just because I'm a Slytherin," she said to the girl quietly.

"Like I said," Ginny began, putting an arm around Adelinda. "The war is over. _Their _opinions may not have changed much, nor their behavior, but that doesn't mean some of us aren't trying to change. And change has to start somewhere." She winked and gave her a squeeze. "Now eat!"

They all gathered food onto their plates and dug in; she hadn't realized how empty her stomach was. She hadn't ate much at dinner after sorting, too nervous and too self-aware because every stick thin Slytherin girl was had been eyeing her plate full of food with something that she hadn't been sure was judgment or jealousy. Both were ridiculous. She ate her heart out now, however, stuffing herself with breakfast puddings and breads and fruit, and it was delectable. After the three girls were full and had had their fill of chatting they got up to show Adelinda around; they spent hours walking around Hogwarts. It was _huge. _She wasn't even sure she would be able to get to all of her classes in time, but Ginny assured her there would always be someone around to help, and they had quite a few classes together—Adelinda was in a few advanced classes, her home-schooling having given her the upper hand in those that did not involve intricate magic; potions, charms, History of Magic, herbology…she was actually in a position to possibly graduate with the Seventh Years, depending on the marks she received in her N.E.W.T-level classes. McGonagall had told her parents she would consider letting her take the N.E.W.T exams at the end of the year. They would see. She spent the majority of her day with the Gryffindor girls; they eventually met with their boyfriends and invited her to tag along—they were just going to go get dinner and roam around, they said—but she didn't want to intrude. Ron and Harry had seemed a bit stand-offish as it was, and she wondered if they felt odd about being around a Slytherin…the thought made her sad. Instead of heading towards the Slytherin common room, she made her way to the library. It was empty. Classes had not started yet, and no one felt the need to study or check out books if it wasn't necessary, it seemed. That was perfect for her. She wanted to be alone; Adelinda spent the better part of two hours browsing the monstrous library. She had visited libraries in Italy, but none like this, of course; the books had not rearranged themselves or put themselves back onto the shelves (in alphabetical order). She had taken to leaving books in completely different parts of the library just to watch them flutter back to their designated spot, taking pleasure in this simple thing. Lucky for her, the librarian was not in, either. Finally, Adelinda settled into a soft chair with a few books, her legs curled under her and wand resting beside a stack of texts as she read. She became completely immersed in the book she read, an autobiography of some famous, tragic witch from the 1800's complete with sepia-toned photographs, when someone cleared their throat from several feet away. She jumped and went for her wand immediately, the leather-bound book falling to the carpeted floor with a loud thump.

"Calm yourself, Amoretto," a particular snarky blond boy said, his hands up to show that he was wand-less. "It's only me."

"_Buon dio, _don't you have enough sense to not sneak up on a girl!" Adelinda flushed red at this rude exclamation that slipped past her normally polite lips but she would not let herself apologize, not to him, and not after the miserable morning she had had…perhaps she was overreacting to the conversation she had overheard and this rude boy, but she couldn't help it. It had been so long since she had been around people her own age and her last schooling experience just six years ago had not gone well.

"I didn't sneak up on you," Malfoy told her, and eyed her wand. "Would you mind lowering that bloody thing before you take my eye out? I'm not going to hurt you for Merlin's sake." She lowered her wand as asked but kept it in her hand, watching him.

"What do you want?" Adelinda asked quietly.

"I had noticed that you weren't in the common room yet," he told her, and sat down lazily in a chair across from where she had been reading. "And wanted to make sure that you hadn't gotten lost. Of course, how could you, with those Gryffindors helping you out? So buddy-buddy with the rival house."

"It isn't as though the people I have encountered in _our _house have treated me very well," she snapped at him. "You have been downright rude, and if you even _try _to tell me that you couldn't hear those people talking about 'mudblood' this and 'weak muggle-born' that—"

"I don't—"

"—the Gryffindors may be our rival house, but let me tell you this: I didn't want to be sorted into Slytherin, and as long as I have friends with Gryffindor, I will stay 'buddy-buddy' with them. I am going to the common room now." Adelinda stood and gathered her things, storming out before he could say another word.

Fighting tears and struggling to find her way back to the Slytherin common room—unfortunately having to ask for help once or twice—she finally made it, and collapsed onto her bed. It had been such a long day already, and classes started in the morning.

Joy.


	4. Chapter 4

A girl's quickest remedy to a bad day would always be looking pretty, and that's why Adelinda stood before the mirror on the inside of her wardrobe, checking and rechecking her appearance. She needed plenty of confidence for the day she had ahead of her, and that was why she had taken extra time on her make up; a touch of dark eye-shadow and winged liner and her face was transformed from frightened little girl to strong woman (or at least that's how she felt). She let her wavy hair fall around her shoulders simply, and in her final moments of prepping, ran her fingers through it nervously. With a glance at her watch, she decided she would do well to get going now in order to allow herself a bit of time to find her way to her first class; potions with the Seventh Year students and a number of advanced Sixth Years. It was comforting to know that there would be students closer to her age in the class.

Her stomach was churning, though; Adelinda hadn't realized just how nervous she was for this day. Her first day of classes in an actual _school_ in six years—she had been bullied quite badly in her last few years of public schooling, and it had left a lasting impression on her. This was, perhaps, the reason for her level of hurt at the words she had heard the two boys in the Great Hall throwing around; she was entering into this school _expecting _teasing and hostility, and so far, though nothing terrible had happened, those expectations were proving to be true. It did not leave her excited for the rest of the school year. Was graduating with other students instead of on her own really worth the stress? She reminded herself though that classes had not yet started, and she needed to give the school and the other students a chance before passing judgment or holding onto old feelings. She had Ginny and Hermione, after all, and perhaps even Ron and Harry. There was an upside to the little mess that Slytherin was, after all. Adelinda pulled herself from her thoughts and her black bag over her shoulder, shrunken schoolbooks and inkpots and other odds and ends arranged neatly within it; she was certainly prepared for classes. She had decided to skip breakfast to finally shower, and her empty stomach was protesting that decision; she didn't have time for it though, and she left her room, making her way through the crowded common room and corridors. Everywhere she went was loud with excitement and greetings and the normal noises of a school. She arrived at her class just a few moments early and was relieved to see that she was not the only one there already; Adelinda chose a seat on the Slytherin side of the classroom towards the back, her bag resting on the floor beside her. She might get away with sitting with the wrong house in the Great Hall, but she doubted she would in a classroom setting. The professor was nowhere to be seen, however; as a bell chimed to let students know the first class of the day had begun, he still was not there, and the students weren't worried about in the least. As it turned out, the other house in this class was Gryffindor; Harry and Hermione sat together near the front talking. They had greeted her as they walked in, much to her fellow Slytherins' disdain. In front of her sat Pansy, chattering away to Malfoy, who did not seem to be pleased with the woman's presence. Adelinda, on the other hand, was not sure if she was relieved or dismayed at her lack of a seatmate.

Just as she thought this, the classroom doors opened; the attention that had turned towards them as they swung open returned to other things as students realized it was not the professor. No, it was the tall dark-skinned boy she had seen at the Great Hall after the sorting, the one with the beautiful cheekbones and gorgeous eyes. She nearly panicked when she realized that the seat beside her was the last seat left for him to take unless he was to sit by himself; instead of taking one of the empty tables he slid into the chair beside her, dropping his bag onto the table before him with a soft 'thud.' "Slughorn isn't here yet, then?" he asked her, rifling through his bag to pull out his potions book.

Remembering that to be the name of their professor, she shook her head. "Not yet," she said quietly, watching him from the corner of her eye.

"I don't mean to be rude," he said after a few moments of going through his bag in a distracted search for something. "The name's Blaise Zabini." He extended a hand and a smile to her, both of which she returned. Finally a polite Slytherin—_and _he was cute. She couldn't help but be nervous, but it was a sort of nervousness that she didn't mind. She had never really spoken to an attractive boy like this. Sixteen years old and she hadn't even _dated._ She had had no means of it and didn't really mind, but the male attention was still thrilling.

"Adelinda Amoretto."

"You're from Italy, yeah?" the boy asked her; she had his full attention now and had no idea what to do with it, and so she simply nodded, hoping she did not come across as uninterested in their conversation. "I know an Italian accent when I hear it."

"I've lived there since I was small," Adelinda told him with a happy smile; she was inwardly very excited to have met someone that she had something in common with. "You must have family there. Your surname is of Italian origins, is it not?"

"Ah, you pay attention." her cheeks became a bit rosy at this. "I have an aunt there and a few cousins. I visit her every summer. Beautiful place, Italy is."

"It is quite magnificent," Adelinda agreed. "I miss it already." As she said this, the classroom doors swung wide again, and everyone turned their heads over their shoulders to see a man small in stature and a bit large in width walk into the room. He was bald and kind looking, but also appeared a bit frazzled.

"Goodmorning, class!" he bellowed, a bright smile on his thin lips. The students returned the bright greeting with a dull one of their own. "Ah, tired, are we? Well, we have just the right activity today!" he waddled up the steps leading to his podium. "Right then, a proper greeting is in store…most of you students here already know me, welcome back, welcome back, but to the few of you who do not, I am Professor Slughorn. You must be very bright to be in this class and I look forward to teaching you." He said nothing of being late; Adelinda was sure most of the other professors would not be as relaxed as this one seemed to be so far, but she was enjoying it. He seemed like a very nice person. Hermione had told her that this professor did seem to play favorites, but it had little to do with house and quite a bit to do with skill levels, so that, at least, was reassuring. "Today I ask you all to make a simple Re-Energizing Potion. I will use this to gauge your skills and strong points, and see how much knowledge we have potentially lost the past few years." A few students groaned a bit at this, probably the ones who had not kept up with their skills during their years 'off.' "Your partners will be whoever sits alongside you, so I hope you have picked your tablemates well. Cauldrons up from under the table, good, good, and supplies are in the closet as usual. You may begin." He clapped his chubby little hands together and everyone began to shuffle about, gathering the things they needed and adjusting the odds and ends on their tables.

"How are you in potions?" Blaise asked her as he pulled the big black cauldron from under the table, positioning it properly above the heating source. "Silly question, I suppose, seeing how you're in this class, but still."

"I'm alright, I suppose," she told him modestly. "I know my way around a cauldron. I'll go get the ingredients."

"No, you sit," he said immediately. "I can get them, and we'll both prepare them. That sounds alright, yeah?" She didn't protest, simply happy to see a man with the manners that she was accustomed to—and she could not deny that she had a bit of a crush on the boy, shallow as that crush was. He was handsome and sweet, how could she not? He came back with an armful of ingredients and they got to chopping and slicing and crushing, holding steady, easy conversation about Italy and relatives and family names as they did. Slughorn was making rounds through the classroom, stopping to watch every table for a few moments, chatting with some students for longer.

"Oh, here, does he keep coffee beans-?" Adelinda had tied her hair back to keep it away from the hot cauldron, looking in at it as she stirred it, watching the ingredients simmer and thicken the brew.

"Uh, I don't have a clue," Blaise said. "Why do we need them?"

Adelinda was in her place of interest, and she was immersed in concocting this potion perfectly. It was a subject that had always come easy to the girl. "Grab them for me and I'll explain?" she gave him a glance and a smile and he shrugged as if to say, 'whatever you need.' He came back with a small jar full of the reddish brown beans and handed it to her, telling her it was all they had. "Coffee is something you wizards underestimate," Adelinda told him, completely focused on the task at hand. She poured a handful of the beans onto a cutting board and began crushing them. Slughorn was looking at them curiously from another table, but she did not notice. "It has caffeine, something I suppose is more of a Muggle thing, but it wakes you up. Quite a bit if you've never had it. It works wonders in this potion. You just crush a bit and sprinkle it into the potion as you stir." He took the crushed ingredients and sprinkled them in as he was told to do, giving them a sniff as he did, and she stirred.

By the time he had reached their table, there was a faint yellowish steam rising from the brew. "It looks very good so far," Slughorn praised them, taking the ladle from Adelinda and stirring it. He brought it to his lips and took a sip, his eyes brightening a bit. "What an immediate effect! What did you put in this?"

"Crushed coffee beans," Blaise told him. He almost seemed surprised that the unusual ingredient was being recognized; it was not something they had ever been taught to put into a Re-Energizing Potion, but Slughorn would appreciate that they had used something different. "It was Adelinda's idea."

"It was a very good idea indeed," he told her warmly. "Ms. Amoretto, yes? Very good job, the both of you. I look forward to having you in my class this year." Adelinda couldn't help but be very pleased at this; her years of magical home-schooling had done her well, it seemed.

As Slughorn moved onto the next table she met Malfoy's eyes, who had turned around as the professor had spoken to them. It sucked a bit of the happiness from her, a bit more as she saw the dark look Pansy gave her, displeased at losing Malfoy's attention; attention she had not been holding in the first place. He was watching the two Slytherins interact with an emotionless face but as they made eye contact he turned away from them, returning to the one-sided conversation with Pansy, who had ignored Adelinda coldly since the sorting. Or more particularly, since she had sat with the Gryffindors. She was not too heartbroken about it; there had been a very fake quality about the girl anyway. Soon the class had ended and everyone was making their way out of the classroom; she hung back a moment to speak to Hermione, who had waved at her as Slughorn dismissed them.

"I'll see you next class," Zabini told her as he gathered his things, smiling down at Adelinda. "If you ever decide to sit with us Slytherin's, feel free to find me." He ended his sentence with a wink and left her with a blush on her cheeks.

"Everything alright?" Hermione asked her as she made her way over to Adelinda, eyeing her pink face and then looking after Blaise. "You're flushed."

"Oh, yes, I'm fine!" Adelinda assured the older girl.

"I think Professor Slughorn likes you quite a bit," Hermione praised her. Adelinda smiled.

"You think?" she didn't feel the need to hide her excitement over this with Hermione; she was the _brightest _witch of her year, perhaps of the whole school, after all. If there were a witch who could appreciate this feeling, it was Hermione.

"I do," she told her with a grin. Adelinda moved all her things into her bag, and after getting an okay from the professor, took a few vials of the Re-Energizing potion she had brewed. "What class do you have next?"

"Care of Magical Creatures," Adelinda told her. They were walking through the busy corridors together. "One of my sort of remedial classes...it wasn't something you could really learn through home-schooling."

"Oh! That's this way," Hermione told her, and led her down a staircase. "You're going to love Hagrid." She took her to a set of side doors that seemed to lead outside, and gave her directions. "Come to lunch today, you can sit with Ginny and I." At the mention of lunch her stomach rumbled. She was quite hungry.

"Okay," Adelinda agreed with a happy smile. Things were looking up a bit; she had made a friend in potions, a very handsome friend, her first professor liked her, and Hermione and Ginny seemed to like her as well. She made her way to the small hut on the edge of the forest, where groups of students were gathered around. Instead of throwing the few older students who needed the class still in with all of the first years, McGonagall had opened the class to those who _wanted _to take it as well as those who truly needed it. It made for a good amount of younger students and fifth-sixth years. Adelinda did like Hagrid, quite a bit, and _loved_ the class. After her third class, she headed towards the Great Hall for lunch. It was noon and she was famished.

She bypassed the Slytherin table altogether, ignoring as they all quieted for a moment to watch her make her way to the Gryffindors. Was she honestly the first Slytherin to do this? It was hard to believe, as old as Hogwarts was, but that was what people had told Adelinda. She didn't care. "Hey, Ginny." Hermione had not gotten there yet. She slid onto the bench beside the Weasley girl.

"How do you like Hogwarts so far?" Ginny asked her, and they began to discuss their classes and professors as they sipped their pumpkin juice and stuffed their faces. After comparing their schedules they saw that they both had a free period after their next class and decided to meet in the library—their reasoning was to work on any assignments they were given, but they would probably just gossip as girls tended to do.

Adelinda excused herself from lunch a few minutes early to find her way to her next class. Today was her busiest day of classes, with six of them—every other day was only three or four classes, if that, though some made up for that in the length of it. She had thrown her bag over her shoulder and taken her robe off; it was folded neatly over her arm as she walked along. History of Magic, that's what she had next. "Now to find it," she murmured to herself.

She felt a tug on her bag and stopped, turning quickly. "Yes?"

It was Pansy Parkinson. "Adelinda, hi," she purred, invading the younger girl's personal space. She stepped closer and closer as Adelinda stepped further back until she felt her back touch the wall. "How are you, love?"

"I'm, ah, fine," Adelinda answered uncomfortably, staring up at the woman with a raised eyebrow. It was best to appear cool and collected in these situations, right? "Can I help you…?"

"Well, yes, actually." Pansy was fiddling with the girl's hair with one hand, the other perfectly manicured hand on the wall beside her head to block her in, and Adelinda wished she would stop touching her. "You realize that you are a Slytherin, yes? And that Gryffindor is our rival house? You need to stop sitting with them, love. You've already sullied our reputation by being a Muggle-Born; you are making it worse by associating with Gryffindor blood traitors."

Adelinda was angered by this. "I will sit with who I please," she said as politely as possible. "I'm sorry you do not like it, but the war is over, is it not? And with the war coming to an end, the prejudices should have, as well. If anything, the Slytherins sullied their own reputation, and I am doing something to help it. Excuse me." She slipped under the girl's arm only to be pulled back roughly by the wrist.

"Stop sitting with them," Pansy hissed at her. She wasn't so beautiful when she was angry, Adelinda thought. She looked like an angry little dog. "I'm serious, Amoretto."

"Don't touch me." Adelinda yanked her wrist away and walked off, struggling to appear calm. She had been right to deem the girl fake, and here her true colors were showing, as the Muggles liked to say. A convenient cliché. Her heart was pattering away in her chest, and she heard a bit of bickering behind her. It sounded like Malfoy and Pansy but she couldn't be sure, and she was not going to turn around to check. Once she was safely out of sight, she leaned against a wall, running a hand through her hair. Her eyes were glossy. This was too reminiscent of her school years as a child. Being told how to behave, being told what to do, being cornered and spoken down to…the experience had left her shaken and teary-eyed.

Before her parents had realized that she was a witch, she had attended Muggle school. It had gone well for the first few years; there were a few odd incidents, things moving on their own, appearing out of what seemed like nowhere, but never anything serious and never anything her teachers told her parents about. Perhaps they thought themselves crazy, or made themselves believe it was a trick of the eye. The other children never noticed and if they did, they were too young to understand that it was not normal. Adelinda never realized she was the child doing it, and it didn't bother her. As she got older, though, her magic became stronger and she didn't know how to control it; at this point, her parents realized what was happening and worked to help her control her own magic, but it was difficult for her in the beginning and during that time things happened that the other children finally recognized as strange. They began to distance themselves from her, and as Adelinda realized that the voices in her head belonged to the other children, she began to distance herself from them as well. And then the bullying began. She was the unusual one, the one that did not talk to anybody, the strange little girl who was so quiet she seemed dense, and the other children didn't like it—children were not quiet or reserved, so in their minds, there _had _to be something wrong with her, or perhaps she thought herself better than them. When the bullying began, bad things began to happen, bad things that Adelinda didn't know how to stop. But at sixteen years old Adelinda could control her magic, and she could keep the voices out of her head, and everything would be okay; this is what she repeated over and over again in her mind as she gathered her thoughts and her composure and went along to her next class as though nothing had happened. She did not tell Ginny about the incident with Pansy when they met in the library, and the redheaded girl never realized that anything was wrong. She had realized as a child that the less people you told of these things, the less traumatic it would be—best to keep as few people involved as possible. She had nothing to worry about as long as it did not become physical; words she could handle just fine.

The next two or three weeks progressed like this; Adelinda attended meals, always sitting with the Gryffindors, and went to classes. She avoided empty corridors to avoid any confrontations and continued to meet Ginny during the free periods they shared; in fact, most of her free time was spent with Hermione and Ginny, and they were becoming quite close as a result of this. If she was not with them, she was in class, in the library studying, or in her room. She didn't spend much time there—in fact, Hermione was trying to convince McGonagall to let her into the Gryffindor common room on the weekends, under the pretense that it would represent the end of Slytherin/Gryffindor house rivalry. It was quite clever, Adelinda had to admit, but the headmaster was a smart woman and would surely see through it…she would also see the true reason, though, and perhaps she was soft enough to allow it. Adelinda hoped so, though she wasn't sure how the other Gryffindors would take to it. Some were still weary of her presence at their table, though most had been convinced by Ginny and Harry that she had no ulterior motives; she was a friend, and she was not prejudiced or out to start trouble. Her blood status helped convince them; they understood how out of place she had to feel in Slytherin. And out of place she was. Classes were going well; the work kept her mind busy, and she enjoyed the class-time, learning and seeing things she had never seen before in the Muggle world, and things her parents could not show her at home. She and Blaise had made a habit of chatting through potions classes while they worked; she had taken quite a liking to him, and he took up a large part of her thoughts, but she had not taken him up on his offer to sit with her at lunch and she didn't see him much outside of class. She was weary of it, though she wasn't sure if it was just paranoia or if her school-girl crush was the cause of this. She wrote frequent letters to her parents, sending her owl out once a week with a small bundle of letters and pitying the owl the trip to Italy. Isis always returned with a letter and a little shrunken care package filled with Adelinda's favorite Muggle candies, a couple pieces of wizard money that just built up in the top drawer of her desk, and little trinkets that her mother knew she would love. She had a nice little collection of dried flowers and perfumes going.

It was a Sunday night and Adelinda was up late trying to finish a paper she had forgotten about over the weekend she had spent with the Gryffindor couples. They had gone down to the Quidditch pitch each day and Hermione and Adelinda had watched the other three practice; Ginny and Adelinda had switched brooms for the time being. She had been reluctant to take it but when Adelinda had pointed out that she would better beat the Slytherins on a fast broom she gave in with an excited smile, and that excitement made Adelinda happy. Quidditch would be starting soon, they told her; she was excited to watch it until she realized that if she were to go, she would have to sit with the Slytherins and cheer for them. It was a shame. Ginny had convinced Adelinda and Hermione to join in after awhile on Sunday, and they had reluctantly, Hermione a bit embarrassed and Adelinda simply not understanding the game; once Ron and Harry had explained it, she dove into it, enjoying the small game they played and the simple feeling of flying. She was happy to have had that in her childhood, at least.

The weekend had been wonderful, but now she was paying for neglecting the schoolwork her professors had buried her under on Friday; their History of Magic assignment had been to write a very lengthy and in-depth paper on the history of their houses' founders, given after the disappointed professor had realized how little they all knew of the subject. It was a difficult task for Adelinda, who knew little to nothing of Hogwarts and less of Slytherin's history. It was nearly one in the morning, however, and after a weekend of partying and adventuring, she doubted there were any students left in the common rooms. She was going to go sort through the bookshelves there; the Slytherins were so proud, she was certain that there was an abundance of books on Salazar Slytherin there.

She was still dressed in her day clothes, Muggle jeans and a sweater, and she didn't bother to put shoes on as she gathered up her parchment and quill and inkpots, sliding her wand into her waistband and grabbing her key. She made her way into the eerily silent common room; the only noise to be heard was the crackling of the warm fire and the faint sound of the water from around the common room. She had been right in assuming no one would be occupying the room at this ungodly hour and she spread her work out on the table in front of the fire. It was the first time she had spent longer than a moment in the common room, and the first time she had been able to get a good look around; it really was as magnificent as it was cold and unwelcoming. She yawned and began rifling through the bookshelves, pulling out every book she could find on the house's founder and settling into a huge leather chair by the fire, throwing herself into the books she had gathered. Salazar Slytherin was interesting if not seriously screwed in the head, but he made for an easy person to read and write about, and she had gotten more than halfway through her essay within forty minutes.

She didn't notice as a couple spilled through the passageway until she heard a little moan come from the girl. It scared her a bit and her head turned quickly to the source of it; a tall, thin Slytherin girl, one of the older Seventh years if she was correct, was locked onto the mouth of a man with familiar white-blond hair. She raised an eyebrow and felt an overwhelming sense of awkwardness. Did she say something or just let them be and hope they left…? After a moment she settled for clearing her throat and both people looked up with shocked faces.

"Oh, I, uhm, sorry! I didn't realize there was anyone in here!" the girl was embarrassed, Adelinda could tell, and she shrugged her shoulders at her with a smile.

"It's fine." The girl looked back to Draco and said a soft good-bye, nearly running up the stairs to the girls' dormitories and out of sight. Adelinda returned to her paper without saying anything to Malfoy, who still stood there, hair and clothes disheveled; she couldn't focus now, though, and struggled to get back into the swing of writing.

"A shame that wonderful snogging had to be cut short," Malfoy said obnoxiously as if he blamed her for it. She glanced back to him and then returned her attention to his paper; he threw himself onto the sofa near her chair, resting his ankle on the opposite knee and spreading his arms over the back of it. "What are you doing out here?"

"It is my common room, too," Adelinda murmured without taking her eyes off her paper. She was growing increasingly tired and frustrated with this essay now; she had gotten into the groove of writing without breaks, and she had lost that inspiration upon being interrupted. At this rate, she would never finish her essay.

"Wouldn't know it, the way you hang out with the Gryffindors," Malfoy sneered, shaking his head. "What a shame. You're certainly smart enough and pretty enough, you would make a wonderful Slytherin if only you would adhere to our…customs." At this backhanded compliment, she looked up, tired eyes settling on his face.

"I'm a mudblood," she sneered back at him. "I don't even belong in this godforsaken house. May I finish my essay now?" Malfoy grew quiet and she took that as a yes, working her way through her paper and forcing the words out. She wouldn't get the high mark she was aiming for with this essay, but she certainly wouldn't fail it, and at this point that was enough for her. She would do better on the next one they were given to write. Fifteen minutes passed, twenty minutes, twenty five, and the older boy still sat on the couch. He was watching her absentmindedly but she didn't notice, didn't truly care, much too focused on getting this paper done. Finally she did, and when she looked up and automatically met his eyes, she raised an eyebrow at him. "What?" Adelinda said wearily. She picked up her wand and lazily used it to return the dozen of books she had pulled from the shelves back into their designated spots, straightening her mess of parchment and quills and notes.

"You're not making any friends in this house, you know," Malfoy said after a moment of silence in a rather serious tone, and the lack of teasing in his voice made her look up at him. She was leaning down in front of the table to gather her things and his words made her stop.

"I don't want to."

"Yes, yes, that's all fine, no one really does anyway," he said, a touch of irritation in his voice. "But if you continue on the way you have been, you're going to make enemies. I just think you should realize that. 'Reformed' death eaters and Slytherin students all have a big talk about changed views and this fronted behavior, but it's not true—"

On the defensive, she held her things tight to her chest with one arm, the other hand gripping her wand tightly but keeping it at her side. His words felt like a threat to her. "I have friends. I have Ginny and Hermione and Harry, I have Ron." Could she include Blaise? She didn't know.

"Oh, the Golden Trio. Yeah," he shook his head, standing. "They can't do much for you while you're in this common room, though, can they?"

His words made her nervous. He wasn't going to hurt her, he wouldn't, he _couldn't, _but she did not know that and Malfoy's words made her nervous; she took a step back. "Why are you even talking to me right now? Do you not think I've been told most of this by other Slytherins already? At this point, even if I did do as you all wanted and abandoned my friends in the other houses, even if I did begin to act like the perfect little purebloods that you all are, no one would like me. I believe _that _was predetermined by my blood status, wouldn't you agree?" Her exhaustion made her irritable and a little less cautious of her words. "Goodnight." She stormed away from Malfoy, leaving him standing there looking after her. The girl was so feisty, so defensive, and one of the only people in this house besides Pansy who would stand up to him; and he didn't count her. She thought that it was cute, sassing him and arguing. Adelinda truly meant every word he said, just as he had truly meant his words as a warning, a well-intended warning. But Draco supposed that, after what the Slytherins had been putting her through, nothing out of his mouth would seem well-intended. It was all he could do. He sat in the common room before the fire, just thinking, as Adelinda tossed her things down onto her desk, stripped to nothing and curled up in bed, unable to sleep because of the anger Malfoy's words had ignited.

**Author's Note: **a big thank you to those of you that are reading this, especially to those of you who returned to it after I left off with Amoretto. Updates might slow down a bit, I'm thinking of only updating one a week, which will give you longer, more edited chapters. We'll see. Remember, reviews make a writer's world go round =)


	5. Chapter 5

When Adelinda woke in the morning, she still felt a twinge of anger left from the conversation that had taken place with Malfoy the night before; she shoved it aside to get ready for her classes. She had potions with Blaise today; that was something to look forward to. She ran a brush through her hair and spent a few minutes on her make up before dressing for the day, pulling her robes on and slinging her bag over her shoulder, making her way towards breakfast. On her way through the common room she caught Malfoy's eyes. She mistook an admiring gaze for animosity and turned away immediately. Adelinda had done nothing but talk about Blaise to Ginny and Hermione the previous week; Hermione admitted that she did not quite approve of the Slytherin boy but could not honestly say she remembered him being outright terrible before the war. Ginny, on the other hand, was all for the younger girl's crush. They knew that potions class with him was the highlight of Adelinda's day, and that's why Ginny teased her all throughout breakfast about seeing him that Monday morning. She _was_ looking forward to seeing him—she enjoyed his presence, as well as his conversation...'the good looks were simply a bonus' is what she told the girls when they gossiped about it. But Adelinda also enjoyed simply having a friend in her own house. During potions, she felt a little less ostracized. And that was the reason for the little pep in her step as she walked towards her first class of the day. She slipped into her seat just as the bell chimed to announce the staring of the first class; Slughorn was late, as per usual, but Blaise was already seated

"Hey, love," he greeted her easily with a smile. She nearly swooned every time he used these endearments; she knew it wasn't an uncommon thing, she knew that it did not necessarily mean he liked her, but she still enjoyed it, and what young girl wouldn't? "Goodmorning," Adelinda gave him a shy smile, fiddling with her quill; a nervous habit. She had taken a bit of the Re-Energizing potion the two had brewed weeks before to help her survive the day on just a few hours of sleep, and it had made her very jittery and excited. "Sleep well?" He had turned on his stool to look at her, a hand cupping his cheek to prop his face up.

"Eh," she crinkled her nose a bit at that question. "Could've slept better…I had to write a very lengthy paper on Salazar Slytherin, whose name I hadn't even heard of 'til Friday. Pitiful, I suppose, considering I am a Slytherin…but in my own defense, I did miss quite a few years of schooling here." She shrugged a bit.

Blaise laughed. "Well, at least you got the paper finished?" when she nodded he smiled. "Good. Go take a nap during one of your free periods or something, give you a bit of energy…and maybe perhaps after you've rested, you'll feel up to coming to my Quidditch practice this evening?" They had talked the last few classes of the upcoming Quidditch season. He was a Beater, he had told her, and was very excited for it to start. He had missed it over the last few years out of school.

"Oh, I don't know…" Adelinda was thrilled that he had asked her to attend his practice, and she would love to watch him, but that would mean sitting alone in the bleachers amongst the other girls who came to watch…the other Slytherin girls, none of whom had taken well to her.

"What's stopping you, love?" if the boy continued to call her that, Adelinda wasn't going to be able to decline his invitation; perhaps that was his intention.

"Well, I don't have too many Slytherin friends…" she told him quietly, shyly, looking down at the quill she still fiddled with.

"Ah." Blaise grew quiet for a moment, thinking. "Well, how about this—sit with me at supper tonight. It won't be quite as awkward, you'll have me to talk to…I will be a bit sweaty from practice, but you'll have to forgive that just this once."

"I don't know, Blaise." She had grown so accustomed to sitting at the Gryffindor table, had even begun to make more friends there; it would feel odd. And how would Hermione and Ginny feel about it. She knew it was a bit silly to be taking it so seriously; it was just sitting with him, and he probably thought her quite odd for her hesitation, but that was okay.

"Please?" she glanced over to him and met his eyes, dark and pleading, and Adelinda couldn't help but smile.

"Oh, fine," she said with a soft laugh. "I suppose I can't say no, since you asked so nicely…"

"I was hoping it would work that way." He winked at her, and finally Slughorn walked in with his usual half-arsed apology for being late as he was every morning, though he had to known that the students loved a late professor. Adelinda went through the rest of the day both nervous and excited to see Blaise again; during lunch and her free period it was all she spoke of, after Ginny reassured her that they wouldn't mind her not sitting with them. In fact, Ginny was excited for her, though Hermione still seemed to be on the fence about the Slytherin boy. Adelinda retired to her room after classes to attempt to work on school work; she had no papers to write, only some studying to do, and she found she couldn't concentrate even on that, so she dawdled about her room, organizing shelves that were already very neat, fluffing pillows, writing her parents a letter about nothing. When it was time for dinner to begin, she took a quick check in the mirror, brushing her hair and shedding her robe; Adelinda was quite aware that she was being silly, but that did not stop her from fretting over her appearance before she went to meet Blaise.

"Hey, you," Blaise smiled over at her as she reached the Slytherin table. He was so bloody handsome; with his sculpted cheeks and full lips and smooth skin and a body made by Quidditch, there was no doubt that all the Slytherin girls were enamored with him.

"Hey, Blaise," she greeted him with a bright smile of her own. He slid over on his seat to make room for her and she slipped onto the bench beside him, enjoying the close proximity. She could smell the sweat on him from Quidditch practice, but it wasn't completely unpleasant, mingling nicely with his cologne. "How was practice?"

"Oh, it was great," he told her with a grin. "I think we'll do well our first game. We've got a great team, and with Malfoy as seeker, it shouldn't be a long one." She wondered briefly if the two men were friends, glancing down the table at the blonde in reference as Blaise continued to tell her how practice had gone. She enjoyed the conversation but could not hold her own in it; she knew little to nothing of Quidditch, which didn't matter much as Blaise seemed pleased to explain it her as she listened and ate.

"Ah, look who decided to join us!" a shrill voice sounded, and Adelinda and Blaise both looked up to see Pansy Parkinson standing before them on the opposite side of the table. "Have you finally realized the error in your ways, Amoretto?" Adelinda had been dreading this and just looked at the girl with slightly narrowed eyes, angry.

"Leave her alone, Pansy," Blaise snapped at Pansy. She rested a skeletal hand on her hip and tilted her head to the side in a curious manner.

"Funny, Blaise, I wouldn't have taken you to be attracted to mudbloods." Adelinda's heart dropped at the name-calling and she looked down, embarrassed and hurt.

"That's enough," he said firmly, pushing to his feet. "Don't take your prejudices out on her."

"You're a fine one to speak of prejudices!" Pansy grinned. "All that talk during the war of eradicating the filthy mudbloods and blood traitors, and now the purist is defending one…what a funny scene we have here." Blaise was angry now, and as Adelinda saw him draw his wand, she stood quickly, grabbing his arm.

"Stop. It's fine," she said in a small, worried voice. She didn't want this to escalate into something more than words. "I'll just go, okay? I'll see you in class." They had the attention of the entire Slytherin table now and they watched as Adelinda hurried out of the Great Hall. Her eyes were tearing up quickly and her face was hot, and she was relieved when she made it out into the corridors; Blaise had not followed her out and when she realized that a part of her had been hoping he would, her tears broke. She was angry with herself for crying and angry with herself for having hope that her presence at the Slytherin table would go unnoticed, or at the very least, unacknowledged. She could have dealt with whispers behind her back or dirty looks, but what Pansy had done had been terrible, making a scene in front of everyone; and she hadn't even defended herself. Blaise had. That, perhaps, embarrassed her more than Pansy's confrontation did. She wiped aggressively at her eyes, smearing her make up, and stormed towards the dungeons. She had lost her appetite and desire to be around anyone, though she briefly wondered if Ginny and Hermione had seen what had happened. When she reached her bedroom she fumbled with the key for a moment and once inside, shut her door with a bit more force than usual; the 'thud' of it slamming echoed through the empty hallway. "Bloody hell," she mumbled, locking the door and throwing herself into her bed. She should have given heed to her worries about sitting with Blaise, but nothing could be changed now.

~

The next few days went by, for the most part, uneventfully; there was a bit of chatter in the common room and corridors when she passed Slytherins who had seen the short verbal altercation or who were friends with Pansy. She didn't see Blaise over the days that she did not have potions, and at meals, entered the Great Hall early enough and left late enough to avoid walking by the Slytherins. She did want to see Blaise, but she would admit that she was worried about another confrontation…Ginny and Hermione had been furious when Adelinda had told them of the events at supper. It seemed as though they had already been disdainful of Pansy, and had become even more-so due to the girl's bullying. She felt a little better about the situation to know that she had friends who cared enough to be angry. They were her first real friends, after all. Adelinda felt the extent of their anger towards the situation when, one morning at breakfast, Isis dropped a letter before her. She didn't recognize the handwriting; it didn't belong to her parents. "Wha's that?" Ron asked her curiously through a mouthful of food; Hermione swatted at his arm and told him not to speak with a full mouth. Adelinda shrugged her shoulders.

"'Dunno," she responded, and opened the small envelope carefully, her eyes scanning the word thoroughly. It was a bold, slightly messy cursive, the handwriting of a male.

_Adelinda, _

_I have no real reason to think that you have been avoiding me except that I did not follow you out of the Great Hall that evening to make sure that you were okay. Pansy was a right brat for that, and I am sorry it happened. You were right to be hesitant, I suppose. Please, as a way to make it up to you, let me take you out on the first Hogsmeade outing next weekend. I'm sure you've never been, and it will be a totally different atmosphere. I promise you won't have to deal with Pansy. We can talk about it on Monday in potions, if you'd like, but please think about it. _

_-Blaise_

She was biting at her lower lip as she thought about his request. She had heard many students talking in great excitement about the trip, and had been meaning to send off the permission slip to her parents in case she decided to go; she had been planning on joining the Gryffindor friends, though, not Blaise. She didn't know how she felt about Blaise not checking on her, though, and she wasn't sure how she felt about going to Hogsmeade with him—but she couldn't deny that the thought of a more personal time with him sounded quite nice. "It's from Blaise," she told the girls on either side of her. They leaned in close to read it; Hermione began going on angrily about how he couldn't really know that they wouldn't come across Pansy and how he had already gotten her into a bad situation, and Ginny just listened to the curly-haired girl rattle on. The boys watched on, adding in their very unhelpful input from time to time, and it went on this way until the first bell of the day chimed and they went their separate ways; when it came time for Ginny and Adelinda to meet, they met at a room Ginny called the Room of Requirement. She taught her how to design it to her liking and how to get the door to appear to her. "It's not a very well-known room," she told the younger girl. "It was in the final year of the war, but has since been mostly forgotten about, and there are, of course, ways to make it so that no one else can get in. As far as I know, you and I are the only ones coming here." Ginny had imagined up a room full of books for studying and oversized sofas to get cozy in; large windows lined the walls and let in the warm sunlight from outside. They settled into one, taking out their assignments as they always did; as their meetings continued, they did less and less work during them, taking instead to gossiping and giggling. "So do you think you'll go to Hogsmeade with Blaise?"

"I honestly don't know," Adelinda sighed, taking the note from between the pages of her planner, tracing the words absently with a painted nail. "I want to, I do…but it makes me very nervous. I suppose I'm afraid of another confrontation, one that might be worse because it's outside of Hogwarts."

"Pansy may be quite ditzy sometimes, and she does lack more than a bit of common sense, but she can't be that stupid," Ginny scoffed. "I don't think she would try anything more than teasing, even at Hogsmeade. And if she did you'll have Blaise there. He did stand up for you at the Great Hall, even if the git didn't run after you like any proper boy would." Her words drew a laugh out of Adelinda.

"I'm sure you're right," she said with another sigh, shaking her head. "I'll have to think about it, I suppose. Maybe I'll go with him for a bit and then meet you there, assuming you're going…"

"We can all meet at The Three Broomsticks," Ginny said brightly with a smile, and when she saw Adelinda's questioning gaze, added, "It's a pub in Hogsmeade. We can meet there for lunch or just drinks, you and Harry and Hermione and Ron and I. We're all going anyway. Then you can tell us all about your date with Blaise." The redhead winked at her, already so sure that the younger girl would go. She knew how it was to be shy and reserved, and she knew what it was to feel like an outcast from the year after her involvement with Tom Riddle—people had avoided her for quite some time when word had gotten out. She wanted to do her best to make the young witch feel comfortable at Hogwarts and she wanted to help her with boys and she wanted to build up her confidence in dealing with Pansy, and anyone else who would try anything; the war was over and muggle-borns shouldn't have anything to fear now.

"It's not going to be a date!" Adelinda cried with a laugh, her cheeks red. "I mean, I don't think it is…"

"Oh, you're delusional!" Ginny giggled. "It's definitely a date. You'll need an outfit to wear and you'll need to figure out what to do with your hair and obviously you'll need a best friend to help you with all of this…"

"Why, are you offering?" Adelinda said with a smile. "Of course I'll need your help!" They continued to talk for the better part of an hour until they needed to leave for their next classes. She struggled to make the next three days pass by without seeing Blaise and giving him her (sometimes uncertain) answer, but she did it, and Monday morning she was up bright and early to make it to breakfast—flashing the boy a little smile as she passed him in the Great Hall—and then to potions. Adelinda was so anxious that she didn't think about how seeing Blaise would also mean seeing Pansy, and her eyes locked onto the woman's as she strolled into the classroom. The older girl sneered at her and she struggled to keep her face expressionless. Blaise had walked in after her and narrowed his eyes at Pansy; his mean expression gave way to a hopeful smile as he slipped onto the stool beside Adelinda.

"How are you?" he said softly. Her eyes moved from Pansy to him and brightened.

"I'm fine, thank you," she said with a small smile. "How're you?"

"I'm good." He was quiet for a moment and had opened his mouth to speak when Slughorn walked in, already bellowing out a greeting and their task for the day. At the end of every class, he had been giving the name of a slightly advanced potion, and they were to come in the next class with a short paper listing the potion's ingredients, its effects, and how it was made; for extra points they could list ingredients or steps that they thought would enhance the potion, and during the next class Slughorn would grade these papers while they brewed the potion they had researched. After a few minutes Slughorn collected the papers and set everyone to work; they retrieved their ingredients and began brewing the Volubilis Potion, or the voice-changing potion. "So...have you thought on my invitation to Hogsmeade?" Blaise asked her, seeming focused on the task at hand; she saw the way his eyes rested on her very fleetingly and couldn't help but smile.

"I have," Adelinda said quietly. She had wondered if he would mention what had happened at supper, or if he would perhaps apologize in person for not coming after all, but she had not expected it. The rational part of her said that it was unrealistic to have expected him to follow her out. "I suppose I can go for a bit."

Blaise set down the ingredients he was preparing to look over at her, a grin on his face. "You'll love it," he told her reassuringly, and with a glance at the back of Pansy's head added, "Nothing will happen." Adelinda nodded and, not wanting to dwell on the subject or think of the possibilities, turned the conversation towards Quidditch and listened to him rattle on about Beaters and brooms and a golden snitch, whatever that was.

~

It was just two days before she and Blaise would meet at the exit to the school to leave for Hogsmeade, and Adelinda was already tearing through her wardrobe in search of something to wear on Saturday. She had sent a copy of the permission slip for the trip to her parents with a long letter, and it had been signed and returned within two days. She was excited and nervous—though she refused to call it a date, it would be her first one. Finally, through use of magic, she cleared the mess of clothing off of her bed with her wand, an outfit hanging on the side of the armoire. It was time for supper, and she was famished; as she went to the Great Hall to sit with Ginny and began eating, however, she found that her stomach was not agreeing with the food. It might've been due to the way everything fluttered when she thought about the trip. She excused herself from dinner fifteen minutes early under the excuse that she had a paper due tomorrow; it was true, but the paper was already finished. She would use the extra time to finish her weekend work if she could concentrate. Adelinda walked out of the Great Hall and made towards the dungeons so she could get to it, and had not made it to the first staircase when she had fingers wrapping around her wrist.

"Amoretto, we need to talk." She whipped around to face Malfoy, her eyes resting on his pale, well-manicured hand.

"Take your hands off me, and perhaps I will consider it," she said softly, and once he did, she took a step back. "What do you want, Malfoy?" Something about this boy made her angry, made her rude; it may have been the way he spoke to her as if he had no manners himself, or perhaps the way he acted like he was so superior to everyone around him. He stared down at her with those sharp grey eyes and dark expression, and it took a bit of effort not to cringe away from his gaze.

"You need to stop sitting with the Gryffindors—" he glared at her as she parted her lips to interrupt, her blue eyes alight with anger. "—shut up. I'm serious, Amoretto, you need to stop. People are talking."

"People have been talking—" she made to walk away, having heard all of this many times before, and he grabbed her wrist again and pulled her back, a little more roughly than needed. She stared up at him, so close her chest almost touched him, too surprised to back away.

"Well, it has gotten worse. The Slytherins who don't like it, or you, are getting very hostile, Amoretto," he said seriously.

"If I didn't care a month ago, what leads you to believe I'll care now?" she asked in a sharp voice.

"Absolutely nothing, as apparently you lack any amount of common sense," Malfoy spat, shaking his head. Her cheeks flushed red and as she began to pull away again, Draco's grip on her wrist tightened a bit; he didn't realize he was doing it. Her wrist was beginning to ache where his fingers pressed into it. Her heart was pounding at the close proximity and the harshness of his words. "And obviously you are not going to listen to me. I'm warning you, Amoretto."

She took this as a threat and drew her wand quickly to aim it at his hand. "Let go of me or I will hex you into oblivion," Adelinda snarled, and when his eyes a little wide in shock, she used the little rush of satisfaction to push away from him. She turned on her heel. "I don't need your warnings."

Adelinda stormed away, seething with anger, and tucked herself into her room for a sleepless night.

The next day passed uneventfully, the night also sleepless, until on Saturday morning, she woke with butterflies in her belly; she could barely eat at breakfast, anxious in every way, and returned to her room afterwards to kill time until she was to meet Blaise. She had picked a simple outfit—Ginny's clothing advice had been to wear whatever she would on a normal day, and that was a pair of black wedged boots, snug jeans, and a black long-sleeved shirt to accommodate the cooling weather. She didn't realize it, but after spending time around Slytherins and in the common room, she had begun dressing in darker colors—she was around them so much. She was thankful for the sickles, knuts, and the occasional galleon her mother hand sent her with the weekly care packages and made a mental note to write her and tell her so later. Adelinda put her little pouch of money into her bag and slid her wand into the waist of her jeans, and did a once-over in the mirror. She thought she was a fairly attractive witch, not extraordinarily pretty, but not exactly plain. Her hair was dark and a bit wavy and reached her breasts, her eyes a pale brownish-green and her favorite feature; she was perhaps a bit short and when her pants squeezed a little too tightly she had what Muggle women had taken to calling 'muffin tops,' but normally, that didn't bother her. While Slytherins seemed to prefer tall, thin women, Italy liked their women a little less thin and a little more full. Perhaps it was all the pasta. She flashed a nervous little smile to her reflection. "_Non più preoccupante_," Adelinda said softly. No more worrying. "Everything is going to be okay." With that, she closed her wardrobe and left her room, locking the door and sliding her key around her neck; she had taken to keeping it on a silver chain her mother had given her years back that also held a small emerald pendant. Green and silver; perhaps she was meant for Slytherin. She pushed slightly bitter thoughts aside as she happily made her way towards the courtyard she would be meeting Blaise at. She reached it and searched for him. When she didn't see him she assured herself that perhaps he was just a bit late; or maybe she was a bit early. She gripped the strap of her bag with both hands a little nervously. What if it had been an elaborate trick to embarrass her, and he was going to stand her up? What if he had changed his mind? Adelinda's worries were pushed aside as she saw Blaise walking towards her, dressed in a deep green turtleneck and well-fitting black pants. She felt a bit foolish for having thoughts like those in the first place. He greeted her with a kiss on the cheek; his lips were soft and the touch made her turn pink.

"I apologize for not being here on time," he said with a sheepish smile. "I woke up a bit later than I meant to."

"Oh, it's okay," Adelinda told him with a smile. "I was only here for a bit."

"I'm glad I didn't keep you waiting too long. Are we ready to leave?" she nodded and he offered her his arm, which she took happily, her hand resting in the bend of his elbow. He led her out of the courtyard, following the other students; there were several professors standing watch to ensure that the only students leaving were those who had been granted permission by their families. A handful of carriages waiting for the students, but Adelinda saw no horses to pull them; Blaise opened the door of one and helped her step into it, and as the carriage began moving, she leaned to the side and saw that there was still nothing pulling it.

"Perhaps this is a silly question, but how are the carriages moving?" Adelinda asked shyly.

He gazed out the window for a moment. "Thestrals," Blaise answered. "You know what those are?" She recalled the animal from Care of Magical Creatures, and stopped herself from asking him if he could see them…she imagined any student who had been at Hogwarts during the war could, and it was a very rude question; so they left it at that and, of course, their conversation turned to what it usual did. Quidditch. After several minutes passed by, the carriage came to a stop; Blaise got out and took her hand to help her down, never releasing it, which made her smile.

"Oh, I'm meeting some friends at The Three Broomsticks in a few hours…I hope that's okay," Adelinda told him apologetically as they began walking. He shrugged and smiled, told her it was fine, he didn't mind. As they walked through the village, he explained the shops to her, took her into the ones he thought she would like, and carried her bags for her when she bought herself something; he was a perfect gentleman, though she was slightly taken aback when he seemed to catch a man looking at her and wrapped his arm around her waist, almost possessively. She wasn't sure what to do, but she did know that she didn't mind the contact.

"Oh, a candy shop!" Adelinda pointed towards Honeydukes as if Blaise didn't know it was there.

He paused. "Did you want to go in?" he asked her, and when she nodded shrugged as if to say 'whatever you want,' leading her into the store. It seemed as though they had found the majority of the Hogwarts students in this shop; he greeted a few of them and took his arm from around her, picking up a blood-flavored lollipop and wrinkling his nose in disgust. "Can you imagine the look on someone's face as they tasted this?" When he asked her if she had ever had candy that was not made by muggles, he seemed surprised by her answer and told her to close your eyes. "C'mon, love, don't you trust me?" he teased with a smile as she gave him a weary look. "It won't be anything foul-tasting, I promise."

Adelinda closed her eyes with a dramatic sigh that made Blaise chuckle, and parted her lips. He popped some sort of mint into her mouth and told her to swallow, watching her face as she opened her eyes in surprise, her hands moving to her stomach. "_Buon Dio,_ what did you feed me!" Adelinda was holding her stomach and squirming a bit, giggling. It felt like something was bouncing around her belly—it wasn't unpleasant, exactly, but odd.

"Peppermint toad," Blaise smiled. "It'll stop in a moment. Now you know to never accept wizard candy without knowing what it is." He gave her a wink and when she shoved him playfully in return, he grabbed the hand that pushed him and pulled her close for just a moment. She almost thought he would kiss her. "Pick out some candies, as many as you want." She protested at the implication of him paying, but he held a hand up. "Humor me, love." So, as a result of humoring the Slytherin boy, Adelinda left with a bag full of Pixie Puffs and assorted lollipops, sugar quills and salt water taffy—avoiding the things that looked as though they might move in her belly. They began to walk through Hogsmeade again, arm in arm. "I want to show you the Shrieking Shack." She wondered what that was but knew she would find out. "Here." They had reached the Shrieking Shack, it seemed, though they were fairly far from it. It looked completely uninhibited, the wood weathered and windows boarded up, though some of the boards were breaking or falling where the magic binding the wood had begun to wear off. "It's said to be haunted, though I don't know if I believe it. People always say you can hear screams at night." A little chill went through her as she gazed at the Shrieking Shack, and Blaise noticed, putting an arm around her.

"Are you scared?" he teased with a grin. "Of course not," Adelinda protested. She almost said she didn't believe in ghosts, but that would certainly let the Muggle part of her show—there were ghosts all over Hogwarts, after all. They stood there for a moment and she leaned into his touch. "It's nearly time for you to meet your friends, isn't it?" she nodded and he sighed. "Have you had a good time today?"

"Yes, I have," she told him with a smile, looking up at him. "Thank you. I'm glad I came with you today."

He brought a hand to her cheek. "I'm glad you did, too." Their eyes met and her heart sped up a touch; his face came lower to hers and his lips had barely brushed hers when a shrill voice called his name, making them both jump. Adelinda was disappointed.

"Blaise!" Pansy called, standing away from them with her hands on her hips and a sneer on her face. "Draco needs you."

"For what?" he asked, his eyes going from Adelinda to Pansy and back again. Adelinda was nervous now, not sure why Pansy was there and admittedly a little scared to be left alone with her. Surely Blaise wouldn't do that.

"I don't know. He doesn't tell me anything," she whined, and then seemed to remember that Adelinda was there. She straightened up a bit. "What are you doing here with this slag?"

"Watch it, Pansy," he spat. "Where's Malfoy at?" Adelinda stayed quiet through all of this, even as the older girl called her names. She didn't know what to say.

"Hog's Head," Pansy told him, staring at Adelinda as she spoke. The younger girl was growing increasingly uncomfortable. "Great. Going there now."

Pansy shrugged at this and stood there for just a moment, watching them, before stalking off. He looked back down to her, his eyes apologetic. "I'm sorry, Adelinda. I said nothing would happen." Adelinda forced a smile onto her lips.

"You're not at fault," she assured him. "Besides, I can handle a bit of name calling. As the Muggles say, sticks and stones will break your bones but words will never hurt you." She blushed at his blank look. It was a phrase her mother had repeatedly used in her childhood years, but Blaise had no reason to know it.

"I suppose I ought to meet Malfoy," Blaise said with a sigh after a brief, slightly awkward silence. "He probably just wants to talk about the game tomorrow." Adelinda nodded. Pansy seemed to be gone, and she wasn't as nervous about being left alone. He gave her directions to The Three Broomsticks, only a minute or two's walk from the Shrieking Shack, and he handed her all of the bags with several apologies. He didn't mean to leave so abruptly, he kept saying, and he wished he didn't have to leave her carrying her things, but Malfoy would have his head if he didn't show up right away. She assured him that it was fine and that she was perfectly capable of carrying her things; really, she would just shrink them to a more suitable size and slip them into her handbag. Blaise stood before her, one of his hands wrapped around hers. "I had a good time with you today," he said softly with a smile. Adelinda tilted her head up towards him.

"So did I," she said. He leaned down and pressed his lips softly to her cheek, which immediately warmed.

"I'm sorry I have to leave," he said. "Be safe, love." He turned and walked in the direction of the pub he was to meet Malfoy in, and left her to herself. She didn't really mind. The weather was beautiful, if not a bit chilly, and she could enjoy the short walk to The Three Broomsticks. She was a bit disappointed that Blaise had been called away from her early, she thought as she set her bags on the ground to charm them. But she would see him again in just a day. "He left you all by yourself, did he?" She had begun to draw her wand to charm her things, but froze as she heard the familiar, snarky voice, and looked up to see Pansy and two Slytherin girls she had often seen her walking through the Corridors with. They were like little female henchmen.

"Poor Adelinda and her date, cut short. What a pity." Adelinda held her wand at her side now, watching the three girls approach wearily, her left hand clenched into a tight, nervous fist.

"What do you want, Pansy?"

"So rude! You must be learning something from us Slytherins, after all." The girl cackled. "If you were a proper Slytherin, though, you would direct that rudeness towards other houses, those lesser than you…not one of your own. But I suppose you can't truly be considered one of us, anyway, with your filthy blood." The words stung.

"Please just leave me alone," Adelinda said quietly, her eyes never leaving the girl's face. She was right in front of her now and Adelinda had to look up at the tall woman.

"Slytherins don't say please," Pansy said in a disgusting, sweet voice. "You've spent too much time around those nasty Gryffindors. My friends and I just want to show you the way a proper Slytherin acts." She kept using that phrase, 'proper Slytherin.' It was going to drive Adelinda mad.

"Why can't you just leave me be? I have done absolutely nothing to you," Adelinda said, her voice quiet but heated.

"Stop being thick, girl," Pansy spat. Her friends were quiet, just watching, smiling, anticipating trouble. "You always have his attention, and now you are with Blaise…purebloods. A Muggle-born with purebloods, it is absolutely disgusting."

"Whose attention? And why does it matter to you what Blaise does?" Adelinda was confused and concerned by her words. She was making less and less sense, and becoming increasingly mean in her taunting.

"Because he is a Slytherin, you stupid girl!" Pansy's face was mere inches from hers and her hands were gripping Adelinda's shoulders—reflexes made Adelinda raise her wand, only to have her hand grabbed and pulled behind her back by one of the other students, a tall, slightly chubby girl. Her wand was snatched from her and her hand pulled further up her back and she cried out in pain. "Now this, dear, is how a Slytherin treats someone who refuses to obey them." Adelinda's eyes were wide and scared. With her heeled boots she was nearly eyelevel with Pansy, and she could see the rage behind the girl's eyes. Her pulse had quickened in fear and she was frozen; if she moved pain would shoot through her elbow and shoulder from the hold the girl had her arm in, and she was afraid to try to do anything, worried about making things worse. "Are you going to stop talking to the Gryffindors?" Pansy asked, her fingertips brushing Adelinda's cheeks. When the younger girl didn't respond, she backhanded her, the class ring she wore hitting her mouth. She felt little tiny droplets of blood roll from the corner of her mouth. "Answer me."

"You can't really expect me to stop talking to the Gryffindors when my own house doesn't like me," Adelinda told her. She could feel her lip swelling and knew there would probably be more to come, but she didn't have it in her to give in to this girl. She was too proud, though her shaking voice did not show it.

"That's a shame," Pansy said softly. She smacked her again, and Adelinda's head snapped to the side. When she looked at Pansy again her eyes were filled with anger. Childhood memories returned to her, memories of fire and pain and bullying. She had always felt so weak, so alone, and now she felt the way she had at just nine or ten years old; she refused to take it, though, and she was afraid of what would happen if she did. She was afraid of what would happen if that anger spilt over the way it had when she was a child; she didn't want to hurt anyone again. When her other arm was pulled behind her back she cried out again, both shoulders throbbing with a sharp pain and her wrists sore where nails dug into them.

"Get off of me—" Adelinda spat, squirming against the hold of the two girls behind her, making the pain worse. "—get off of me, you crazy witches!" She tore from their grasp and stumbled forward. Pansy grabbed her arm and swung her into the ground, landing a swift kick to her ribs. She shrieked and tried to curl into a ball, but Pansy kicked her again in the same spot and she jolted in pain. She felt her arms being pushed down into the grass by the other girls' knees, all of their weight pressing into her forearms. She thrashed against them and when her foot connected with Pansy's leg, the older girl fell, catching herself and kneeling overtop Adelinda. Her knees dug into Adelinda's sides and one of her hands tangled into the roots of her hair, yanking her head up, making the younger girl cringe. Her ribs were on fire, throbbing, and her eyes were filled with tears of pain, her skin colorless save for the redness of where she had been hit. She was filled with a new terror, the fear of being restrained and the fear of having hostile faces hover above you.

"How dare you kick me!" Pansy shrieked and her hand came in contact with her face again, a closed fist. She was mentally unstable, she had to be, but either way Adelinda was in danger and in pain and she had nothing to do, nowhere to go. And yet she continued to struggle against the knees and the hands and the pain.

"How dare you do this at all!" Adelinda spat back. Pansy's wand was out and her eyes widened. "Why are you doing this?"

"I _warned_ you, Amoretto," Pansy hissed. "I kept telling you to stop, kept telling you to listen to the Slytherins. I tried to stop this." She aimed her wand at Adelinda's face and the younger girl let out a cry she hoped that someone would hear. It was stifled and turned into a gurgle as Pansy yelled, "Aguamenti!" and a stream of water hit her open mouth. She yanked her head backwards, bending her neck painfully. She tried to keep her mouth closed, but then water went into her nose and she choked on it, inhaled it, opened her mouth to try to breathe and was just met with another stream of water. Pansy was going to kill her. She couldn't breathe, she couldn't move, she just thrashed against the girls and choked on the water, coughing and gurgling as her chest rose and fell frighteningly.

"Pansy, Pansy, I think she's had enough…" one of the girls sounded worried. Adelinda had slowly ceased the struggle against them, her body limp and her neck limp and her eyes opening and closing slowly, gazing languidly at each of the faces above her; as her chest stopped rising in falling in that worrisome fashion, her eyes closed and did not open.

**_to those of you reading who read Amoretto, I suppose you know how this bit ends...for the rest of you, enjoy the cliffhanger! next update will be up in about a week, but reviews will always speed up the process. a writer needs her motivation! :-) _**


	6. Chapter 6

Draco Malfoy was bored with Hogsmeade. He had been there for but an hour, and in all honesty, he had only gone because he wanted to see if it would ignite some sort of nostalgia, some remnant of a pleasant experience from his former school days. It didn't. So he spent his time visiting shops and walking through the village listlessly, purchasing a book or two that piqued his interest, buying a few sweets and things he actually needed; when his irritation with the younger students who flew threw the streets like banshees overwhelmed his desire to shop, he decided it was time to take leave of the place.

He wasn't sure what led him to the Shrieking Shack. Perhaps it was some form of emotional masochism; the place certainly held no good memories for him. He just wanted to _feel _something, anything, whether it be pain or pleasure. The Dark Lord had often held meetings in The Shrieking Shack late at night, and Draco had often been required to attend; he would sneak out of the school and to the Whomping Willow and join his father and the other Death Eaters. The meetings had never been anything good for him; the Dark Lord and his followers knew he had no promise as a Death Eater. He was not made for it.

He was shocked at the feeling that decided to present itself when he stumbled upon the young girl that had been grating his nerves since the first night at Hogwarts. She was lying limp on the ground before the fence separating Hogsmeade and the shack, her shopping scattered in a mess around her; Draco froze, taking in the sight before him. Her arms were splayed above her head and her torso was twisted awkwardly, her clothing soaking up the puddle beneath her. When the thought hit him that she looked dead, he forced himself to move and went to her side. "Bloody hell," Draco spat. This was not in any way a situation he would have wished to evoke emotion in him, but it had, and he was worried for the bothersome girl. He knelt beside her and grabbed her face, turning it towards him and looking her over. Her hair was drenched in what he assumed to be water, her face a deathly white and her lips grey and glistening with moisture. She had the starts of bruises on her cheek and mouth, fingerprints on her jaw, and she was not breathing.

"Bloody hell," he repeated, his voice empty. He drew his wand and hoped he was right, casting a spell to clear her airway; when her torso jerked in an attempt to breathe and a choking noise came from her throat he pulled her onto his lap and lifted her head, which immediately turned as she began vomiting water. He grimaced and pulled her hair away from her face, an arm around her shoulders to keep her at least slightly upright, and couldn't help but hope that she didn't get any on his clothes. His brief training in healing had paid off, it seemed—the vomiting had ceased and she was again limp against him, her chest heaving in an attempt to catch her breathe. As her body began to jerk with shivers he took off his coat and draped it around her shoulders, closing it over her. She seemed to be okay for a moment, and he wondered briefly if she would have been dead if he had gotten to the Shrieking Shack a moment later than he had.

Swinging into action, Draco stood with her. Her eyes were open just a bit, looking up at him and then slowly taking in her surroundings. The whites of them were bloodshot, the brilliant green of her eyes alarmingly pale. "You're okay," he murmured to her, and she seemed to accept that as she let her head fall against his shoulder. He felt a surge of affection at that gesture and pushed it away. Draco cradled her awkwardly in one arm, supporting her slightly with the other while he tried to gather her things with a flourish of her wand, shrinking them quickly to fit into his pocket—there was no way to carry the abundance of shopping and her. He slid his wand into its wrist holster and put both arms around her snugly to keep her pressed tight to his body. He was taking a risk by apparating to the Honeydukes cellar, but he would attract too much attention walking through the town with Adelinda in this state. He could only hope she would be okay. Her ragged breathing made him hurry, and once in the dark, dusty cellar he kicked aside the boxes that hid the secret passageway into Hogwarts, making his way quickly through it. He felt fingers tangle into his shirt and when he glanced down her face was screwed up in pain; he tried to make his gait a little smoother, but he was more concerned about getting her to the infirmary than he was about making the trip there pain-free. The corridors of the school were, for the most part, empty; nearly anyone who was of age to attend the school trip had, and those curious younger students who were left behind were in their common rooms or exploring the grounds with friends. He made it to the hospital wing with Adelinda and pushed open the door to it. "Madam Pomfrey!" Draco shouted, surprised by the amount of urgency in his own voice. Madam Pomfrey had apparently been surprised, as well, as she rushed from her little office.

"Over here, over here—" she gestured towards an empty bed and he carefully settled Adelinda into it. The girl grabbed the edges of the coat and squeezed it tight around her, her body shaking with fever. "—what in the world happened to her?" Pomfrey was leaning over the girl, brushing her hair from her face to inspect the bruises. She noted the pale skin and pale lips that were slowly gaining color, and opened one of her eyes gently to see an empty gaze and an angry redness.

"I found her in Hogsmeade near the Shrieking Shack. She wasn't breathing, and there was water all around her, so I cleared her throat…she started getting sick but all that came out was water." All which implied that someone had attempted to drown her. "I got her breathing, though…"

"You did good, boy," she clucked, her fingers playing over Adelinda arms and wrists to make sure there were no broken bones, When she touched her ribs the girl cringed and gave a little whimper. "We need to get her out of these clothes." She gave the Slytherin man a harsh look and he nearly rolled his eyes. He resented being addressed as 'boys' and the implication that he could not keep his eyes to himself. "Go fetch a gown and some fresh quilts from the linen closet."

He did as he was told, though he also resented being ordered about—when he returned she had covered Adelinda's mostly nude form with a sheet, and she took the gown from him first, dressing her carefully as Draco looked away. "Lift her on the count of three, careful on the ribs, there—" he raised Adelinda just enough for the healer to tear off the muddied sheets and pull the new ones onto it, and then he settled her back into the cot gently. With a flick of her wand, Madam Pomfrey had several vials at her side and a cool rag. The first was a potion to reduce the fever she had developed, she told Draco, but as she attempted to drip it into Adelinda's mouth the girl began to thrash. "Don't just stand there, boy, try to calm her down!"

Draco was filled with an overwhelmed sense of discomfort. How was he supposed to do that? He hesitated before kneeling beside the cot and running a hand through her hair. "Amoretto, it's alright," he murmured, irritated with having to do this. He was not meant for _comforting _people. "We're helping you, girl. It's alright." Her eyes opened just a bit and met his. They were tired and frightened and confused. "You're in the hospital wing at Hogwarts. No one is going to hurt you here."

As Madam Pomfrey spoke, Adelinda turned her head towards the woman. She had never seen her before, but she knew by the white garments she wore that she was a healer, and the woman's plump cheeks and comforting smile seemed to put her at ease. "My name is Madam Pomfrey, and you are in the hospital wing, as Mr. Malfoy said. You've been hurt, but you will be okay. I need you to take this potion, though, dear," the woman told her softly. Draco noted that the tone of voice she used with Adelinda was much gentler and kinder than the one she had used when addressing him. "You have a fever, and we need it to come down."

Adelinda gave her a weary look but parted her lips. "This one is to heal broken bones. It's a nasty one, but I need you to take it." She sputtered a bit at the taste of the next potion, but took it without protest. Her body ached terribly and her chest was on fire, but the rest of her felt raw with cold. When she tried to pull a quilt over herself, Draco stopped her gently, gaining an approving look from the healer. "You've got a fever, dear; I know you're cold, but we can't cover you up right now."

Adelinda was not in any state to argue, and she accepted her cold fate, holding onto the coat that was wrapped around her. Draco realized he would not be getting it back anytime soon and frowned a bit. Did he really care about the garment, though? He was glad that the younger girl was okay now, and an anger had seeped into his chest that he questioned. He wanted to believe that he was angry for his ruined day that had, admittedly, not been going well in the first place, or perhaps he was angry about his very expensive coat that was soaked and wrapped around a muggle-born, or perhaps it was that he had had to take time out of his day to help her. Truly, he didn't care about any of those things. He had done a fairly good job of ridding himself of the prejudices that had been pushed on him, he could buy another coat, and his day meant nothing to him. He had many more uneventful days to come. Truly, he was angry _for _Adelinda, not at her; he wanted to know who had done this, though he had an idea, and he wanted to ensure that they were punished for it.

He did, however, have to question why he cared so much; this girl had been irritating him and filling his thoughts since she had been sorted into Slytherin. At first, he had not understood why she was sorted into his house. She seemed so meek, so polite, so eager to please the people around her, and those were not the qualities of a Slytherin girl. As he tried harder and harder to get under her skin without success, he began to understand. She possessed some sort of inner strength. She was proud and she was clever, irritating as she was, and there was a mean streak under there somewhere that was hidden quite well with manners and etiquette and sweetness, and she seemed quite reluctant to give anyone the satisfaction of seeing her defeated. And she had her flaws, she certainly did. But perhaps that was what made him so angry; in that moment, she had been defeated.

Madam Pomfrey's inquisitive voice broke Draco from his thoughts. "I need her name, and I need a statement from you," she said. Adelinda had lost consciousness again, which was perhaps for the better. The shivering had subsided a bit and the color was slowly returning to her skin, but she still held the coat around her tightly. "Do you know of anyone who would want to know that she is here, besides her parents?" She had procured a piece of parchment and a quill, and handed it to him.

"Granger, and the Weasley girl," Draco told the woman immediately. "I'm sure they're still in Hogsmeade."

"It is my understanding that you have a background in healing?" Draco nodded, and took a seat in the chair beside the bed. "Good. Stay here for a few moments, and watch over here. I need to contact the headmaster, and Slughorn, and her parents…do you have any idea who did this to her?" the woman turned a scrutinizing eye on him.

A sullen sigh escaped his lips. "I can't say for sure," he told her quietly. "But I have an idea." He was hesitant to say her name. As infuriating as the older Slytherin girl was, he still had an old sense of house loyalty. Madam Pomfrey looked at him impatiently. "Pansy Parkinson. I think it may have been her. I doubt if she could do all this alone though…" The woman was not a particularly talented witch, and she was not physically strong; her strongest suit was her keen ability for mind games. That would not have helped her with Adelinda.

"Do you have any idea why she would have done this?" she asked, folding her arms over her chest as she lingered on his words.

Draco was, again, hesitant, this time out of shame. "Adelinda is a Muggle-born that was sorted into Slytherin, and none of us took kindly to her, so she looked for friendships in other houses…" he gave a small, bitter smile. "…unfortunately, her search led her to the Gryffindors, and as you can imagine, there were some people _very _upset by that...some people who are still very prejudiced."

Pomfrey's expression turned to disgust at the thought of the prejudices that did still exist in some people. "Well, I hope that you were not one of the people who turned her away from her own house," she said stiffly, and went back to her office to take care of the things she needed to do for Adelinda.

Draco knew that he _had _been one of those people; he was the first person she had interacted with outside of the sorting ceremony, and he had been outright rude. He had done nothing to welcome her, and though he had tried to dispel the gossip about her, it hadn't been enough. Perhaps if he had been a little more pleasant to her, others would have followed suit. Or perhaps not. He wasn't one to beat himself up over things like this, and he distracted himself from his thoughts by writing the statement Madam Pomfrey had requested, glancing at Adelinda every time she shifted or took a breath that didn't sound quite right. He scowled when he realized just how worried he was for her, even now that he knew she would be okay.

Just as he finished writing the statement that held all the information he had given the healer, Ginny and Hermione burst through the door. They came to an abrupt halt when they saw him. "What are _you _doing here, Malfoy?" Hermione asked, folding her arms over her chest. The memory of her fist landing a punch to his cheek back in their Third Year floated around the back of his mind. He no longer felt the animosity he had held for her back then; he was, for the most part, indifferent towards her.

"I found her," Draco told them, leaning back in his chair. He set the paper and quill on the nightstand beside Adelinda's bed. "And brought her here. Try not to look so angry about it."

Hermione's cheeks flushed pink. Even after all these years, she still couldn't stand Malfoy. He was much too pompous and snarky for her tastes. "You're not needed here anymore."

"'Mione," Ginny scolded. Out of their group of friends, she had always been the more open-minded one, and she was not so quick to judge or hold grudges. "Thanks, Malfoy—"

"That was quick." Madam Pomfrey's voice interrupted. She had left her office at the sound of more voices, wanting to stop any conflict between the Gryffindors and the lone Slytherin before it could begin. "She's alright now. She'll probably be sick for a few days, she was on the edge of something Muggles call hypothermia, I'm sure Ms. Granger knows what it is." She underestimated all three of the students' knowledge of the Muggle world. "Mr. Malfoy, you may leave now, if you wish."

He nodded and as he picked up the statement to hand it to the healer, he looked down at Adelinda. Her hair stuck to her face where she was sweating, the fever still there, and her skin was still pale but her lips were pink instead of grey; the bruises on her face were startling and provided an almost painful contrast. Ginny and Hermione were quiet as they observed the girl with him.

"What happened? Do you know?" Ginny's eyes turned towards him. "We were waiting for her at the Three Broomsticks…she was supposed to meet us after she went out with Zabini. And she just never showed up."

"She was with Blaise?" his eyes turned towards Adelinda again for a moment. He did recall the two talking about it in potions…he was not proud to admit to himself that he did, on occasion, eavesdrop. If she was with Blaise, why had he left her alone? His chest burned with anger as the idea came to him that perhaps Blaise had helped Pansy plan something. He snatched up his wand. "Pomfrey will explain the rest to you."

He took quick leave of the hospital wing with one last glance at Adelinda. He was determined to find Blaise. The students would be returning to Hogwarts soon, and he would be waiting for him to figure out what in the bloody hell had happened.

~

Several hours had passed, and Adelinda had spent that time sleeping. Ginny and Hermione stayed at her side and their boyfriends had joined them. The boys especially were infuriated. These prejudices were supposed to be over; it was three years after the end of the Second War, and a girl had gotten hurt because of a pureblood's narrow views. There were many laws in place to prevent this sort of thing, and many more laws in place to punish those who committed crimes against Muggle-born witches and wizards. The Ministry had cracked down after the war; the reality of the pureblood prejudices and the strength of them had been pushed in their faces by Voldemort. Pansy was of age, but she was also a student, and Harry even admitted that he wasn't sure how the laws would apply to her—if at all.

When Adelinda's eyes finally fluttered open, Ginny leaned a bit closer after an excited whisper telling the others that she was waking up. "It's not as if I was in a coma," the younger girl muttered, her voice hoarse. She grimaced. Her throat was raw, and it hurt to speak. Ginny handed her a cup of water and she took little, slow sips.

"We were worried," Hermione said with a shrug. "How do you feel?"

"Sore," Adelinda never brought her voice above a loud whisper. "My throat hurts. My body hurts." She was trying very hard not to think of why this was so. The girls waved their hands at Harry and Ron, telling them to leave. Harry gave Adelinda's hand a little squeeze and Ron told her he hoped she felt better, and they took leave of the hospital wing.

"Adelinda, what happened?" Hermione prodded gently. She took a seat on the bed beside her. "Why wasn't Blaise with you?"

The younger girl closed her eyes for a moment. "Blaise was going to take me to The Three Broomsticks, 'cause I didn't know where it was," she said softly. "We went to the Shrieking Shack first, he was just giving me a tour of Hogsmeade…Pansy showed up and told him that Malfoy needed him." Ginny took on an expression of concern. Something was not right. "After Pansy was gone, he gave me directions to the pub and left. And a few minutes later she showed up with two girls, and then...well, you know what happens next, I'm sure…"

Ginny gave a nod. "Yeah, we do…do you remember Malfoy coming to help you?"

Adelinda blinked. "I sort of do…I remember him holding me, but I wasn't sure if that was right or not," she told them in that soft whisper. "And I remember him being here a little."

"Okay. You don't have to talk about it anymore if you don't want to," Hermione said gently. "I wish you didn't have to go back to Slytherin common room, but there's no way around it. Malfoy is going to take you there once you can leave."

"Okay," she said softly. She didn't want to be around any Slytherins. She was grateful to Malfoy for bringing her here and helping her, but she was questioning his involvement in it. He and Pansy did seem to be friends on some level; what if he had helped her get Adelinda alone? The thought frightened her. She had no one in the Slytherin house that she could trust. It had even run through her head that Blaise had been involved. He was the one who had taken her to the Shrieking Shack, after all; she wasn't so naïve as to rule him out.

Adelinda spent the night in the hospital wing. McGonagall came to see her the next day, and told her that she had informed her parents of what had happened, but had convinced them that Adelinda was alright; she gave her the option of them coming to see her, but Adelinda would rather them not see her this way, even though all she wanted was a hug from her mother and to see her father's protective face. She knew they were worried, but they would probably pull her out of Hogwarts the second they saw her lying in the infirmary. McGonagall said she understood and would owl them, but encouraged her to write them when she could and assure them herself that she was doing okay.

And then they spoke of what would happen to Pansy. "I don't think the Ministry is going to get involved," the witch told her with a sigh. Adelinda was sitting up in the hospital cot with a tray of food before her. Her throat was still raw and she hadn't eaten much of it. "We are going to inform her parents, and I'm confiscating her wand for an undetermined amount of time; I will also take the wands of whoever was involved. They will not be allowed to Hogsmeade anymore, and I've yet to determine what else will happen to them if the ministry does not punish them. This sort of thing is tricky to deal with, with all the new laws and the political tension…I am sorry, Miss Amoretto."

Adelinda managed a little smile. Her bottom lip was swollen and her face bruised, and the movement hurt. "It's okay, Professor."

McGonagall stood, and leaned down to place a very uncharacteristic, sweet kiss on the top of Adelinda's head. "Come to me if you need anything, or if anyone says anything to you. I mean it, dear."

The kiss warmed her heart for a moment, and she nodded. McGonagall left, and Malfoy came in. She did not particularly want to be around him, but he was Head Boy, and the task of helping Adelinda had fallen to him. She was almost being treated as a First Year. Madam Pomfrey had even gone as far to give all of the potions she was to take to Malfoy, and had written down the instructions for them on a slip of parchment. It frustrated her; she was more than capable of medicating herself. "Are you ready?"

Adelinda nodded. She wore the clothes she had been brought in wearing, though they had been cleaned. She stood, and all her movements were careful. She was still sore; her torso and her arms ached and her face throbbed with every expression, and it made her slow. Malfoy seemed completely indifferent to everything, but his eyes followed her movements and he didn't seem as impatient as he normally would have been when dealing with her; or perhaps, Adelinda thought, he was impatient with everyone. It wasn't unlikely. He led her through the corridors; it was dinnertime, and the corridors were, for the most part, empty, as well as the Slytherin common room. Thinking of supper made her realize how hungry she was, and as Malfoy handed her the key to her room her stomach rumbled. She wasn't going into the Great Hall, though. She wouldn't.

She opened the door to her room and looked towards Malfoy. "You can come in," she said a bit awkwardly. He did have her medicines, after all.

Draco entered the room, leaving the door open behind him. He took the little pouch full of vials from his robe pocket and placed them on her desk. There was one for fever, one for healing, and one for pain, and she had to take them every few hours; the hardest part of that would be waking up to take them. Adelinda took a seat on the foot of her unmade bed, feeling exhausted from the walk to her room. She had been so excited for the trip to Hogsmeade that she had left her bedroom in an uncharacteristic state of chaos. The bed was unmade, clothes were strewn on the floor before the wardrobe, and her school things were scattered across her desk. She was a little embarrassed for anyone to be seeing her room in such a state, and stopped herself before she apologized for it.

"What happened to my things…?" Adelinda wondered aloud. Her throat was still a bit raw, her voice scratchy.

"I have them." Malfoy pulled the little shrunken packages from his robe, and returned them to their normal size, setting them in a neat pile by her desk. He was a little peeved by the state of her room, but said nothing of it. He hated a messy person and he hated a messy bedroom even more.

"My wand?" Adelinda's heart dropped at the thought that perhaps Pansy had broken it in some sort of cruel gesture, but she felt a surge of relief when the Slytherin man pulled that from a pocket, as well. She was briefly amazed by how many things a wizard could carry. She took her wand and looked it over in her lap, running her fingers along the dark wood absently. She felt like crying, and she wasn't sure why. She felt emotionally and physically drained and all she wanted to do was lay in bed. "You can go, if you want…" she said softly as she realized Malfoy still stood there awkwardly, watching her. A part of her hoped he would stay; he was helping her, and that had pushed the thoughts of his involvement out of her mind. She didn't particularly want to be alone.

"Are you going to be okay?" The question slipped from his lips before he could stop it. God forbid the girl see that he cared. And yet, he followed it with, "Do you need anything?"

"I'll be okay," Adelinda said softly, her eyes still directed towards her wand. She wasn't really looking at anything. She did need food, but she wouldn't ask—her growling stomach gave that away.

"Are you hungry? You haven't eaten anything." Draco cursed himself; he wasn't sure why he was so worried for her, but he was, and he knew by the rumbling of her belly and the look on her face as he mentioned eating that she was starving.

"No, I'm fine," she insisted with a little shake of her head, looking up at him. The glossiness of her eyes and the bruises on her cheeks tugged at heart strings he hadn't really known he'd had.

He shook his head. "You're not going to feel any better if you don't eat. I'm going to go get us food from the kitchens, since I had to miss dinner to bring you back to your room, and you're going to change into clean clothes while I'm gone, and after you eat you can take your potions." The words sounded like orders and he promptly left the room, leaving her staring at the closed door. She didn't quite understand the pureblooded man. He acted like he didn't have the time of day for her, and now he was helping her, not even letting her decline his offers for food.

She pushed herself up and pulled a pair of sweatpants and a shirt from her wardrobe. She didn't really care that Malfoy would be seeing her dressed so poorly. He had seen her unconscious and beaten; it couldn't be much worse than that. She changed quickly and did not glance in the mirror. She didn't want to see the bruises she could already feel on her ribs and arms, and she didn't really want to see what her face looked like, either. She ran a brush painfully through her hair, and finally gave up and cast a detangling spell on it, climbing into her bed with her wand and pulling a quilt around herself, staring absently at the wall as she awaited Malfoy's return.

Adelinda was sad. That was the best way for her to describe it; it was a deep, calm sorrow. She had been so afraid of something like this happened, but she had never thought that it would come to real violence. Harmless hexes and mean names and taunts, perhaps, but not the violence that Pansy and her friends had displayed. It was too reminiscent of school as a child, when she had cast herself aside from the muggle children and then faced the consequences of not blending into society. She hadn't realized, though, what would happen—and this time, she had been too stubborn to give into the Slytherins and push aside her Gryffindor friends. A part of her did regret that, but the stubborn half of her was angry at the regret. She was angry that it had come to this, angry that such prejudice still existed after the war, and she was angry that she had been hurt and humiliated. She was angry that she was sitting in her bedroom near tears because a twenty year old woman had the mentality of a small, bigoted child. She gave a deep sigh and struggled to push the negativity away. Malfoy would be back soon, and she couldn't let herself cry. As she calmed herself, he knocked on the door and called out that it was him, and she told him to come in. He had taken her key with him.

Her mouth watered at the tray full of food he had with him, and she saw the little smirk on his face as he looked at her; she ignored it. He set the food down on the bed before her and pulled her chair up beside it. "I got a little bit of everything," Malfoy said with a shrug. "Wasn't sure what you like to eat."

She wasn't even listening to him. She hadn't eaten in two days, since she had skipped breakfast the morning of the Hogsmeade trip, and the only thing she had had in her belly since then was a few bits of candy. She ignored the pain in her throat as she sipped soup and ate a roll and spooned pudding into her mouth. When her hunger had been satisfied a bit, she remembered that Malfoy was there and met his eyes. She was eating like she hadn't eaten in a week and pushed away the bit of embarrassment at that. He seemed amused by it and she scowled; his amusement seemed to grow at that.

"You're going to get a stomachache if you keep eating like that," he told her, taking a small flask of pumpkin juice from the tray and sipping it, leaning back in the chair.

"I was hungry," she said a little defensively, almost pouting. She pulled her quilt around herself again and drew her knees slowly to her chest, leaning her chin against them.

Draco watched her absently as he ate slowly and sipped at the flask. It was a curious thing, what she did to his feelings and his thoughts. She seemed to soften him, just a bit, especially as she was now, bruised and battered. It made him want to help her, even if she was completely capable of helping herself; he knew she was. She wasn't useless, this little Slytherin girl, not at all. And he had no doubt that in the right situation, she could hold her own.

He watched the way little pieces of hair slipped from behind her ear as she leaned her chin against her knees, he watched the way her eyes glazed over in thought and the way her arms wrapped around her legs. Then he wondered at what she was wearing. Baggy grey pants that were rolled at the waist and a snug black shirt made her look a little adorable, but also very odd. "What are you wearing?" he questioned her, an eyebrow raised.

She blinked at him. "You don't get out into the Muggle world much, do you?" he took this as a taunt and scowled. "They're sweatpants. Very comfy, really, loads more comfortable than the dress clothes you've got under there." She nodded towards his robes.

"Hmph." He continued to drink his juice. Muggle clothes were odd. They did look rather comfortable, though, and he could appreciate the way certain articles of Muggle clothing looked on women. He would be a fool not to.

They spent several minutes in a silence that was only slightly uncomfortable. "Can I ask you some things?" Adelinda said softly. Her briefly lifted mood seemed to have fallen again.

The question made him uncomfortable. There were too many possibilities, too many things she could ask him. "Sure." He didn't necessarily have to _answer _all her questions, though.

Adelinda was quiet again. He looked at her, eyebrows raised, waiting, watching her worry her bottom lip until she split the scab at the corner of it. She cringed and he handed her a tissue from the box on her desk. She pressed it to her mouth for a minute. "Why were you the one to find me yesterday?" she asked softly, not looking at him.

He understood her question. His presence had been a little suspicious, and after confronting Blaise yesterday and learning that the Slytherin had been told to meet him, he could understand her worry. He had just happened to show up where Pansy had left her. "I was just walking around, and I…" he paused. He did _not _want this to get personal, but his reasoning for being at the Shrieking Shack was very personal. "…I've had some experiences at the Shack that I was thinking on, and I just went there…and then I found you."

Adelinda seemed to accept that. "Blaise was supposed to be meeting you somewhere," she said softly, a lilt in her words that turned it into a shaky question.

He looked down. "Yeah. I talked to him." His voice took on a sharp edge that made her cringe internally. "Pansy told him that to make him leave, I suppose, I don't know. Perhaps she knew he would do it if it involved me and she needed him gone and you alone. But I assure you, I had no knowledge of it." Draco watched her expression; he wanted her to believe him so badly. He didn't want her to think poorly of him, though the fact that she was allowing him into her room already showed him that she didn't truly believe him to have a part in her assault.

Adelinda nodded, her gaze empty. She was silent for a moment. "Are you and Blaise friends?" she asked after awhile; he was surprised by the question and her empty gaze, indifferent attitude, deep in thought and only partly paying attention to Draco.

"I would say that acquaintances is a better word for it," he told her carefully, not sure where the conversation was headed. "I suppose we were close at one point…"

She turned that empty gaze to him. Her demeanor kept changing and he wasn't sure what to think of it. "Was he…involved…in the war? Did he hate Muggle-borns, too?" There was sadness behind her eyes. She knew that it was probably a sensitive subject, but she needed to know what to think of Blaise, and she was trusting this boy in front of her to give her true answers.

Malfoy seemed hesitant to answer this. It was a very painful subject, but it was an awkward one to be discussing with a Muggle-born, one he had not been very nice to; even more awkward because he himself had been so prejudiced. Really, he had been voicing the lessons drilled into him by his parents, his child mind having been easy to sculpt to the perfect pureblooded mentality. But he had still believed it all up to a point. Up until the final battle, where he saw the way the "blood-traitors" and Muggle-borns had all stood together against the Dark Lord's followers and how the purebloods, the ones who "stuck together," only looked out for themselves. It was then that he had realized blood status meant nothing but politics. "His family was, and…well, yes, he had your typical pompous pureblood mentality, but…we all did, us Slytherins," he looked down to avoid her scrutinizing gaze. "And many of us have actually changed our views. I can't speak for him, though, Amoretto. I don't know what he believes now."

She seemed to accept this. "Do you…think he was involved?" her shaky voice made him look up and their eyes met. He could see the hope in her gaze, and wondered fleetingly how much she liked Zabini.

"I don't know," Draco said after a long moment of silence. "I'm not sure what to think of the situation."

He said nothing else on it and instead reached behind him to get her potions, portioning them properly and handing them to her. He watched her take each one quickly, screw her face up in disgust, and wash away the taste with pumpkin juice. "How are you feeling?"

She was leaning back against her headboard, snuggled into her quilt, propped on her side amidst all the pillows that were piled up to support her. "Sore," she said. "Like I've got a terrible case of the flu without the sickness."

Draco nodded. "That'll get better with the potions. You're out of classes for the week, so that's something, yeah?" she gave a little shrug.

"I'm going to fall behind," Adelinda said sadly. "I actually kind of enjoy classes…"

Malfoy snorted. "You're mad, woman," he told her. "Just like Granger."

She blinked at him. It hit her how nice he was being to her; this was the first real conversation they had had since meeting, and as much as she hated to admit it, she enjoyed his presence. She attributed that to her state of health. "What made you come back to Hogwarts?"

She realized as soon as she asked how deep that question could truly be, and as Malfoy looked at his lap and shook his head, she was spewing apologies. "You don't have to answer, I'm sorry—"

"It's fine, Amoretto," he said with another shake of his head, looking at her. "Just…a very personal question."

"I'm sorry," she said again in a meek, embarrassed voice. She unconsciously hid her face a bit with the quilt, and as they faced a somewhat awkward silence, she felt herself getting drowsier; an effect of the potion to reduce pain. Within minutes she was dozing, her eyelids shut and fluttering every now and then. Draco just watched her fall out; she needed her rest, and she did look sweet, laying there…he pushed that thought aside and as he heard a light little snore come from the bundle of blankets, he moved the tray from the bed and put it on the chair he had been sitting in and tucked the blankets around her.

She felt him adjusting the blankets and blinked slowly, making out his blurred form as he opened the door. She was filled with a sudden fear at being alone and started to sit up some; he turned around and took in her disheveled hair and big, tired eyes. "Stay?" she blurted out in a sleepy voice.

He stood there for a moment, shocked at the request and a little frustrated at having to stay, but he obliged; something he wouldn't have done for anyone else. He shut the door and returned to his seat. "I'll stay," he said quietly. "Get some rest."

She gave him a soft, tired "thank you" and returned to her pillows, gripping her blankets around herself and closing her eyes again.

**_I had intended on this chapter being much longer, but it felt like a good place to leave off. The next update will be in about a week; until then, please review and thank you to those who have :)_**


	7. Chapter 7

Adelinda spent the night tossing and turning and woke up to an empty bedroom and breakfast on her desk; Malfoy's doing, she supposed, which surprised her. She couldn't say she understood his sudden change in attitude towards her, but instead of dwelling on it, attributed it to pity or sympathy or perhaps just compassion. She certainly appreciated the food; she wasn't planning on leaving her room except to shower. She didn't want to face anyone, and a part of her did wish her parents would come and scoop her away from Hogwarts. It hadn't treated her well so far.

She pushed herself out of bed and checked the time, taking her medicines and popping a biscuit into her mouth. She wasted the next few hours away doing schoolwork that she wouldn't be able to turn in, and she wrote her parents a letter that she had to cut short when she began to get emotional. The goal was, after all, to convince them that she was alright. She read, she reorganized, she did anything she could to entertain herself before taking her medicine again and falling back into bed for several hours. When she finally woke, it was to a knocking on her door and the last light of the day peeking through the small window in her room.

Adelinda pushed herself up, rubbing at her eyes, groggy and grumpy at being woken, and also confused. She went to the door. "Who is it?" she called out.

"It's Malfoy."

She raised an eyebrow and cracked the door to peek out at him. "Come in."

Her mouth watered at the new tray of food he had in his hands, though she still hadn't finished what he had left for breakfast. "You don't have to keep bringing me food, y'know," she said stubbornly, shutting the door behind him.

Malfoy shrugged, strolling into the room. He set the tray of fresh, delicious-smelling food down on the desk and smirked as he saw Adelinda eying it. "Now, how would you eat if I weren't bringing it to you?" he said, cocking an eyebrow at her. She said nothing. "That's what I thought."

She fumed a little. He was so _arrogant. _He was helping her, though…her emotions were becoming more and more mixed on the man. The thought came to her that she had a twenty year old man in her bedroom, and she wondered what her father would say if he knew that. She tried not to giggle. The situation was so potentially scandalous and she was very sure that this was not what her parents had imagined would happen when they sent her to Hogwarts. "Well, thank you, I suppose," she said after a moment. She glanced out the window at the darkening sky. Everyone would be at supper, and surely he couldn't just walk out of the Great Hall with a tray full of food. "Where do you get this food from, anyhow?"

"The kitchens, where else?" He said it as though it were common knowledge and she shrugged.

"Not like I've been at this school for seven years like everyone else," she said with a shrug. She climbed onto her bed and sat with her legs folded under her, covering her mouth as she yawned. Malfoy watched her, taking in her disheveled look. Her hair was a bit frizzy and curled oddly in some parts, her eyes glossy with sleep and her bruised cheeks rosy. "Did you just wake up?" he asked her, his eyes lingering on the dark spots on her pale skin. The bruises made him want to cringe. He would have to remember to bring her a tin of bruise-away paste; he kept a good stock of it himself for Quidditch. Couldn't have his porcelain skin tainted by ugly discolorations.

"I took a bit of a nap," she said defensively, feeling as though she was shrinking beneath his scrutinizing game. "Stop looking at me like that."

"I'm not looking at you like anything," he told her with a same smirk. "Just observing, that's all." He plopped down in her desk chair, leaning back and crossing his legs. He was out of his robes but still in his school uniform. The black pants fit him nicely, as did the white button-up shirt and Slytherin tie that was loosened around his neck…she gave herself a little mental shake. Bad things seemed to happen when she decided a boy was cute, especially those that were Slytherin and three-four years her senior.

"Whatever you say, Malfoy," Adelinda said with a sigh. She ran her fingers through her messy hair self-consciously. He looked so perfectly disheveled, and she just looked…messy. _Oh well, _she thought, and tossed her little insecurities to the side. Malfoy moved the tray to the bed in front of the younger girl and watched her pick at a piece of chicken.

"I've got your assignments from the week-" he told her after a few moments of silence, letting her eat. She glanced up.

"You didn't have to do that," she said quietly.

He seemed to ignore it. "—you've got a few assignments from Slughorn, the usual, a paper to write for History of Magic, a note from Hagrid, a few other things. Not too much. All of the professors send their _sincerest well wishes." _He took on a mocking tone as he passed on the message. At the mention of Slughorn, she realized that when she returned to class, she would have to sit next to him, and behind Pansy…and she dreaded it.

"Thank you…why'd you get all of it? I'm sure it took forever," Adelinda asked him cautiously. She knew it would be impolite to ask him why he was being so nice to her, but she was growing weary of it. This was not the Malfoy she had seen in the past month; that Malfoy was civil and cold at best. This one was…well, still rather rude, but in a much warmer way than before.

"I'm Head Boy, it's my responsibility," he said with a shrug. She recalled him telling her she could find her own way around the first night at Hogwarts, even though the responsibility of helping her had been put onto him…of course, he had eventually given in to that, too. It was she that had turned away his help in the end when she moved to the Gryffindor table. In hindsight, she really hadn't even tried to make friends in Slytherin.

She was quiet for awhile, twirling a spoon slowly through a bowl of pudding. She looked up, her eyes locking into his. He almost began to fidget beneath her serious stare, those olive eyes staring holes into his own. "Why are you being so nice to me?" she finally asked him, her voice void of emotion.

"I'm hea—"

"No, none of this 'I'm Head Boy' nonsense, you have held that title since the year began and you were never nice to me," she told him in an almost scolding tone. He kept his eyes on hers, both of them refusing to look away. Two proud people locked in a staring contest; it could go on forever, he thought. He wasn't sure what this was or where this sudden surge of confidence had come from in her, but he could better deal with this than sadness, and he wasn't complaining. She truly did remind him of Granger. Stubborn as a mule—but not as, well, snotty. "Tell me why you're being so nice."

Draco settled back into his chair, folding his arms over his chest. He was quiet for a moment as he watched her, and she was the one to resist squirming beneath his gaze. "I suppose you wouldn't accept any fellow-slytherin, no-man-left-behind 'nonsense,' either."

"No. No, I would not," Adelinda said indignantly. She folded her arms over her chest and straightened her back. His eyes followed her every move.

Draco sighed heavily, as if the conversation was a burden, and she kept from rolling her eyes at the boy. "Well," he began slowly, drawing the word out and taking another pause. "If I am to be completely honest…" another pause, and she frowned at him. "…I feel bad."

"You _feel _bad?" Adelinda said, eyebrows raised. "You feel bad, so you're helping me. Pity, how delightful—"

"—shut up. I was going to say, I feel bad because I know I was a downright _prat _to you, and, well, perhaps if I hadn't have been this wouldn't have happened," Malfoy told her, looking a little uncomfortable at this sharing of feelings.

Adelinda shook her head. She was offended. "_Buon Signore_, you think that none of this would have happened if you had been _nice _to me." She snorted in mock laughter, and he realized as she repeated his words back to him how pitiful that sounded. "You are the most arrogant boy I have ever met, you know that, yes? I don't need your help anymore."

"Amoretto, I—" he was almost feeling bad at the way his explanation had come across.

"Out," she said with a shake of her head. "Thank you for your help, but please leave now." Always polite. Kind of.

His hurt ego turned quickly to anger. "You just don't know how to accept any help, do you?" he said sharply, pushing himself to his feet. "You're going to run right back to those Gryffindors, and none of this is going to get any better. Do what you want. I don't care."

She said nothing to this, but her face flushed red in an anger that surpassed his. "Out," she repeated, and he left, shutting the door hard behind him. She slumped over in defeat, staring at the food and class work he had left behind; Adelinda wondered if she had overreacted. Help was help, and he hadn't had ulterior motives in doing it; only that he felt bad. He had had good intentions.

"And good intentions pave the road to hell," she muttered bitterly, pushing her blanket from around herself and huffing as she got tangled in it. She had lost her appetite; pushing the tray to the foot of her bed, she pulled the stack of books and assignments closer. Schoolwork was a nice distraction, and she certainly needed one. But it didn't work. She kept thinking about Blaise, about Malfoy, about the fear she had felt when she was being pinned down and choked out with water. She kept thinking about the tender bruises on her cheeks and the fact that in a couple of days, she would have to return to classes. She told herself that no one would even notice. She had make up that she could try to cover the bruises with, and maybe Hogwarts wasn't like Muggle school where gossip spread like wildfire; she knew that Hermione and Ginny wouldn't have spoken a word of it to anyone, and despite her somewhat poor opinion of Malfoy she didn't think that he would, either. He seemed to keep to himself when it came to gossip and other people's business. It was Pansy and her friends that she knew would have told people, though if they were smart, they would keep it to themselves. The only people that would sympathize with them were Slytherins, and they were outnumbered by every other house.

That thought was reassuring, and it was all she could think about as she worked on assignments and finally went to bed.

The next morning, when she woke, she realized that she would have to eat. She doubted Malfoy would be bringing her any more food, and her pride preferred it that way. She waited until she knew that classes would begin and gathered her things to go to the showers; she hadn't bathed since the morning of the trip and felt disgusting. When she opened her door to leave, though, there was a small tray of food and a small container of something sitting in front of it. She frowned and crouched, picking up a slip of parchment.

_This is bruise paste. Put it on every few hours. And you're going to have to go to breakfast sometime, you know. –D_

"Bloody hell," she muttered, picking up the tray. There were a few pieces of toast, some fruit, a bowl of porridge and what looked like pumpkin juice. Was it another act of pity? Her first thought would have been that it was an apology, but Malfoy was too proud for that. She took it as it was. She was grateful for another morning that she could avoid breakfast, but she would have to go for lunch. She wouldn't let Malfoy continue to bring her food after she had told him off the day before.

She set the food on the bed; she had several trays and bowls and cups stacked on her desk, and she wondered what on earth she was going to do with them. She picked up the bruise paste, opening the container and sniffing it. Smelled like bruise paste, looked like bruise paste. She wondered why Malfoy had it and assumed that it was for Quidditch injuries. She would put it on after a bath; no point in putting it on only to wash it off.

She pulled her hair back and bundled her clothes and towel in her arms, grabbing her wand and her key and leaving for the bathing room. It was separate from the toilets; on one side were showers enclosed in stalls, on the other a few large tubs with curtains you could pull. Through the middle of the large room were two rows of sinks and mirrors that you could sit down at; little stools were pushed neatly beneath the counters. There was only one large full-length mirror in the bathroom, and in the mornings girls fought like lions over it. Beside it were shelves full of shampoos, conditioners, skin products and bubble baths; the girls who were smart enchanted theirs to give anyone who tried to use it a nasty shock, or kept it in her room. As a result, no one really touched other people's things.

Adelinda pulled a stool over to the tub to set her clothes onto it, and took her bath things from the shelf she kept them on, pushed to the back behind the others. She had a thought that perhaps she should begin keeping them in her room, lest Pansy decide to pull some nasty prank and switch her shampoo with some sort of potion. Yeah, she would take them back to her bedroom with her. She was sure she had something she could put them in.

She began to fill the tub with hot water, pouring some bubble bath into the water beneath the faucet. She wanted to soak her sore body and relax for awhile, something she never got to do because there were always other people when she came in to bath; maybe she would start bathing at night after everyone had gone to bed. Waking up early enough to do it was simply out of the question. She pulled off the sweatpants and shirt she still wore from the day before and folded them in a neat pile beside the bathtub. She let the tub fill and sank into the bubbles, leaning her head against the rim. Adelinda sat like that until her skin was pruned and the water cool before washing herself and letting the tub drain, thinking about nothing; she rinsed in one of the showers and wrapped her towel around her hair. No one came into the bathing rooms during the day; everyone bathed before classes began or after the school day ended, and she was safe to lounge and walk as she pleased. As she walked past the full-length mirror, she didn't want to anymore. She stared at the bruises that decorated her ribs and the lighter ones on her arms; the bruises on her ribs were the worst but the ones on her face more colorful. Her lip was still a little swollen and red, and her eyes watered as she looked at herself. "Stop it," she said to her reflection, feeling a little silly as she did so. "Stop wallowing."

Adelinda turned promptly away and dried herself, pulling on her uniform. She wouldn't wear her robes to the Great Hall at lunch time but it would look a touch odd if she went out of uniform. She tossed her towel into the bin; house elves came during the mornings when everyone was at classes to gather the dirty towels and straighten the bathing rooms. Gathering her clothing lothes and her bathroom essentials, she went back to her room, immediately and liberally applying the bruise paste to her face.

She had hours to go before lunch but she found she had lost her appetite already without even eating breakfast; her nerves were shot with the idea of being amongst schoolmates. She passed the time by writing each of her parents another letter, straightening her room, anything she could to distract herself. Finally, just before lunch she went to the owlery to send off her letters and spend a little time with Isis, feeding her far too many treats. She jumped as the bell chimed throughout the castle and pushed herself up, giving the owl a little peck on the top of the head; the affectionate gesture was returned with a gentle peck to Adelinda's finger. "No more treats," she told the bird with a smile. "Go deliver those letters, you silly thing." She shooed her out of the window and made her way towards the Great Hall.

No one seemed to pay her much mind in the corridors, and it put a bit of her anxiety to rest. The glances towards her bruises were fleeting, and she felt silly for thinking that everyone would stare; there were hundreds of students in the school. No one would stop to pay attention to a girl that not many people knew. When she did receive stares, she made eye contact and continued walking.

Adelinda took a deep breath before walking into the Great Hall. She had come in with the large crowd of people that came in as soon as their class ended; the more people around her the less she would be noticed. But as she strolled past the Slytherin table, she heard someone calling her name. "Adelinda!"

Adelinda's heart jumped and she slowed, turning her head and meeting Blaise's eyes. He sat at the end of the table, and Pansy was just a few seats down from him. He began to push himself up and made to walk over to her. _Funny, _she thought bitterly, her lightened mood turning uncharacteristically sour, _I would think that if someone attacked the girl you liked, you wouldn't want to be anywhere near them…_Pansy was giving her an wicked grin, having turned as Blaise called her name, and Adelinda's face darkened. She turned on her heel, too soon to see Malfoy saying something nasty to Parkinson and grab Zabini's arm, stopping him from approaching her.

Her heart lightened again as she saw Hermione and Ginny already sitting down. Ginny jumped to greet her, pulling her into a tight hug that hurt her ribs, but she returned it with equal enthusiasm. "Adelinda! How are you feeling? Any better? Did anyone say anything to you, are you okay?" the older girl's voice was shrill and briefly, she reminded Adelinda of her mother. She smiled.

"Ginny, I'm okay," she assured her, sliding onto the bench. "Blaise tried to talk to me, but I just walked away…"

"Good," Hermione said firmly, her lips set angrily. "He has no business talking to you. None of them do."

Ginny shot her a scolding look. "Adelinda can talk to whoever she wants," she said, going on to add, "But I do agree with Hermione…"

"I don't plan on talking to him. I can't really trust him, can I?" Adelinda worried at her bottom lip. "But I don't know what I'm going to do about potions."

There was a moment of silence. "Slughorn heard about what happened," Hermione told her. "Changed the seats around. I don't think anyone realizes that it was because of what happened, though."

"Oh…well, that's good," Adelinda said. She wondered who she would sit next to now; she was relieved it wouldn't be Blaise. She did hope she got to keep her seat in the back. She liked being out of the way.

Having conquered her fear of going to the Great Hall, she dug in. She ignored the looks the Gryffindors gave her occasionally—nothing mean, just curious looks at her bruises. She hoped the bruise paste worked at least a little between using it and going back to classes. Harry and Ron ranted and raved about how Blaise shouldn't have left her alone and how he was probably involved, and she ignored that, too; it hurt, but they meant well. She had come to learn that Harry and Ron both treated Ginny and Hermione as younger sisters that they had to watch over, and that had spread to her as well, it seemed. As they clamored on about Zabini and those 'treacherous Slytherin girls,' Adelinda stuffed her face with warm food and after lunch was over, said goodbye to her friends. She didn't want to go back to her room now that she had left it; she was tired of being confined in that small space with nothing to do, but she wasn't cleared to go back to class yet. She didn't really want to, anyway; she would go to one of her favorite places in the castle, second only to the Room of Requirement: the library.

She had spent a lot of time here since school had begun. Her favorite section was the history of famous witches; there were so many powerful ones, so many intelligent and beautiful ones, and she looked up to them. Her parents had always tried to avoid using magic around her when she was young to keep her from accidentally telling someone at school, and so she hadn't had many magical figureheads as a child. She made her way to that section.

She jumped as she felt a hand on her shoulder and drew her wand, spinning around and away from the hand. She had her wand pointed at Blaise's shocked face; his hands went up to show he was wand-less. That didn't mean anything to her. "What do you want, Zabini?" she said in a monotone. He took note of her use of his last name and frowned. She felt a little bad, but it was in her best interest to distance herself from him. She would be civil, but not friendly. There was a difference, and it was the first time she had ever been anything but friendly to someone. Malfoy didn't count.

"I just wanted to talk," he told her, his eyes lingering on her bruised cheek. "And see if you were okay…"

"You could have done that while I was in the infirmary. You _should _have, actually," Adelinda said, her chest tight with anger that she hadn't felt towards him before.

"I was worried that you wouldn't want to see me," he said meekly, his hands dropping to his sides. Her wand was still up.

"_Vedo, _so you were worried I wouldn't want to see you but you weren't worried enough to come anyway and see how I was doing after _you _left me alone," Adelinda felt an immediate remorse at the words that sounded harsh to her ears. She didn't know where this emotion had come from and her polite tendencies had been pushed aside. "After _you _left me behind to deal with Parkinson."

"I thought they were gone—"

"I just think it's a little odd that you left me alone like that after being such a gentleman all day; I think it's odd that you left me alone after Pansy told you Malfoy wanted to see you, and we both know he didn't," she said.

"Would you lower that bloody thing?" Zabini was getting frustrated, she could see that, but she didn't quite care. She lowered her wand arm but kept a tight grip on it, ready to draw it again. She felt so aggressive; it was a new feeling, and an empowering one. "I didn't know what they were going to do."

She struggled internally. Should she use legilimency? She could figure out whether he was lying or not, but in her book, it was morally wrong. On the other hand, however, she would be using it to assure her own well-being; she wouldn't really go _into _his mind…she would just try to detect how he felt about the situation and his level of honesty…finally, she gave in. "So you didn't know? You didn't have any idea?"

She could _feel _his hesitation as he struggled to answer her question, and when he finally told her that he hadn't had any idea whatsoever, she knew that it was only a partial truth. "You had to have known," she prodded further, eyes narrowing in scrutiny. He was squirming beneath her gaze and she could tell it was making him angry. Good. "You had to have some idea. Why would Malfoy send Pansy and her friends to tell you, and not find you himself?"

"That's just how Malfoy is, you don't even know him," Zabini said, his voice as stiff as the set of his shoulders.

"I don't know you, either," she said, her eyebrows rising. "Yet I still find it hard to believe you had no idea." All he wanted was for her to believe him, because he liked her. She was cute, she was a little spitfire when she wanted to be, she was smart, she was Italian. Her only downfall was being a Muggle-born, but his parents never had to know. And he truly hadn't known what would happen; but he_ had_ suspected that something was amiss when Pansy had just so happened to know exactly where he was and send him off, and he had seen them lingering close-by as he had gone to meet Malfoy. He hadn't turned around, though. He hadn't thought about going back to ensure that Adelinda was okay; he had been more focused on his irritation at having to meet Malfoy. The two boys had grown apart after the war; their views had changed, their personalities had changed. Or rather, Malfoy's had. But now Adelinda knew about the suspicious he had had and his lack of worry for her, even if he didn't know that she knew.

"Call me self-centered, but I believe that if you are friends with someone, their well-being should be first in your mind," Adelinda said after a moment of just looking at him. He seemed a little confused by her words. She didn't care to explain. "Please leave me alone, Zabini."

"Adelinda, I'm sorry," Zabini said, his anger changing too quickly to remorse. "I should have come to see you, I know, there are no excuses…I should have walked you to the pub…" he took a step forward and she tensed; when he put a hand on her bruised cheek she raised her wand again, pointing it just under his throat.

"Leave me alone," she snapped, less politely. The librarian was walking towards them with a concerned look on her face; she had been so immersed in their conversation and figuring his head out that she hadn't noticed someone walk by and see her wand drawn and pointed towards him. She lowered her wand but kept her enraged eyes on his.

"What on earth is the problem over here?" the librarian asked. She and Adelinda had had a few conversations, and the older woman hadn't taken the student as one to cause trouble like this; when she saw her face her eyebrows furrowed. Perhaps there was more to the situation; her first thought was abusive boyfriend. "Mister Zabini, I'm going to have to ask you to leave," the woman said. She was a few inches taller than Adelinda, mid-forties and beautiful; she reminded her of what Muggles called hippies in her colorful clothing and her long waved hair.

Zabini scowled. "Whatever," he muttered and turned on his heel, walking away. Adelinda could see the rage in his steps, heavy and loud, drawing the attention of the people he passed.

"Thank you," she said with a small smile of gratitude, her eyes shifting from Zabini's retreating form to Mrs. Cresswell's.

"Are you okay, love?" the witch said, her eyebrows furrowed in concern. "He didn't do that to you, did he?"

"What?—" Adelinda's fingers rested gingerly against her own cheek, making the connection. "—oh, ah…no, he didn't…it was…well, bullying, I guess…it's been taken care of. It's just that he may or may not have been involved…" the words were getting caught in her throat. She chewed at her bottom lip even though it stung.

"Why on earth would someone bully you?" Mrs. Cresswell asked, taking a seat; Adelinda followed suit. She didn't want to talk about it, but the concern was touching.

"Because I'm a Muggle-born Slytherin who associates with Gryffindors instead of her own house," Adelinda answered after a moment with a little shrug, looking down. She crossed and uncrossed and crossed her legs again.

Mrs. Cresswell sighed. "Children these days," she said in a sad voice. Adelinda figured it wouldn't do well to tell her the 'child' who had caused the bruises was a twenty-year-old woman. "Well, as long as it has been taken care of and it wasn't Mr. Zabini who did it…"

Adelinda shook her head. "It's all fine," she said with a smile. The woman pushed herself to her feet and put a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"You come here if you're ever in any trouble, or even if you just need to talk," the librarian said sternly. Adelinda smiled again. She was a sweet woman.

"Thank you," Adelinda told her again. She walked off to do her job, making sure the books were where they belonged and students were doing what they were meant to be doing.

She slumped in her seat once the woman had gone, leaning her head back. It had been a stressful week.

When Adelinda returned to classes a few days later, it was, for the most part, unnoticed; she kept to herself in most of them, but the few friends she did have had noticed her absence. Thanks to the bruise paste, her bruises had become faint enough to cover mostly with Muggle make up; only in very bright or dark lighting could you see them. Those few friends who noticed chalked her absence up to being sick; it seemed word _hadn't _gotten out that Pansy and her friends had essentially jumped her. She would later find out that that was McGonagall's doing; she had told the girls that if they spoke of the incident in any way, they would be expelled. The two girls that had helped Pansy had been given detention for a month and temporary confiscation of their wands; Pansy had been given detention for a month as well, and her wand taken for half of the school year; but she would only be given her wand back if she was on good behavior during that time. They had all had letters sent home, and if any of them got into anymore serious trouble, they would be expelled. McGonagall would have expelled them then and there if it weren't for the Ministry of Magic. Children of Death Eaters were to be given just a little slack; it was believed by some that it wasn't fair to punish them for the ideals that their parents had drilled into their minds. They believed that they could change the ones who hadn't changed already. They were just _children, _after all…though Pansy wasn't. Adelinda thought that it was bollocks, but the headmaster had done the best she could under the circumstances and for that she was grateful. She wondered if her parents had been told the girls' punishments and how they felt about it.

It was the classes that she had with Seventh Year Slytherins that were a bit troublesome; perhaps it was her imagination that they were giving her odd looks and whispering. She wasn't sure. It very well could be. But in the one or two that she had with Pansy, she _knew _the girl and her friends were giving her mean looks and that those snarky giggles were about her. Slughorn reprimanded them several times during one class period—for "talking during instruction," he said—and finally added another two weeks of detention to their sentences. They complained that it was unfair and stopped when he threatened to add another; and the dirty looks stopped as well. She sat next to a girl close to her age in that class now, still towards the back but not at the last table like she wanted; as long as she wasn't near Blaise or Pansy, she was fine. The girl was sweet and she made her regret not talking to her before; she had been so set on shutting out all of the Slytherins that she hadn't considered there could be more than one or two decent ones. They made a nice little group, chit-chatting about travel and classes and on occasion, boys; Penelope was her name. She wasn't very good at potions, but she was willing to let Adelinda help her. Perhaps a good thing had come out of what had happened.

Blaise had tried to talk to her since following her to the library; it was always a 'hey,' or 'can we talk?' and she always ignored it; after several times of being passed by, he seemed to get that she really didn't want to speak. That was when he sent her a somewhat lengthy, overdone apology letter; he told her how sorry he was that he had let Pansy and her friends do that to her, and he told her how he should have come to see her, or at least written her a get-well card; it came to her during breakfast one morning and she and Ginny giggled over the silliness of it. It was left on her plate with scraps of food.

She and Malfoy, on the other hand, had not spoken; she had contemplated sending him a little thank-you note for the bruise paste, but her pride got the better of her manners. Shyness took a small part in it, as well. If they passed each other by, they did not so much as look at each other. She didn't realize that he sometimes turned to check if she was looking after him. She never was.

Adelinda began to spend a little more time alone, unconsciously associating less with her Gryffindor friends; she sat with them at meals, but often skipped lunch to go to the library or the Room of Requirements to study or work on schoolwork. She still met Ginny there during her free periods, but Ginny had Quidditch practices and just as much schoolwork as Adelinda did, if not more—she had the O.W.L.s to take and, if she wanted to get out of school that year, the N.E.W.T.s. Neither of them took it personally. She did not attend the next Hogsmeade trip, and they didn't ask her to. She wouldn't have gone if they did, and trusted that they knew that. She was indifferent towards the village now. If she needed anything, Ginny had told her, she would get it for her.

There weren't many people left in the castle once everyone who was going to Hogsmeade had left; Adelinda hadn't realized just how many people participated. All the students she encountered were the First through Third Years; and most of them were on their way to see their friends in other parts of the castle. Adelinda was going to the Room of Requirements for the day. She wanted to sit around and read and write, and maybe get ahead on some of her classwork, if there was any left to do after her week of skipping lunch to do it. She had too much free time and nothing besides books and studying to fill it with.

Adelinda finally reached the Room of Requirements. She had her bag full of books over her shoulder, and she asked for a place to relax; when the door opened she stepped inside, but stopped; the room looked odd. Every time she came to it, she asked for the same thing; every time, she was given a room with big windows and shelves of books and huge, soft couches decorated with oversized pillows. She had her shelves of books, but scattered amongst the comfortable couches were leather arm chairs and one very quizzical looking Draco Malfoy.

"Oh," was all that left Adelinda's lips. Her cheeks were pink; she felt like she was intruding. "I didn't think anybody would be in here…" Ginny had told her that knowledge of this room was limited, and that she only knew of it because of something she had called Dumbledore's Army. They hadn't gotten too into the conversation; she had been meaning to ask her about it.

Malfoy shrugged. One ankle was propped on the opposite knee and he had a massive leather-bound book resting against his leg, his thumb resting against a page to mark his spot. "You're fine," he said lazily, reading as he spoke.

Adelinda turned to leave; she was disappointed that she couldn't hang out in the Room of Requirements for the day, but there was always the library, or perhaps she could see if Hagrid wanted any help with his creatures…or maybe, if she was lucky, no one would be on the Quidditch fields and she could fly. There were other things to do.

"You can stay," he told her without looking up. "If you'd like. I mean, you've already ruined my lovely leather décor." He gestured towards the homey furniture and the walls, some with windows and dark curtains, the others colored brightly and letting all of the sunlight in.

Adelinda rolled her eyes at the last comment and bit her lip, thinking on it. They had seemed to be beginning to get along before she had snapped at him…maybe it wouldn't be so bad. But then, maybe it would be incredibly awkward. "I suppose I'll stay for a bit. I'm alright here," she said as nonchalantly as she could, but Draco gave her a look that said she failed at the voice of indifference. She scowled at him when he looked away.

"Stop making faces at me," he said easily. Her cheeks darkened and he smirked. Instead of responding she took a seat in the fabric sofa across from where he sat, slipping her shoes off and folding her legs under her. She pulled a book and some papers from her bag. "How do you know about this room, anyway?"

"Ginny," she said hesitantly. "We come here sometimes during free periods."

"Ah," Malfoy said knowingly. "I'm not surprised."

Adelinda opened her book to where she had left off the night before, shuffling through her notes to see what she had taken down so far. "How do you know about it?" she asked curiously, shifting until she was comfortable. She began scanning through the words in her History of Magic book, taking down detailed notes. There was quite a bit she didn't know about the history of magic; the execution of it and the history of it were two very separate things.

Malfoy gave a one-shouldered shrug, glancing over at her. Their eyes met and she was taken aback by the way the sun hit his, making them look nearly white. "I just do," he told her.

She didn't say anything after that. They fell into a silence that was a touch awkward, but Adelinda let herself become immersed in her studying, and Malfoy tried to concentrate on his book. It was a book of Dark Magic that had been passed down and added to throughout and by his family over decades; he would (probably) never use any of it, but as a Malfoy male he was expected to know it. And, he could admit, it was interesting. It was what he had grown up around. He only read it in the Room of Requirements; Merlin forbid someone get nosy and figure out what it was. The Ministry was lenient with the children of Death Eaters, but not _that _lenient.

He was finding it hard to concentrate with Adelinda in the room, though. He had told her to stay if she wanted, but in truth, it was he that had wanted her to; he wouldn't admit it, but he liked her company. She was the only person who would freely argue with him and tell him how rude he was being. Not that it stopped him; but it made it much more fun. He liked watching her cheeks turn pink when he made her angry and the way her eyes gleamed when she was spitting his sarcasm back at him in the form of polite insults. He had never known there was such a thing until he had met her.

In the last few weeks, it had crossed his mind to strike up conversation with her when he saw her sitting alone in the library or walking to class by herself; after their last conversation, he wasn't sure how it would go, and he wasn't ready to be shooed away in the middle of a crowded corridor. That would hurt any man's ego. Instead, he had watched her every time she passed him. He found himself observing her every time he saw her, and it bothered him more than anything had in awhile that he knew the way she walked, that he could pick up her voice in passing; it bothered him that she caught his attention so easily and without even trying. He almost found himself feeling insecure every time he toyed with the idea of striking up a conversation, and _that _infuriated him. A Malfoy should not feel insecure at any time when thinking of a woman.

As a result, though, he had not even attempted to speak to her. He knew there was always the option of apologizing for the way he had explained his reasoning for helping her—and he did feel badly about it—but he was too proud for that. He had a feeling that she wouldn't want to hear any apologies, anyway. He had heard Zabini going on and on about how she had ignored his every attempt to do so (and that was something that he was glad to hear). He knew what Zabini's intentions likely had been with her; she was young, she was a bit naïve, and she had liked him well enough. Zabini didn't ask for anymore than that.

Draco scowled at the thought of it and caught Adelinda looking at him curiously. "What?" he snapped, and immediately wanted to take it back. She looked surprised at the sharpness of his voice.

"Sorry," she muttered and shifted awkwardly where she sat, going back to her book, but now she couldn't concentrate, either; she felt Malfoy looking at her. When she glanced up, she met his eyes. "Staring is rude."

"Weren't you just doing the same thing?" he said, raising an eyebrow at her. He slid a bookmarker between the pages of his book and closed it, resting his hands on the arms of his chair.

"I wasn't _staring," _she said indignantly, frowning at him. "You made a face. I was just wondering what you were thinking about. _You _were staring."

"I was thinking about how you remind me of Granger," he said. A smirk played over his lips as he watched her narrow her green eyes at him. "So bookish."

"You say that as though it's a bad thing," Adelinda said, and gestured towards the large book on his lap. "And you say it as you sit with a massive, ancient book in your lap."

"This is recreational," Draco said. "Don't you do anything other than study?"

"Don't you do anything other than criticize the people around you?" Adelinda shot back. Her cheeks were flushed and her lips set firmly in frustration.

"Look, you even do that thing with your mouth that Granger does," he told her with a grin.

"For Merlin's sake, read your book," she snapped at him, yanking her book up from her lap and using it to hide her face as she read.

They were quiet for a few moments. Adelinda was trying not to let him irritate her, but it was so easy for him to do; she got flustered so easily and she was so touchy about book-reading. As he had said, just like Granger. But Adelinda looked up to the girl, and it was insulting to her to be compared to Hermione in a _negative _way. "How have things been going with your Gryffindor friends?" he asked, leaning back in his chair. She lowered the book to glance over at him.

"Good," she said simply, raising the book again.

"No more trouble with Pansy?"

"I don't want to talk about her."

"Fair enough. How 'bout Blaise?"

He had hit a never with the last two. "Stop with your questions," she said sharply.

"Simply trying to make conversation," Draco said with a shrug. She was getting worked up and he loved it.

"Well, I didn't come here for conversation. I came here to study," Adelinda said.

"I didn't come here to spend time with _you, _but here we are," Draco told her with a raised eyebrow, and realized a bit too late how mean it sounded. Adelinda smacked her book down onto the sofa.

"Do you _realize _how bloody insufferable you are?" Adelinda said.

"Yes, I do, actually," Malfoy said happily. He wanted to take back what he had said—he truly hadn't meant it the way it had sounded.

"Let me remind you that _you _told me that I could stay when I was ready to leave without a fuss," Adelinda snapped. She pushed herself to her feet and started putting her things back into her bag.

"You would think a girl without a boyfriend would _love _to be in my company," Draco said cockily. He watched her throw her things angrily into her bag. She ignored his comment. "Where are you going?" he asked, frowning.

She looked at him. "What do you mean, where am I going? I'm leaving. You're being a prat."

"Hey, easy on the name-calling," he said. "I'll stop. Perhaps if you would try to hold a real conversation instead of just reading the whole time, though, I'd feel inclined to be a bit nicer."

She gave him a look of absolute disbelief. "Are you serious right now?" Adelinda said. "I'm not even sure why I'm still here. In fact, I really am leaving now. I thought that we could get along, but I suppose not. Remember this the next time you or anyone else says I've never tried to make Slytherin friends." Her eyes were glossy. Damn her emotions and her tendency to cry when frustrated enough. She snatched up her bag and made for the door, wanting to leave before the tears broke.

Draco saw the sheen of her eyes and his chest became heavy with guilt. He hadn't thought he would push her to tears, but he supposed after the things she'd had to endure lately, it was to be expected that she'd be sensitive. Women were odd, their emotions more-so. He stood quickly and grabbed her bag to keep her from moving. "Hey," he said, his voice taking on a tone that struck her as familiar. She had heard it when he had been in the infirmary with her, trying to get her to calm down enough to take the potions Pomfrey had been giving her.

"_What_?" Her back was turned to him, and she looked back over her shoulder. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes shining and he wanted her to smile. He frowned at that thought and his lips parted but he didn't say anything. She huffed. "I'm _leaving. _I was so mistaken to think that we could get along—"

He pulled her towards him when she tried to yank away and she stopped, turning to face him. "What do you want, Malfoy?" she said, her voice aggressive.

"I'm sorry," he said simply, his hand on her wrist. They were inches from each other and she had to tilt her head to look up at him.

"I don't care, okay? You're just mean, I suppose, but I am not going to subject myself to—"

"Shut up," he groaned. "I'm not sorry for being mean. Well, I suppose I am. I—" he wasn't good at apologizing. "—I'm sorry for how the last time we spoke went down. That's why I'm trying to say, I suppose…"

"But I'm sure you still pity me," she said bitterly. "Apologize all you want, but _onestamente_? I don't care for apologies. Not yours or anyone else's. They mean nothing. I'm _done_ with you Slytherins."

"Don't judge us all from a few that you've had bad experiences with," he said, his voice serious

"Malfoy, you're one of the ones I've had bad experiences with—" she said, her voice raising in frustration. "—you were rude the first time I met you, downright mean, really—the first person I really had a conversation with here and you just turned me away! Who are you to tell me not to judge? And then Pansy—Blaise—all of you—you all say you've changed, you're better, but I would hate to see what you were like before because you're still so _terrible _to everyone—"

Draco didn't know why he did it. Maybe it was the passion in her voice or her rosy cheeks. Maybe it was the way her lips moved when she was angry. He didn't know why he kissed her, but one second he was watching her mouth and the next second his lips were on hers and her words trailed off. When she didn't pull away immediately he used the hand on her wrist to pull her closer and the fronts of their bodies brushed; Adelinda found herself leaning up into his kiss, amazed by the little shocks going through her at the touch of her lips, and she forgot who was at the end of them as she parted them.

They kissed, his hands went to her waist, his lips moved softly against hers. And then he realized what he was doing and he pulled back; when he looked at her he wanted to kiss her again and feel the warmth of her mouth and her skin against his.

Instead he muttered an apology and turned on his heel, leaving her alone in the Room of Requirements.

**Hi guys! I know it's been awhile. A month, maybe? I lost track. I apologize for that! I'll try to update quicker this time. Remember to review, they keep the author encouraged and ready to write! :)) **


	8. Chapter 8

Weeks passed Adelinda told no one about the kiss—not Ginny, not Hermione, and _certainly _not the boys. She wasn't sure what to think of it, or why Malfoy had done it, or why she had reacted to it the way she had. Or why, when he left, she wanted more. It made her red in the face thinking about it.

But Adelinda was angry. Her first kiss had been stolen by a boy she couldn't stand, and he had not spoken one word to her since. It was as though it had never happened; they passed each other in the common room and corridors and despite her attempts at making eye contact, he never looked her way. She continued going to the Room of Requirements in her free time and he was never there. She wasn't sure if she was relieved or disappointed; she told herself she simply wanted to tell him off. She did, that was true; he'd had no right to kiss her, and he had no right to pretend it hadn't happened—but there was a part of her that wanted it to happen again. She ignored that part of her until she was lying in bed at night trying to sleep and couldn't think of anything but.

She didn't know what to do. Adelinda had never been in this sort of situation before—having to worry about whether a boy liked her or not, having to wonder why he had kissed her and what she should do. On one hand, she wanted to confront him and give him hell for stealing her first kiss and then acting as though he hadn't. On the other hand, she wanted to do just as he was doing and pretend it hadn't happened; that was the easy way out, and that was the way that catered to both her cowardice and her pride. She wouldn't be the one chasing after him. She had heard the way the younger Slytherin girls talked about him, doted over him, and she would not be one of them

She stopped trying to get his attention when she passed him; it had begun to feel a bit desperate. She did just as he did and ignored him in the corridors; she looked straight ahead and kept her shoulders high, despite feeling a bit miserable about the whole thing. She was in slump. Between the attack, cutting off a boy she had actually begun to like, and isolating herself from her friends, she was not feeling happy. And now she had a boy to feel insecure about. She knew she could change it, but she couldn't find the motivation to. All she was doing lately was studying and reading and writing papers a week early. By the time she had done all her work for the week, she had nothing to do; so she would go to the library or the Room of Requirements and read her little heart away. On good days, she would join Ginny on the Quidditch fields and fly and everything felt okay, but Adelinda was sad. She had begun having dreams about Pansy and Malfoy and Blaise and the things that had happened during her childhood. To add to it, her parents' weekly letters and care packages had slowed. She knew she shouldn't think much on it; it was a busy time of year for them. In the fall, they went to festivals and fairs and they traveled. She was simply homesick. She found herself thinking about winter break constantly; she would be happy to be at home with her family and away from this school and the Slytherins she seemed to be surrounded with, though she would miss Ginny and Hermione.

The two girls had begun to notice Adelinda's change in behavior; they chalked it up to what had happened with Pansy. She was quiet during breakfast and dinner and didn't eat much, and, more often than not, skipped lunch; she said that she needed to stay caught up on her work and wasn't used to this much of a workload, but they knew better. They asked her a few times if everything was okay, and she insisted that it was; when the questions began to fluster her they stopped asking, but still wondered and worried. They wanted to ask her to go to Hogsmeade with them but hesitated, and eventually decided not to ask. Adelinda would go when she was ready.

So when the next trip rolled around, Adelinda was left in the castle by herself. She didn't mind. After the last few trips, she realized that it left the Slytherin common room empty; it was nice being able to spend time there. She had slept in and missed breakfast, but she would go to the kitchens, which Harry had showed her, and bring back lunch. She was going to make a day of relaxing, having a nice soak in the tub with scented bubbles, and took her time dressing and leaving the bathing rooms. As she walked back to her room, dressed in jeans and a sweater to accommodate the chilled October weather, she saw the very boy she had taken to avoiding in the common room. She was a little embarrassed; she was naked-faced and her hair was wrapped in a towel. It did not matter, she told herself, because she didn't want his attention.

Draco was sitting on one of the leather loveseats, in his usual black pants and a white-button up. He didn't mind the chill; Malfoy Manor was always cold. He tried not to notice Adelinda walking through the common room but his eyes raised and they made eye contact for the quickest second before she was out of sight. He sighed. Over the last few weeks, he had found himself hoping that she would talk to him; at the same time, however, he was glad she hadn't tried. He had feelings for her, and was convinced that if he simply ignored them long enough, they would go away. So far, he was being proven wrong. Every time she walked past him, his eyes followed her; he would never let her know that, but they did. He found himself wanting to go to the Room of Requirements during lunch simply because he knew she would be there, but he resisted that urge. He wondered how she had felt about the kiss. He had no doubt in his mind that she had enjoyed it—who wouldn't?—but he did wonder if she would welcome another. And then he mentally slapped himself.

His father would be ashamed of him for thinking of a Muggle-born in such a way.

His father was in prison, though, and those views had been the ones to get him there.

He gave himself a little mental shake. Adelinda had left the room and he could return to his book. He found himself unable to concentrate and almost wishing he had gone to Hogsmeade. There was nothing there for him, though. He thought that, perhaps, he could owl his mother and request her company for the next trip. They could meet up and make a day of it; he knew she had to be lonely in the Manor with just herself and the house-elves. Or perhaps not…she was probably throwing dinner parties left and right. He could admit to simply missing his mother.

He decided to owl her after all, and returned to his room, passing Adelinda again on the way, and again, ignoring her, both grateful and disappointed that she had done the same.

Adelinda was relieved to see that Malfoy was returning to his room; she was set on sitting in the common room. She made her way to the kitchens and chatted with the elves for a bit; they were such sweet creatures. They happily gave her the little bit of food she asked for. She always brought the trays back afterwards, despite the elves insisting they could fetch them when they went to change the linens in the bedrooms. She didn't want to create extra work for them simply because she liked to avoid the Great Hall and was amazed by their gratitude when she told them that. Hermione had told her House Elves had always been treated poorly, but their reactions to any gestures of kindness still surprised her.

She returned to the common room and was happy to see that Malfoy had remained in his room; she sat on a couch and set her tray of food on the heavy black table before it, casting a summoning charm to bring her schoolwork and books to her. In the quiet of the common room she could very faintly hear her door opening and closing to allow the things out. She nibbled on bread and fruit as she read a Muggle book that her mother had sent her, some ridiculously romantic story; she found that she couldn't put it down. She glanced up when she heard footsteps, and looked down when she saw the familiar blonde-headed boy leaving the common room. Adelinda found herself wishing that he would say something to her, even in passing; she was so curious and angry and hopeful, and every time she saw him, the feelings he had invoked with that kiss came back to her full-force.

Adelinda was curled into the corner of the soda reading, little bits of hair that had gotten loose from the bun falling into her face. She was getting tired. Between school work (extra credit, really) and dreams, she had not been sleeping much. As she continued to read, she got more and more drowsy; she rested her head against the sofa as she read, book propped against her knees, and after moments of sitting like that finally dozed off.

It wasn't long after she did that Malfoy returned to the common room. He had been planning on spending the day there, as well; he liked solitude, but not in the small confines of his room. He debated on staying in the common room or not. He should just go and let her sleep, he thought—but no, he had already given up the Room of Requirements so that she could continue going. This was _his _common room.

With that adamant thought, he fetched the book he had been reading earlier and took a seat in an armchair near the fireplace; propping his feet on an ottoman and leaning back into the chair, he began to read. He had sent his mother a letter asking her to join him in Hogsmeade two weekends from then, or perhaps on Halloween weekend—it was his mother's favorite holiday, though he couldn't be sure why. He was sure it had something to do with his father. Most things did. He worried about her, now that his father was gone. He knew that she tried to visit him often, but she always returned from those visits a mess; she wouldn't talk about them except to try to get Draco to go with her, and on rare occasions he did. He resented his father, if he was to be honest. He had never wanted to be a Death Eater, despite the prejudiced views he had held all throughout his childhood and adolescence. He had never liked Muggle-borns or blood traitors, but he had never wanted to see them dead, and he had certainly never wanted to have to do any killing himself. The true resentment had begun when he had been informed of Voldemort's request to kill Dumbledore. He hadn't been fond of the man, but he looked up to him, in an odd way. He never treated him any differently than the other students, though the old man knew how much of a prat he could be.

He shook those thoughts away. They would do nothing but depress him, and this school year had been depressing enough. He had often found himself questioning his return; he wasn't sure what he wanted to do with his life, and that had been the main reason for it. He would finish school and take his N.E.W.T.s and see what his options were. He didn't want to live off of the Malfoy money his entire life. Finishing his education truly was the only purpose for returning to Hogwarts, though; many others had returned for the same reason, but they had friends they wanted to be with, significant others to spend time with, and the castle had held good memories for them before the war. He had no close friends; in fact, the only close-friend he had ever had was Blaise. Crabbe and Goyle had only followed him out of blind devotion, and that was not friendship. But he and Blaise were far too different now to ever be more than acquaintances.

He glanced up as he heard a little sigh come from Adelinda. She was still sleeping, but she was fidgeting, trying to get comfortable. Little strands of dark hair were falling in her face and making a nice contrast against her pale skin; her arms were folded snug over her chest and knees drawn up. He couldn't help but notice that her Muggle pants did not fit her as tightly as they used to, and her face looked less full, shadows where her cheekbones were and circles under her eyes. She had lost a bit of color, as well. He could see the veins in her eyelids. His eyes went to the tray of half-eaten food and he frowned. He had seen many girls come to Hogwarts and starve themselves to look like the waifish, popular Slytherin girls, but he hadn't thought Adelinda would do such a thing. He wondered if her little Gryffindor friends had noticed.

He had looked back to his book when she made another little noise, and he glanced up again. Her eyebrows were furrowed. She was probably having a bad dream, and he was stuck. Did he wake her? Did he leave and pretend he had never been there in the first place? Or did he simply sit there and wait for her to wake? The last one sounded a touch creepy, so he decided against it. He was standing and making to leave the room as she made another little noise and he gave an aggravated sigh. He couldn't just leave her having a bad dream.

And, a little voice said in the back of his mind, you'll have an excuse to talk to her.

He lay his book down on his seat before going over to the sofa she slept on, crouching beside it and laying a hand on her shoulder. "Amoretto," he said quietly. She turned into his touch but did not wake up. His eyes rested on her face. She was beautiful, even with veins on her eyelids and bags beneath them. "Amoretto, wake up." He gave her shoulder a little shake and she cringed, her eyes opening fast and her hand raising. He grabbed her wrist before she could hit him; he couldn't blame her. It was reflex. He had had enough nightmares to know that when you were woken from them, sometimes they still felt real. "Easy now."

"What're you doing?" she mumbled, pulling her wrist from his grip and pushing herself up. She rubbed at her eyes. She couldn't remember what she had been dreaming about but it had left her feeling panicked; her heart was beating fast and her chest hurt.

"I was reading," he began to explain, pushing himself to his feet. "And you started having a bad dream. So I woke you."

Her voice was rough with sleep. She cleared her dry throat and glanced towards the tray of food. There was still a bit of juice left—Draco handed it to her and frowned, chastising himself for being so eager to help her. "Thank you," Adelinda told him quietly, holding the cup in both hands and sipping at it. Malfoy pushed himself to his feet and returned to his seat.

"What were you dreaming about?" he asked her, and as an afterthought added, "If you don't mind me asking, of course." A little too polite for his liking, but he didn't want this conversation to go the way their last one had.

"It's fine…" Adelinda said. She closed the book that had been in her lap. She remembered the cover—an image of a couple pressed together rather, well, passionately—and quickly turned it face-down. Malfoy watched her curiously. "…I don't remember what it was, anyway."

"Ah," he said simply. He opened his book after a moment and skimmed through the pages, his eyes going back to her every once in awhile. She was sitting up with her legs crossed and shoulders hunched inwards, her hands gripping the cup. She didn't even seem to remember that he was there. He watched her like this for a moment or two. "Ah…are you alright?"

Adelinda looked surprised by the question. "What? Oh, yeah, I'm fine, just—a little sleepy," she gave a little shrug. She remembered that she was supposed to be angry at him and frowned. He raised an eyebrow at her and she met his eyes for a moment.

She wasn't sure what to do. She was tired and she didn't want to move—she wanted to just curl up and go back to sleep. She knew she shouldn't because she would never get to sleep that night, and Malfoy was in the room, anyway. She didn't want to be in the same room as him at all, really. She kept thinking about the kiss and how he hadn't spoken to her since. He had downright ignored her since then, and now, they were sitting in the room acting as though nothing had happened, and that frustrated her. She was stuck between gathering her things and going to her bedroom and saying something to him.

After a few moments of mental debate, her shyness won. She started gathering her books and papers together and pushed herself to her feet. Her knees ached from sitting so long and she stretched; Malfoy's eyes followed the upward motion of her torso and noted the way her shirt raised over her belly a bit as she raised her arms. She didn't notice. She also didn't notice the way his eyes rested, very briefly, on her backside as she bent to pick up her books. "You don't have to leave," he said quietly. "I'm sure you don't get to spend much time in the common room, yeah?

She had begun to walk past him, but stopped and turned around, frowning. "The last time we were alone, you berated me with questions and sarcastic remarks, and then kissed me," Adelinda said after a moment of looking at him with tired eyes. "So tell me, _per favore, _why I would want to stay in the same room…" her voice held no anger or malice, just sleep and indifference.

He looked at her. When it had first happened, he had been expecting her to explode at him. He had kissed her, and then he had left; what girl wouldn't be angry, or at the very least, insecure? After awhile, he realized she wasn't going to do that. She wasn't even going to talk to him. He was surprised that she had brought it up, and even more surprised that she was so, well, nonchalant about it. He had been expecting anger and sharp tones when it finally came up.

"You're right," Draco told her after a long moment. "I shouldn't have kissed you. And I was a prat. I usually am, I can't really help it." She rolled her eyes at him.

"Everyone can help it," she said, her voice a little snappish.

"Not me, I was born this way," he told her with a half-hearted shrug.

"Whatever you say," Adelinda said with a sigh. She turned to leave again.

"Hey," Draco said, and she turned once again, giving him an impatient look. "Why don't you stay? I can't promise that I won't be a prat, but I'll try." He raised his eyebrows at her as if to say, how could you resist? She thought about it. She did want to stay; she was lonely, and company would be nice. Draco Malfoy's company, though? It would either be simply alright, or very bad. She couldn't say she hadn't enjoyed his company after she had gotten hurt in Hogsmeade, up until she had begun asking questions.

"I'm going to hold you to that," she said with another heavy sigh, and took a seat on the couch again. It was very reminiscent of the last time they had been near each other. She brushed her hair from her face self-consciously and opened a schoolbook, finding her place in it.

"How have you been?" he asked easily, his eyes on his book. Draco was skilled in the art of small-talk; he'd had to be. He had attended hundreds of dinner parties from the time he was old enough to—a mere four years old—and had been to numerous political meetings and parties at the Ministry of Magic. Smalltalk was key there, or you would be left feeling very out of place.

She was surprised by the question. "Good, I suppose," Adelinda said, her gaze shifting to him. "And yourself?" Manners were familiar to her and small-talk she could manage. She had grown up on formalities, as well; simply in a different way than he had.

"Oh, I've been alright," he said, flipping his page. "Bored out of my mind in this bloody castle, bored with the schoolwork, the usual."

She nodded. The usual. She knew all too well how boring schoolwork was when it was the only thing you had to do. "Yeah," Adelinda agreed. "There's not as much to do as I thought there would be."

He refrained from saying there was if you had friends. It wasn't a mean comment directed towards her; it was him projecting. There was Hogsmeade—out of the question for her and not interesting to him—there were Quidditch games, there were all sorts of places to explore in the castle…there were plenty of things to do, but none of them were particularly entertaining without friends. "Between you and I, I'm pretty certain that McGonagall is planning some things for later this year," Malfoy told her.

"Like what?" Adelinda asked curiously. She was happily surprised that they were having a real conversation, but her anger towards him still lingered in the back of her mind.

"None of this leaves this room?" he said, raising his eyebrows at her. She nodded. She could keep secrets. "Possibly a holiday ball and, for the students who stay behind on winter break, a trip. I've heard talk about a few others things but I'm not sure what, exactly."

"A ball could be fun, I suppose," she said half-heartedly. Both of her close friends had boyfriends who would take them to a ball, but she did not, and she didn't see anyone asking her to go with them; a dance might have excited her a month and a half ago, but now it did not. "A trip might be fun if I were staying behind for holidays."

"Going back to Italy for your holidays?" he asked.

"Of course," Adelinda said. "I'm already homesick enough." Draco couldn't say that he was homesick in the least; he missed his mother, but he did not miss the Manor, with all of its cold memories and reminders

It surprised him that she was being this friendly with him; he wouldn't have been. "You were home-schooled, weren't you?"

"Yes," she said. "And now I'm playing catch-up because home-schooling left me advanced in some subjects, but quite far-behind in others."

"Why didn't your parents send you to a Wizardry school?" he asked her curiously.

"Well, my father wanted me to go to Hogwarts from the start…he's British and this is where he went to school. A Gryffindor," she added, and he gave her a curious look. "No, I do not have any idea how he felt when he learned I was sorted into Slytherin. Probably not very happy." Malfoy understood a bit more why she had immediately gravitated towards the Gryffindors; he questioned why she had been sorted into Slytherin in the first place. "At first they were hesitant to send me here because they didn't want me so far from home. And then the War began; as a Muggle-born, they wanted me close."

An odd look crossed her face. "You know, I've been wondering how people found out that I was a Muggle-born so quickly," she said. "I've got an Italian witches' last name, and my parents are magic…"

Draco looked at her. "I knew because McGonagall told me a bit about you before requesting that I helped you around," he said.

"Which you did a wonderful job of doing," she couldn't help but mutter, cutting her eyes at him. He scowled at her.

"Remember that in the end it was you who turned me down, and it was you who chose the company of the Gryffindors over my offer to show you around," he said, and she couldn't quite argue with that…even if his demeanor hadn't been exactly inviting, he had tried. "Honestly, one of the Gryffindors may have found out from you or your friends and slipped up in someone else's company, and it would have spread from there; being a Muggle-born isn't something that people keep a secret. It's simply common knowledge, especially now that the war is over. Perhaps you even slipped up yourself around a Slytherin."

Adelinda nodded, thinking on that. She truly did not care if other students knew her blood status, and the more she thought on it, she more certain she was that Pansy would have hurt her regardless of her Muggle-born background. She could have been a Pureblood; if she was associating with Gryffindors and taking any amount of attention away from Pansy, the girl would take it personally.

"How do you feel about blood status?" she asked out of nowhere, eyes resting on his.

"That's a rather personal question," he said, eyebrows furrowing the tiniest bit. She shrugged as if to say, 'I don't care.' And truly, she didn't. "I was quite prejudiced before the war, and during, admittedly. We've had a conversation similar to this so I know that you're aware of that…my views have changed. Pureblood status means nothing more than politics, and we will leave it at that."

"Fair enough," she said. She drew her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs. "Now let me ask you something else." Their easy conversation had made her feel a bit bold.

Draco looked at her, his eyes curious and voice hesitant as he answered. "Go ahead…"

"What do you want from me, exactly?" he watched the way her chin rested atop her knees and her hair fell back into the eyes that were boring holes into him. If Adelinda was to be honest, she had played with the idea of legilimency to find out why he had kissed her and why he was now being so nice to her. She ultimately decided not to. He was not out to cause her harm, she was sure of that, and so there was no real reason to.

"What do you mean?" Draco asked. He straightened in his chair and rested his elbows on the arms of it, his fingers clasped together before him and legs crossed. He looked regal, almost, and quite confident. She did not wonder why so many girls doted over him. He was handsome, he was intelligent, he was sure of himself to the point of being cocky, and what more could young, naive girls want? A small voice reminded her that she, too, was a young, naïve girl.

"Why did you kiss me and then leave like that?" she asked, struggling to keep her voice monotone. She did not want to get emotional. "Why are we talking like this now? You kissed me and then acted as though you wanted nothing to do with me, and now we're sitting in the common room together having an actual conversation. I don't understand."

He looked at her for a moment. She looked tired and her body was tense. She was angry and trying to hide it, but he had grown up gauging his father's moods and he could identify negativity from across a room. "You were angry, and I was angry, and there was a lot of…tension…I don't know, honestly," he said, his eyes never leaving hers. "It just happened."

"It just happened," she repeated, toying with the words in the mouth. They sounded pitiful. "If it just happened, why didn't you stay and talk? You just kissed me like it was nothing and ignored me." She felt good, standing up for herself, but she was beginning to become irate.

"I wasn't sure how you would react," he said with a shrug, trying to stay nonchalant.

She asked the question she had been doing her best to avoid. "So what was that kiss to you?"

"…I don't know, honestly," he told her after a long moment, his eyes dropping for the first time during this conversation.

Her feelings were hurt. She hadn't expected them to be, but those words had stung. She hadn't expected her first kiss to be with a boy she couldn't stand, even if that intolerance for him was off and on. She hadn't expected him to 'not know' why he had kissed her. In her mind, it was the equivalent of saying it meant nothing, and her emotions were getting the better of her.

"I suppose this conversation is over, then," she said quietly, pushing herself to her feet again. She gathered her things with trembling hands. She was going to crash soon, but she had not been this emotionally unstable since she was a child, and though she should have realized the tollthat not sleeping or eating well and doing nothing but think would take on her, she didn't.

Malfoy stood quickly. "It doesn't have to be," he told her. He watched the way her hands shook ever so slightly and noticed that she wouldn't look at him.

"Yes, it does," she said, pushing past him with her things in her arms tight against her chest. He put a hand on her forearm to stop her. She paused mid-step.

"Why are you so upset over this?" he didn't _mean _for it to come out sounding callous; it had been a genuine question.

"Why am I so upset over this?" she repeated, turning on her heel to face him. "That was my first kiss. My first kiss, from a man nearly four years older than me, from a man I can't seem to stand half the time and whose feelings seem to be the same. You took my first kiss, and it was _nothing _to you—"

"I didn't say that it was nothing," he said. His eyes had widened slightly. "Did you say—that was your first kiss?" She was sixteen, turning seventeen in just a few months (never mind that he knew her birthday); he would not have thought that she had never been kissed

His question flustered her. "I was _home-schooled, _the only man I was around was my father, of course it was my first bloody kiss," she cried.

"I didn't realize," he said after a moment, watching her cheeks redden.

"Of course you didn't," she snapped. "But I suppose it's perfectly acceptable to just go around kissing women, right?"

"Most of them don't mind," he told her with a shrug.

"Clearly, I am not most girls," she said sharply.

"You certainly are not," he said quietly. His eyes rested on hers.

"Just…don't talk to me again, we'll go back to pretending we don't know each other, we'll pretend you never kissed me—" her eyes were glossy and all he could do was pray to Merlin that she did not cry. He could not handle a crying woman.

"Amoretto, you kissed me back, or are you forgetting that?" he interrupted.

The color in her cheeks deepened and he smirked. He couldn't help it.

"Just leave me alone," she said, her voice a little shrill, and turned to leave. He grabbed her again and turned her around to face him. Her eyes were bright and just one miniscule tear escaped. "I have dealt with so much bloody nonsense since I came to this school, I don't need this too—" as she spoke her voice grew rougher and she was blinking rapidly to push away the tears. It tugged at heartstrings he hadn't known were there.

"I'm sorry for stealing your first kiss," he told her as he cupped her face in his large hands and kissed her again.

She melted into it after a moment's hesitation. His palms were soft on her face and caught the tears that fell, but as he kissed her and their lips moved together, those tears stopped. Never pulling away, he took her books from her gently and tossed them to the side—they landed on the chair he had been sitting in—and one hand returned to her face, the other sliding to her waist. She had a moment's panic of 'where do I put my hands?' but they seemed to act of their own accord; one slid to his neck and the other rested against his chest as he pulled her closer.

"Why are we doing this?" she asked, pulling back a bit, but he followed, leaving the tiniest space between their lips.

"I like you," he said, leaning his forehead against hers. His heart was beating just as fast as hers was. He had never truly felt anything for anyone. It had always been sex and politics and pleasing his father. "I do. I know I'm an arse to you, but I do."

"Why didn't you talk to me, then, after you kissed me the first time…" her eyes were full of doubt.

"I didn't want to admit it," he said. "Everything about it is wrong. I know it is."

"Then why—"

"Not everything has to be right." It was the corniest thing he had ever said, but he did not regret it. He saw the doubt in her eyes ease just slightly, and he kissed her again.

When she pulled away again, he let her. All he wanted to do was continue to kiss her. She felt good against him, and her lips were nice, and her skin was soft…he didn't want to let go.

"What are we doing?" she asked again, her face full of mixed emotions. She didn't know what to think of this. He had admitted to liking her, but did she like him? Was that why she couldn't stand him—because really, she wanted him? She had no idea what to do, but she did know that she turned to putty when he kissed her, that her heart started racing and she wanted more.

"Well, I know I'm kissing you," he said simply. "And I know I'm…I don't know, drawn to you. I know that you may not be able to stand me, but I know that you don't seem to mind kissing me. I stole your first kiss, and I'm sorry. I can make that up to you."

His voice was more sincere than she had ever heard it; she bit her bottom lip and his eyes lingered there. "How?" she asked quietly, and he knew that was a good sign.

He thought for a moment. His hand was still on her waist, the other on her face, his thumb tracing circles into her skin; neither of them really noticed. "I could take you to Hogsmeade," he said, his voice hesitant. He knew how she may feel about that.

"I don't know—"

"We can go when no one else will be there," he told her quickly. "You won't have to worry about anyone you don't want to see being there."

Her eyebrows furrowed. "How?" she asked, still biting at her bottom lip. She was going to make herself bleed if she kept that up.

"There's a passageway from the castle to Hogsmeade," he told her. "We can go through that. It's how I got you from Hogsmeade to here after…"

She nodded, and he trailed off. "I don't know, Malfoy…" it felt odd to address someone she had just snogged by their last name.

"Think about it," he told her.

"Okay."

Malfoy took a step back from her, letting his hands fall to his sides. He gathered up her books and handed them to her. She clutched them to her chest, looking up at him. "Enjoy the rest of your day relaxing," he told her in a soft voice and he gave her a look that was half-smile, half-Malfoy-smirk, leaving her alone in the common room.

Adelinda touched her fingertips to her lips. They were warm, they were damp, and they felt wonderful. She stared after Malfoy, and realized three things; she had just been snogging a man she could not stand and who was nearly three years older than her, she wanted it to happen again, and she was seriously considering going to Hogsmeade with him. A place she wouldn't even go to with her closest friends.

She retired to her room wondering what in Merlin's name was going on in her head.

Adelinda did, after a few days of contradicting thought processes and mixed emotions, tell Ginny about Malfoy. The older girl was initially shocked and, admittedly, angry with the Slytherin boy. But Ginny had heard that he had changed; he had become much more withdrawn since returning and she had not heard one word about bullying or snobbish behavior (apart from the usual cockiness). She thought more of him for helping Adelinda after Pansy hurt her and felt he was being genuine, but she didn't want to see her friend hurt again; not even emotionally. She watched Adelinda as she spoke of Malfoy and could see the excitement on her face. She noted a color in her cheeks that she hadn't seen in awhile and a gleam in her eyes, and Ginny resolved to support Adelinda, encourage her, even; but not without warnings. Not realizing that his invitation to Hogsmeade did not include the school trip, she told Adelinda she should go; Ginny did not believe Draco would hurt her, and she also believed he had overcome his prejudices. Harry and Ron would not agree with this, and the Gryffindor girl told her so.

"I want to keep it between you and I, for now," Adelinda had said. Ginny understood; even Hermione would be judgmental. The woman had, after all, punched Malfoy in her third year. The Golden Trio held grudges against him, despite what they said about the past being the past. It would take a lot to make them believe any Slytherin had fully overcome their 'prior' beliefs. t

Despite her best friend's assurances, Adelinda remained nervous about the idea of going to Hogsmeade with Malfoy, so she compromised with him through notes sent by owl. The only person who knew that the letters she received in the mornings were not from her parents was Ginny; her parents' letters had decreased quite dramatically. She received one or two long letters every two weeks or so, and it saddened her, but she knew that it was not because they didn't miss her. They were simply busy. She and Malfoy decided to meet in the Room of Requirements during lunch; he would bring food from the kitchens. Ginny pointed out that they would be alone, and Adelinda told her that truly wasn't what bothered her. The Room of Requirements was familiar to her, safe, and perhaps she would like being alone with Malfoy a bit more than going to Hogsmeade. Now, she was nervous for different reasons.

The first day that they would be meeting, she indulged in her vanity and spent a little extra time on her appearance; she left her bedroom that morning with perfectly de-wrinkled clothes, de-frizzed hair, and eyeliner as smooth as water applied to make her eyes pop. Her morning classes were as slow as spilled molasses and seeing Malfoy in Potions made her anxiety worsen. She had only felt a fraction of this anticipation with Blaise; her stomach was in knots and her heart beat violently against the inside of her chest every time she made eye contact with the Slytherin man. Was this what all of those Muggle books her mother sent her were about? Racing hearts and sweating palms and a constant desire to kiss the boy, even if you wanted to smack him moments before? She gave herself a little shake; they were simply friends, friends who kissed and argued. She was disappointed in herself for becoming so emotional, but if she said she didn't enjoy it she would be lying.

Finally the lunch bell rang throughout the school; Adelinda took her sweet time leaving class to let the crowds in the corridors disperse and, admittedly, stopped at a restroom to check her appearance and brush her hair for what must have been the tenth time that day. She gave herself a little once-over and made her way to the Room of Requirements; instead of her usual homely, bookish room, she simply asked for a room both she and Draco Malfoy could enjoy. She walked into a room filled with sunlight and bookshelves, warm lighting and colors and a beige leather sofa and armchairs. It was nice, elegant even. She slipped off her shoes and laid her robe over the back of an armchair neatly before taking a seat on the sofa; she pulled another Muggle book from her bag and began trying to focus on that, ignoring her anxiousness for Malfoy's arrival and her rumbling belly. Her appetite had begun to return and her stomach was punishing her for depriving it of food.

She only realized that Malfoy had entered the room when another sofa appeared against a bookshelf. He looked around the room. "Hmm, not bad," he said. He held a tray piled high with food in his hands, his robes slung over his shoulder. "Though the extra sofa does make it look a bit awkward."

"That was your doing," she pointed out, closing her book. He walked over and set the tray of food on the small table beside the couch, noticing the way her head followed his movements, even if she didn't. He tried not to smile as he placed the tray on the table and then turned to her, leaning down and letting his lips brush hers; he did it so casually that she had a moment of question as to whether it meant anything. His hair tickled her cheeks.

"I hope you don't mind, but us Slytherins are used to greeting with a kiss," he told her with a wink, smirking at the way her cheeks flushed pink.

"I suppose I can't complain," Adelinda told him sheepishly, a bit shyly, giving a little shrug. The words came easier than she had believed they would; in all honesty, she had been worried that she wouldn't have anything to say. She had been worried that she would feel uncomfortable. She should have known from their previous encounters that that was never the case, even when he was grating her nerves, and she his.

"Good," he said, and began moving things around on the tray. He was just inches away from where she sat. He smelled like orchards and spices and it made her want him closer. "Now, I know by now what you eat for breakfast…but I am utterly clueless when it comes to lunch. I brought a bit of everything." It was touching that he knew what she liked for breakfast just from those few days that he had been bringing it to her. He handed her a plate of fruit and a toasted sandwich with some sort of meat and cheeses on it. "There's more on the tray." He sat down on the opposite end of the sofa, turned towards her with his legs spread out on front of him, half on the couch.

It was the first time they had sat so close to each other, and she let herself get a good look at him while he ate; he was undoubtedly handsome. His hair was painstakingly straight and pale, pieces of it reaching his chin; his skin was nearly as light as his hair was, like unblemished porcelain. She liked the broad set of his shoulders and the way he always loosened his tie and collar, just enough to show a tiny bit of chest, just enough to make a girl want to see a little more. It was infuriating to her that a boy she normally could not stand could incite such a reaction in her.

"Are you going to eat, or just observe me?" Malfoy's voice broke her from her thoughts and her cheeks became as red as the tomato juice he was sipping at; that annoying smirk showed on his lips again.

"Shut it." Her voice was almost a whine with embarrassment. She frowned and looked at her plate, picking at the fruit a bit before popping a grape into her mouth. Her appetite had gone again like it tended to do, but she knew that soon her stomach would be demanding food again.

"You know, you don't seem to eat much anymore," Malfoy observed as he watched her pick at the fruit. She met his eyes and put another grape into her mouth as if to prove him wrong.

"I eat on my own time, now that I know where the kitchens are," she told him with a little shrug. It wasn't as thought she was depriving herself of food on purpose.

"Mm-hmm," he said with a tone of doubt through a mouth full of food.

"It's rude to speak with your mouth full," she pointed out with raised eyebrows and a tilted head. He rolled his eyes at her and so began a playful, half-serious banter, always stopping just before one of them got truly irritated; this was how their time in the Room of Requirements always went after that. They ate lunch together a few times a week, sometimes dinner instead, talking and helping each other with schoolwork despite their top grades, sometimes kissing; things grew more comfortable and often they would find themselves giving the other little touches. Malfoy would push her hair from her eyes and she would wipe a crumb from his shirt; their hands would brush and he would give hers a gentle squeeze before pulling away. Adelinda would go sit with Ginny at lunch and sneak in little comments about him every now and then and they would share secret smiles; Ginny was still apprehensive, but she was glad to see Adelinda happy. The girl deserved a bit of excitement, even if she did wish it was with someone other than Malfoy. A nice Gryffindor boy, maybe. But she _had_ heard rumors years ago of how marvelous of a kisser the man was, so she supposed she couldn't blame the girl. Hermione still did not know but Ginny was sure she was beginning to suspect; she felt a bit guilty keeping it from her friend, but she understood Adelinda wanting to keep it quiet for the time being. She had told her about Blaise and she had disapproved, and Hermione's feelings on him had been proven true.

One morning, Adelinda received a note from Malfoy; this was how they had been planning their meetings in the Room of Requirement, and she expected it to be just that; a request for her to join him there during lunch or supper. This time, it also included an invitation to Hogsmeade. She worried at her lip. "Everything alright, Adelinda?" Hermione asked her with a look of concern on her face. The younger girl seemed deep in her thoughts.

"_Cosa? _Oh, yes, I'm okay," Adelinda said, glancing up at Hermione with a smile. The older girl nodded and was satisfied when Adelinda slipped the parchment back into its envelope and took a sip of pumpkin juice. Malfoy watched inconspicuously from the Slytherin table. Adelinda looked at him over her shoulder; she was biting her lip in an expression of worry that made _him _worry, but as their eyes met, her expression melted into a smile. When Hermione asked her if she was okay again, she turned around quickly.

"What were you looking at?" Hermione asked her curiously.

"Ah, nothing. I thought I heard someone call my name," Adelinda told her, pushing the smile from her face. They all went throughout their days; whenever she knew she would be meeting Malfoy, her classes passed ever so slowly. Now, she had to wait for the entire day to pass by; he wanted to meet at supper.

Classes were finally over, and the lanterns throughout the school had lit themselves, casting a beautiful and sometimes eerie glow throughout the corridors. She had dropped her robe off in her bedroom and changed clothes, getting out of her uniform and into a more comfortable pair of Muggle pants and a black sweater. It was quite chilly in parts of the castle, especially in the evening and at night. She made her way through the corridors. A few times, they had stayed in the Room of Requirement for a bit too long; he told her it didn't truly matter, since he was a Prefect. He would say he had found her roaming around and was escorting her back to the Slytherin common room. Admittedly, she still got a bit nervous walking through the Hogwarts corridors by herself; the ghosts sometimes popped up out of nowhere and the portraits often began talking to her, startling her…then there was the constant fear that a teacher would stop her and ask her where she was going. Malfoy insured her that that would not happen, and if it did, she could say she had left a book in one of her classes and needed it for a paper. He found her fear of being 'caught' amusing and somewhat endearing.

This time, he was waiting for her; since they had begun meeting up there, the room was always similar to the last time. Light-colored leather sofas, warm colors, and ridiculous amounts of bookshelves; at nighttime, candles floated throughout the room, and a fireplace appeared. They had begun pushing the sofa over to it. It was very romantic, really, and Adelinda couldn't deny that she loved it. It was just like those Muggle love stories she liked to read.

She walked over to the sofa where he sat, slipping her shoes off and taking a seat beside him, pulling her legs onto the sofa and basking in the warmth of the fire. "Hi," she said softly, giving him a smile. He had changed as well, but his everyday wear really was not different from the uniforms; black dress pants and a button-up, always made of a silken material. His hair was slicked back, and she took notice of his cheekbones and that sharp jaw. She was happy when he put a hand on her knee and leaned in for a kiss; she met him half way. When he pulled back, he put an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close for a moment. She didn't want him to let go.

They began with a bit of small-talk that was unusual for them; he asked her how her day had been, how classes were, and after a short silence he turned to her. She had a bowl of soup in her hands and was sipping at it. "So…" he began. He was a little nervous, worried that her answer would once again be no, but he didn't let that show. A Malfoy man was never nervous when dealing with women, and if he was, he didn't let them know. Though it didn't truly matter; his father, and quite possibly his mother as well, would be disappointed enough that he was mingling with a Muggle-born.

He watched her lower the bowl and lick the little bit of soup from her bottom lip; she had her legs curled beneath her and the light from the flames illuminated her face beautifully, making her hair and eyes shine and her skin glow. Though he thought the Muggle clothing strange, it fit her wonderfully, and he could appreciate what she had told him were 'jeans.' They were much more snug than most of the things witches wore.

"So?" she asked; she suspected she knew what he was going to bring up, and was, admittedly, a bit nervous. She had been thinking about it all day. Adelinda was afraid to go to Hogsmeade again, and she was afraid to go with another Slytherin man.

"So that nod you gave me at breakfast this morning…" he began slowly. He had his arm along the back of the sofa, just barely touching her shoulders, and he was slouched comfortably, legs crossed. "…did that mean you're going to go to Hogsmeade with me?"

Adelinda bit her lip, meeting his eyes. They were hopeful but calm. "I want to," she told him after a moment. He could hear the apprehension in her voice.

"What's stopping you?" he asked her. "Besides the obvious…I know that that is where Pansy attacked you, but you know, if you don't let yourself enjoy the trips, she's winning." He was right, and she knew that; her pride had told her that long ago. "And I don't believe that that's what makes you nervous about it, Amoretto. You walk by Pansy every day without even casting a glance in her direction. I don't think you're afraid of her anymore."

She realized with that statement that she truly wasn't. Pansy still sometimes made snide comments, but Adelinda had become skilled at ignoring them; it was never anymore than that. Perhaps the girl knew that no one would help her, thanks to Malfoy; Adelinda didn't know it, but he had told anyone he believed to still hold prejudice that if he discovered they were involved in any hate crimes or pranks, as harmless as they might be, that he would have their wands. Whatever it was, Pansy did not go above sarcastic remarks, and even those were scarce nowadays.

Adelinda sighed. "You want the truth?" she said quietly, still worrying at her bottom lip. Her heart skipped a bit as Malfoy brushed his thumb along it.

"If you keep doing that, you're going to make it bleed," he murmured, his eyes lingering on her mouth for a moment. "Yes, I want the truth."

"Well, _onestamente_, I am not nervous to go to Hogsmeade…" she met his eyes. He brushed a piece of her from her face, tucking it behind her ear. Little gestures like those were making her trust him, making her like him more. Since their encounter in the common room when he had kissed her again, they had not truly argued; they were always careful not to go too far, and he didn't seem to feel the need to pretend he was not attracted to her. "…I'm nervous to go with you."

He seemed offended for just a second before he cleared his face of expression. "Why would you be nervous to go with me, specifically?" he asked her calmly, leaning back slightly; she noticed and bit at her lip again.

She hesitated. "The last time I went to Hogsmeade, the _first _time I went to Hogsmeade, was with a Slytherin man and it didn't go well…I suppose I am afraid that something bad will happen again…"

"So you think that I'm going to allow, or even plan, for something to happen to you?" he asked her a bit incredulously. He was doing his best to understand, but he was offended, and perhaps a little hurt; those hurt feelings were going to turn to anger soon.

"No, I—" Adelinda gave a small, frustrated sigh. "Perhaps. It's paranoia, I'm sure, but—you've got to understand, Malfoy."

"I don't understand, though," he told her with a shake of his head, pulling his arm from the back of the couch. "I was very rude at the beginning of the school-year, I know; we've established already that I was a git. But I found you and I helped you; and after the last few weeks, I don't believe I understand how you can be perfectly content being in a room no one knows about, alone with me for hours, and yet be afraid to go to Hogsmeade with me." He had his arms folded loosely over his chest, but his shoulders were set in anger. She looked down, quiet for a moment, struggling between feeling guilty and scolded and even angry that he would not try to understand.

"I have a bit of an issue trusting Slytherins now," she said, voice terse. "None of them have really done me any good so far."

"Ah, so I haven't, either," Malfoy snapped. "You simply come here to be with me because I haven't helped you, because I don't like you, none of that. I'm just another untrustworthy Slytherin." She was biting at her lip again, her eyes on his and her body as tense as he was.

"That isn't what I _meant," _she insisted, sitting up.

"What did you mean then? It sounded pretty clear to me, Amoretto," he said. "All of us Slytherins are the same. None of us can be trusted, none of us can do any good. Bloody Hell, perhaps you shouldn't even be _alone _with me, since I'm one of those untrustworthy Slytherins." She stood up quickly, her small hands balled into fists at her sides.

"You're a Slytherin, a Slytherin who was involved in the war, a Slytherin who was known to _hate _Muggle-borns," she said, her voice quiet but heated. "I haven't had good experiences with Slytherins so far. At least try to _understand—"_

_"_In case you've forgotten, which I am sure you probably have, you are a Slytherin, too, Amoretto," his voice raised. He sat up and stared at her, eyes dark with anger. "And I am _not _the person I was then. You have no right to say any of that. You didn't even know me then, you barely know me at all."

She had nothing to say to that. She was fuming, she was feeling guilty; she had immediately felt the sting of remorse after she had said that to him, and a part of her wanted to hug him and apologize, but her pride told her not to. Her apprehensions were reasonable, though, weren't they? She wasn't sure now.

He pushed himself to his feet, looking down at her. "Go, don't go, I don't give a damn," he said. The anger in his voice made her nervous. When he walked away from her she had a moment of panic.

"Malfoy, wait—" she moved quickly to her feet. He was heading towards the door, but stopped as she called his name.

"What, Amoretto?" he kept his back turned to her and the tension in his body made her stop. She wanted to go over to him, hug him, but she was afraid he would only push her away.

"—nevermind," she said quietly, her arms folded tightly over her chest and shoulders pulled inwards. He looked at her over his shoulder, full of mixed emotions, and left the room.

Draco was angry, furious, really. He had been through hell for the things he had done and the things he had been involved in years ago; he had gone through hell in the war, and he had gone through _more _hell afterwards facing the resentment, even hatred, of his peers. He had deserved every bit of it, and he recognized it; he had been wrong in his views and actions even if he had only been following in the footsteps of his father. He had dealt with the punishments and he had confronted the judgments of the people who knew him, and in the past few years, he had done his best to silently show that he had changed. While out of school, he had helped with repairs to Hogwarts and homes and businesses that had been torn apart by Death Eaters; he had donated money to some of the shops that had been put out of business by Voldemort in an attempt to get them up and running again. He had gone into a program to learn healing and helped treat patients hurt by Death Eaters or Voldemort himself at St. Mungo's; he still did sometimes, on the weekends, when he could get permission from McGonagall to go. He was doing his best to make amends. Perhaps if he didn't keep it as quiet as he did Adelinda would believe him to be a good person; he was not one to flaunt good deeds, though. It was tasteless in his eyes.

And that was why it hit so close to home when Adelinda brought up the war and his previous views on Muggle-borns. She had not been there for the war; she hadn't seen the turmoil. She didn't know what he had gone through after the war or all of the things he had done to atone for his involvement, and she was in no place to comment on it. He reasoned with himself as he walked through the corridors, heading back to the common room; he wanted to be alone with his thoughts. He knew that Adelinda was still unsure of Blaise's involvement in Pansy's attack and he was, as well. It looked as though Blaise had helped the girls set it up. She would be worried that that was what he would do to her, as well; Blaise had acted as though he liked her and taken her on a date, and she had gotten hurt. Draco was doing his best to understand that; but Adelinda had not known him long and during the time that she had known him, he had never once said a foul word against Muggles or Muggle-borns or even blood traitors. He had been a git, yes, but that did not mean he was a bad person.

The thought crossed his mind that perhaps he was so angry because he didn't want Adelinda to think poorly of him, and with that he reached the common room, doing his best not to storm to his bedroom but still slamming the door behind him, leaving the people in the common room wondering what had Draco Malfoy's knickers in a twist.

Adelinda had stayed behind, watching him leave. She wanted to talk to him, she wanted to apologize, but with as angry as he was, she wasn't sure that he would want to hear it; but she was angry too. She knew that the conversation never would have taken that turn if he hadn't taken her misgivings about going to Hogwarts so personally; they weren't personal. She did not truly believe that Malfoy would put her into a situation where she would get hurt, and she certainly didn't think that he would do it willfully, but that did not curb her fears. But then, he didn't know that it wasn't the first time she had been hurt by bullies. As a child in school, she had ostracized herself and then been bullied because of it; she had been the strange girl that didn't talk to anyone, the one who always seemed to be around when weird things began happening. She had made the mistake of standing up for herself when the older children began to pick on her; she had never told her parents about the bullying because, at the time, she didn't know about magic. She didn't want her mummy and daddy to think she was strange, too.

She had been nine years old at the time. The bullying had gotten worse; what had started as whispers and staring had turned into nasty words and snide comments, and then that became pushing and shoving in the halls. She had had enough after being shoved into a wall and had yelled at the girl who had pushed her; Abriana had been her name. She was a nasty little girl, always making snide comments if you didn't adore her, used to the attention she received at home from her parents. When a teacher had heard her yelling she demanded to know what had happened, and Abriana received a call home and extra classroom duties and assurances from her mother that she would be grounded for a week. It was a big deal for a nine year old girl who was used to getting away with murder.

Abriana had decided that Adelinda wouldn't get away with tattling, but if she couldn't get back at her, her older brother could. Eleven years old and just as mean as his younger sister, he cornered her with his friends on the way home from school one afternoon; they pulled her into a small ally way and played keep-away with her backpack. When she shoved one of the boys they began to push her around, angered by her defiance. She became emotional, and she knew that was when bad things started happening, but she couldn't make them stop as much as she pleaded. She just kept crying and getting angry and when they shoved her to the ground face-first, breaking her nose, she was filled with fear.

She still didn't know what had happened. All she knew was that when Abriana's brother flipped her over by the hair and started yelling in her face, she was terrified, and when she opened her eyes there was fire. Fire everywhere and screaming boys trying to get away from it, but they were surrounded; their clothes were on fire, their hair, and every time they put it out it was started again. They screamed at her to make it stop and she tried. She tried to pat it out, burning her hands and face and when Adriano collapsed, still screaming, she ran to get help. When she ran away, the fires stopped, and she just kept running and running.

When asked about it, she just kept saying she didn't know. She didn't know what had happened. Her nose had been broken when she fell trying to get away from the fire, she said. The boys were just giving her a hard time, that was all. She tried to stop it. She tried to put the fires out. She was admitted to the hospital for severe burns to her hands and arms, put into therapy for a short period of time for post traumatic stress disorder.

Adriano's friends made it out with severe burns, put in the hospital for several months until they were healed. Adriano did not make it out at all.

Adelinda pulled herself from these thoughts. She couldn't breathe and she was sitting on the floor. When she felt the warmth of the fire beside her she started to cry, putting her face in her hands as he body was wracked with sobs; she didn't think about this, and there was a reason for that. She couldn't. She still felt the guilt of what had happened as though it had happened just yesterday. Her parents did not talk about it. It was an accident, they had always said, it wasn't her fault; she had nothing to do with it. They couldn't explain it to her but they always told her that it hadn't been her. She knew they were wrong, and she knew that _they _knew they were wrong.

What happened was ruled as an unexplainable accident, and left alone. Adelinda was pulled out of school and they moved away to a house surrounded by acres of land and forest; somewhere that no one would bother them.

Adelinda gripped at her hair, her knees drawn to her chest and her body shaking. She did not move from that spot that night, staring at the fire all night and thinking about what had happened years and years ago before falling asleep.

**Possibly a little fluff in the next chapter or two. I spent a lot of time on this one, please review! :) **


	9. Chapter 9

"Adelinda, when are you going to come to Hogsmeade with us?" the question came through a mouthful of food.

"Ronald Weasley, don't speak with your mouth full!" Hermione scolded the redhead, smacking him on the back. He shot her a look and Adelinda tried not to laugh. "Besides, she'll go when she's ready."

She appreciated Hermione's defense. She knew that it was a subject the friends tiptoed around, but she wasn't quite as sensitive about it anymore. "It's okay," she said with a little shrug. They were sitting at supper, and Adelinda dreaded going back to the Slytherin common room. It had been a week or two since the argument with Malfoy, and they hadn't spoken since. Pride kept her from apologizing. He had to be angry with her. "I don't really want to go, that's all."

"Suit yourself," Ron said with a full mouth, earning himself another smack from Hermione. Ginny and Adelinda laughed as the two began to bicker. She had told Ginny about the fight and she had told her to just give it time. Adelinda had crossed a line, but Malfoy had been in the wrong well, she had said; they both needed time to cool down. Adelinda had taken her advice, but her patience was wearing thin. They passed each other in the corridors and halls and ignored each other, sometimes making indifferent eye contact.

When the weekend rolled around and everyone left for Hogsmeade, she found herself wishing she had simply said she would go.

Adelinda went through her normal Saturday routine; a long bath and a bit of time in her bedroom cleaning before getting dressed in casual clothing. She had taken to jeans and a pullover as it continued to grow colder in the Slytherin house and found that the cold made her miss Malfoy's company more than she already did; she could have spent the day with him by a fireplace, kissing and talking. She pushed the thoughts away and left her bedroom, her hair still a little damp and her face bare of make up. She would try to catch up on the schoolwork she had neglected all week; she hadn't had the motivation to do any of it.

"Not even going to say hello?"

She turned, startled by the voice, and saw Malfoy sitting in his usual spot on the armchair with a book. She was quiet for a moment, looking at him. He had an expression of indifference and she wasn't sure if that was better than anger or not. "Hi," she said quietly, slipping her hands into the pockets of her pullover.

"You don't have to stand over there, y'know," he told her without looking up from his book. She gestured toward the exit.

"I was just going to get breakfast…"

He nodded. "Bring me back something?" he asked her, looking up and meeting her eyes.

She was a bit confused. "Ah, sure," she said. "I'll be back in a bit."

He nodded and she left, going up to the kitchens and retrieving a tray full of breakfast foods. She knew that he liked bacon, burnt toast, porridge, and juice for breakfast, and she got enough for the both of them, returning to the common room where he still sat in his chair. She set the tray down on the edge of the table before him and sat on the couch closest.

"Thanks," Malfoy said, closing his book and laying it on the table, taking a piece of bacon from the tray. "You missed classes the other week…are you alright?"

He looked at her. He had been worried when she hadn't shown up to breakfast the morning after their argument; he had considered returning to the Room of Requirements that night to see if she was still there, but hadn't. He shouldn't have left her alone there that late and he felt a bit guilty for doing it. She had been alright, though—after that night, she had felt the need for a mental health day and had gotten a sick note from Madam Pomfrey.

"I'm okay," she said, seeming a bit taken back by the question. "I just…wasn't feeling well."

He nodded, but his expression said that he didn't believe her. He watched her twirl her spoon through a bowl of porridge, taking small bites every now and then before moving on to the grapes. She worried him. Sometimes she was so distant from everything around her; he didn't like the way she never seemed to eat much and the way she seemed to get lost in her own head. He had seen depression before and what it could cause. "Come here," he said after a few moments of silence. She looked up. Her eyes were red and tired.

"Why?" she asked almost suspiciously, and he took her hand, pulling her gently from the couch. She let him, standing in front of him. He settled into his chair and pulled her onto his lap..

"I hope you never stop blushing," he teased, making her face even warmer. He turned serious after a moment. She shifted on his lap, leaning into him and putting an arm around his shoulders. "Hey. I'm sorry for the other night…I went a bit ballistic, I know."

Adelinda looked down and shook her head. "No, it's okay," she said quietly. "I shouldn't have said those things to you…I was out of place." She was looking down at their laps.

"No, you shouldn't have," he agreed. He had had a bit of time to think on their argument, and after rationalizing with himself and pushing away the anger had decided that they were both in the wrong. "But I shouldn't have reacted in such a manner, and you were right, I should have tried to understand. And honestly, I'm still not quite sure I do, but it's okay if you don't feel comfortable going with me."

She bit her lip, looking at him. "I will," she said after a long moment. "Go with you, I mean. I'll go to Hogsmeade." She was still unsure of it, but her fears had nothing to do with him and she needed to remember that; she needed to at least try to enjoy her school year. Merlin knew she hadn't so far.

Up until Malfoy, of course.

"You're sure," the Slytherin said, raising his eyebrows at her in question. She felt his hand on her waist, thumb rubbing circles through her shirt, and his other hand on her thigh, and felt certain.

"Yes," she said with a small smile. "But don't continue to question it, or I may change my mind."

"Now, I wouldn't want that," he murmured. He leaned his head against her shoulder for a moment; it was a bit uncharacteristic, she noted, but she didn't mind. She ran her fingers through his hair hesitantly, not sure how he would react. He didn't, just looked at her.

"I truly am sorry for saying those things," Adelinda said softly after a moment of silence.

"It's done with," he told her firmly.

They spent the day together, the argument simply water under the bridge. Things were a bit awkward at first, but slowly became as comfortable as they had been before their argument; they roamed aimlessly around the castle and the grounds. He showed her parts of the castle she had never been to before, like the Armoury and the One-Eyed Witch statue that he told her they would use to get to Hogsmeade. He asked her to keep her knowledge of the passage to herself. The less people that knew about it, the better, though he commented that he suspected Potter and his friends knew of it. He had seen them lingering around it several times. She wouldn't be surprised if they took their own little secret trips to Hogsmeade; Ron and Harry _did _always have endless supplies of Honeydukes sweets. When students began returning for supper, they parted ways with a kiss and an agreement to meet after classes on Monday at the statue.

Adelinda prettied herself up for their outing; it was the week before Halloween and very cold in the evenings. She did her make up and pulled on a red sweater, dark jeans, and tall black wedged boots; her go-to shoes when she wanted to look nice. She pulled on her winter coat, a black peacoat with gold monogrammed buttons that stopped between knee and thigh; it had been a birthday gift from her paternal grandparents. They had quite a bit of money. She never heard from them or received letters from them, and had only met them a handful of times, but they sent her exquisite gifts every Christmas and birthday. She had never thought anything of it.

She tucked her wand and a small coin purse into the pocket of her coat and headed to meet Malfoy, slipping from the crowded common room unnoticed; the bell for supper had just rang, and everyone was leaving. By the time she reached the statue, the corridors were empty. She smiled when she saw the blonde man standing against the wall. He had a coat thrown over his arm and was otherwise dressed in his usual attire. He greeted her by pulling her close for just a moment. "You look lovely," he said, his eyes lingering on the buttons of her jacket; she felt a bit self-conscious, wondering if perhaps it was too extravagant, and remembered who she was dealing with.

"Thank you," Adelinda told him. She wasn't quite as nervous as she had been during the days leading up to this trip; she found herself a bit excited to be going to Hogsmeade with Malfoy. They were going to have a bite to eat at one of the pubs and then shop around. She had worried about being seen and reported to McGonagall, but Malfoy had assured her that no one would give them a second glance. They went through the secret passageway, their path lit by a simple 'lumos,' and once inside the Honeydukes cellar, apparated behind The Three Broomsticks.

The village was just as active as it had been during her first and only trip there, though it was a different crowd of people; the streets were full of children accompanied by their parents, the elderly doing their shopping, and young couples going out for a drink after work or getting dinner. Halloween was in the air; jack o lanterns lined the streets and floated above peoples' heads and bewitched spiders spun webs in the windows of shops. Every once in a while a child would send a toy bat soaring through the air; one nearly hit Adelinda in the back of the head and while Malfoy seemed irritated, she just laughed and caught the bat, kneeling and handing it back to the embarrassed child.

"Children." Malfoy frowned. The mother had thanked Adelinda and hurried her son away.

"Oh, shush," she said in a playful, scolding voice, pushing herself to her feet. "They're just having fun."

"I suppose," he said, eyeing a little girl with an oversized witch's hat on her head. She was screaming and giggling as her younger brother dangled a toy spider before her face as it spun its cloth web. She found herself envious of the enchanted toys—her parents hadn't kept them when she was a child.

"Let's go to the pub," Adelinda said, nudging his side with her elbow. "Perhaps once we've gotten some food into you, you won't be so grumpy, _si_?"

"I am not grumpy," he protested, but led her in the direction of The Three Broomsticks; he had suggested eating when they arrived, but she wanted to walk around while there was a bit of daylight left. Her nerves had completely eased once they had arrived. Not a single Hogwarts student or professor was in sight, and outside of their uniforms, she supposed they looked like any other couple visiting the village; she _was_ nearly of age, after all. She could have passed as a Hogwarts graduate, especially on the arm of twenty-year-old Draco Malfoy.

They slipped into the pub, smoky but warmly lit and heated by a monstrous fireplace; there were old wooden chairs and a table around it to cater to larger parties of people. She slid into a booth while Draco got their drinks and ordered their food.

He slipped onto the seat in front of her after taking off his coat, sliding her drink across the table. It was a large mug of warm, foaming liquid and she looked at it curiously. "What is this?" she asked him, glancing at his drink; it didn't foam and smelled of cinnamon and alcohol. She sniffed her own drink; it had an overwhelmingly sweet smell, like melted butterscotch.

"Butterbeer," he told her. "Very little alcohol, can't be getting a minor drunk. And this," he lifted his mug before taking a sip, "is Blishen's Firewhisky. Wonderful stuff."

She had rolled her eyes at his comment about not getting a minor drunk, though truth be told, she had only ever had glasses of wine at holidays and family events; sometimes a bit of champagne. She took a sip of the Butterbeer. It was delicious and not a bit like what she had ever had, though too much of it seemed likely to give one a toothache or a bellyache or both. "I've never had it," she told him, holding the glass between both hands. Though the smell was a bit much, the warmth of it was comforting.

The pub was loud and crowded, but in their little corner, all they had to do was lean in to hear the other. "You've never had Butterbeer?" he asked her incredulously.

"No," she said, raising an eyebrow. "Why is that so—"

"Malfoy, m'boy!" a gruff voice called out. She looked at Draco and then towards the source of the voice; it was a man who looked as rough as his voice sounded, wearing thick, worn robes and a wiry beard. His hair was trimmed but unkempt, and Adelinda couldn't help but notice his dry, cracking hands, as well as the way Draco tensed as he neared.

"Edmund," he nodded at the man, who stood by the table for a moment, glancing at Adelinda before sliding into Draco's seat and putting an arm around him. She wondered at this man's ability to read social cues; Malfoy seemed utterly irritated by the arm around his shoulders.

"How've you been, boy? It's been so long," he clapped the man's shoulder. "I hear your father is still in Azkaban. How _terrible _that must be for your mother, how utterly terrible."

"Yes, I suppose it is," Draco told him stiffly. Adelinda watched this exchange quietly, made a bit nervous by the man's presence.

"And who might this lovely young lady be?" he bellowed in his thick Scottish voice, his attention finally resting on Adelinda. She looked at him and then to Draco, who responded before she had the chance to; she was, admittedly, relieved.

"This is Adelinda, a friend from school," was his simple, curt response.

"Ah, still a sneaky little thing, I see, sneaking a young girl out of school," Edmund said, winking at Draco. Adelinda was angered by that but said nothing. The wink seemed to imply that the Slytherin boy had done this before with less than pure intentions; a conversation for another time if she could hold her temper. His eyes turned back to Adelinda. They were dark and bloodshot, which was sometimes a side effect caused by abuse of certain potions; it would explain his odd behavior and rough appearance. She scolded herself for assuming the man was an addict. "What a pretty young girl. What did you say her name was…?"

Draco could tell that Adelinda was irritated by the way she was being spoken of as if she were not there, but to most of the men he knew that was normal practice; he didn't like it much more than Adelinda did, but it was not worth saying anything. The man was deranged. "Adelinda," he said in a monotone voice, never looking at the girl they spoke of. She had her arms folded tightly over her chest, glowering over at him.

"Amoretto?" Edmund asked, leaning across the table to look at her. "You look just like your daddy, little girl…" his eyes were small with scrutiny. Adelinda's arms tightened and she pressed back into the cushioned seat. He seemed to know who she was. She thought perhaps Draco had mentioned her, but he had seemed as surprised to see the man as she was. The man's recognition gave her a feeling of unease.

She knew without a doubt that this odd man did _not _know her father.

"Edmund, it has been lovely seeing you," Draco said with the falsest smile she had ever seen on his face, slapping the man on the back. "I'll tell my father you said hello."

"Ah, yes, I suppose I am intruding on a nice little date, aren't I?" the man cackled, leaning back. "Great seeing you, m'boy. And it was wonderful to finally meet you, Miss Amoretto." As he left, he kept looking back at her.

"My father does not know that man," Adelinda said as soon as he was out of earshot, her body still tense. "Nor do I, might I add."

Malfoy gazed off in the direction Edmund had gone; he had left the pub in a bit of a hurry. Now that he was gone, he seemed concerned. "I don't speak to him," he said stiffly. "I haven't spoken to him in at least two years. He's…well, he was a part of my life before the war ended."

Adelinda took that to mean that he had been on the wrong side of the war, just as Draco's family had been.

"He was looking at me oddly," she said quietly, clutching her butterbeer. It had cooled a bit. As they spoke, their food was brought to them; she had lost her appetite.

"He's a bit deranged," Draco said easily, slipping back into his usual cool and collected self; he was perturbed by the man's presence. He didn't know why he was in Hogsmeade or how he knew Adelinda's father. She had lived in Italy since she was small, she had once told him, and far before Voldemort's war efforts had begun. Edmund had been a bit of a hermit until the Dark Lord had found him and unless her father had been involved in the war, there would have been no reason for the two to know each other. "I've always taken what he says with a grain of salt. You should, too." He would not let her know his concern. He had promised her that this outing would go smoothly.

"Okay," Adelinda said. He reached over and rested his hand atop hers.

"Eat a bit, and we'll go look around the shops," he said. "We both have class in the morning. Can't be getting back too late."

She nodded and sipped at her butterbeer between small bites of bread. They went through the rest of the evening without further interruptions; Draco found himself a bit fascinated by her excitement inside of the shops. They visited the bookshop and Honeydukes, and Draco readily took her into a shop that sold dress robes and women's clothing; she was amazed by all of the different robes and how different the garments were from the Muggle attire she was accustomed to.

When the shops began to close they hurried to Honeydukes and slipped into the cellar while Adelinda fretted over being seen; Draco laughed and shushed her, pulling her down into the passageway. She grabbed at his shirt and he put an arm around her. "Is someone a bit scared of the dark?" he teased.

"Of course not," she said quickly, and hoped he did not hear the very loud sigh of relief she gave as he lit the passageway. The throaty chuckle said he did.

"Despite our dinner being oddly interrupted, I had a good time," Draco said quietly, looking down at her. The light cast by his wand sent their shadows down the passageway and lit up her face.

"I did, too," Adelinda said, almost seeming surprised to say it. "I'm glad I went."

"And I'm glad you enjoyed yourself," he said, leaning against the wall and pulling her close by her coat, gently; he kissed her and she rested her hands against his chest, closing her eyes and falling into the kiss. They both pulled away reluctantly after a moment. "I suppose we ought to get going, then." He slid his arm around her shoulder. Before leaving the passageway they took off their coats and shrunk them down to pocket-size; he pulled his robes from his pocket and enlarged them before slipping them over his clothes, winking at her. "Just in case someone sees us."

She gave a little laugh at that, but it felt routine; the comment Edmund had made came back to her. She thought about it as they made their way down to the dungeons, something she hated doing; she had always thought the castle was eerie at night, with the empty hallways and the sounds of the sleeping portraits, and the closer to the dungeons you got, the more eerie it became.

"Malfoy." They were arm in arm and every now and then she leaned her cheek against his arm, or he would turn and kiss her on the top of the head.

"Hmm?"

"I'm not the first girl you've snuck to Hogsmeade."

He looked down at her. Draco had known she had caught Edmund's helpful little comment about that and had been waiting for her to bring it up; he was surprised to hear the calmness of her voice.

"No, you're not," was his simple response. "There have been…a few others…but that was years ago. Hell, I was probably only sixteen when I was doing that, and it was for much less…ah…moral reasons."

She realized that it bothered her to think of him with other girls in such a way, and chalked it up to her own innocence instead of her feelings for him. "So…that's not what you want with me,yes?" It had been on her mind. Girls did tend to drool whenever he was around and whisper about his looks, and she had heard about some of his sexual escapades from his last two years at school. She did her best not to hold them against him because they had nothing to do with her, but she couldn't help but get a little agitated whenever she thought of it. It made her wonder about the fact that they had yet to do more than kissing and a bit of fondling and whether he wanted more; she was always waiting for him to make a move, half of her hoping that he did and the other half hoping he didn't.

"I won't say I would complain if it were to happen," he said with a sly smirk and a grunt as she elbowed his side. "But no, Amoretto, that's not what I want with you at all."

"Okay," she said quietly.

"Hey," he said, putting an arm around her and giving her a gentle squeeze. "If that was what I wanted, I would have been trying much harder to get it this whole time. I like you, Amaretto, quite a bit."

She smiled at that. "Well I like you quite a bit, too," she said, sliding her arm around his waist for a moment. They reached the common room and he drew her in for a deep kiss that made her body tingle. When they heard a little giggle, they pulled apart quickly to see two first year girls peeking around the corner of the entrance to the girls' dormitories. They realized they had been spotted and Malfoy snorted at the frightened looks on their faces before they ducked out of sight.

"First years," he scoffed, kissing her forehead. "As if they've never seen two people kiss."

"What if they go and tell people?" Adelinda said. He pulled her back, looking down at her.

"Then so be it," he said after a moment.

"The Slytherin girls won't like it…" she said, her voice full of apprehension. Her gaze was distant. Pansy would likely hate her more than she already did; she had no doubt that the girl was in love with Malfoy, or at the very least obsessed. She seemed a bit too cold for love. "…and I don't want to be seen badly…"

"Seen badly for dating a Malfoy?" he said in a voice that held every ounce of arrogance he possessed. She glared at him. "The only people who will care are Gryffindors…" his voice trailed off. Her closest friends were Gryffindors.

She gave a dismissive wave of her hand. "I'm not worried about them," she said. She wasn't, not really; she did fear Ron and Harry's reactions, but Ginny had accepted it and she knew that Hermione would as well. It would just take awhile. "It's quite late, and we're not…well, I don't know how you say it…"

"Official?" he suggested, and she nodded. "I'm sure those girls are still lingering around the corner listening to every word we say as First Year girls tend to do, and they should know that if they speak a word of this to anyone, they will have me to deal with."

Adelinda stifled her giggles as she heard the distinct sound of shoes on the ground and hurried whispers as the girls rushed away from the door. She mouthed a 'thank you' to Malfoy.

"I can't help but feel as if you're a bit ashamed of me," Malfoy murmured, half-serious.

"Ashamed of you?" she said incredulously, raising an eyebrow at him. "Why would I be ashamed of you?"

"Your best friend is a Gryffindor, you know," he told her, mimicking her expression. She scowled at him and saw his lips twitch with a smile.

"My best friends knows, and approves," she said in a matter-of-fact tone of voice, putting her hands on her hips. He seemed surprised by that.

"What about the rest of them?" he prompted, leaning back against the wall. She gave him a sheepish look.

"They don't know yet," she said with a little shrug. "But, _prometto, _it's not because I'm ashamed of you; I think that Hermione will be okay with it eventually, though the boys…I'm not so sure."

"Why didn't you tell them then?" he asked her, his voice indifferent. He wasn't sure why it bothered him that they didn't know; he'd certainly never had any problem with private relationships before, though they had been of a purely…sexual nature. This was different. Adelinda was different.

She gave another shrug, clasping her hands in front of her. He found little gestures like that of hers fascinating and knew their meanings. If she was nervous, she held her hands in front of her or let her hair fall to her face; she always chewed at her bottom lip, sometimes to the point that they bled, and when she did that all he wanted to do was kiss her until she didn't want to do it anymore. He had come to know her mannerisms. "I didn't know if we would still be…" she struggled with her words. "_si vede_, whatever we are…I didn't want to cause a fuss over nothing."

He folded his arms over his chest, looking down at her. She mimicked this without realizing, worrying at her bottom lip. He frowned. "Whatever we are," he repeated. "Hmmm."

"What?" she asked him wearily, raising an eyebrow. His grey eyes bore holes into hers.

"Well, what are we?" he asked her, tilting his head. A strand of white-blond hair fell in his eyes and she reached up, brushing it behind his ear.

"You're asking the girl who had never even kissed a boy before you?" she asked, looking at him with disbelief on her face.

He shrugged. "I like you, and you like me," he said, pursing his lips slightly in thought. "We spend quite a bit of time together…." He pulled her close. "…and I do so like kissing you."

She smiled, relaxing against him. "Boyfriend and girlfriend are such juvenile terms, but we are in Hogwarts," Malfoy told her. "And you are a mere sixteen…"

She elbowed him. "I'll be seventeen in December," she reminded him.

"You are a mere seventeen," he corrected himself, smirking. He stroked her cheek with his thumb and she leaned into the touch. "So if you are willing, Miss Amoretto, I will gladly call myself your boyfriend, and you my girlfriend."

"Are you asking me out, Mr. Malfoy?" she teased through her red cheeks.

"Give me an answer before I take it back," he said, his bottom lip poking out ever so slightly.

She gave a playful gasp. "You're pouting!" she said, laughing as she leaned up to kiss him. "Of course I'll be your girlfriend, you git. I've only been snogging you for, _cosa_, a month now?

"Oh, you know just how to sweet talk a man." He gave a deep sigh and rested a hand over his heart, earning himself another nudge in the stomach.

"I'm still going to sit with my friends at lunch and supper when we're not together," she told him sternly, looking up at him.

He gave a shrug. "That's fine," he told her.

"And…perhaps we can keep it to ourselves for a bit? Until I tell Hermione?" she asked, giving him a hopeful smile.

He frowned at her. "Why don't you want people knowing, Amoretto?" He wasn't used to being treated as though he was something to be ashamed of, and it had him quite bothered; the younger Slytherin girls doted over him, he knew this, and had it been another girl the whole castle would have known of their relationship. It was why his sexual tendencies had been so known throughout the school before the war; most of the girls did not keep it to themselves, and he certainly hadn't minded that. It had, after all, earned him the title of 'Slytherin Sex God.' He wondered if Adelinda had heard that one yet.

"It's not that I don't want people knowing," she said quickly. "There are a lot of girls that want you, you know…a few that already don't like me…"

He gave a heavy, irritated sigh. "We'll keep the PDA to a minimum, but I want to walk you to classes," he said. "And perhaps you can come down to the common room every once in awhile."

"Sure," she said, relieved that he had been accepting of her request. She knew that it made him feel unwanted, though she knew he wouldn't admit it; she was afraid of what Pansy's reaction would be. "But…what is PDA…?"

"Public display of affection, you silly girl," he said, pushing away from the wall. He put an arm around her shoulder. "Let's get you to bed."

He walked her to her room and left her with a deep kiss; she fell asleep to warm feelings and an excited hammering in her chest.

_**I'm sorry for the short post, this is a bit of a filler before the holidays. Thank you for reading and please review! :) **_


	10. Chapter 10

Crisp winter wind bit at Draco's cheeks as he walked across the Quidditch pitch. The man had quite a bit on his mind and he'd had every intention of flying those thoughts away until it had begun to snow, and so he trudged back to the castle feeling a bit worse than he had before, cursing the weather that had come a month too soon. It was barely the end of November and he was bundled head to toe in wool cloak, scarf, gloves and boots; he scolded himself for even attempting to fly in such a cold climate.

The walk back to the castle gave him a bit of time to think. He had a guilty conscience and quite a few worries, all of which involved Adelinda, though they had been getting along quite well. People had begun to suspect their relationship, though no one had said anything to either of them. The girl wasn't so preoccupied with people finding out. She seemed to have finally realized that no one would dare say anything to the girl on Draco Malfoy's arm. They went to Hogsmeade every week, though they had yet to go with the other students, and spent every weekend together. She sometimes let him into her room while the other students were away and they wasted the day away attempting to study—but mostly snogging. It was the longest he had gone without shagging the woman he was seeing, but he respected her wishes to take it slow; he knew that she was young, something he was a bit torn about, and he knew that she was quite innocent on such matters. He had been her first kiss, for Merlin's sake. He was on shaky ground when it came to sexual matters with her, and it only got shakier when they spent hours kissing and he left for the night wanting as much of her as he could get. She had lips he could lose himself in and every touch she gave him left him craving more.

Yet Draco had opted to spend the last Hogsmeade weekend by himself; he had spent an hour assuring Adelinda that it wasn't because he was bored of her, something she had become increasingly worried about as she heard the rumors circulating of their relationship and his past relationships with women, if one could even call them that. No, he had chosen to go see his mother, owling her the night before to let her know he would be by and sneaking out to Hogsmeade late at night, disapparating to Malfoy Manor. He had good cause for his absence and the visit.

Each time he and Adelinda had gone to Hogsmeade, he had noticed Edmund lingering around shops and corners, always watching; it always seemed to be a coincidence, but after consulting his mother knew that it was not. The ex-Death Eater had no business being in Hogsmeade or anywhere near Hogwarts—he did not live nearby, he did not work there, and he had no family. When they had a run in with another man he knew from before the war, a man who also seemed to recognize Adelinda though he did not make it as obvious as Edmund had, Draco found cause to be worried.

And so he had filled his mother in on their relationship. She was clearly disappointed to hear that he was involved with a Muggle Born girl, but her Slytherin status and ability to make her son happy were enough to make her happy as well, though she would not fully approve until she had met Adelinda. She had never been quite as judgmental as Lucius had been. He told her of Edmund's recognition of the girl and how he had known her father, and he told her of the second ex-Death Eater who appeared in The Three Broomsticks at their last visit; his mother seemed as worried as he was, and took it upon herself to do a bit of research on the girl and her adopted family. Through status and money, she had found the girl's biological family's history, and what they discovered left Draco uneasy. He knew things about Adelinda that she likely did not know herself, and knew that he was not the one to tell her; nor did he want to.

-

Back at the castle, Adelinda sat in the library; having spent most of the week with Draco, she hadn't gotten ahead of her schoolwork like she normally did and was playing catch up as a result. She didn't mind. The time spent with Draco was wonderful and she enjoyed every minute; they had not bickered but a little during the weeks that had passed and when they did, it was quickly resolved with sweet words and kisses. She discovered a softer side of him that she suspected not many had seen, and she also discovered the sexual side of him; he did not know it, but after time spent together, she was left feeling as frustrated as he. She had never experienced such feelings and wasn't sure how to handle them; there was a part of her that wanted to initiate more than simple snogging with him but she didn't know how to go about it and was much too shy to simply tell him.

She had taken advantage of the weekend he had been away from the castle to spend a bit more time with her Gryffindor friends, not wanting to make them feel as though she was passing them over for Draco. Ginny still encouraged their relationship, whole-heartedly now that she had seen how happy he made her and heard the stories of his sweetness—she had certainly never expected it from Draco Malfoy, of all people. With Ginny's help she had told Hermione of Draco, and neither was surprised to learn that Hermione had already known.

"I think the only two who don't had suspicions at this point are Harry and Ron, but we all know how oblivious those two are," Hermione had giggled. She was supportive but stern with Adelinda, warning her against any drama that could come about and telling her that if he ever did anything even slightly disrespectful, she wanted to be the first to know. Ginny had teased that she was sure that wouldn't happen, as Malfoy wouldn't want a replay of his third year, and when they explained to Adelinda what had happened she was shocked but highly amused and stored the story away for later use in teasing the wizard.

Telling the boys was quite a bit harder. They did it in the privacy of the library, where they knew neither Ron nor Harry would have the audacity to let their tempers get the best of them; the boys had taken to treating Adelinda as a younger sister of sorts, even bringing her back gifts from Hogsmeade on occasion and making her feel guilty for not going with them. As a result, she had gone while Draco was away, and had quite enjoyed herself. Visiting with Draco had vanquished all anxiety she had about the village.

"You're dating that git?" Ron had said, astonished, his voice raising a bit—Hermione smacked his hand and told him to shush and watch his language, to which he had muttered under his breath, "You sound like my mum." This earned him a harder smack on the arm.

Adelinda had told the boys how long it had been, and found they were more upset that she hadn't told them when it started than they were about the relationship in general, though after the shock had worn off Ron began to warn her of what a terrible person the Slytherin could be. To her surprise, Harry had come to hers and Draco's defense.

"Ron, people can change," he had said hesitantly. "Maybe Malfoy has. You know, I haven't heard one story of him being cruel to younger students or tossing around words like 'mudblood' or 'muggle born'—"

"I don't think people change," Ron grumbled, and Harry ignored him.

"He's dating Adelinda, Ron. She's a muggle born." Harry had shot her an apologetic look, but she wasn't bothered by his statement; she knew the significance of a pureblood Slytherin dating someone of her blood status. "That's a huge step for Malfoy and you know it. She says he treats her well and she's happy, aren't you?"

At this Adelinda had nodded. "There you go, mate. We should support her." He gave Adelinda a look. "Just know that if he ever puts a toe out of line he'll have us to deal with, and I mean that. I had him turned into a ferret our Fourth Year, you know."

They had told her this story as well, and when the day was over Ron had come to accept that nothing he said could change Adelinda's mind, and grudgingly agreed to support her in her decision to be with 'ferret-face,' though he did add that if he ever hurt her he would be made to eat slugs. Their protectiveness made her smile and she would be sure to let Draco know that they had all been accepting of the relationship; she knew it would make him feel better than her closest friends were now all aware of it.

When he had returned from his weekend at home, he had seemed quite distant; he didn't talk much of his family but when she asked him what was wrong, he told her that it was his father and she asked no more. She knew from Ginny that his father had been a Death Eater and after the war had been put in Azkaban for life as a result of using Unforgivable Curses and heavily supporting Voldemort. She knew that his mother and Draco himself had also nearly been imprisoned; Narcissa Malfoy was spared as a result of never having performed any of the three curses and never being directly involved, and Draco had been taken pity on because he was so young. They had been required to donate to charities started to fund the rebuilding of the magical communities and provide counseling for those involved in the war. She didn't let Draco know that she had knowledge of these things. After a day or two, whatever worries he had seemed to ease, and he was back to his normal self.

The week passed quickly with him. It had gotten quite cold out, and the snow had come early that year, just a light dusting but beautiful nonetheless. Adelinda had always loved the snow and she found herself in the owlery until dinnertime while Draco was out, petting and cooing Isis and feeding her far too many treats before sending her into the clouded sky with a letter for her parents. Her mother had noticed the change in her writing, having become much more upbeat, and had asked if there were any boys in her life yet. She told her of Draco, though she did not include his name, nor his age. That would come later. Her father had, of course, sent a letter pleading with her to be safe and not let any nasty Slytherin boys take advantage of her. It made her laugh, and she gave him a response that assured him of her intact innocent, also telling him that he need not worry about her.

When she walked into the Great Hall for supper, she gave Malfoy a smile as she passed the table, catching the eye of a few Slytherins. It didn't bother her much anymore, the idea of people knowing; she was sure they did already. Their suspicions simply hadn't been confirmed by the two involved. All heads snapped up quickly as their meal was begun by McGonagall's voice telling them she had an announcement to make.

"Before I begin, I am aware that this is normally a tradition of the Triwizard Tournament; however, I wanted to arrange something to celebrate the first year of Hogwarts being open to students again, and I thought that we would all enjoy a bit of festivity." There was a twinkle in the old witch's eye, and Adelinda found herself incredibly curious. "We will be having a ball this year, just before the holidays begin. Obviously you will be required to wear your best dress robes. Boys, please be clean and tidy looking, and ladies, nothing too provocative. There will be an extra Hogsmeade trip this month for you all to find anything you may need."

As she finished, the entire Great Hall began cheering and chattering to each other in excitement; Adelinda recalled Draco saying something about a ball before they had begun seeing each other, and glanced back at him. He raised his eyebrows suggestively at her and she smiled, turning back around. She had not been excited when he had told her of the ball before, but she would have someone to go with now; she could do so freely with her friends' approvals and found she did not care what the rest of the student body would think when she arrived on the arm of the Slytherin Sex God, a nickname she had heard tossed around quite often lately by smitten first years.

The next morning began the influx of owls with formal invitations to the ball, and students found themselves flitting from table to table in the Great Hall, mostly boys trying to find the girls they wished to attend with. Harry and Ron had asked their girlfriends the night before in the common rooms, but Adelinda had not seen Draco after supper and became a bit nervous that he would not ask. Her worries were eased when his owl dropped a letter before her. It was sealed with the silver Malfoy family crest, and she slid out a white card with the same crest embossed onto the front of it.

I would like to formally request the company  
of Miss Adelinda Isis Amaretto  
at the Hogwarts Ball,  
Saturday December 21st

With love,  
Draco Malfoy

At the bottom was a post script that read 'meet me during supper at the usual spot with your answer, love.' The giggled over the card and the formality of it; they knew that it was a big deal for Adelinda. When she asked Ginny and Hermione if they would like to go to Hogsmeade with her to find dresses and shoes, they agreed excitedly. They didn't have much girl time, and it was the perfect opportunity. They would go the next Hogsmeade trip.

When she saw Draco briefly between classes, they would smile as they passed each other and brush hands. She was giddy with excitement and she could not contain it when she saw him; it was her first dance, and her first chance to dress up, and she was going with a boy she felt passionately about. Nothing would ruin it for her. He had done so many good things for her; he had helped her realize that she needn't be afraid of Pansy and he had helped her regain the confidence lost from her attack. Spending time with Draco seemed to push the bad dreams that had plagued her away, and the ease she felt when with him soon spread to the rest of her life as well. It was why Hermione had been so quick to accept their relationship.

Finally, suppertime came along, and she nearly sprinted to the Room of Requirements to see her boy; he was already there. She hadn't bothered changing out of her uniform, and before she entered she took a deep breath to calm her happy jitters before slipping into the room. "Hello, love," Draco greeted from where he sat in front of the fireplace with his back to her.

"Hi," she said with a smile, her voice warm. She slipped out of her shoes and her robes and laid them across a chair before curling onto the couch beside him. He set his book down and pulled her legs into his lap, running his hand along the skin that wasn't covered by skirt or sock as he leaned over to kiss her.

"Mm. How was your day?" she murmured, leaning her head on his shoulder when they broke apart.

"It would have been better if I had spent it with you," he told her with a kiss to the top of the head, sliding an arm around her shoulders. "So…"

She knew what he was getting at. "So?" Adelinda prompted with a little smile, her eyes flicking up to his face.

"About that note you got this morning," he said, raising his eyebrows.

"Ah, yes," she drawled. "What a sweet card that was. You have such lovely handwriting."

"Yes, sweet, right," he said with a frown. "So?"

"You've already said that, dear," she said sweetly, giving him a smirk that rivaled his own.

His frown deepened. It was moments like these that let her know why she had been put in Slytherin, and as he saw the smirk he struggled not to smile. "Amaretto, are you going to the ball with me or not, you silly girl?"

She smacked his chest lightly. "Not if you ask me like that, I'm not," she said, sitting and turning her chin up at him. She was clenching her jaw in an attempt not to laugh but the tilt at the corners of her lips gave her playfulness away.

Draco moved to kneel in front of her, pulling her arms from where she had crossed them over her chest. "Miss Amaretto, it would very much please me if you attended the Christmas Ball with me," he murmured, bringing her face down to his.

"Oh, I suppose…." she sighed, and as he huffed at her she giggled. "Of course I will go, _tu uomo ridicolo._"

"I could listen to you speak Italian for days," he sighed, before drawing her in for a kiss. "I can't wait to finally show you off." She slid her arms around her neck, uncrossing her legs so that he could press closer from where he kneeled before her. She felt the familiar sensation of arousal roll through her body as his hands slid over her, one on her thigh and the other cupping the back of her head.

She parted her lips readily and their tongues tangled together, and she found herself wrapping her legs around his torso. His hand tightened on her thigh at this and he rose slightly on his knees. The kiss deepened as his hand rubbed along her thigh and her backside, squeezing gently. She gave a little noise that sent every feeling in him to his manhood and the kiss became fervent. Draco pulled her from the sofa and her arms tightened around him. "You drive me mad, woman," he murmured into her lips, pressing her against the carpeted floor. Her legs were still wrapped around him and she felt her skirt crumple around her hips and found she didn't mind, one hand tangling tightly into his hair as he moved his lips from mouth to neck, kissing along it. Her other hand found the waist of his pants and she pulled his shirt from them, slipping her hand beneath it to rub along the bare skin of his stomach. She could feel the muscles built from years of Quidditch and the way they tightened as she touched him.

His teeth grazed against her skin and she tilted her head to the side, a soft noise escaping her lips; she felt him press his hips into her and tightened her legs around his waist. She could do this for hours, let him kiss her and nip at her skin…the thought was interrupted as his lips crashed against hers again and she felt the hardness of him pressed against her. His hands roamed her body, one rubbing along her side. She felt him toying with the top of her knickers and pressed into his hand, her heart hammering away in her chest, not with nervousness but with excitement; he pulled away from her lips and met her eyes. She could see the desire in his and as she pulled him back down for a kiss, he slid his fingers past the fabric and into the heat of her, and she gasped against his lips before kissing him hard.

He felt the way she squirmed beneath him and moved his lips down to her neck again, one hand working at unbuttoning her blouse, kissing along the skin he exposed before his lips touched her breasts. She moaned and her legs squeezed him tightly. She couldn't for the life of her remember why she had been so afraid to initiate anything. The intimacy came easy and the look in his eyes as he watched her told her that this was right.

He pulled her shirt and bra strap down one shoulder and she gasped his name as his tongue flicked at her nipple. She felt a bit exposed but as he murmured something about her being 'so bloody beautiful' she forgot the feeling.

Her fingers were frantic as she worked at his buttons, and she looked up at him desperately when he pulled his hand away from her to pull her hands away from him. "Adelinda," he said uneasily. Her eyebrows furrowed, and he took in her appearance. The fire sent warm light spilling across her skin, making her glow; her hair was sprawled across the red carpet and her cheeks were flushed, eyes low with need. Her shirt was half off and the disheveled state of her made him want her more.

"What's wrong?" she asked him, the desire on her face turning to worry.

"Adelinda, perhaps we shouldn't do this right now." It took quite a bit of strength for him to say this, and his throbbing manhood hated him for it.

"Why not?" he couldn't help but smirk at the way her voice turned into a whine. Her hands fell away from him, though her legs stayed firm around his waist.

"You said yourself that you wanted to take things slow, love," he reminded her. She was quiet for a moment. He was right; she had said that.

_"Ti voglio, anche se_," she told him after a very long moment, her voice soft. She found the admittance easier to speak first in Italian. "I want you…"

He groaned. "You are making this very hard for me, girl," he told her in a low voice.

"Am I?" Adelinda said innocently, her wide eyes on his.

"Amaretto, you're young," he murmured. He rested his forearms on the floor beside her, leaning against her but keeping his weight off of her. "Give it a bit of time, as much as I hate to say that…" 


	11. Chapter 11

"Oh, Adelinda, you look beautiful!"

It was just two weeks before the ball and the night before Adelinda's seventeenth birthday; the three girls who had, of late, been inseparable, were gathered in the dressing rooms of Miss Rosemary's Dress Shop, having decided to take their own private trip to the village. Draco had been right in assuming that the Gryffindor friends knew of the secret passageway to Hogsmeade.

She stood before them, her dark hair pulled into a high bun in a fashion similar to the other girls' to make trying on dresses a bit easier; Adelinda had already gone through three, having dubbed them too gaudy, too uncomfortable, or too expensive. "Adelinda, if you get that one, Malfoy will crumble when he sees you," Ginny told her with a sly grin.

"Every girl's goal," Adelinda added with a giggle, turning to the mirror. Adelinda was filled with an indescribable excitement; it was the first year in quite a long time that she would have friends to celebrate a birthday with, and she was preparing for her first ball, to which she even had a date. Her parents had already begun sending her copious amounts of cards and gifts, expressing their guilt for not being there for her birthday; she assured them that she would still have a wonderful time, and she would.

She had worried about choosing a dress that would be too much, but Ginny and Hermione told her that many of the girls would be dressed in ways she had probably never seen before, adding that many would be wealthy Slytherin girls. At the Yule Ball in their fourth year, they told her, some had even had dresses made for them. The idea of not looking overdone and out of place comforted her.

And so she had had no qualms in picking out several princess dresses to try on, but she found herself in love with the last one; it was an emerald color that brought out the brilliant green of her eyes, buttoning tightly down the back with silver buttons. It displayed the perfect amount of cleavage for her, though perhaps a bit more than she had realized she possessed, and silver embellishments danced across the sweetheart neckline. The satin fabric was cinched on her left hip with a silver rose, ruffling down and revealing the black petticoat beneath it that gave the dress its volume and bounce. She smoothed her hands over the fabric and sighed, turning around. She had not had the intentions of buying something so clearly Slytherin inspired, but it complimented her well and she knew that Draco would appreciate it. "I love it," she said with a giggle. "Now please, tell me you will both get something just as big as this.

"Of course," Ginny assured her with a laugh, and they continued trying dresses on; Adelinda returned hers to its hanger and hung it gingerly by one of the mirrors, making the girls laugh. Ginny found herself a beautiful cream colored dress that laced down the back and had rose-gold embellishments, ruffling down the front as Adelinda's did; the younger girl gushed over the way it complimented her hair and the freckles that were scattered across her shoulders.

Finally, Hermione stepped out of the dressing room; she wore a dress that was colored a deep red, and for what it lacked in volume, it made up for in length, trailing a foot behind her. It laced up the back and hugged her curves perfectly until it flared slightly at the knee. "It's a bit much…" she said hesitantly to her reflection, and Adelinda and Ginny gave each other a knowing look.

"'Mione, you look stunning!" Ginny told her sincerely. "Ron will be amazed when he sees you, all the boys will. Let your hair down." The insecure girl reached up and pulled her hair from its place atop her head and her brown curls spiraled down her back.

"The color looks so beautiful against your skin, and the way it makes your hair shine! Hermione, if you do not get that dress, I will see to it myself that no one else does. It was meant for you." Adelinda smiled at Ginny, and she saw Hermione's face light up in the mirror.

"I suppose you two are right…"

They left the shop with dresses in tow and the assurance to Adelinda that they would find shoes and jewelry the next trip. After returning to the castle, she found Draco waiting for her in the common room. It had gotten a bit late. "And where have you been, young lady?" he asked her from where he sat in his usual chair. He eyed the large dress bag she held in her arms and she clutched it closer to her, frowning at him.

"Before you ask, no, you may not see," she said with her chin turned up defiantly.

"I wouldn't dare, I know how you witches are about your dresses for any special occasion." He had tried to give her the money to pay for it as a birthday gift to her, and had even asked to take her himself to shop for a dress, but she had refused. She knew that she would fall in love with a dress of more expensive taste and would not accept that kind of money from him.

"Let me put this dress away and I will return to the common room, _si_?" she smiled at him before hanging her dress in her armoire, rushing back to the common room where she finally kissed him.

"Did you enjoy your evening?" he asked her politely, not returning to his seat in the armchair until she had taken a seat on the couch. The common room was empty.

"I did, I had so much fun with the girls," Adelinda told him with a smile. She curled her legs up beneath her. "We're going back sometime to get shoes and anything else we may need."

"All this trouble for a silly school dance," Draco teased her, smirking.

"I seem to recall a certain wizard fretting over when he could get back to his home to find his dress robes," she shot back with a pout.

"Speaking of, what color is your dress?"

"You're not to know."

"It's for my own dress robes."

"You want to match?" she asked with a brow quirked up in question.

"Of course," he told her, surprised by her question. "We are going as a couple, are we not? Couples match."

She huffed. "It's a very beautiful, dark green," Adelinda told him, peeking over at him to see his reaction. He seemed a bit surprised that she would choose their house color, but nodded. It would certainly be no problem to match his dress robes to her dress; he had a set at the Manor that had never been warned and would be perfect for the occasion.

"Good, good."

They spent a bit of time together before he sent her off to bed and returned to his room himself, but not before asking her to meet him in the Room of Requirements at supper the next day. She went to bed a bit disappointed that he hadn't mentioned her birthday.

The next morning at breakfast, she was showered in cards by numerous owls. Her grandparents had gotten word of the ball and had sent her a silver hairpin set with small emeralds, having assumed her dress would match her house as had been tradition during their teen years; they had assumed correctly and she was excited to wear it. There were cards from various relatives, and she was shocked to see that Molly Weasley had even sent her a package filled with homemade sweets and a small cake. "Adelinda, what are the tears for!" Ginny admonished playfully.

"Your mum barely knows me, and she thought to send me something," she said with a little sniff. She was quite touched by the gesture and made a mental note to write her.

"Well, mum liked you," Ron added as he got to the table and wished her a happy birthday. "And coming of age is a big deal." It wasn't unusual for a student to turn seventeen during their sixth year, she had learned. Many were home-schooled for a time like she had been and were a level behind, and many had birthdays right on the edge of the cut off date.

"She asks after you quite often," Ginny told her with a smile. "I think she expects you to visit the Burrow this summer."

That made Adelinda's heart warm and she told Ginny that she gladly would. After tucking away the gifts and cards in her bag, shrinking the treats Mrs. Weasley had sent her to size, she turned to see Hermione and Ginny holding gifts and frowned. "You shouldn't have gotten me anything," she insisted, at first refusing the gifts. Hermione and Ginny became frustrated and finally Ron and Harry told her to open them already.

She reluctantly took the gifts. The first, from Hermione and Ron, was a pair of silver heels to go with her dress; they would give her an extra few inches and she dreaded walking in them, but was excited to wear them nonetheless, thanking the couple profusely before moving on to Ginny and Harry's gift. It was a pair of dangling silver earrings with green gems in them. "Now, they're not real emeralds, obviously, but—"

Adelinda cut Ginny off with a hug. "Shush, it doesn't matter to me and you should know that, they're beautiful," she said, her voice thick with affection. She smothered the boys in hugs. which took them by surprise. The girls laughed at their awkward expressions. "You are all too sweet. Thank you so, so much…"

The day went by rather quickly with a few 'happy birthdays' here and there, and she realized she had yet to see Draco; she hadn't noticed him at breakfast, and when she realized he was absent from Potions, she worried that he was sick. He had seemed perfectly fine the day before.

At suppertime, she continued to the Room of Requirements as she had planned, hoping that he would be there waiting. Her excitement for her birthday had deflated as the day had gone on but she couldn't quite put a finger on why. Slipping her robes and shoes off, she sat before the fire and took her gifts and cards from the bag, finally reading through all of them. She sat there in a rather glum mood and nibbled at the various goodies Mrs. Weasley had sent her.

Draco had slipped into the room some time ago and sat on the sofa behind Adelinda, amused by how entranced she was by the fire before her; he held a small gift wrapped box on his lap and a bouquet of assorted flowers, and while he waited for her to realize she wasn't alone he simply sat there observing her. He noted that she had taken a bit of extra time on her appearance that day; Ginny had been teaching her cosmetic charms and she had put them to good use curling her dark hair, locks of hair spiraling down her back. Finally, after a few minutes, he cleared his throat and had to keep from laughing as she jumped.

"Draco Malfoy!" Adelinda gasped, pushing herself to her feet and putting her hands on her hips, glaring at him. He got to his feet and smiled at her innocently. "Don't you do that to me ever again, _mi hai sentito?_ You scared the—"

He silenced her by standing and pressing his lips to hers, and she melted into it, forgetting her anger at his antics. "Happy birthday, Adelinda," he murmured, wrapping his arms around her waist and giving her bum a gentle squeeze. She wrapped her arms around his neck, reveling in the feeling of him holding her.

"Thank you," she said softly, smiling up at him. "Where were you today? I didn't see you."

"Shopping," he said innocently, stepping back from her to pick up the flowers and the small box. He watched the smile spread over her cheeks. Adelinda took the flowers from him, bringing them to her face to smell them; it was an assortment of red and pink flowers that she couldn't identify with white roses scattered throughout them. She would have to find something to put them in so that she could sit them on her desk, and of course, she would have to press one or two of them.

"Thank you," she said again, and when she saw the small box she frowned at him. He had been trying to shower her with expensive gifts all week and it seemed he had succeeded this time. "Draco Malfoy," she repeated, trying to contain her curiosity.

He pulled her onto the couch with him and she laid the flowers across her lap. "Shush, you know you want to see what's inside," the blond teased, pressing the box into her hands. He watched her eyes go wide as she opened it.

"Is that…?"

"Platinum," he finished for her. After she had told him the colors of her dress, he had decided a fitting gift would be something she could wear with it; he had very tentatively asked Ginny what she and Granger had gotten for them, and though the girl had been surprised to be approached by him, she gave him the information happily. He had made it to a jewelry shop and selected two thin, platinum bracelets set with small emeralds. It was nothing flashy, but he knew that Adelinda would recognize it as costing quite a bit of money, and hoped she would not force him to take it back.

"You shouldn't have!" she said seriously as she turned the bracelets over in her hands, running a finger along the green gems.

"Can you deny that you love it?" he said gently, raising an eyebrow as she looked up at him.

"No, but Draco, they must have been expensive…" her voice trailed off. He took the bracelets from her and slid them onto her wrist.

"Money is no matter to me," he said simply. "Look how beautiful they are on you."

"Your mother would be rather disappointed to know you were spending this much money on a girl she hasn't met, wouldn't she?" Adelinda asked hesitantly. She hadn't met the woman, but she had heard quite a bit about her, and not only from Draco.

"It's my money," he said with a small shrug. "Adelinda, they'll look wonderful with your dress."

She sighed and finally accepted, carefully returning the bracelets to their box and setting them aside, treating them as though they were made of glass. "I love them," Adelinda told him softly. He moved the flowers from her lap and pulled her close, bringing her face to his. "Thank you."

"You are more than welcome, love," he murmured before kissing her with as much passion as he could stand to feel without wanting to take her then and there. 

* * *

To see two Gryffindor girls assisting a Slytherin in preparing for a ball would have been shocking to anyone, but as it was, Hermione, Ginny, and Adelinda were holed up in the Room of Requirement dressing and gossiping. They had wanted to prepare together and had put the room to good use; it held several vanities and numerous books on cosmetic charms, plenty of hairbrushes and various pieces of make up, and enough oversized mirrors for ten girls to share. They had decided it was due time for the three boys to interact and had slyly arranged for them to arrive at same place to meet them; just before the stairs that led to the Great Hall. They would make a grand entrance, Adelinda had commented.

"Here, Adelinda, let me do your hair!" Ginny insisted. She had grown up in a house full of boys, and so her mother had taken special care to teach her every cosmetic spell and trick she knew, all the while enforcing the idea that beauty did not define a person. By the time the redheaded witch had gotten her wand on Adelinda and Hermione's heads, they were done up. She had pinned Adelinda's hair away from her face using the silver hairpin her grandparents had sent her, leaving the other half down and beautifully curled; the Slytherin had chosen to do her make up the Muggle way and dabbed just a touch of color on her cheeks, her eyes made to pop by thin, black winged liner. As Ginny watched her and Hermione do their make up, she was fascinated; she had never worn much make up, and when she did, it came from her wand. Seeing her fascination, the two girls coaxed her into allowing them to do her make up, as well.

They spent an hour chattering away as they readied themselves, but just as they began to slip their shoes on, Adelinda stopped them. The bracelets Draco had given her jingled as she put a hand on Hermione's arm. "I have a favor to ask…" the young girl said with a nervous smile, looking at them shyly. The two older witches gave each other a knowing look.

Adelinda had gushed to Ginny about the night she and Draco had become a bit more intimate, asking for tips and giggling about it, and though she hadn't told Ginny what the boy had said about waiting, she'd had a feeling. "What is it, Adelinda?" Hermione encouraged, not catching on.

"Ah… there was never a need for them, so I'm not sure how to cast one…could you perform a contraceptive charm for me?" Adelinda's hands were clasped together in front of her and her head tilted slightly down in a show of shyness, her eyes turned up to the taller witch whose eyes had widened.

"Tonight?" she whispered, as if someone would hear her. Ginny was giggling and had moved to Adelinda's side.

"Yes," she said with a smile. "I wanted to a few weeks ago, but, well…Draco made the point that it was I who wanted to take it slow, and we decided to wait until I turned seventeen…"

"Are you sure you're ready?" Hermione asked, her voice full of concern. Ginny could swear that she was learning after Molly.

"Oh, 'Mione!" Ginny cried, laughing. "You lost yours after the Yule Ball to Viktor Krum, don't try to scare the poor girl."

Adelinda gasped. "You didn't!" Hermione was blushing and looked away with a sheepish grin.

"I did," she admitted. "And it was wonderful! We snuck into one of the towers…" she was taken back to her first time and her eyes turned dreaming.

"The contraceptive charm," Ginny reminded with a giggle. "You can daydream about Krum later."

Adelinda was quite nervous for what she wanted to happen after the ball; she wasn't sure what to do or how to do any of it, or how it would feel…but beneath that anxiety was an intense excitement to be close to Draco and experience that for the first time. She watched Hermione carefully as she murmured the spell and twirled her wand slowly around her lower stomach; a faint yellow light appeared before seeming to sink past her dress. "I'll have to teach you how to perform this, I'm sure after today you may need it," she told the younger girl with a knowing smile.

"_Grazie_, thank you! Let's get going before the boys kill each other," she said with a laugh. They slipped their shoes on and headed towards the Great Hall arm in arm, their dresses swishing together.

Downstairs, waiting at the bottom of the stairs, were three very quiet men. When they had all arrived there at the same time, they quickly realized what the girls had done. "Bloody witches," Ron had mumbled. Harry had actually greeted Malfoy, but Ron had simply glared at him. It didn't bother Draco a bit, though the situation was, admittedly, quite awkward.

"How long can it take to get ready?" Harry said, exasperated. Draco sent him a sympathetic look. People were already filing into the Great Hall. The music had yet to begin, and if the women made it down soon, they could make it inside before McGonagall began the dance.

"You'd be surprised how much witches feel the need to do for a simple event," he told him. He was glad to see that Weasley had updated his wardrobe since the Yule Ball, smirking when he remembered the ghastly dress robes he had been forced to show up in; now he wore a decent set, dark brown and reds. Potter wore a similar style, though perhaps a bit more expensive; he recognized the make of the black and cream-colored robes and gold cuff links.

Draco had had his mother mail him his dress robes; they were black with deep green accents and, of course, a pair of exquisite platinum cuff links inlaid with emeralds. They matched the bracelets he had given Adelinda.

Just as he finished his scrutiny of the two men's attire, he heard their sharp intakes of breath and turned his attention to the top of his stairs; he understood the feminine gasps that had slipped from the two so-called wizards. Their women stood at the top, arm in arm and smiling down at them coyly. Adelinda was stunning. Her hair was tucked away from her face and beautifully arranged, framing her cheekbones and jaw wonderfully, and her green eyes seemed to pierce holes in his heart, made brighter by the color of satin dress. She had one hand on her hip, the bracelets shining on her wrist. As he walked up the stairs to guide her down, the other wizards realized they should follow suit.

"You look beautiful," he said softly, bowing to kiss her hand. A giggle escaped her lips.

"And you look quite handsome yourself," she commented with a smile. His hair was slicked back neatly and he was freshly shaved; she liked him in dress robes.

He didn't want to take his eyes off of her, letting them linger on her chest and earning himself a playful smack on the arm before taking in the dress. It was quite magnificent, the silver accents shining in the light and the princess skirt drawing attention to her small waist and bust. "Shall we?" he said, and she nodded, resting her hand in his. Ron was looking at Draco in disdain, but Harry was observing quietly, appreciating the way that Malfoy was treating their friend.

For the first time, it occurred to Adelinda that they would be confirming every rumor of their relationship and throwing their status in the student body's faces, and her heart sped up a bit. Draco gave her hand a squeeze as he led her down the stairs. Once inside, he tried to lead her away from her friends; she tugged on his hand. "Can we stay with them for a bit?" she asked softly, and though his idea of fun did not involve Gryffindors, he glanced at the two couples and nodded. Anything for her. Her friends were her safety net, and she could already see people glancing back at her and Draco.

McGonagall began to speak, standing atop a stage that had been erected where the teachers normally sat; there was a band behind her, patiently waiting for the dance to begin. "Welcome, students!" as she spoke, there was a brief moment of loud clapping. "Ladies, you all look beautiful—gentlemen, you are quiet sharp tonight as well, I didn't realize some of you had it in you to clean up so well." Her voice was teasing and she had a slight smile on her lips. "Please keep the dancing appropriate—that is my only request. Enjoy!" With a clap of her hands, the band began playing.

The men went to get punch and food while all the witches circulated the room, chatting and telling each other how wonderful they looked, commenting on the gowns; Ginny and Hermione stayed near Adelinda, knowing how nervous she had become.

"We'll be close-by if anyone says anything," Ginny assured her as Harry returned. Adelinda smiled at her and assured her she would be alright, just as Draco returned with a glass of punch for her.

Harry twirled Ginny away, and Hermione stalked off to find Ron, who she knew would be lingering around the refreshments in an attempt to get out of dancing. "You look magnificent," Draco told her again.

"You already said that," Adelinda teased. She sipped at the juice.

"Care to dance?" he asked her, and she gave him a sheepish look.

"I don't know how."

He took the glass from her and set it on a nearby table. "Allow me," Draco said with a grin. He pulled her onto the dance floor, where no one paid them any mind, twirling her and pulling her back against him. When the band began to play a song that required true ballroom dancing, the number of couples on the floor halved. He saw her anxious look as she glanced around them at the couples dancing. "Put your feet on mine and just follow me." She gave him an odd look and he chuckled. "Trust me."

Adelinda stepped gingerly onto the toes of his leather shoes, worried about ruining them with her heels. He moved one of her arms to his shoulders and one of his hands to her hip, the other hand encasing hers, and he began moving them across the dance floor. Adelinda couldn't stop giggling. She felt ridiculous and a bit like a child, but she found herself enjoying it. "Where did you learn to dance?"

"My parents insisted on their one child being well educated in the art of ballroom dancing," Draco informed her. He had his head bent close to hers and he kissed her briefly, enjoying the smile the flit across her face. They were so engrossed in each other that they did not see the pair of eyes watching. "I attended many dinner parties that involved dancing, and many ministry balls. I've known how to dance since I was old enough to walk without falling over."

She was surprised by that. They spent quite a bit of time dancing, and eventually Adelinda felt comfortable enough to attempt it on her own; he led her with words and every time she made a mistake he helped her correct her movements, and she found that she enjoyed even that.

"I'm famished," Adelinda finally told him as the song changed again; there were little beads of sweat on everyone's foreheads and her cheeks were flushed.

"Well, love, let's go find something to eat." He led her off of the crowded dance floor and towards the refreshment table that was being tended to by house elves and tiny dress robes. He was surprised to hear Adelinda greet a few of them warmly by name and gave her a questioning look, but said nothing.

He retrieved drinks while Adelinda piled a plate high with food for the two of them, and they found a vacant table to sit at. He pulled her chair out for her and she smoothed her skirt beneath her before taking a seat. The dress popped up on her lap and she had to press it down as he pushed her chair in. "I adore this dress, but I'm not sure how women used to wear these bloody things every day," she said with a laugh.

"I couldn't complain if you wore it every day," he said slyly, and she smiled. They picked at their food and sipped at their drinks as they talked and watched, Draco commenting on some of the people and telling Adelinda who they were. After a few minutes, Hermione and Ginny dragged their boyfriends to the table.

"Mind if we join you?" Ginny asked brightly.

"Of course not," Adelinda said, shocked that she had even asked. When the girl turned her eyes towards Draco, she realized the question had been meant for him.

"Ah, go ahead—there are plenty of seats," he said politely, eyeing the male Weasley, who did not seem happy to be there. Hermione sat next to Adelinda.

"Are you enjoying the dance?" she asked the younger girl with a smile. They began to chat about the dresses they had seen and the way some girls had done their make up, leaving the boys silent. Eventually, Draco and Harry began to engage each other in small talk that was only slightly uncomfortable while Ron sulked in his chair.

"Adelinda, let's go dance while the boys are managing to get along," Hermione whispered in her ear and pulled both she and Ginny from their seats.

"We'll be back!" Ginny called back to the boys with a grin. Adelinda made a mental note to thank Draco for his brief lessons in dancing as she was dragged back onto the dance floor. Large glass balls had been enchanted to float above it and colorful flashing lights were held inside; the twelve Christmas Trees lined the walls that were draped in white cloth, and the ceiling had been enchanted to 'snow,' the soft white flurries disappearing just as they reached the students. It was, well, magical; Adelinda could think of no other way to describe it.

Adelinda felt a hand on her arm and turned around with a smile, expecting Draco. "Pansy." Her voice was hard and she did her best to conceal the alarm she felt. She kept her right hand close to the concealed pocket in her dress, made for the storage of wand, something no witch could go anywhere without.

"Congratulations on snagging Draco," Pansy drawled. Even Adelinda could admit that she looked, at the very least, quite regal; a black dress hugged her body and flared at the knees, and she held a sheer black shrug around her arms. Her hair was pulled into a neat topknot that was encased by gold netting, matching jewelry draped around her throat and jingling around her wrists.

Adelinda eyed her. She could feel her friend's hands brush her back as if to let her know they were still there. "What do you want?" she said coolly, maintaining her indifferent visage.

"Oh, I simply thought congratulations were in order…" the woman said innocently, folding her arms loosely over her chest. "…though I do wonder _how _you managed to do it. Perhaps the rumors are true, and he seduced you just as he has seduced every other girl, drawing you in for a bit…? Until he grows tired of you, of course."

The comment stung, and part of her wondered briefly if there were truly rumors of such things—Adelinda told herself that she was simply trying to get under her skin. "Why, Pansy, I believe you would know more of that than I do," she forced out, putting her hand on her chest in feigned disbelief. She heard Ginny's stifled giggles behind her and was encouraged by them. "I would never allow a man to draw me into his bed, and I would certainly never give such a man my heart. No, Draco has earned it in more innocent ways that I'm not sure you would know of."

The boys had spotted Pansy and had come to stand with Adelinda just as she spoke, and Draco felt himself swell with pride. Her confidence faltered as Blaise walked up to join Pansy, whose eyes had darkened in anger as Adelinda spoke. "Is everything all right here, Pans?" he asked, and his eyes turned to Adelinda.

"Well," he said stiffly, glancing towards Draco. "Look what the snake has caught now."

"Can't leave women to their business, Zabini?" Draco commented in a bored tone of voice, his eyes narrowed at the man.

"Oh, darling, it's quite alright," Pansy purred, leaning back into the well-dressed man as she watched Adelinda. The younger girl couldn't explain the hurt she felt at seeing Blaise with Pansy; it felt like a betrayal, a confirmation of her previous suspicions on his involvement and feelings towards her, though she knew it shouldn't matter. "I was just having a bit of a chat with Adelinda. I'm worried for her chastity, you see."

"Well, it was probably gone the second Malfoy got her alone," Blaise spoke in her ear, just loud enough for all of them to hear.

Draco drew his wand quickly and pointed it towards his old friend's chest. "Say another word, Zabini, and I will hex you into oblivion," he growled, his voice low and eyes dark. The man had put his hands up and a wicked grin danced across his face

Harry and Ron had drawn their wands as well, angered by Zabini's words against the girl they had come to care for. No one noticed Pansy draw the wand that had been returned to her the day before in lieu of the holiday beginning soon, but Adelinda had hers drawn in a second, pointing it towards her.

"Ah, someone has become a touch too confident, I see," the woman taunted, eyeing the younger girl.

"Leave us be," Adelinda told her, her voice loud.

"Or what?" Pansy said, and laughed at the younger girl's silence. "See, I simply cannot let Draco stoop to such a low level with you…a muggle born, simply disgusting. Of all the girls he could choose."

"You're making yourself look a fool," Adelinda said coolly, eyeing the girl. All eyes had turned towards her; Hermione and Ginny had drawn their wands, ready to defend their friend should the need arise. "Do you not think people have seen how you doted over the man who chose _me? _I've heard of your escapades with him, you know, and yet…never a relationship. Never anything more than sex behind statues when you should've been in class."

Pansy gasped and suddenly a stream of water hit Adelinda in the face, sending her back to that day in Hogsmeade; a surge of rage brought her back from it and she pushed forward. _"Expelliarmus_!" her voice was loud and sharp, and the wand flew from Pansy's hands as the girl backed up, eyes wide. With a slash of her wand as Adelinda pushed forward, a stream of hot water hit Pansy in the chest and the woman shrieked; her skin turned an angry red and Adelinda found herself cruelly hoping it blistered. She was flicking her wand up towards her face when Draco grabbed her arm, stopping her and pulling her back against him.

"Have you anything else to say?" Adelinda snarled at her as Draco tugged her back. The girl just stared.

"You'll pay for this," she said darkly.

"Not if you pay first."

They had drawn the attention of the students and Draco knew that that would quickly draw the attention of the professors chaperoning the ball. He pulled Adelinda through the crowd, knowing her friends were following, and led her out of the Great Hall. She was trembling and cold water dripped from her hair. Her jaw was set angrily, her hands balled into fists. He carefully pulled her wand from her and tucked it into his robes. The last thing an angry witch needed was a wand. "Adelinda," he said quietly. "Adelinda, are you okay?"

She turned her attention towards him. "How could you have _ever _slept with that bint?" she said with disgust, storming away from him. Draco found himself hurt by her misdirected anger and shocked by her language.

"I'm going to go after her—" he said, turning towards the Gryffindor couples as he began to walk quickly away. "—I need to make sure she's okay…"

Hermione stopped the boys from following. "They need to talk," she said softly, and they watched Draco chase after the angry Slytherin.

_**This chapter was originally meant to be twice its length, but I got to the end and couldn't wait to publish it. I hope you enjoyed it. Happy 4th to my american readers! Please review! :) **_


	12. Chapter 12

**This chapter is true to the story's rating.**

"Draco, leave me alone."

Adelinda was still storming away from him, her dress bunched into her hands at either side to avoid tripping over it; water dripped from her hair and soaked the top of her dress, and she knew that there was make up running down her cheeks.

"Adelinda."

His voice had a hint of urgency in it, but she still did not slow or turn to face him. She was angry and embarrassed, her feelings were hurt, and she was throwing all of that at him. It bothered her immensely that Draco had slept with Pansy years before, the girl who had hurt her, and though she knew she had no right to be angered by that, she was. "Adelinda!" This time it was a yell.

She stopped abruptly and Draco stopped just short of crashing into her. "What?" Her voice was sharp as she spun to face him, staring up at him defiantly. He had yet to see this side of her and wasn't sure how to proceed. She reminded him of his mother when she was furious with her father, but also knew she was being a bit ridiculous—she had never cared and continued being angry until her father found some way to calm her down.

"Are you okay?" Her make up was beginning to smudge around her eyes and her perfect curls had deflated beneath the weight of the water that had been thrown in her face, which was flushed with rage. Her arms shook and her hands gripped her dress so firmly that her knuckles had turned white; if she kept that up, she would ruin the fabric, the boy thought.

"_Bene, _Draco, just fine." She was shaking her head and turning to walk away again as she spoke. She began to move briskly up the stairs, lurching a bit as they began to move; she grabbed the rail and shot her companion a nasty look when he took her arm to steady her. He quickly let go. Once the stairway had settled back in place, Adelinda strut angrily down the corridor. He recognized her route. The last place she would want to go was the Slytherin common room, and the Room of Requirements had become a safe haven for her. She was muttering to herself in sharp Italian as they walked along.

"Adelinda, would you slow down for one bloody moment?" Draco snapped, frustrated with the girl. He understood that she was upset, but to take it out on him would do nothing. When she stopped and folded her arms over her chest, her back towards him, he couldn't help but smirk; it was something else he had seen his mother to his father many, many times. Headstrong women were all the same in their anger towards the men in their lives.

He put a hand on her elbow, prompting her to turn to face him. "Come here." She reluctantly turned and took a step towards him. He peeled her arms away from her chest, sliding his hands into hers. "That was quite a show in there."

She had kept her eyes focused on a portrait that was shouting things across the corridor, but the pride in her voice drew her attention to him. Before she could allow herself to soften and the anger to melt away she reminded herself that he had been involved with Pansy before and turned on her heel. "I'm going to the Room of Requirement." He sighed heavily and followed her there, walking rather quickly to keep up. He had known it wouldn't be so easy to assuage her terrible mood.

The corridors were totally void of people and the only sounds were those of the portraits egging Adelinda on and the clicking of her heels against the floors. When they reached the room, he grabbed her arm. "Allow me." He wasn't quite sure he wanted an enraged witch conjuring up a room for them; it would likely be a dungeon of sorts made to cater her every angry whim.

When the door appeared, he ushered her in. The room was lined with large windows that let in rays of moonlight, and it was warmly lit by the large fireplace and candles that were scattered across numerous tables. Before the fireplace was an oversized sofa that he lead her to. After making her sit, he knelt before her; it was reminiscent of the day they had promised each other to wait until after the ball to take their relationship further.

She was quiet, still trembling with anger, but she allowed him to cast a quick drying spell on her dress and hair; with a flick of his wand the scouring charm cleared her face of stray make up. "Care to tell me why you're so mad at me?" he prompted, pushing himself up.

Adelinda looked down for a moment. She was struggling to hold onto her anger as it was, but she knew the moment she let go of it, she would become upset. He turned her chin up to look her in the eye, but she kept her gaze downwards. "I don't like that you've had…relations with that girl," she told him, her voice quiet but dripping with venom.

"Adelinda, that was years ago, years before I even knew you," Draco pointed out, raising an eyebrow. She looked up at him and scowled when she saw his condescending expression.

"Well, she's a terrible person now and I'm quite sure that's how she's always been," she growled, yanking her chin from his hand.

"Yes, but I wasn't a great person either, and I can't change the past."

"I'm not asking you to."

"What is your anger going to accomplish, then?"

"You've made love to the woman who tormented me months ago, and seems to be beginning again, now that she knows of my involvement with you," Adelinda said, her voice rough. "That disgusts me."

"Well, Amaretto, I can't change that," he said angrily. His eyes were dark and his jaw set angrily, the muscle in his cheek twitching as he clenched his teeth. She was shocked by what she had said and realized she had hurt him. He hadn't addressed her by surname in quite awhile and it stung; she looked to him, eyebrows furrowed and anger faltering. "I've had nothing to do with her all year, and you are well aware of that. I've had naught to do with her since my last year in Hogwarts, as a matter of fact, and she disgusts me as much as she disgusts you, and apparently, as much as_ I_ disgust you."

"Draco…" she could hear the emotion in his voice and it pained her to know her words had caused it.

He had begun pushing himself to his feet. "Draco, I'm sorry," she told him, her voice breaking. She grabbed his hands, looking to him with wide eyes. Pulling him down to her, she wrapped her arms around his neck, giving him no choice but to kneel once again. "I didn't mean to say that. You don't disgust me. I'm…I don't know. I'm upset. That is no excuse for saying that to you, I know. _Mi dispiace.._." Her words were quick and a little desperate, and she buried her face into his neck as she felt him wrap his arms around her. He couldn't stay angry with her when her voice cracked as it had and he wanted to dispel the tears he knew were soon to come.

"I can't change that I was involved with her in the past, but for what it's worth, I wish I could," he murmured into her hair, moving his hand to run his fingers through it. He felt her nod and heard a little sniff come from her as she tightened her hold around him. "Adelinda, please don't cry."

She sniffleed again, blinking rapidly and burying her face further into his neck. "I can't help it," she whispered. "Tonight was ruined. I just wanted to have a good time with you. And she had to muss it up." When he took her by the shoulders and held her away from him, she tried to hide her tear-streaked face. He pulled her hands away and watched her bottom lip quiver.

"I had a wonderful time until Pansy stuck her nose in things; and you know, I'm a bit amazed at how you handled that," he told her with a grin. Her teary eyes flicked to his face. "And I think she was, too. I can't say I've ever heard anyone speak to her like that."

"Yes, well, I'm sure I'll pay for it later…" She rubbed at her face. There was a weight on her chest; her perfect night had been wrecked by Pansy Parkinson, and her first and only dance had had quite a poor ending.

"Not if she pays first, remember?" Draco smirked at her. He had especially enjoyed Adelinda's final words to the witch and completely understood her placement in Slytherin after the night's events. His face sobered a bit. "Would you really have burned her face?"

She looked down, her hands in her lap. She had mixed emotions on how she had nearly directed the steam of scalding water to Pansy's face; the girl certainly deserved it, but that was beneath her, and too similar to what had happened in her childhood. "Yes," Adelinda admitted quietly, looking away. She watched the flames in the fireplace dance and sway, the orange light reflected in her eyes.

He couldn't say that he was disappointed in her answer. It comforted him to know that Adelinda would stand up to Pansy and had the means to defend herself if need be, and he told her that. He kept it to himself that it had shocked and left him a bit uneasy to know she would so easily hurt the girl, though Merlin only knew he wasn't one to point fingers. "I shouldn't have done that," she said quickly, voice wavering. He was confused by her guilt; Pansy had seriously injured her months ago and would deserve anything the young witch threw at her.

"She hurt you," he told her, watching her closely. Her shoulders were hunched and her fingers had tangled into the satin of her dress again where they lay in her lap; she had begun worrying at her lip.

"I shouldn't have done it," she repeated, shaking her head. "I shouldn't have. What if I had hurt her?"

"She hurt you," he said again. "Adelinda, you shouldn't feel guilty. It's okay. You defended yourself."

"No!" he was taken aback when she raised her voice. "No, it's not okay." She was thinking about the way Pansy's skin had reddened and the way she had shrieked when the water had hit her chest, and it took her mind to the boys shrieking as their clothing was set ablaze by invisible forces, and the way those shrieks had quickly turned to screams as the fire touched skin. Her lip quivered again and her eyes filled with tears. "I could have hurt her."

"But you didn't," he said slowly.

"It doesn't matter," she said in a thick voice.

"Adelinda," he said gently. "It's over." He didn't know what was truly wrong, but he wanted her to enjoy the rest of their evening together; watching her cry was hurting him.

"I could have hurt her, I could have hurt her like I hurt the boys when I was little," she cried, turning her head down and staring at her hands as her fingers dug into her skirt. He grabbed her hands and pulled them from her skirt, but she only pulled them away and brought them to her face.

"Adelinda, what are you going on about?" he said firmly. She shook her head at him.

"I can't tell you," she whispered roughly, her shoulders shaking. Moonlight streaked across her face and when he peeled her hands from her face he could see the fear in her eyes.

"Yes, you can," he told her. "You can tell me."

She stared at him. Her eyes were wide and he did not fail to notice the way they flicked from his face to the fire behind him and back again. "Adelinda. Tell me."

Her eyebrows furrowed. He had a tight grip on her wrists to keep her from hiding her face again. "I killed him." Adelinda's voice was a coarse whisper. He was taken aback by her statement but schooled his features into an expression of indifference.

"Who? What are you talking about?"

"They hurt me. The boys in school. Muggle school, they thought I was strange, I did it to myself, _davvero, _they hurt me and I was little and I didn't know how to control my magic…" her words came out so quickly that he almost didn't understand them through her Italian accent.

"What happened?" he prompted gently.

Her head was bowed but her eyes turned up to look at him with haunted eyes. "They backed me into an alley way, and they didn't mean to do it but they hurt me, and—_oh dio, _the fire…" she bit her lip and the expression on her face was nearly enough to make him wish he had not asked. "I don't know what happened, I lost control, there was fire—I killed him. I killed him. I didn't mean to but I did, if I had just been _normal—_he was only twelve. And his parents, his little sister—"

He wasted no time in pulling her onto his lap as her body was wracked with sobs. He was the first person that she had told of this. Adelinda had her arms wrapped around his neck tightly and her face hidden in his chest as she cried. "It's over," Draco told her quietly, running his fingers through her hair, his arm wound securely around her. "It's over. You were young, it was an accident. You aren't the first that has done something like that and you won't be the last. Adelinda, it's _over."_

When she failed to calm herself, her breathing growing alarmingly erratic as she cried, he grabbed her shoulders and pushed her back with just enough roughness to startle her out of her tears. She stared at him, her eyes red, but as he pushed his mouth against hers she kissed back with a ferocity he'd never felt from her before; her fingers tangled into his hair almost painfully, her arm around his neck, and he wrapped his arms around her waist. Their kiss felt like a fight for dominance and Draco's need for her burned in his stomach. He felt her yanking at the fabric of his dress robes before pushing them from his shoulders and followed suit with her dress, sliding it down to her waist and running his lips along her throat and shoulders. When he bit gently at her skin and heard the little noise that left her lips he pushed her to the floor, shrugging out of his robes before discarding her dress. Adelinda met his eyes with an expression hungry enough to match his, wearing nothing but black satin knickers. She pushed herself up to slide his undershirt over his head before pulling him down against her, kissing him and biting at his lip. She had been waiting for this for weeks.

Draco was shocked by her roughness with him, not so much by the way it helped make his pants all the more uncomfortable. As they kissed he slid her knickers down her legs and his own pants off, letting his lips move to her breasts. She gasped as his tongue flicked against her nipple and his fingers slipped into the wetness of her, gripping at his hair and shoulders.

"Draco," she whispered roughly, her face flushed with arousal. She pressed into his touches and felt his lips traveling down her stomach, and when she felt his tongue flit against the little bud of sensitivity that his fingers had been toying with before, she let out a moan. He gripped her thighs and took great pleasure in the noises he evoked from her and the way her legs tightened around him. "_Draco."_ Adelinda repeated in a throaty whisper. Her fingers had tangled into his hair once again; she felt wonderfully helpless.

"Yes, love?" he said, looking up at her as he nuzzled his cheek against her thigh. The moonlight streaked across her face and body, illuminating her pale skin. He was struck by her beauty, her dark hair creating a lovely contrast against her shoulders and chest which was heaving in pleasure, her soft curves glowing beneath the candles. Her eyes were ablaze with a desperate need, lips parted and arms splayed above her head.

"_Venire qui." _Come here, she told him in a demanding voice.

He complied with her request, kneeling and pulling her hips to his, his lips now hovering over hers. "What do you want, Adelinda?" Draco asked her in a voice as heated as hers. He throbbed with his desire for the girl.

"You, _voglio te_," Adelinda told him, her arms wrapping around his neck; she could feel his hardness pressing against her and reached down to tug at the waist of his silk boxers, pushing them down; he grabbed her thighs and put her legs around his waist, feeling them tighten around him willingly.

"You're sure?" he murmured into her lips as he kissed her feverishly.

"Yes, please," she whispered back. Her arms fastened around his neck as she felt him push against her and as he entered her, there was a pinch of pain that subsided as quickly as it came; she cried out in pleasure and he kissed her desperately. It was slow at first, until she began to take a page from his book and kiss and bite at his throat; the cries and moans and the way she whispered his name into his ear spurred him on until he climaxed, falling against her, chest heaving.

He slid his arms around her, holding her tightly. She was breathing just as heavily as he was and she put her arms around him, nestling her face into his warm skin. He rolled so that she was lying on his chest. "Adelinda," Draco said quietly, hesitantly. Her eyebrows furrowed in concern as she looked up at him. Her eyes were bright and glossy, cheeks red, and he noted that he would have to do something about the marks he had left scattered across her neck and shoulders.

"What's wrong?" she asked him in a whisper, relaxed by the silence.

"Nothing, I…" he frowned. "I enjoyed that. I want to know that you did, too."

She relaxed visibly, smiling. "Of course I did," she told him softly, laying her head against his chest. He had nearly admitted that he was capable of love.

* * *

They had fallen asleep on the floor and both woke up the next day sore. Draco woke first and when he heard the light snores coming from the girl who lay atop him gave a quiet snort of amusement. He wrapped his arms around her and very slowly and carefully got to his feet, laying her on her couch. She stirred only to roll over and curl up; he smiled. The enchanted fire still burned, warming the room, though the candles had gone out; sunlight poured in through the windows. He peeked his head out the door of the room and after ensuring that no one was around, cast a quick summoning charm for clothing for the both of them; it was early enough and he was sure all of the students were hung over enough that no one would noticed a bundle of clothing zipping through the corridors. It hit his chest with a small thud and he grunted. He would need to work on that.

He dressed himself and laid her clothes by the couch before covering her with his dress robes from the night before, heading out to go by the kitchens. She woke while he was gone, rolling over and stretching; she winced at the soreness of her back and hips but pushed up anyway, pulling Draco's robes around herself and breathing in the scent of him before pushing herself slowly to her feet.

She frowned when she didn't see him, wondering where he could have gone; she had a moment of panic, thinking that perhaps Pansy had been right and he'd grown bored of her now that he had gotten what most men wanted. She held his dress robes tight around her body and breathed in his scent for a moment before telling herself that that was a ridiculous notion.

With a quick scouring charm, she had cleaned herself up, and saw the clothing beside the couch; she pulled the fresh knickers, denim, and pullover on, making a mental note to tell him to remember a bra next time he summoned clothing for her. With a flick of her wand she had put her hair into a messy bun atop her head and she gathered her dress, shoes, and jewelry, giving a heavy sigh as she inspected the wrinkles she had put in the satin by wringing it between her fingers in a fit of anxiety the next before.

"Don't worry, love, I can fix that for you." Adelinda jumped as Draco's loud voice filled the room, turning around. Her face was void of make up and he smiled.

"You know better than to scare me like that," she scolded lightly, but she was smiling as well. She eyed the tray of food he had levitating in front of him and he walked over, setting it on the floor before sitting and patting the carpet beside him.

"Sit, eat."

She took a seat beside him and leaned into him for a moment. When he tried to kiss her she frowned. "I haven't brushed my teeth," she said.

"Nor have I," he remarked and kissed her anyway. She smiled and they began to eat; she was famished.

"Adelinda…" Draco said slowly, and she tried not to giggle at his frightened expression as he asked her if they had remembered to perform a contraceptive charm.

"Draco, I performed one before the ball even begun." He gave a heavy sigh of relief that made her laugh.

They spent the day together, lounging in the Room of Requirements for awhile before returning to the common room so that Adelinda could retrieve a bra and put away her attire from the previous night, Draco doing the same; they went to lunch together, something many students skipped as a result of sleeping in or being hung-over, and she sat at the Slytherin table without event.

After lunch, as they sat in the common room together, Professor Slughorn entered the common room to retrieve Adelinda. "The Headmaster requires your presence in her office," he told her quietly. When Draco stood, he added, "Alone."

"Nonsenese," The Slytherin man told the professor. "I'm Head Boy; I'm sure this has to do with last night's events, which I happened to witness."

Slughorn reluctantly allowed him to come as well; when they entered McGonagall's office, Pansy and her parents were seated on one side of the desk. Adelinda and Draco were instructed to take a seat beside them, and Draco placed himself conveniently between the two girls, ignoring the way her parents were eyeing him in distaste. For the entirety of their childhoods, their parents had conspired to push the two together, hoping for a wedding and several pureblooded grandchildren one day. He knew what their opinion on him must be now that he was dating a Muggle-born and not their daughter.

"Ladies, I am very disappointed in the both of you," McGonagall began sternly. The way her eyes lingered on Pansy as she said this was not lost on Draco, and he knew that Adelinda would not be harshly punished. "Miss Parkinson, you especially; you were warned during the earlier events of the school year that if anything else were to happen with Miss Amaretto that you would lose your wand privileges."

Pansy shot forward in her seat and began to argue. "Silence. Last night's events have come to my attention, and all those involved and all those who witnessed it have informed me that it was you who started the altercation. Do you care to deny this?" The black-haired witch sunk down into her seat, arms folded tightly over her chest as she glowered at a portrait of an old Professor on the wall who was smirking at her. "I thought not. Please hand over your wand."

"Professor McGongall, perhaps you could consider that they are merely children," Mrs. Parkinson said in a soothing voice; Draco recognized it as one she often used to get her way. "My daughter was simply jealous of the young witch; she and Mr. Malfoy did used to date, you know."

"That is no excuse for her to use her magic against another student, and at such an inopportune time."

Mrs. Parkinson's polite demeanor began to melt away; her face was angry, and when she spoke again her voice took on the harsh, arrogant note Draco was used to. He was looking straight ahead but could see the looks the family was giving him from the corner of his eye. Adelinda was silent beside him, looking at her lap. "And what will you do to Ms. Amaretto? She hurt Pansy, you know."

"I've thought on that. I have seen the burns on Pansy, and agree that though in self-defense, that use of her magic was inexcusable." Adelinda looked up, frowning. "One she has returned from the holiday, she will serve two weeks detention and be required to write an essay on the proper use of magic."

"You will not take her wand as you have Pansy's?" the woman said, voice venomous.

"This is Miss Amaretto's first offense, Mrs. Parkinson," she said. "And it _was _self-defense. If anything else is to occur, her wand will be taken, but for now, I do believe that detention is an appropriate punishment."

"I'm going to speak to the Ministry about this." Both Draco and the headmaster knew that she wouldn't dare; her family was on shaky ground even years after the war had ended, and if the ministry heard of the attack earlier in the year, Draco had no doubt that Pansy would be seen in court for crimes against muggle-borns.

Pansy stood and slammed her wand onto the headmaster's desk; the elderly witch was not impressed by her antics or her temper. "Professor Slughorn, please escort the Parkinson family to the common room to collect Pansy's luggage, and then from the castle. I am dismissing Miss Parkinson from the school early." As the trio left the room, she met Mr. Parkinson's dark eyes and it took every ounce of strength she had not to look away.

Adelinda stayed seated with Draco. She was disappointed that she had detention, but she knew that it was the lightest punishment there was; she had gotten away with a slap on the wrist and had a feeling it had been done more to satisfy Pansy's parents and prevent further trouble. "Adelinda, I did not feel the need to contact your parents, as you were not hurt in this latest altercation, but you may think on telling them yourself," McGonagall told her sternly. "How are you faring?"

"I'm okay," she told her. "This is…well, this is the first thing that has happened since September."

The older witch nodded. "Well, it should comfort you to know that if anything else is to happen, Miss Parkinson will be expelled. I do expect you to serve your detentions, and I would like that essay upon your return to the castle. You are dismissed."

As the two Slytherins left the office hand in hand, she smiled. She liked Adelinda quite a bit, and she had a feeling that Draco had had something to do with her classmates not giving her trouble; the boy had changed quite a bit, and for the better.

**_Hope you all enjoyed! :) The story will probably begin to move at a bit of a faster pace now. Reviews are much appreciated and keep an author writing :) _**


	13. Chapter 13

Time in Italy was well-spent but uneventful; Adelinda's parents had showered her in so much attention that she couldn't wait to return to Hogwarts. They had taken her into town to do some shopping; she had, of course, been required to go on each and every errand they ran. They took her out to eat several times, took her to see the new Muggle movies and they even took her to visit her grandparents, which was slightly uncomfortable but not bad. Christmas had been nice and quiet until an abundance of owls began pecking at the windows, delivering packages from her friends and even Mrs. Weasley—she had knit her a hat, scarf, and gloves in her house colors. Her parents took a silent joy in this, and a sign that she had assimilated well into Hogwarts and made plenty of friends; it was the first Christmas that she had gotten gifts from people other than family or family friends. New Years was spent at their home with several family friends and an abundance of liquor—for the adults, of course, though her father did sneak Adelinda a good-sized swig of Firewhisky on the grounds that he hadn't gotten to spend her seventeenth birthday with her. He was tickled pink by the face she made trying to swallow down the liquor and teased her good-naturedly all night.

Their goodbyes at Platform 9 ¾ were teary-eyed and a bit overwhelming, but Adelinda was happy to be returning to the life she had gotten used to at Hogwarts. She had missed Ginny and Hermione quite a bit and of course, Draco as well; after spending the better part of her life in solitude she had found it quite difficult to be away from her friends. She and Draco spent their first weekend back together, going to Hogsmeade and lounging in the common room and even flying together for the first time at the Quidditch pitch while it wasn't in use. He was surprised that, of all the things her parents had kept from her, flying hadn't been one of them.

Several more uneventful weeks passed. The dungeons grew colder as the winter progressed and soon the grounds were covered in a layer of snow so thick that students sunk into it as they tried to walk through it; a Hogsmeade trip was even cancelled due to a snow storm, and Adelinda spent that day in the Room of Requirement with Hermione and Ginny, sitting by the fire and sipping at hot cocoa.

Finally, as Valentine's Day crept up, the dreary mood that had taken over the castle lightened; there was the usual talk of love potions and dates and who was snogging whom and, much to the professors' dismay, classes were spent passing notes to crushes and best friends. Many detentions were issued and points taken from houses as a result. Draco sent her an invitation to attend the Valentine's Day trip to Hogsmeade in a card like what he had used to ask her to the ball, embossed with a light pink instead of silver. "So formal, after months of dating," she had teased with a grin, to which he had playfully threatened to withdraw the invitation.

Things had grown quite comfortable between she and Draco as the physical intimacy deepened; she saw sides of him that she had never seen before and emotions that she had never believed he would show at all, some she wasn't quite sure how to deal with—his anger, bitterness, the sorrow that sometimes showed itself, usually late at night when conversations turned personal. Though rare, he sometimes shared small details of his past and his family, and he began venting to her about the idiocy of the student body and the annoying bits of his Head Boy duties. They had also become quite public after the events at the ball. It was nice, not feeling as if they had to hide their relationship, and Adelinda couldn't help but feel a deep satisfaction when she saw the look on Pansy's face when they kissed each other good-bye at meals. She sometimes sat with him at meals, but only when they wouldn't be seeing each other outside of classes; he introduced her to the few Slytherins he was still fond of.

"Adelinda!" she turned with a smile as she heard the familiar voice calling her name and spotted Draco. Though it still covered the ground, the snow had relented and the sun had shown itself; it was a beautiful day. "Happy Valentine's Day, love." He kissed her warmly and led her to where the carriages were awaiting the students. They were drawn by Thestrals, something Adelinda had learned when she had gone with the girls to get a dress.

"Thank you," she said with a smile, taking his helping hand before stepping up into the carriage. They were decorated with pink hearts and ribbons in lieu of the holiday, something the girls were squealing over and the boys were rolling their eyes at.

Draco slid into the carriage beside her, taking in her appearance. He had been worried about her lately, but he couldn't place what it was that had him worried; something about her demeanor had changed, maybe, or perhaps it was the dark circles under her eyes despite her promises that she was sleeping, but she admitted to him that she always felt tired and once or twice she had snapped at him unintentionally; her clothes fit a bit loosely but she swore she was eating well. He chalked it up to getting older and tried to push his uneasy feelings away, but they just wouldn't leave; she was happy, she told him, she was eating and sleeping well, there was nothing causing these changes. He accepted that answer.

"Did you sleep well last night?" he asked her absently. It was a question she had grown accustomed to being asked by him.

"Yes," she said, leaning her head on his shoulder. They rode that way in silence until the carriage stopped at the entrance to Hogsmeade and he helped her down. She was bundled up in her black coat and had her warmest red sweater and thickest jeans beneath it, black winter boots and the knitted scarf and gloves helping to keep her safe from the sharp air and cold snow.

They spent an hour wandering around the village. He bought her a wide array of heart-shaped sweets from Honeydukes and a book he caught her reading in the bookshop. They walked through the streets of the village, greeting friends and looking around. There were many vendors by the shops in lieu of the holiday—one selling what he called 'potions for the teenage girl' that were marketed as perfumes meant to attract men but were truly illegal love potions, something Draco informed her as they noticed Pansy lingering around it. "Blaise must've tired of her," Adelinda had commented, giving the girl a hard look and then feeling a bit of remorse for the harshness of her words. Slytherin was turning her cold.

There was a vendor selling cheap jewelry and flowers, another selling enchanted Valentine's Day cards and plushes. Draco saw her eyeing a rather large white teddy bear with a pink heart on its belly, and when she stopped to chat with Potter and the Weasley girl, bought it and shrunk it. He would surprise her with it later.

When he noticed the redness of Adelinda's cheeks and the way she was shivering, he decided it was time to retire to The Three Broomsticks; the pub was packed to the door with students on dates and girls in large groups making fun of those on dates, and as soon as a table cleared they hurried to it. "I didn't think it would be this busy," Adelinda commented as she shed her coat and gloves, eyes flicking from face to face. She didn't notice Edmund lurking near the fireplace chatting with another man, tall glass of rum in hand. Draco did but said nothing, positioning himself on the side of the table that he could see the man from. He was growing quite tired of seeing the ex-Death Eater around Hogsmeade and had made up his mind to come here one weekend on his own and confront him. He thought it more than coincidence that he was always where the couple was.

"It's always packed on Valentine's Day," he told her with a shake of his head. "You ought to be glad we won't be here in the evening; then it'll be filled with men drinking away their loneliness and women getting stood up. Pitiful place this is during the evening." They ordered their food and he retrieved a Butterbeer and a Firewhisky for the two of them, smirking at the way she wrinkled her nose at the smell of the whiskey. She had told him the story of her first taste of the liquor, and wouldn't even kiss him after he drank the stuff, not until he had performed a breath-freshening charm on himself.

She sipped at her Butterbeer as they talked; she didn't have much of an appetite, nothing unusual the past few weeks, and Draco chastised her for the way she pushed her food around. "Take a few bites, at least," he prompted, smirking as she wrinkled her nose at him in protest.

"I feel like I'm at home being told to eat my veggies," she whined.

"Well, if you would eat more I wouldn't have to scold you."

"I'm never hungry, s'not my fault."

"You still need to eat, whether you're hungry or not. Two more bites."

"But—"

"_Three_ more bites."

It was a banter that went on quite often with the two, Adelinda half-playfully whining about her food and Draco trying to get her to eat it. He was satisfied when she had eaten something of substance. "So, what should we spend the rest of the evening doing?" he asked her with a gleam in his eyes, reaching across the cleared table to take her hands in his. He had ordered a dessert for the two to share, some sort of Valentine's Day special; it was chocolate pudding with an abundance of cream and strawberries in it.

"Oh, I don't know," she said with a smile, leaning forward and kissing him lightly. "What were you thinking?"

"Well, we could go back to the castle, make ourselves cozy in the Room of Requirements…" he was murmuring into her ears. "…snog ourselves silly, perhaps." She giggled, turning her head to press a kiss to his cheek.

"I think that sounds—" she was cut short at the burst of pain in her head and he pulled back, alarmed by her sharp intake of breath.

"Adelinda—what's wrong?" her face had paled and her eyebrows were furrowed, eyes distant.

"My head," she whispered. There was too much noise in the pub, too much light; she was turning her head, looking around her, trying to make faces out of the blurred colors, when suddenly the noise stopped. Silence. She looked to Draco, saw his lips moving; she couldn't hear a thing until a whoosh of air pushed past her ears. She pushed herself up, nearly frantic, and shoved through the crowd of people in the pub, trying to make her way to the door. Something wasn't right. As she reached the doors she was filled with an overwhelming sense of dread; the last thing she remembered before hitting the ground was the black figure looming over her.

Edmund had watched the entire thing with a deep satisfaction and curiosity. His job had been done.

Adelinda dreamt. She dreamt of the boys in the alleyway being set ablaze by her own hand and of Pansy trying to drown her near the Shrieking Shack. She dreamt of Draco kissing her and Draco kissing Pansy—'he doesn't love you,' she whispered every time they broke apart—and she dreamt of the time at the lake with her parents, when she had fallen in and swore she had been saved by a talking snake. She dreamt of snakes slithering around her body as she lay on the cold ground, whispering terrible things to her, telling her that her daddy was coming home soon. She dreamt of her father being hurt. She dreamt and remembered none of it when she woke in a cold sweat.

Draco heard her gasp and pulled away from her; her face had blanched and her eyebrows were furrowed in pain, her hands clutching the table so hard her knuckles had turned white. "Adelinda—what's wrong?" He put his hands to her cheeks. She was cold.

"My head," she whispered, squeezing her eyes shut—he watched her open them and look around her, eyes wide and disoriented. He watched the pulse in her neck quickening and heard the way her breathing became shallow. When she pushed back from the table, the legs of the chair sliding loudly against the floors, he got up—she didn't look like she could stand, but she shoved her way through the throng of people in the pub. He didn't know what was going on.

He didn't have time to catch her before she hit the ground; immediately, he dropped her things, gathering her into his arms. "Adelinda!" he turned his head towards the voice—the Granger girl. She and her friends had entered the bar just moments ago. "What's wrong with her?"

He was looking past her at the man by the fireplace, who raised his mug at the Slytherin boy. If Edmund had had anything to do with this, Draco thought to himself, he would kill him.

"Malfoy!" Granger's voice drew his attention back to Adelinda. "What's wrong with her?"

"Something about her head," he said, straightening. He clutched Adelinda to him and felt a bit of relief as her small hands tangled into his shirt.

"Well, we have to get her to the infirmary."

Draco didn't bother to point out that he knew this. "I've got her. Just meet me there. Grab her things, would you?" He didn't notice the superior tone of his voice and he wouldn't have cared if he had.

He hurried out of the pub without an answer, disapparating into the cellar of Honeydukes and hurrying through the passageway. After what felt like forever, he had gotten her to the infirmary and called for Madam Pomfrey. "What happened?" she asked, pointing him towards a bed. He laid her in it and she immediately began to feel for injuries, covering her with several blankets upon feeling the coldness of her skin.

"I don't know, she was just—suddenly in pain, something about her head," he said with a wave of his hand, shaking his head.

"Is it her time of month?" the woman asked bluntly, still inspecting the girl. All of the staff knew of their relationship—gossip traveled as quickly to the staff as it did throughout the students. "Has she been eating, sleeping well? Any stress?"

"What?" Draco asked, taken aback by the first question, and the witch shot him a look that seemed to say, 'grow up.' "Ah—no. But soon, I think…? Ah, not eating very well, she says she sleeps but has always got dark circles around her eyes. I don't believe she's stressed about anything."

"Mmm. Perhaps a migraine." The healer fetched a pouch of smelling salts and began the process of waking Adelinda up; the girl slowly but surely was pulled from her dreams, and gave a little whimper when she opened her eyes. A sharp pain throbbed in her head and she felt quite fatigued.

"Amaretto, dear, what happened?" the woman said gently. She was sitting by her bed now with a tray to her left, topped with various potions.

"I don't know, just—there was a pain in my head, and then everything got really loud and bright and blurry—then everything went quiet," she said, wincing as she spoke.

"Just as I suspected. Drink up, dear." She had pushed herself up in bed and Madam Pomfrey handed her a potion; the label on it said 'witch's brew,' a potion every girl learned to brew once puberty hit. It would cure all of her monthly symptoms, migraines included. "I hear you haven't been eating well."

Adelinda narrowed her eyes at Draco, who gave a shrug as if to say, 'what could I do?' "I suppose not, I never have much of an appetite," she said quietly.

"Well, I want you to start eating more. Sleep more. I think you'll be fine, dear, and as soon as the potion kicks in, you're to go back to your room and rest," the woman told her.

"Madam Pomfrey, when I opened the doors to the pub there was a black figure there—"

"Light sensitivity, dear." The healer gave her another potion with instructions to return to the infirmary if she needed to use it again. It was just a witch's headache and should pass.

Adelinda lay back in the cot, closing her eyes. She could feel the tingling effects of the potion throughout her body, and slowly, the sharp pain began to dull. "We've got to stop doing this," Draco murmured, leaning over to kiss her forehead ever so gently.

"Draco—when I opened the doors there was something there. It wasn't light sensitivity…" she looked up at him. She looked so pitiful and all he wanted was to gather her into his arms.

"Are you sure?" he asked her quietly. She looked at him angrily, her expression seeming to dare him to ask again. "Okay, okay. What did it look like?"

"It was tall, and—I don't know, I guess it was a black cloak, but—I didn't see a face…" she gave a frustrated little huff. "I don't know. I don't know what it looked like. But it touched me, I know it was there. I wasn't seeing things and it wasn't light sensitivity."

Draco looked at her. If he didn't know better, he would say that she had seen a Dementor—but they had all been banished from the wizarding world, stripped of their powers after the war, and he himself had seen nothing. He had been right behind her. She may have been convinced that it was something, but what it was simply due to the headache? "I believe you, love," he assured her softly. We'll wait 'til your friends get here to check on you, and then I'll take you back to your room to rest."

"How do my friends know?" She was sitting up again, the blanket covering her lap. He explained that they had walked into the pub moments before and had seen what happened.

"Adelinda! What happened?" Hermione's worried voice reached her ears before the girl even came into her line of sight.

"Migraine," she explained with a little shrug and held up the vial labeled 'witch's brew.' Hermione gave an understanding nod, while Ron looked sheepish behind her as he realized what they were talking about. They spoke for a bit before the couple left with promises to relay the information to Ginny. Adelinda turned immediately to Draco. "Can we please get out of here?"

He couldn't help but laugh at her pleading tone. "Of course. Let's get you back so you can rest."

She frowned. She had had no intentions of resting, but knew Draco would give her no choice. He picked up the bags and coat Hermione had returned to him and they walked arm in arm to the empty common room; most of the students were still in Hogsmeade. As he led her towards the girls' dormitories, she gave him a nudge. "Let's go to your room. I've never seen it."

Draco raised his eyebrows at her. "Ah, so you want to see my room." She gave a nod, an impish look in her eyes. "Now why would you want to see that?"

"Curiosity," she said simply and tugged him towards the boys' dormitories, smiling with satisfaction as he didn't stop her; once they had entered the long hallway he gestured towards the door at the end of it. There was a silver plaque on the door that read 'HEAD BOY.' "So many privileges just for walking around and yelling at those younger than you," she teased as he unlocked the door and waved her in.

The room was fairly large and decorated in, what else, Slytherin colors; the walls were the color of cream and plain save for the Hogwarts tapestry hanging behind his large bed. To one side of the room was a desk and a bookshelf filled with textbooks and several books of school rules and history; to the other side were an armoire and an owl perch. She heard a little noise and turned to see his owl sitting in its cage atop his desk. "You get to keep your owl in your room?" Adelinda reached into the cage to pet the gray creature.

"Yeah—in case of emergency."

"Hmm." She closed the cage and took a seat on his bed; it was covered in a thick down blanket, green, of course, and a copious number of pillows to match. A mirror was propped on the wall before it and just under it was a small cabinet; upon further inspection, she saw that the bottles atop it were hair products and various combs and giggled. A book sat atop it titled 'A Gentleman's Charm,' and she recognized it as the male counterpart to the book of cosmetic charms she had received from her friends. "Is that book what I think it is?"

"I've got to look good for you, don't it?' Draco said easily, cocking his eyebrow up and standing before her. "Stop laughing, you little imp." He rolled his eyes as she gave him a cheeky smile and leaned down to kiss her. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine," she drawled in a slightly annoyed voice. "It was just a headache." Truth be told, she was still uneasy; she knew that what she had seen had been real, but Draco hadn't seen it and she knew he didn't truly believe her. She wanted to know what it was but for now, she would do her best to simply push the thought from her head.

"I worry about you," he murmured, leaning his forehead against hers. She had gained back the warmth in her skin and the color in her cheeks, but he would be sure to watch her eat something later in the day.

"Well, you needn't worry about anything," Adelinda said firmly. "I am fine, Draco."

He shrugged. She pulled him onto the bed with her, wrapping her arms around his neck. She wanted to forget what had happened and enjoy the rest of the day with him; she was tired of being worried about and fussed over, whether it was about her moods or her eating or sleeping habits, or her parents asking every other letter if 'Parkinson girl' was still giving her a hard time, or Ron drilling her on how 'the ferret' was treating her. "I'm going to continue worrying and you know it," he murmured, lips brushing against her cheek.

"Don't care," she murmured, turning her head to catch his lips with hers before he could respond. He leaned up, pulling his coat off and tossing it to the side before she pulled him back to her.

"Someone's feeling a bit feisty." There was a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"Did you want to let today go to waste? I didn't," she said with a smile that nearly made him melt. They kissed again, the kiss soon turning feverish. Draco tugged her shirt off and smiled at the disheveled state of her hair.

"What?" she asked self-consciously, looking up at him; in moments like this, she wished she could see inside his head—ethically, of course. She couldn't say she hadn't been tempted to peek into his mind, but she would feel completely corrupt doing it—she would be invading his privacy and breaking his trust. For Merlin's sake, the man didn't even know she had that ability. It wasn't something many witches or wizards could do. She was afraid to tell him, afraid of his reaction; he might not trust her, believing she would get into his head, or perhaps he would look at her differently. There were a lot of things he didn't quite know about her, and the only thing that kept her from feeling guilty about it was the fact that she knew there was quite a bit he hadn't shared—things she had unintentionally heard from other students, things that he sometimes hinted at before shutting down.

Draco leaned over her, running his fingers through the black mess of hair. "You're beautiful, that's all." And he was. He had never felt this way about a girl; he'd never wanted a girl so badly or laid eyes on a girl who could make his heart race just by looking at him a certain way. It was a difficult feeling for him. His mother was not yet sold on the idea of his being involved with a Muggle born, though she never said so outright; she knew that, after the events of the war, she had little say in his life, and she wanted him to be happy. She simply wished he could have been happy with Pansy, or one of the other Pureblooded Slytherin girls; their family's reputation had fallen but with the right partner for him, they could rise again. It would not happen with Adelinda, but it wasn't something Draco cared about—he did, however, care about his mother's opinion. He couldn't help it.

Banishing those thoughts, he kissed her again, letting his lips trail down her neck and chest as she undid the buttons on his shirt and slid it off of his shoulders. Her skin was pale and soft and smooth and he ran his hands along her sides, smiling when he felt her shiver. With a flick of his wand he had lit the candle by his bed; it did get quite cold in the bedrooms and the candle was enchanted to let off a fair amount of warmth.

She forgot his lips for a moment and threw her arms above her head, basking in the heat of the candle. Draco let out a hearty laugh. "It's the simple things with you, isn't it?" he teased, and she opened one eye to look at him.

"They're the best things," Adelinda responded earnestly, rolling over onto her belly and shifting closer to the candle. He leaned over her, rubbing and kissing along her back.

"I have a gift for you," he murmured. She looked at him over her shoulder.

"Draco Malfoy. I keep telling you not to buy me things, and you keep doing it anyway. _Cosa devo fare con te_?" *what am I going to do with you?

He could listen to the soft Italian all day. "When have I ever listened?" Draco pushed off of the bed and retrieved his coat, sliding the teddy bear from his pocket as she sat up; he tossed it to her and as she caught it brought it back to side with a flick of his wand.

An overwhelming feeling of warmth spread through him at the wide smile on her lips. "Oh, Draco," she said with a smile, wrapping her arms around the oversized plush. "I never thought you'd be so sweet."

He pressed a hand to his chest, looking wounded. "You have no faith in me," Draco said with a deep sigh. She pushed herself to her knees and set the bear aside, crawling toward him.

"I have plenty of faith in you, _tu ragazzo ridiclo_," she said sweetly, eye to eye with him as she pulled him close. _Ridiculous boy;_ she said it so endearingly that he couldn't make himself protest the name-calling. "Now come and let me thank you properly."

She yanked him back abruptly and he caught himself on the bed at the last second. "Hmph." Adelinda hugged him tightly and laughed at the gruffness of his voice, kissing him before he could voice his irritation at being tugged around as though it were nothing; she was an infuriating little thing sometimes, but he always forgot why he was irritated as soon she smiled at him.

They cuddled and kissed and made fun of each other and then made love. He convinced her to stay the night in his room—"It's Valentine's Day, after all," he has said—and she fell asleep in his arms to the sound of his slow breathing.

_'Adelinda Amaretto...'_

_She stirred. Something rough flicked her cheek. _

_'Wake up, little snake…'_

She gave a soft groan as she turned her head. Everything ached and her limbs were heavy; her body felt as though it would sink into the dirty floor. Adelinda turned her head, opening her mouth to scream as she met the eyes of a snake; the scream caught in her throat and she choked.

_'Now, now. That's no way to greet me.'_

_She stared at the snake with wide, frightened eyes, blanching as she realized it was the reptile talking to her. Its eyes were strangely human as it watched her, lingering inches away from her face. She saw its tail flick behind it and its tongue darted out again as it began to slither closer to her; her body itched with the desire to flee._

_'You've been getting into trouble at that castle. Sorted into Slytherin, just as I knew you would be, and yet—friends with those…Gryffindors. The Boy Who Lived and continues to do so, the infuriating Weasley girl.. Quite traitorous, Adelinda.'_

_She turned her head away from the snake, taking in her surroundings. It was dark, very dark, and she could only see the outlines of covered furniture and gauged walls. She heard a noise behind her and craned her neck to see a figure cloaked in darkness. _

_'I expect you to leave those friends of yours, Adelinda. And that Malfoy boy…he's trouble, as well. Never could be trusted, that one, never. Neither him nor his mother. End it.' _

_Cut off her friends? End things with the boy she had grown to care for deeply? She would never. It would kill her—she would be alone at the castle and Pansy would have gotten what she wanted…she would leave Hogwarts altogether before she ever did that. _

_'You've made your choice, then.' _

_The snake slithered away from her, the tip of its tail flicking sharply against her cheek as it turned. _

_'Do it.'_

A flash of white light, a whispered cruciatus curse, and Adelinda was finally screaming and writhing on the floor, wishing it would end.

She shot up in bed, gasping. Her skin tingled with pins and needles and she could feel the ghost of pain in her limbs. Draco slept soundly beside her, his arms draped around her waist, and at any other time she would've smiled at the light snores coming from him.

Everything had felt so real.

Left uneasy and in a cold sweat after the dream, she slowly disentangled herself from the blankets and Draco's arms. Adelinda snatched her wand up from his nightstand and cast a faint _lumos _charm before pushing herself off of the bed. Draco stirred when she moved only to roll over and begin snoring again. The hint of a smile played across her lips as she looked at him; the light from her wand cast shadows over his skin, outlining the definition in his back from years of Quidditch. His lips were parted and his hair was messy, falling in front of his eyes. He was beautiful.

She hesitated before going to his armoire; she needed to use the loo but didn't want to put all of her clothes on again. Surely he wouldn't mind her borrowing a shirt; she had seen other couples round the school do it, and Muggle couples as well—she retrieved a rather thick button-up, probably the only cotton shirt he owned, and slid her arms into it, pulling it tight around her. She shimmied into her jeans with a scowl and gave Draco one last look before checking the corridor and slipping out; she was back in his room and clad only in his shirt within minutes. Adelinda was wide awake and though splashing her face with water had helped shock a bit of sense into her, she was still left feeling weary and frightened. The dream kept playing in her head and as she had walked through the dimly lit corridor, she thought she heard the hiss of a snake round every corner.

She looked through the books on his shelves—nothing of interest to her, though reading one of the books on school rules may put her back to sleep, she thought. She pet and cooed softly at his owl for a bit and when she still felt restless and too stubborn to wake Draco, took a seat at his desk. Adelinda opened his top drawer with a faint feeling of guilt to retrieve a piece of parchment and a quill; she wasn't rummaging through his things but she still felt a faint pang of worry that he would be upset. She pushed it aside and began a letter to her mother in neat Italian.

_Mama,_

I've just woken from a nightmare, and who else to go to but my mother? Not to worry though, I'm okay; I simply can't sleep.

_I miss you and Daddy. Don't tell him, but you remember your suspicions that I had begun seeing someone? You were right. He is a grade older than me, but I believe you would like him. He treats me very well and he has made me very happy here, and he has helped me greatly in the situation with Pansy Parkinson. I believe things might be worse here if it weren't for him. It has been a few months, admittedly, and I am sorry for not officially telling you sooner. I think I might love him, mama. I know what you're going to say—I'm young and I don't know what it is, but I've never felt anything like this. He makes everything feel alright when it isn't and when it is, he makes it that much better. _

_He took me to Hogsmeade for Valentine's Day and we shopped and went out to dinner; he bought me a giant plush that he must have seen me eyeing. He's the seeker of the Slytherin Quidditch team and he's very smart, too. I do think you'll like him, and perhaps once the school year ends, you could meet him. _

_How was your Valentine's Day? Any new festivals or fairs to go to or events I should be looking forward to this summer? Speaking of summer, I've been invited to stay with the Weasleys for a week or two after break; you are, of course, welcome to meet Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. _

_I'm going to go now, but I promise to write again as soon as you've replied. _

_Love,  
Adella_

She checked the short letter for misspelled words and dated it, folding it neatly. Adelinda was pulling an envelope from the pile on Draco's desk when she caught her name on a slip of parchment and she bit her lip, gaze lingering there; she knew it was wrong, but her curiosity got the better of her. She set her own letter aside and pulled the parchment towards her; it was thick, expensive paper and the writing on the page was a perfect, feminine cursive; a silver border went around the paper's edges, swirling extravagantly in the corners. She wasn't surprised to see Narcissa Malfoy's signature at the bottom of the page, and as she scanned it, that prior feeling of guilt at reading his mail was replaced by anger.

_Her mother was a suspected death eater…on the run, name unknown…adoption arranged by Albus Dumbledore...signs of magic in Muggle school…death at her hand…_

Draco had asked his mother to look into her life.

The elder Malfoy had discovered her birth mother and her family history. She had done extensive research on Adelinda's mother and father in Italy, and she had a detailed account of what had happened with Adriano; she knew every sign of magic Adelinda had shown in elementary school and when she looked through the pile of letters from his mother in a fit she even found reports the teachers had made about Adelinda.

It felt like betrayal.

"Adelinda…" Draco's groggy voice drifted over from the bed. "Come back to bed, what're you doing?"

She tensed, clutching the papers in her hands, and didn't respond. "Adelinda?"

Worried, Draco pushed himself up onto his elbows, wondering why she was out of bed—once he woke up a bit more he realized she was sitting at his desk and his eyebrows furrowed. What was she doing?

"Draco."

Her voice was as terse as her body was stiff and that worry intensified. He rubbed at his eyes and stood just as she did; and his heart fell into his stomach as he realized what she was holding in her hands. "What are you doing going through my things?" he said angrily, staring down at her.

"What are you doing conducting background checks on your girlfriend?" Adelinda shot back, thrusting the papers at him.

"You shouldn't have been going through my things," he snapped, grabbing the papers and smacking them onto the bed.

"They were sitting in plain sight, Draco, now tell me _why you were doing research on me—" _she took a deep breath, willing herself to lower her voice. "—and why, in Merlin's name, you had your _mother _do it—"

Draco was furious with her for reading the letters, and that was all he could focus on; he didn't want to acknowledge that he shouldn't have been digging around in her past, _wouldn't _acknowledge it. "I was worried," he said, looking down at her with cold eyes. She stared back unflinchingly.

"How would you feel if I did this to you?" One hand punctuated her words and the other was balled into a tight fist at her side. "Do you think I would find things out you didn't want me knowing? Maybe find things out _you _didn't know yourself?"

"That's different," he said sharply. "I was…in the war, you weren't…"

"No. No. You can't play that card this time! This has nothing to do with the bloody war and you know it!" her voice had risen to a yell; a distant part of her said that perhaps she wasn't going about this the right way. She watched with disdain as he snatched up his wand and cast a silencing spell towards the door. He just looked down at her, noticing for the first time that she was wearing his shirt; it was old, one he hadn't worn in a year. He hadn't even known he had brought it with him At any other time, he would have smiled, would have commented on how little she looked in his clothing. "Why did you need to know about my schooling? Why did you need to know about all the things that happened when I was little?"

He knew all the terrible details of the accident with the Italian boys, things she had never fully explained to him, things she hadn't even known; he had their hospital records and she had read of their pain, of Adriano's suffering, how the fire had burned his clothing and made it stick to his skin, melting past layers and layers of it—her eyes filled with tears and she blinked rapidly, willing them away. "You had no right. No right, Draco Malfoy—"

She fumbled with the buttons of his shirt before tearing it off and grabbing her sweater, moving away from him. "After Edmund said those things in the pub, I was worried."

"Yes, you keep saying you were worried, but you never thought to simply ask me these questions." Her voice was sharp and she stumbled a bit trying to shove her legs into her jeans. He watched her; he kept thinking he should stop her, apologize for what he had done, keep her from leaving, but his pride wouldn't let him. He had shoved emotion aside.

"You implied you didn't know about most of this," Draco said, keeping his expression trained and voice void of feeling.

She spun around, staring at him. She was taken aback by his chilled expression, her feelings hurt by the lack of remorse. "You didn't know that, did you? You could have asked me. Should have asked me. Instead of going to your _mother—_who I've never even met!"

She grabbed her wand and her coat. "Adelinda, where are you going?" he said quickly, grabbing her arm. She gave him a look he had only ever seen directed at Pansy during the ball, narrow-eyed and full of rage.

"Let me go."

Calm. Her voice was calm, but it dripped with venom. It reminded him of his mother.

"Go, then."

He let go of her and she turned quickly. She had almost been hoping he would ask her to stay. Adelinda stormed from his bedroom and back to her own, not noticing the girl peeking out from one of the bedrooms.

There were days of silence between the two. Draco hadn't slept the rest of that night, too busy brooding over what had happened. He knew that he was in the wrong; he had violated her privacy and broken her trust, but in all honesty, he had never thought he would discover what he did. He'd had no way of knowing that her birth mother was a Death Eater and he'd had no way of knowing the extent of what had happened with the Italian boys; he thought it would end with one quick search for information, but instead his mother had uncovered a plethora of information and delved deeper with _his_ encouragement.

But the point still stood that she should not have been going through his things. He refused to recognize that the root of his anger for that was embarrassment that he had been caught in his own form of snooping. Yes, they had been laying on his desk, but what reason had she had to read them?

He had pushed his pride aside to wait for her in the common room the next morning; she walked past him without a word and he didn't miss the heavy bags under her bloodshot eyes or the careless ponytail she wore.

He tried all day to talk to her. In potions, he even took to passing her a note asking her to meet him in their usual spot—she put it in the pocket of her robes without reading it. He waited for her in the Room of Requirement during lunch and she never showed up. At supper, she sat at the Gryffindor table and never cast him as much as a glance. He felt something he had never felt towards a woman before; guilt, and a sort of anxiety. Draco Malfoy had messed up.

He sat in the common room until it was empty, but she never came out to talk to him, and that guilt gave way to anger again. If she wouldn't even speak to him, he would stop trying. The words his father had always drilled into him sounded in his mind: 'if the woman you are worried about isn't your wife or your mother, she isn't worth the stress.'

When he read the letter she had left on his desk in which she told her mother she loved him, his stomach tightened. He repeated his father's mantra in his head and shoved the letter in a drawer, throwing the teddy bear he had bought her against the wall and getting into bed for a night of tossing and turning.

Adelinda was at a loss. After their argument, she had stormed back to her room and spent the night sleepless and upset. The hospital reports had shaken her. She had learned that the surviving boys would have scars to last a lifetime and permanent nerve damage; one had lost use of his left arm. She had learned that her birth mother was a dark witch, a death eater, and that her parents knew. For all she knew, that woman was still out there. She had been on the run from Voldemort. Maybe he had found her and killed her. Maybe he had left her alone because she was pregnant. She had always had a bit of hope in her that she would meet her birth parents one day, but now she knew the chances of that were slim—and she wasn't sure she would want to if she were given the opportunity.

She felt incredibly betrayed. Draco, his mother, her own parents, they had all crossed her; her parents had always claimed that they didn't know who her true parents were. They had led her to believe she was Muggle-born. They had known that she was a witch, and they had subjected her to Muggle schooling anyway; they had let her ostracize herself; make a fool of herself when her first signs of magic had occurred in school. If they had been honest with her, if she had never been forced to attend Muggle school, she never would have killed a boy and seriously injured two others.

She was furious with Draco. She had not expected him to do something like this—she knew that their communication was a bit lacking, but she had already shared incredibly personal details with him; she didn't understand why he had felt the need to go to his _mother _with his questions. As a result of his curiosity, this woman who she had never met and whose son she was involved with, knew things about her she had never known; she knew that Adelinda's mother was a dark witch, she knew that Adelinda had killed before she had even hit puberty-she even knew all the ailments she had had as a child. Narcissa knew details about her that only her own parents should know.

The young witch found herself worried that the woman would never approve of her son's relationship, and that Draco's opinion of her would change now that he knew these things—because of his father, he had a low opinion of Death Eaters. He knew exactly what had happened in that alleyway in Italy. She had killed—_he _had never even been able to kill when both his father and Voldemort expected it, demanded it, even. He had put his life in jeopardy to keep from killing and she had done it without even trying. He would look at her differently, she was sure. And in the heat of her anger she decided she didn't care.

It was these feelings that brought her to ignore him the next day. She didn't want to see what would be in his eyes when he saw her and talked to her. She didn't want to know what he thought of her now, and Adelidna wasn't sure what she would say to him, anyway. She didn't want to be nice, she didn't want to be civil; she wanted to yell at him and rant at him until she didn't feel angry anymore. Obviously, the more sensible option was to simply not speak to him at all.

She began to regret this when a week passed and they still had not spoken. He had stopped trying, and when she began to wait for a chance to speak, it never came.

On the eighth day of silence, she experienced a new kind of betrayal. Pansy was on the arm of Draco Malfoy, looking smugly over his shoulder at Adelinda, and when she knew she had caught the girl's attention, she kissed him good-bye.

He didn't pull away.

_**Draco's in trouble, wouldn't you say? I hope you guys enjoyed, I'll do my best to update again in a week or so...but you know, reviews always help with that! :) **_


	14. Chapter 14

If Adelinda hadn't known better, she would've sworn her heart stopped. Time, even.

And then it caught back up to her. Her heart hammered away in her chest and people pushed past her in the corridor; the morning noise rushed into her ears but all she could see was the space Pansy and Draco had been occupying; all she could see was her lips on his. She felt the shock of it first first, and then a pain she had never felt before tore through her chest. She felt the rush of tears and turned around, shoving through the throng of students until she had made it into one of the restrooms. The stall door slammed behind her and she fell back against it as her breath caught in her throat and was released as a sob.

Pansy had been right; all of the girls had been right. Draco Malfoy cared for her no more than he had any other girl he had been involved with. He had gotten what he wanted from her, and when they got into their first tiff and she gave him the silent treatment, he had moved on.

_No_, a voice reasoned with her. He wouldn't have done that research if he didn't truly care about her. He wouldn't have helped her with so many things. And it wasn't _truly_ their first argument; their first disagreement had been about Hogsmeade.

That, however, had been before they became intimate, before he'd gotten what he wanted.

She slid to the floor and threw her bag down, burying her face in her hands. She let herself cry and wallow in the pain for Merlin knows how long, finally resolved to knock herself out of it as that pain turned to anger. She pushed herself to her feet and went to the sinks, splashing cold water on her face.

"Adelinda?"

She recognized the voice as Ginny's and wiped furiously at her eyes with trembling hands. The Gryffindor rushed up to her, pulling her into a tight embrace—she hugged like Mrs. Weasley. Maternal instincts ran in the family, it seemed. "I heard," the girl whispered into her ear. "I'll hex him into oblivion, so help me—"

Adelinda was almost comforted by that. Ginny felt her trembling and continued to hold her, rubbing her back and her hair and whispering to her in a harsh voice about how much Draco Malfoy would regret hurting her. "I don't understand…"

Ginny cast a locking spell on the bathroom door and sat down on the tiled floor, pulling Adelinda down beside her. "We fought a week ago…we haven't talked since, but…I didn't think we were broken up or anything," she said quietly, her voice catching in her throat. "I didn't think that…I didn't think he would find someone else…"

"What was the fight about?" Ginny asked, looking at her. She noticed how red her eyes were and how dark the areas beneath them were. She had seemed happy. Now she just looked sick.

Adelinda hesitated. "You can't tell anyone." She felt empty and out of tears. Two hours had passed since she had seen Draco and Pansy. Two classes had passed. She wondered if he had noticed her absence in potions. "He—well, there was a man in Hogsmeade one day. He knew who I was and he said he knew my father, and Draco said he was worried…he had his mother dig into my past, and she—uncovered things...a lot of things that I didn't know. I found the letters, and we fought over it…"

She pressed her face into her hands again. "I shouldn't have been looking through his things," she insisted. "I was so furious at him for not just _asking me _and I—I don't know, I felt betrayed by some of the things, I just needed time to think about it, I needed to figure out my own feelings, I wanted an apology…I didn't want to break up."

Adelinda met Ginny's eyes and was glad to see no pity, only worry. The woman understood her pain to an extent; she had been heart broken her fifth year when Harry had broken up with her. He had told her that it was for her own safety, but there had been a part of her at that time that had felt he simply didn't have feelings for her. It was something she had always been insecure about back then.

Ginny put an arm around her and leaned her head down against the younger girl's. "He's an arse, one that is going to find his bedroom filled with Dungbombs very soon," she assured her. "C'mon, girl. Let's go to the kitchens and get you something to drink, and we'll go to Hogsmeade. I can stand to skip today's classes and I think you can, too."

She pushed herself up and grabbed Adelinda's bag, taking the younger girl's hand and hoisting her to her feet. Ginny cast a quick charm to mask the redness of her eyes and pulled her from the bathroom; they retrieved warm pumpkin juice and sweets from the kitchens and clothing from their rooms, wearing it beneath their school robes.

The two girls spent the day drinking Firewhiskey in The Three Broomsticks and walking through the village. There were still vendors on the streets trying to get rid of the last of their Valentine's Day goods at discounted prices. "Get your love potions here! Not too late to draw those blokes in, ladies!" Adelinda and Ginny gave each other a look as they walked past the persistent old man.

"We could give one to Pansy, make her fall in love with some First Year Hufflepuff," Ginny suggested with a grin, glancing wearily at the man advertising the potions. Adelinda laughed for the first time that day.

The redheaded witch kept her friend busy as long as she could; they didn't return until that evening for supper, and she didn't miss the way Adelinda's eyes lingered on the Slytherin table; Draco and Pansy were both absent and her mind went to the worse. She blinked away the first feeling of tears.

The friends lingered in the Great Hall after everyone had long since finished eating, but soon enough the professors shooed them away to their respective common rooms. Ginny gave the girl a fierce hug as they partedand told her not to think about things. "Go to your room and do your schoolwork and sleep," she said firmly. "I mean it. Don't you wallow in this. You're better than him." The words were whispered; Adelinda didn't want the boys threatening to kill Draco just yet, and she certainly didn't want to talk about it anymore.

But alas, the situation was thrown in her face once she had returned to the common room. The few people on the sofas immediately fell silent upon her entrance; Draco was sitting in his chair by the fire and Pansy was draped across his lap. _Like some sort of lap dog, _Adelinda thought, her lips curling in disgust. She held on tightly to the anger that burned through her chest, remembering something that Draco had once told her when she asked why he had always been so cold to everyone. _You pick a mask, and you hold on to it. Mine was indifference. Impertinence. No one expected different from me, and it became a safety blanket. Whenever I felt anything, sadness or fear or discomfort, I put on my mask and everything was alright. _

So she plastered a smile that dripped with poison and turned it on every person in the room, letting her gaze linger on Pansy. She watched with satisfaction as her smug expression faltered, and though taken aback by the way Draco looked confused to see her, Adelinda didn't drop that smile or a tear until she was in the confines of her bedroom.

* * *

For a week, she felt empty and drained. She fell asleep crying each night and woke up to nightmares that she couldn't explain; seeing Draco and Pansy together put her nerves on edge and she couldn't eat as a result of it. He smiled at her in the halls, he even tried to speak to her in the common room once; much to the astonishment of those who had been there to witness it, Adelinda had shoved him away from her without a word. He had no right to speak to her, smile to her, or even _look _at her.

Ginny told her she should take action; hex him or have a go at him in the hallway, maybe, or anything to put him in his place. Adelinda insisted that it was below her, and it was. She would continue to pretend she didn't care, something she could tell was edging on Pansy's nerves, but if she were to be honest with herself she would admit that part of it was because she cared for him so deeply. He had hurt her terribly but she didn't want to see him embarrassed or hurt himself, especially at her own hands.

Though she couldn't say she hadn't come close. When he had tried to speak to her in the common room, her fingers had been itching for her wand and a nasty hex had been on the edge of her lips.

"Adelinda!" For the first time, Pansy hadn't been with him. Adelinda had continued walking, though her heart jumped into her throat when she heard him call her name. When he grabbed her arm and stopped her, she stared up at him with a look of disbelief on her face.

He had circles beneath his eyes and he looked especially pale, like he hadn't slept or eaten in days. And maybe he hadn't, she thought with a vicious flare of anger, maybe he was riddled with guilt. She hoped he was.

"Adelinda, I don't know what's going on between us." She had given a shrug and turned to walk away from him, trying to keep it together; they had fought, he had assumed they were broken up, and he had moved on to a sure thing. Was he really so surprised that she wouldn't speak to him?

"Would you talk to me?" he had growled in frustration, grabbing her again; she shoved her hands against his shoulders with every ounce of strength and he stumbled back, staring at her. He had looked confused, hurt, even, and it fueled her anger.

"Don't touch me."

Adelinda pulled herself back to the present. She had let herself get too deep into her thoughts and felt the anxiety that had become normal for her tightening her chest. Slughorn had spent the entire class period lecturing the students on the inappropriate brewing of potions and the rules in place against using them on another student; it seemed that several students had been caught brewing love potions and Brain Elixirs. One student had even used a Dizziness Draught on a player before a Quidditch match, making him useless to the team and sitting on the sidelines; had he not sat out, it could have resulted in serious injury, or worse. The professors would be cracking down on the use of potions.

The bell had just signaled the end of class when Slughorn asked for her to stay behind. Confused, she stood and slowly gathered her things, walking to his desk once the classroom was empty of students. "Miss Amaretto, I can't help but notice that you haven't looked well these past few days," he said gently, a genuine expression of worry on his face. For reasons she couldn't identify, Slughorn liked her quite a bit. She was adequate in potion brewing, so she supposed that could be it.

"I suppose I haven't felt very well," she said quietly, shrugging.

"You look as though you've had trouble sleeping; I've caught you dozing off several times in my class, dear." Her cheeks flushed a bit as he said this and he smiled. "Now, now, I'm not angry. You certainly do well enough brewing and completing homework that you can stand to sleep through a class or two. Now, I'm not trying to be intrusive, dear, but I have heard about the…ordeal with Mr. Malfoy. Would it help if I moved him to a seat that is out of your line of vision? And perhaps ensured that Miss Parkinson is far from he and you both?" He gave her a cheery wink.

She held in a heavy sigh of annoyance; she knew his intentions were good, but she was sick of hearing about it. Adelinda wondered, had_ all_ of the school heard about her failed relationship? It was nearly embarrassing; hell, he was with Pansy, it _was _embarrassing. The pug-nosed girl had gotten her way. The professor was simply trying to help, though, and perhaps it _would_ be beneficial to her if neither Slytherin were in her sight. "Yes, Professor, I believe that would be helpful," Adelinda said politely with a gracious smile. "Thank you."

"Once last thing before you go, dear, I don't want you to be late to class—if you are in need of any potions or sleeping aids-no Dreamless Sleep, of course, but perhaps something like a Drowsiness Draught—feel free to ask."

With a sudden change of mood came an overwhelming sensation of gratitude filled her at this. "Thank you, Professor," she said earnestly. "I'll keep that in mind."

Adelinda went through her day thinking about Slughorn's offer. A sleeping aid would help greatly, but she was hesitant to use a potion to put herself to sleep at night; she decided to give it a few weeks. Surely she would feel better by then.  
It seemed, however, that she underestimated the extent of her pain; the sharp pangs of emotion at night dulled into something similar to what she had felt during the weeks after Pansy attacked her. She couldn't sleep, but she couldn't cry; she felt smothered in emotion but could express none of it. She had dreams about Pansy and Draco, dreams about the boys in the alleyway, and dreams about the snake and woman in the shadows. Those ones were the worst and the most haunting, and sometimes she wished she _did _have access to Dreamless Sleep. She could always brew it and had, in truth, given thought to it; the potions were addictive, however, and she didn't want to risk becoming addicted to them or being caught using them. Their use was very frowned upon.

So it wasn't long before she had taken Slughorn up on his offer, going to his classroom once a week to brew a batch of Drowsiness Draught. The bad dreams still haunted her, but she fell asleep earlier and slept a bit longer; the bags under her eyes lessened a bit and she didn't feel quite as emotionally drained, though she was by no means okay.

Instead of withdrawing from her friends as she had done before, she threw herself into their company; her time was divided between working vigorously on schoolwork and spending time with the Gryffindors. Harry and Ron had, as expected, offered to kill or cause serious bodily harm to Draco when they had found out what he'd done; Ron had uttered the words 'told you he never changed' to Hermione, earning himself a hex from his sister. Later, he apologized to Adelinda, but reminded her of his offer to make Malfoy eat slugs. She nearly told him to do what he wanted.

After a little more time, she had come to a point where she felt okay during the day—she could laugh and smile, she could joke with her friends, and though anxiety still kept her from eating much, mealtimes became less of a chore and more of an opportunity to spend time with the girls. It was only at night that things became difficult; she would return to the common room and walk past the new couple and spend the evening alone in her bedroom. That was the worst part; being alone when she would normally be with Draco.

But Ginny told her it would pass and that eventually, she wouldn't miss him so terribly. So Adelinda waited, and sure enough, the desperate ache in her chest subdued to a little shot of pain when she saw Draco kissing Pansy. Her despair at night turned to anger and then to nothing. She sometimes woke from dreams aching for his touch, but she would take another swig of Drowsiness Draught and be asleep within minutes. She ignored the looks she sometimes got from other Slytherins and pretended that Pansy did not exist, enjoying the way the girl would fume when her attempts to throw her relationship in Adelinda's face went unnoticed.

She wasn't happy, but she wasn't sad, either; eventually she would be alright.

**_definitely a filler, and for that i apologize. i'm having a little trouble figuring out how to go about the next chapter-i know what's going to happen, but i don't want to jump right to it. reviews will help ;) going to aim for the next chapter being finished by the end of the week! _**


	15. Chapter 15

_Tap. Tap. Tap tap tap. Taptaptaptap._

Adelinda rolled over with a groan, throwing an arm across her face. Her hair was piled into the messiest of buns atop her head, leaving her face bare to the light that streamed in through her window. It was Saturday morning and she was determined to sleep in for a change.

_Taptaptaptaptaptap._

With an angry groan she pushed herself up. "Oh, for Merlin's sake—" She turned her head and rubbed at her face, pink with sleep. There was a black owl, speckled with white and grey, hovering before her window, which she stood atop her bed to open. She couldn't quite place the bird which was now perched gracefully atop her bed post but knew she had seen it before; it looked at her expectantly, holding its foot out. Adelinda untied the rolled parchment and gave the creature a treat, leaving the window open for it; it sat there, tall and regal and refusing to leave. "I'm trying to sleep. _Cosa vuio? _What do you want?"

She plopped down on her rumpled quilt, looking at the owl; its beak was turned up in the air as it watched her. It gestured a talon towards the parchment she held; clearly it was not going to leave until she had opened the letter. Its behavior awakened her curiosity and Adelinda unwound the silver string, letting the parchment unfurl. She had seen that embossed paper before sitting on Draco's desk the night of their fight. _Break up, I suppose, _she corrected herself bitterly. What did Narcissa Malfoy want with her?

Her confusion pushed away any thoughts of sleep; the owl sat there, watching as she read.

_Ms. Amaretto,_

_I know that we have not met, nor have we so much as spoken to each other, but my name is Narcissa Malfoy; as you should very well know, I am Draco's mother. You may not wish to speak to me; I am aware of your knowledge on my research. I will not apologize as it was done at my son's request, though I do wish we could be speaking for the first time on different terms. I will say that he was quite worried about you-with good reason, as it comes to show. Your mother is a dark witch and your origins are, for the most part, unknown. If there truly are dark wizards following you as Draco says, you could be in danger, and though he asked me to stop, I will continue looking into the past._

Adelinda set the letter down, eyebrows furrowing. She had read nothing in Narcissa's letters of being followed by dark wizards, but her mind went to Edmund; Draco said that he had been a part of his life before the war, and she had known that that meant the man was an ex-Death Eater or, at the very least, a sympathizer. She had seen him around Hogsmeade a few times but had thought nothing of it; could he be what the woman was referring to? He had seemed a bit eccentric, yes, and rather rude, but not dangerous. She continued to read.

_Now that the air is clear, I must ask something of you that I know you may not be willing to do. Draco has stopped corresponding with me and I only know of your falling out through the Parkinsons. They have informed me that their daughter and my son have become involved with one another and quite publicly so; thinking on the way he had doted over you in previous letters, I didn't believe it at first._

_Truth be told, during their childhood I did have a desire for the two to one day marry, but she has not grown into the woman I thought she would. I also know that my son harbors nothing but irritation for the woman, and I believe this relationship is the result of foul play. Something is not right. At the risk of sounding crass, if Draco_

_had become willingly involved with her, he would not allow it to be such a public thing. A source at the school tells me he showers her with attention that you never received, and that does not sit well with me. Draco is not a publicly affectionate man, as you may know._

_For these reasons, I believe their relationship was started by something other than natural attraction. I know that you and my Draco did not leave each other on a good note, but Ms. Amaretto, I must ask a favor of you. I know how deeply you must have cared for my son, and I can tell you that Draco truly did care for you as well; it is part of why I am so worried. Please find out what you can about how their relationship began; watch for odd behavior from either of the two and even ask his friends about it if you must. Turn your charm on, young lady, and you will be surprised how quickly these Slytherin boys will help you. Promette will wait for your response._

_Please do this; if not for Draco's sake, then for the sake of a worried mother._

_Sincerely,_  
_Narcissa Malfoy_

Adelinda stared at the parchment, going through the elegant cursive several times to be certain she had read it correctly. She had so many emotions ripping through her chest that she didn't quite know how she felt; the strongest was a queer sort of relief at the thought of Draco's fling with Pansy being the result of 'foul play,' as Mrs. Malfoy had put it, and not his lost feelings for her. She chastised herself for that. He had hurt her, and as she reminded herself of that, she pushed any hope for him aside. Or tried.

But she also felt a strong, offended disbelief at the elder Malfoy's audacity to both ask for her help and put aside her feelings on her digging into her past. The woman had outright refused to apologize for her actions, though Adelinda couldn't say she had ever expected one. 'Malfoys don't apologize,' Draco had once told her. He had proven it true.

Despite these things, she felt trapped in Narcissa's request for help; she had appealed to the sentimental side of Adelinda, the side that still cared quite deeply for Draco, even after he had hurt her. If their relationship was not true, if he was somehow being tricked into feeling for Pansy, then she would want to help; Narcissa had not, however, given her any real reason for her suspicion. Adelinda didn't want to believe that Draco would throw her aside for an easy fling, but she knew he had done it before to other girls.

The woman was right, though. He did dote over Pansy in ways he had never done with Adelinda, and the young witch had never given it any thought, too hurt by the affection he showed for the woman to think on it. He had always frowned upon public displays of such affection, thinking it impolite and disrespectful to the woman on the receiving end. He had been raised to be a gentleman.

Tired of the whirlwind of thoughts in her mind, Adelinda pushed them away and instead wondered what would happen if she simply refused to do what Narcissa asked of her; but she knew that she would help her, and she wasn't sure the witch would take 'no' for an answer, anyway.

With a heavy sigh, she took a seat at her desk, wearing her flannel pajama bottoms and an old cotton shirt, and she had an odd image of Narcissa sitting at a writing table in dress robes and perfectly coifed hair as she had written to Adelinda. She wondered absently what the woman's opinion of her was; she had very carefully worded the letter to her, and had let no hint of an opinion slip.

_Mrs. Malfoy,_

_I know you said you will not, but I politely ask of you to cease your research. I will contact my parents and if they believe something is amiss, they will take care of it. With all due respect, I do not wish for a woman I have never met to know such private details of my life—though I suppose, at this point, all privacy has been thrown out the window._

_You are right in assuming Draco and I did not leave each other on a good note; in fact, we did not truly leave each other at all, and it has been something I have been wondering at. We fought over the letters I found, as you seem to know, and did not speak for a week. After that week passed, Pansy was on his arm. He has tried to speak to me once since then, but did not seem to understand that he had done wrong by me, and in all honesty I would not hear him out; never was a break up verbally decided…Make of that what you will._

_I will do my best to see if something is wrong in their relationship, but understand that I will do no sort of digging. I will watch, and perhaps ask his friends, but that is the extent of it. I do not wish to be deeply involved in Draco or Pansy's lives._

_Sincerely,_  
_Adelinda Amaretto_

She read the letter several times, wondering if she should omit the first bit of it before deciding that it was just polite enough to not offend. The woman should understand that she was angry, and if she didn't, then it was not Adelinda's problem. She rolled the parchment neatly and sent the owl off with her reply.

Two days letter, she received a short response back: _Just do what you must, Ms. Amaretto. Thank you._

* * *

A week had passed since the correspondence between the two witches. She hadn't bothered to reply to Narcissa's short response and had instead spent the day wondering over her request and how to go about it. She had never given thought to Pansy using unnatural means to gain Draco's attention; Adelinda never had reason to believe she had. She and Draco fought and he had moved on to someone else; it was something that happened all the time in relationships everywhere, and no girl ever wanted to believe it would happen to her. He'd never much cared for relationships, anyway, and had always gotten out of his involvement with girls as soon as they became a bit too serious; he had told her that himself.

So during that first week, she pushed thoughts of foul play in the relationship aside; it was just young love and drama.

But the thoughts returned every time she saw the two together, and she found herself watching them. Was it her imagination or did he truly act differently around her? He didn't seem himself. Adelinda had been with him for months. They'd had little disagreements and he had stayed; he had waited willingly for her to be ready for intimacy and had been by her side when there were problems with Pansy. Perhaps it was hope springing up again, but she thought that if he had done it of free will, he would've ended things with her first, and perhaps chosen to move on with a woman he could actually tolerate.

She had considered taking a peek into Pansy's mind, but despite all the woman had done to her didn't feel that it was right. She tried to use legilimency as little as possible, and still sometimes felt guilty for using it on Blaise so long ago; no, if she were to do this, she would do it the way that Narcissa had suggested. She couldn't start diving into minds whenever she needed answers. The older witch began to write her again, asking her if she had found anything out. She told Adelinda again to 'turn on her charm' and go ask his friends for help, and with the increased pressure from the elder Malfoy, she considered it. She had met the few he had while they had been together; there was a student Draco's age, Theodore Nott, who she had been introduced to, and he came to mind as she lay in bed. He was nice enough, kind, polite, albeit withdrawn; he was a bit of a loner. She often noticed him in the library reading in a distant corner or sitting in the common room at night once everyone else had gone to bed. It wasn't rare that she had gone to the loo in the early hours of the morning and he was out there with his head in a book.

She felt a bit like she would be using him, but it was for a good cause, was it not?

She pushed herself out of bed; she was wearing her flannel bottoms and in a moment of vanity swapped her ill-fitted tee for a snug long-sleeved shirt, pulling her mussed up hair into a ponytail. Adelinda took a deep breath. She couldn't believe that she was helping Narcissa Malfoy after what her son had done to her.

But alas, she was, and she walked barefoot to the common room; it was close to midnight and she thought that the large room was empty until she spotted the person she was looking for. Nott sat hunched over on the sofa before the fire, papers and books strewn on the table before him. She walked heavily down the steps leading out of the girls' dormitories, and as he heard her footsteps he glanced over his shoulder at her, giving her a little nod.

She wasn't sure how to go about what she needed to do and felt awkward about the entire situation; she couldn't recall every having had a conversation with any of Draco's friends without him. "Hey, Nott," Adelinda said quietly, and he looked at her again with chocolate brown eyes. He never seemed happy to see anyone, she had noticed, and always looked pale and fatigued; his dark curls were always a bit disheveled, but despite that, he was always well-dressed. Most of the Slytherins she had met were. Even in the middle of the night, he wore black dress pants, a button up, and shoes.

"All right, Amaretto?" he greeted, his eyes following her. She hovered by the armchair Draco normally sat in.

"All right," she nodded to him. "Mind if I…?" She gestured towards the armchair Draco normally sat in and took a breath of relief as he nodded. Adelinda took a seat, curling her legs beneath her and watching the fire. It was so much warmer in the common rooms than it was in the bedrooms. She felt his eyes on her and when she turned her head to meet them, he didn't look away. She had never been sure what to make of him; he was so stand offish, but never rude or mean. She had, however, learned from Draco that his father was a Death Eater. He spoke to her politely, sweetly at times, but did it quite seldom and rarely unless she or Draco had initiated the conversation.

"What has you out here so late?" he asked. His voice was quiet but deep and didn't quite fit his tall, thin body.

"I couldn't sleep," she said simply. They fell into a silence that wasn't as uncomfortable as she would have expected, and she heard him turning the pages of his book; Adelinda sat there, her eyes following the flames as they swayed to and fro. After a few long moments she sighed, and he looked up. "Actually, to be honest, there was something I needed to speak to you about. A favor..."

"Oh?" he said in a lilting voice; she was a relieved to hear that it was curiosity in his voice and not annoyance.

"Yes," Adelinda said, shifting to face him and straightening her back. "I need to know how Pansy and Draco came to be…ah…involved." She saw the look on his face turn weary and she flushed. "I'm not…Merlin, I'm not trying to get between them, or be that batty ex-girlfriend…"

She could see his lips twitching in the corners and watched his eyes light up with amusement; it reminded her of the way Draco had always tried to keep from laughing at her when she was being ridiculous and her heart ached. "Look, Nott, don't you think it's a bit odd that out of nowhere, they began to…" she gestured with her hands as she searched for the word. "…do whatever it is that they're doing?" Adelinda's voice was serious and she gave him a look. "I'm also not trying to get between two friends, so before I continue, feel free to tell me to sod off after you hear what I have to say. I don't know if you know this—I'm not entirely certain what Draco has told people, if anything. But he and I fought, and while I was giving him the silent treatment—which had only lasted a week, might I add—he found himself in Pansy's arms, and not mine."

Theodore nodded. He had set his books down and was giving her his full attention. "I know that he has been with Pansy before, but he absolutely _abhorred _that woman; why would he run to her?"

"Well…" he said a bit uncomfortably, raising an eyebrow and looking away.

"Yes, yes, she's easy, I know." He gave a throaty chuckle at that. "You and I both know, however, that if Draco Malfoy wanted an easy girl, he could go to any female in Slytherin and she would be at his feet." A fact that had, on occasion, made her feel quite insecure.

"You're right, I suppose," Theodore said slowly, leaning back in his seat. "So what are you suggesting, Amaretto?"

"That perhaps, Pansy is using something other than her pitiful charm to attract Draco."

He simply looked at her, and she wondered with nervousness if he was going to turn her away. She couldn't imagine how crazy she must sound; she had considered telling him about Narcissa being the reason behind her thoughts but had decided against it. "Slytherin has turned you a bit feisty, I see," he said. "You're not the same girl Draco introduced me to months ago, that's for damn sure."

"No, I suppose I'm not," she agreed. His words sounded like praise. "I'm asking for your help, Nott."

"What would you have me do?" Theodore asked her, folding his hands in his lap.

The tension in her body eased. "Just…watch her." she said lamely. "I don't know what to do, honestly. It's why I came to you. You're one of his closest friends, and you would know if he was acting oddly, would you not?"

"He has been acting quite differently. Bit of a twat now, actually," he added, and Adelinda couldn't help but smile. "Pansy this, Pansy that, and it all sounds like puppy love. Something that never lasts. It's sickening."

"I'm sure," she said a bit stiffly. "Just watch her, would you? You're the same age and you're around both of them quite a bit more than me."

"Not a problem, Amaretto, I'm always interested in a little snooping," he said with a touch of amusement, opening his book again.

She pushed herself up. "Thank you, Nott," Adelinda said, making to leave. "Please don't mention any of this to him, yeah?" He agreed to keep it between the two of them and she returned to her bedroom, feeling much better about the situation than she had before.

The next few days had her a bit on edge with eagerness for Nott to discover anything. Ginny noticed her distracted behavior and asked numerous times what was wrong, but Adelinda hadn't told her about Narcissa's request; she knew that Ginny would tell her that it wasn't her business anymore and it would be better for her to leave it alone, but she couldn't.

Finally she received a note from Nott; _meet me in the library today after classes. _She hurried there as soon as her last class of the day had ended and when she didn't see him, began to scan the bookshelves for anything of interest. She had been there but ten minutes when she felt a hand on her shoulder and jumped.

"Oi, don't pull your wand out, girl," Nott said in his rumbling voice, chuckling.

"_Scusate_," she apologized sheepishly, clutching at her bag. "I was a bit distracted."

"Yeah, I see that." She had to tilt her head to meet his eyes. Like her, he hadn't bothered changing from his uniform, only shedding his robes. "Let's go sit?"

They found a corner that wasn't already taken by snogging couples pretending to study and sat across from each other. She smoothed her skirt over her legs as she sat down, resting her bag beside her chair. "I haven't seen anything too out of the ordinary, but I have noticed something." He paused for dramatic effect and she gave him a look, gesturing for him to go on. "About once a week, they bring snacks to the common room, and she's always the one to fetch it from the kitchens; she always gives him a cup of warm milk."

Adelinda's eyebrows furrowed. She couldn't see the significance in it and told him as much. "Malfoy hates milk," he said simply, raising his eyebrows at her.

He was right; she remembered Draco telling her he absolutely hated the taste of milk and had since he was young-something about having been forced to drink at least a cup a day because he was such a small child and his mother swore it would help him grow. "What do you make of it?" Adelinda asked him eagerly, leaning forward.

"Not sure. Say, why don't we find some books on love spells and potions while we're in here?" he suggested.

She wondered how anyone else would perceive what they were doing; an ex-girlfriend and a close friend, scheming together to find out the truth of a relationship. She wondered how many people would think she was bonkers. Finding that she didn't care, she helped him carry books to and fro and they began to read together. There was a limited amount of information on love potions and attraction charms, but none seemed strong enough to cause the sort of attraction that Draco displayed.

"This is a lost cause," Adelinda said with a heavy sigh. They had spent an hour in the library. "This is crazy. I'm wasting your time, Nott. I'm sure he just wanted a shag and found the person he knew would give it." It hurt her to say this out loud.

She felt his scrutinizing eyes on her, and when he remained silent for so long thought that he was going to agree. "I don't think you're crazy," he finally said, voice gentle. "You've been hurt, and you've got reason to believe the girl who stole Draco from you did so unfairly." The notion of there being any fair way to steal someone's boyfriend made Adelinda want to laugh; it was certainly a very Slytherin way of thinking.

"I suppose," Adelinda said. Her voice was quiet. She had taken so much pleasure in thinking that Draco had no feelings for Pansy that she had lost sight of what she was really doing, and found herself feeling quite discouraged. She thought of Narcissa, and wondered how the woman would respond to her telling her she was done and could find nothing.

"Look, Amaretto, give it time," Nott said, still looking at her intensely. "We'll keep watching. If we don't see anything, we don't see anything. But I think that, eventually, Parkinson will slip."

She nodded. "Okay." Adelinda gave a heavy sigh, pushing her hair behind her ears. The entire situation made her feel ridiculous, as though she were playing at detective like the actors in the Muggle television shows her father liked to watch. She had let her feelings for Draco get in the way of realism.

Nott walked her to the Great Hall and they parted ways at the Slytherin table with an invitation to join him in the common room the next evening. She accepted, wondering what he was getting at. Had she started something he wasn't going to want to stop? Adelinda made her way to the Gryffindor table, feeling disappointed and tired. She wanted to go back to her room and sleep.

"All right?" Harry greeted with a grin, and she noticed the peculiar smile Ginny was giving her.

"What?" Adelinda asked uncertainly, eyebrows furrowing as she looked at their faces.

"Movin' on, eh?" Ron said with a grin.

"What're you on about, Ron?" she asked him wearily, taking a seat beside Hermione. She poured herself a bowl of tomato basil and plucked a piece of bread from a nearby basket.

"We saw you over there with Nott," Ginny teased, elbowing her gently. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"What? Oh—" she glanced over her shoulder at Nott, who was deep in conversation with a Slytherin she didn't know. When he looked at her and gave her a nod, she turned around quickly, her face flushing pink. "_Dio_, no! We were, ah, studying. I have a class with him." It wasn't a complete lie, she told herself.

"Right," Harry said, laughing. "That's what they all say."

"Oh, whatever," Adelinda grumbled. They ate and Ginny grilled her on Nott, refusing to accept that Adelinda wasn't interested in him. She and Hermione both scolded her for not mentioning anything about him beforehand.

The next evening found her walking into the common room after she had changed out of her uniform; she had accepted Nott's invitation. She found him sitting by the bookshelves and took a seat across from him. "Hey, Nott."

"Amaretto," he returned with a nod and a smile. He set his book in his lap. "How's it going?"

"Good," she said easily, plucking a book from the shelf. _Medieval Wizards and Their Lives. _Boring. She turned the pages lazily and the two spent the better part of an hour in an easy, comfortable silence. 

* * *

It wasn't long before rumors were circulating throughout the Slytherin house about Adelinda and Nott, and whether their friendship being more than that; she was a little amused by it and when she heard of them from Theodore, found herself relieved to see that he was as well.

"Merlin forbid a man and a girl simply be mates," he said with a little shake of her head; she missed the glance he gave her. They were walking to dinner, having met in the library to study. Both seemed to have given up on the cause that had brought the friends together, though he kept assuring her that she wasn't crazy, that it would just take time. The longer it took, however, the less hope she had; she grew tired of even entertaining thoughts of justifiably dismantling Pansy and Draco's relationship and felt ridiculous for ever thinking she could. It still ached to think of the two together, but she was too proud to let that show; she would not admit to heartbreak.

She also didn't want to admit that perhaps what had pushed her to Nott had been a need for distraction and not a need for help.  
Regardless, it was working. Between the time spent with her Gryffindor friends and the time spent with Nott in the common room—always turning her eyes when Pansy and Draco walked through and finding a reason to excuse herself when they decided to stay—she was okay. Drowsiness Draughts kept her sleeping well and she did her best to eat well, despite a lack of appetite. She pushed through her days with only occasional moments of lethargy and sadness.

She and Nott parted ways with a smile and upon sitting down beside Hermione was bombarded with questions: Did Nott really kiss her? Were the two of them sneaking out of the common room at night? Were they an item?

She gave the two Gryffindor girls an incredulous look. "You really believe all that rubbish?" Adelinda said, eyebrow raised.

Ginny and Hermione gave each other sheepish looks. "You have been with him quite a bit," they pointed out with coy grins. "And it's not like he's bad looking. He's got this sort of…mysterious look to him…"

Adelinda gave Ginny a look. "Stop that," she laughed. "There's nothing going on, and if anything happens, you will be the first to know."

"Better be," Ginny grumbled. The boys joined them and the subject went to Quidditch and the fireworks that were stuffed into one of the toilets, causing a terrible overflow. After supper ended the five friends parted ways, and Adelinda was surprised to see Nott just getting up from the Slytherin table; the Great Hall was nearly empty. He had been talking to a younger Slytherin boy.

She nodded at him with a friendly smile and he caught up to her. "Friend's younger brother. He was trying to get me to go on the Hogsmeade trip," he said with a sigh.

"Why don't you?" she asked curiously as they walked.

"Never saw the appeal," he said simply, and gave her a hesitant look. "Are you going?"

"No, I'm going to help a friend study for her N.E.W.T.s," she explained. She was going to spend the weekend quizzing Ginny and being a guinea pig for charms she was a bit uncertain with.

"Ah, I suppose those are coming up fairly quickly," he said absently. He gave the portrait their password and let her go before him. "Sit awhile?"

Adelinda saw his gaze lingering on her face from the corner of her eye; his eyes were intense in a way she'd never noticed. "Sure," she said after a moment, following him to what had become their usual spot. She sat with a yawn, letting her hands rest on her full belly. "I'm so glad tomorrow is Saturday."

"What, big date?" he teased, settling into the chair across from her.

She flushed a bit. "Of course not," Adelinda said, tone scolding. "Classes are tiresome. Preparing for the exams and all that, professors going bonkers trying to make sure everyone is ready…"

Nott nodded. "These professors need to realize that if students are not capable of preparing themselves for the exams, they're doomed," he said with a laugh; he had a nice one, deep and throaty. She looked at him and realized he looked a bit different, but she couldn't quite place why.

"Pretty much," she agreed with a shake of her head. "The students who can't study on their own certainly aren't going to listen to teachers drone on about the same things every class."

They sat in a comfortable silence for awhile as other students went to and fro in the common room. "Hm, here comes Malfoy," Theodore said wearily, nudging Adelinda's leg with his own. He watched her her back immediately straighten and sighed.

She struggled not to look around as soon as Theodore voiced his warning, and took a deep breath as she saw the Slytherin standing beside her.

"Nott, Adelinda," he said slowly, looking between the two. "What's going on over here?"

Adelinda widened her eyes at Nott as if to say, 'who does he think he is?' "Just talking, mate," Theodore said easily. "How's it going?"

She couldn't help but look up at Draco and feel her chest tighten at his disheveled appearance; his hair was a bit mussed up and longer then he usually let it get, his skin a sickly pale and his eyes bloodshot. He always looked sick. "Adelinda, a word?"

Her pounding heart found its way into her throat. "For what, Malfoy?" she said quietly, looking away, but not before his expression of surprise as she addressed him by surname.

"I have something to ask you," he said tersely.

"I don't think that's a good idea," she said, her voice catching. She could see Theodore watching her.

"Adelinda, I just—" Draco was interrupted by an arm snaking around his waist. Pansy held a tray of food and drinks in the other.

"I've got your tea, dear," she said in his ear, glaring down at Adelinda. "C'mon, you should be resting." So he was sick.

"That word—later, yeah?" Draco called over his shoulder as Pansy led him away; they took a seat on the couch behind Adelinda and she could hear the woman's harsh whispers. Her fingers tightened on the arms of her chair as she heard the whispers turn into coos.

"I'm going to go for a walk," she said to Nott, standing quite abruptly. She hurried out of the common room and into the cold dungeons.

She didn't realized he had followed her out until she felt his hand on her waist. "Oi, Adelinda, you're going to take someone out with that thing," he said, putting his hands up. She lowered her quickly drawn wand and took a breath.

"_Scuza_, a bit on edge," she said quietly.

"I see that," he told her. "I just wanted to make sure you're alright."

She stared past him towards the Slytherin portrait. "I don't know," she said earnestly, shaking her head. "She's got him wrapped around her little claws, and—well, the audacity of him to act as though you and I can't simply talk, and to demand we talk—" she was exaggerating in her anger and she knew this but found herself unable to care. She made a noise of frustration before turning on her heel and walking. Nott caught up to her quickly.

"Parkinson is a putrid little thing, we all know that, and you shouldn't be paying her any mind," he told her sincerely, keeping up with her brisk pace. "Malfoy on the other hand, well, I know he's my friend, but he's a bloody idiot for ever letting you go."

Her pace only quickened. "Then why, pray tell, did he do it? I don't understand. I'll never understand."

"Hell, I don't think any of us understand," he said. "No one likes Parkinson but her little hench-women, and truth be told, even the Slytherins who dislike you due to blood status don't understand the choice he made…"

"That doesn't help me," she said, her voice catching in her throat. "That doesn't help me at all. I still have to sit by, while that—that—that _wench _throws what she has in my face, and in front of everyone—"

She was cut off when Nott grabbed her arm and pulled her back, his lips on hers—she tore away. "What are you doing?" she asked breathlessly, staring up at him from inches away.

"I've wanted to do this for awhile," he admitted, and kissed her again. She stood there in shock, eyes open, before she felt herself melting into his lips—she hadn't been that close to someone in what felt like forever and she refused to think about the empty way her lips moved against his, or the way her hesitant arms snaked around his neck, not until he pulled away.

"Nott, this isn't a good idea," she said weakly. "I was with your best mate, and…you know I'm not over him…"

"Well, nothing else has worked in getting over him, yeah?" he said, his voice rumbling in her ears. She became acutely aware of his arms around her waist. "Tell me to stop, and I'll stop."

She said nothing and he kissed her once again. A mess of feelings were coiled tight in her chest; weariness, an odd sort of warmth, hesitation, a need for intimacy—she pushed them away as she was pushed against the cold wall and kissed quite thoroughly, running her fingers through Nott's unfamiliar curls. That was what had been different. He had actually run a comb through his hair.

He pulled away, touching his hair wearily. "I like it better messy, anyway," she said softly, and they looked at each other for a moment. "Nott, why are you doing this?"

He raised his eyebrows at her. His hands rested on the wall on either side of her head. "I like you, Amoretto, why else?" Theodore said, as if it were obvious. "Since that night you came to me in the common room—you've got this charm, something radiating from, that says you have a better heart than most Slytherins…and you read just as much as I do, that's a hard thing to find."

She looked at him skeptically. "You like me because I read," Adelinda repeated, giving a snort of laughter.

"Sod off," he said playfully, pushing away. "Look, I know you're still getting over Malfoy. I would be blind to not realize that. I also know that this thing we're supposed to be doing, figuring out their relationship, is going nowhere and certainly isn't helping you get over him…" he hesitated. "…assuming you want to get over him."

Adelinda took a moment. "Yeah," she finally said. "Yeah, I do."

"Then we need to stop. And this isn't an attempt to get you to like me back. Trust me, I know that if we were to begin anything right now, my only purpose would be forgetting about Malfoy…" she gave him a guilty look. "…I'm simply asking for friendship. And perhaps a kiss every now and then."

She elbowed him in the side and he cringed away, laughing. "Couldn't help it," he said. "So what do you say?"

With the taste of him still on her lips, she made up her mind. "I'm done with this thing about Draco," Adelinda told him quietly. "It was a long shot, anyway. Let's go back."

He offered his arm and she took it, letting him lead her back to the common room in silence.

_**First, I would like to apologize for this update taking so long to happen and yet still being so short. I lost the motivation to write for awhile (whoops) but now it's back in full force and I've got big plans for Adelinda! As I write this author's note I am already trying to piece together the next chapter. Much love and thank you for your patience :) **_


	16. Chapter 16

'_What have you got yourself into, dear?'_

Same old place, same hissing voice, same serpent coiling around her body. Adelinda lay on the dusty floor of the dark room; a single candle cast a menacing of the woman in the corner across the wooden floor. She sat in a covered chair, the flame illuminating half-rotted teeth and a cruel smile. The woman was silent, swaying slightly.

'_I don't know what you're talking about,' Adelinda spoke through gritted teeth, her eyes fixed on the ceiling. _

'_Theodore Nott.' The snake knew. 'Ah, yes, I know about his little show of affection in the dungeons.' A laugh reverberated throughout the room with no evident source. 'I'm not sure if I approve, though he is better than that traitor you were with before…filthy Malfoy child, useless like his father. His mother made him weak.' _

_She thrashed against the reptile, grunting. 'Shut up, snake.' The words were breathed out and she felt her jaw lock. _

'_Oh, spunky!' another laugh, high pitched. 'You care for him still. What a shame. You continue to disappoint me, Adelinda, with the Gryffindors and Mr. Malfoy…' _

'_This isn't real,' she told herself in her head, closing her eyes tightly. 'Your disappointment does not matter.' _

'_Ah, but the pain of my cruciatus curse is real, isn't it?' Her body shook in anticipation; the snake slithered away and that blinding pain hit her, delivered by the woman in black._

Adelinda shot up in bed, gasping for air. Her body ached and tingled and she pulled her blanket around herself, cold and frightened. She knew that they were only dreams, but every time she had that nightmare, the pain of the Unforgivable Curse felt more and more real. She leaned over to her desk and fumbled for her wand, flicking at the lamp and giving a sigh of relief as her room was illuminated.

It was times like these that she ached most for Draco.

She looked at the pile of letters on her desk; all from her parents. She hadn't had the motivation lately to even open them, certainly not to respond; she didn't know what to say to them. Her mother always inquired about the boy she had mentioned briefly, and her father always made promises to hurt him if he ever hurt her. She didn't know how to tell her mother there was no boy now or how to tell her father it might be time for him to do so.

She spent the rest of the night reading through the letters and trying to form responses; by morning, her bedroom floor was littered with crumpled papers and broken quills and Adelinda was a frustrated mess.

The dreams returned every night for a week, and she found herself withdrawing from all of her friends just as she had promised not to do.

"Adelinda, wake up," a hushed voice spoke into her ear. She had dozed off in potions, it seemed, and she found herself grateful that she sat in the back of the classroom. She rubbed at her eyes, looking at Penelope.

"How long was I asleep?" Adelinda whispered, relieved as she looked around and saw that no one had noticed.

"About twenty minutes," Penelope turned scrutinizing eyes on her. "You okay, girl? You don't look well."

Adelinda rested her cheek in her hand, struggling to keep her eyes open. "I don't feel very well," she admitted. She felt queasy and lightheaded and found it hard to focus on anything Slughorn was saying.

Penelope watched the girl's eyelids flutter. "Let me take you to see Madam Pomfrey," she whispered.

Adelinda shook her head. "No, I'm fine, I don't want to interrupt class…"

"You look really ill, Amaretto," she told her.

"Just…wait until it's time to brew, and then we can go," Adelinda compromised. Her head was throbbing and she rested it in her hands, closing her eyes. In the minute that they were closed she began to fall out once more, only to be shaken awake.

"C'mon, girl," Penelope said. Adelinda looked around and met Slughorn's concerned gaze.

"You go ahead, Penelope, go wait for her in the corridor," the teacher said, giving Adelinda a wink. "Less conspicuous." Penelope left the room with a shrug.

Adelinda straightened, blinking the sleep from her eyes. She still felt nauseous, lightheaded. Lack of sleep would do that. The other students paid her no mind, bustling about the room to find ingredients and begin brewing their potion of the day. "Miss Amaretto, are you alright? You look as though you haven't slept in days, are you out of Drowsiness Draughts?" Slughorn spoke to her in a soft, hushed voice.

"Yes," she said after a long moment. Truthfully, she had simply stopped taking them, but it was easier to say she was out than to explain that it took several potions to get her to sleep and that none could keep the days away. No, what she needed was Dreamless Sleep, but she would get expelled for that. Never mind that it was addictive.

"Ah," he gave knowing nod. "Go to the nurse, dear, and once you've rested you can come fetch some. I'll have them brewed by this evening."

Her heart was warmed by his concern. "Thank you, Professor," she said as she pushed herself to her feet. She grabbed her bag and was thankful for the hand on her elbow as she nearly tripped in her haste. "I'll try to be back this evening."

She walked into the corridor where Penelope waited, ignoring the stares she got from students who had noticed her leaving with her things. "Alright?" the girl questioned.

"_Si,_" Adelinda said with a sigh. "You don't have to walk me, y'know."

"You look half-dead, Amaretto, I can't let you walk by yourself," Penelope insisted, slipping her arm through Adelinda's.

She gave a shocked laugh at that. "Why, thank you, Penelope," she said with a little smirk. "I woke up this morning and thought to myself, 'why, sickly is a good look for today, I think I'll go for that.'"

"Just being honest, you do look like hell," she said quite seriously, her somber expression giving way to a smile after a moment. "You've got a lot of people worried, you know."

"Oh?" Adelinda said, eyebrows raised at the girl. They walked arm-in-arm towards the infirmary. "Like who?"

"Well, your Gryffindor friends, for one," she said easily. Adelinda appreciated the way she showed no opinion on that matter. "I can see it in the way they look over at you sometimes. This isn't the first time you've drifted off in class, y'know, just the first time I've had to wake you."

Adelinda grimaced at the thought of sleeping in class without even realizing. She was terrified that she would fall out in class and that dream would strike; wouldn't do her well to wake up crying or yelling in class. "Well, who else?" she insisted.

The girl gave her a grin. "Nott," she said. "Saw us talking one day and asked me to keep an eye on you because you hadn't looked so well, silly of him to think I wouldn't tell you. He likes you, you know."

"Oh,_ si_, I know," Adelinda said with a smile.

"What, you don't like him?" Penelope said, eyebrows shooting up.

"Well…I don't know…he's handsome, we all know that," the witch began slowly, giving a sigh. "And he's quite sweet, surprisingly enough, very smart—"

"But?" Penelope prompted, giving her a knowing look.

"But I'm getting over things still," Adelinda said heavily. "Here we are." They stopped before the doors to the infirmary.

"You know where to find me if you need anything, Adelinda," Penelope said, giving the girl's arm a gentle squeeze before turning away. "Feel better."

"Thanks, Penelope," she said warmly. Adelinda walked into the infirmary and retrieved a vial of Witch's Brew and a sick note before going off to the Slytherin common room. She didn't need a healer to tell her to eat and sleep more, and she had no interest in having a letter sent home to her parents. It would just make things harder.

That evening found her knocking on the door of Slughorn's office. "Come in!" he called out to her and she opened the door. He was rummaging through his shelves of ingredients and vials, the Drowsiness Draught he had promised her sitting on his desk. "How are you?"

"I've been better." She settled into the chair in front of his desk.

"And we have all been there, Miss Amaretto," Slughorn said knowingly. "Ah! Here it is." He plucked a small vial of some green liquid from the shelf, plopping down into his own chair behind his desk. "You ran out of Drowsiness Draught rather quickly, dear."

She gave a little shrug. "I guess so," Adelinda said hesitantly.

"Are you taking more than you're meant to?" the professor asked her, voice thick with concern. She felt a pang of guilt for lying to him and looked down.

"It's not…Professor, they just don't work anymore," she said earnestly, looking at her knees. "They get me to sleep,_ si_ , but…I have bad dreams all the time, and then I wake up and I have to take more to get back to sleep, but it's not the same." A shred of truth did well to alleviate her guilt.

The wizard looked at her; her eyes were heavy and she was pale, making the dark circles she had appear only darker. Her posture had changed with her health; she slouched as if she didn't have the energy to hold herself straight. "What are the dreams about?" he questioned, meeting her weary eyes.

The only person who knew of her dreams had been Draco, but she felt compelled not to share them with anyone else, especially a professor…she would sound ridiculous, she was sure of it, dreaming of a snake and a cruciatus curse that felt alarmingly real. "They're silly, really, I don't know why they affect me so much."

"No dreams are silly, dear, they're our subconscious," he spoke warmly, leaning forward. "You can tell me."

She hesitated. "They…well, they're usually about Malfoy, or what happened with Pansy back in the beginning of the school year," she finally said after a long moment.

"Traumatizing events," he told her reassuringly. "These keep you up?"

"_Si_, I wake up from them and can't get back to sleep…the Drowsiness Draughts don't work anymore and I don't know what to do." She was looking at her lap again, fiddling with the hem of her skirt.

Slughorn was silent, deep in thought as he stared at the potion on his desk. "The only other potions that would help you are forbidden for students," he told her with a sigh.

"Oh, I know, Professor—"

"And I certainly could never give one to a student, it would be quite unethical," he continued without pause, still fiddling with the glass vial. His other hand was tapping on the desk slowly. "Unfortunately, sometimes I deny students, and then find their own means of obtaining potions…" he gave her a smile. "I trust you will not be one of them, though. Students have been known to sneak around making potions—I have had to begin locking my classroom door at night to prevent it, though admittedly, I _do _forget from time to time…"

Adelinda gave him a hard look. She was certain he had been speaking of Dreamless Sleep, but was he now suggesting she brew it herself? She had heard of Slughorn's tendencies to bend the rules at Hogwarts and had always wondered how he had never been reprimanded for it, but now she understood. He made certain that it could not fall back on him.

"Professor, you know I would never be the one to get caught sneaking into a classroom," she said, picking her words cautiously. "And I wouldn't dream of asking you to do something so, as you put it, unethical."

"As I thought," Slughorn said brightly, beaming over at her. "Well, dear, you may take the Drowsiness Draughts still, if you'd like—I've brewed them a bit stronger, but please, no more than one at a time, and of course you know what potions they may not be combined with." He gave her a pointed look. Bad things would happen if she took two different types of sleeping potions at once, she knew that. "I hope they help more."

"Thank you very much, Professor," she said softly, standing. She gathered the vials and put them carefully into her bag. "I mean that, you've done a lot for me."

"Oh, it's nothing, dear," he said with a little wave of his chubby hand. She left with a smile, feeling a little lighter with the possibility of better sleep.

Adelinda skipped dinner, choosing instead to sit in the common room reading a book on sleeping potions. She found herself giving serious consideration to the Dreamless Sleep potion, weighing the pros and cons of it—she would sleep. She wouldn't be woken every night by night terrors and pain, and she wouldn't fall asleep in class anymore; but it was against Hogwarts rules to possess or even brew that potion outside of exams, and she never had been one for breaking rules. The idea that she could become addicted to it also made her nervous and she read specifically of that in her book; those addicted would not be able to sleep without it, and without it, dreams would become worse when they did sleep. She read of witches and wizards who had become so addicted and whose dreams became so terrible once they were deprived of the potion that they went insane trying to avoid them. Others simply began to use the potion to escape their painful realities.

She told herself that would never happen; if she did use the potion, it would be strictly when needed. Perhaps when she was feeling particularly exhausted or the night before an exam, when she needed to be well rested; she had already failed one test after forgetting to study and being unable to concentrate, dozing off half way through it. Her grades were dropping and her health was, as well. She didn't know what else to do, and yet, despite trying to justify her want for the potion, she felt an incredible apprehension about going to brew it.

"What are you thinking so hard on?" A voice interrupted her thoughts; startled, she shut her book quickly and put her hands atop the cover.

"Nott!" she let out a breath and gave him a scolding look. "_Dio buono,_ you mustn't sneak up on me like that, you'll give me a heart attack."

He grinned and rested a hand on his chest. "My sincerest apologies, Amaretto." She shook her head at him and slid her book onto the shelf between two others, hoping he wouldn't catch it. "Sleeping potions?" she frowned at him.

"Yes, I haven't been sleeping very well," she said after a moment. "I wanted to learn how to brew Drowsiness Draughts."

"I find it hard to believe that you, of all people, don't already know how to brew one," he raised an eyebrow at her, settling back into his chair and crossing his legs. She found herself looking at him, wishing she could feel for him the way she had felt for Draco. He was certainly nicer, handsome in his own right…

"I never had a use for them," Adelinda told him easily. "Perhaps you learned to brew one here at Hogwarts, but being home schooled, my curriculum was a bit…different. Sleeping potions were never part of it."

Nott seemed to accept that answer, but not without warning her away from Dreamless Sleep. "As long as you're not brewing that, do what you must—you _do_ look like hell."

"You're not the first to say that today, you know," she said bitterly, shooting him a nasty look.

He laughed. "Well, if it makes you feel better, you still look quite cute—even with circles under your eyes. The messy hair may even add to it."

She flushed at that, touching the ends of her hair. Though things had been comfortable since their kiss in the dungeons, she had noticed changes in their friendship—he began to flirt quite openly, sneaking in little touches. When they walked together his arm would brush hers or he would throw it around her shoulders as they laughed over something. He would give her little squeezes when they parted ways, and in the common room he would sometimes sit beside her instead of in front of her; she found that she didn't mind. It was a nice distraction, but the question of whether she was leading him on lingered in her head—she reminded herself that he knew she wasn't over Draco. He even knew that if anything happened between the two, it would be just what it was: a distraction, an attempt to get over him. She had a moment of cruelty, thinking 'he's doing this to himself. It doesn't matter.' Adelinda immediately pushed that away, surprised at herself for even thinking it.

They spent the evening together as they usually did, but Adelinda retired early to her room, busying herself with straightening it the Muggle way and attempting to write her papers and studying. She had begun avoiding sleep, but when her eyelids became a little too heavy for her liking she downed a Drowsiness Draught in hopes that it would push her into a deep enough slumber to keep the dreams at bay.

Just a few nights later, when the stronger Drowsiness Draughts no longer worked and the dreams returned worse than before, she decided to take Slughorn up on his unspoken offer—she left her bedroom in those odd hours that were so early in the morning that it felt like sin to even be awake, her winter robes pulled snug around her body and her wand in hand. Her heart was pounding in anxiousness as she crept through the common room, pausing briefly to look at Nott's sleeping figure; he was never in his room, it seemed. She hoped he didn't wake when she returned.

Moving through the corridors undetected was made easy by the numerous times she had done this with Draco. She knew the routes that some of the dedicated Prefects would take in the wee hours of the morning and where to avoid going; she knew which corridors were well lit at night and which were not. Slowly but surely she made her way to the potions classroom; her dream had left her trembling and on edge, hearing noises left and right and always wondering what would be around the next corner—there was always nothing.

As she reached the classroom, she had a moment of panic, realizing that Slughorn may have begun locking his door again—it may have been a one time chance. "_Aperto, aperto…" _her whispered words sounded loud in the empty corridor, lit only by the faintest _lumos, _but the door opened at her touch as if on command. She breathed a heavy sigh of relief and closed it gently behind her. "_Colloportus_." It locked with a muffled noise.

She looked around the dark classroom. "Am I really doing this?" Adelinda took a deep breath and steadied herself, telling herself that she would not leave without a Dreamless Sleep potion; she wouldn't make the trip and wasted hours of sleep for naught. And with that, she took to the office, gathering her supplies and beginning to brew as much Dreamless Sleep as she could carry back.

"Amaretto! You look better," Penelope said appraisingly as she took a seat beside the witch. When Adelinda had walked into the classroom that Monday morning, Slughorn had given her a knowing look and a nod. It bothered her a bit that he realized she had come to brew the potion he had hinted at, but she had expected that; she had done her best to leave no trace but Slughorn knew his classroom like the back of his hand.

"I feel better," she said earnestly, smiling. For the first time in what felt like years, she was well-rested. She had struggled with using the potion. It had been kept locked away in her nightstand for a week as she battled with herself over it—she was on the fence, but she knew she couldn't go to anyone for their opinion. Hermione and Ginny would likely kill her, and Nott would, at the very least, give her a hard time. If anyone were to overhear her talking about it, a professor was sure to find out, and then she would have a lot more to deal with than bad dreams and failing classes.

Then night before, after waking from a night terror sweating and shaking and scared, she took a vial of Dreamless Sleep from her nightstand and held it for awhile. She turned it over and over again in her hands as she weighed the pros and cons of the potion before finally taking just a few small sips—Adelinda had fallen out immediately and slept soundly until morning.

"I'm glad to hear it," the dark-haired Slytherin said with a smile.

Every time she saw a friend, the same conversation ensued; she found herself wondering if she really had looked so terrible that everyone had noticed. The thought made her cringe. She had worked so hard at appearing emotionally intact that she hadn't realized it was showing in the way she held herself and looked.

Theodore even seemed to notice. "You look…happier," he said curiously, eyeing her as she took a seat beside him.

"Do I?" nonchalant, she plucked a jellybean from the pouch in front of him. "Mmm, earwax…"

He snorted with laughter while she rubbed vigorously at her lips, as if that would take the taste away. "So what's gotten into you, Amaretto?" She was wearing make up and her hair had actually been combed and moisturized; her skin was gaining a bit of color and the bags under her eyes had begun to disappear with rest.

"Nothing," she said defensively, frowning at him. She pulled her legs onto the chair beneath her.

"Amaretto, we've seen each other nearly every day for several weeks, if not more—you haven't put this much effort into your looks since before then."

She punched him in the arm. "Bloody hell, Nott, don't try so hard to woo me," he made a show of cringing at the nasty look she shot his way.

"Hey, that's not what I meant and you know it," he protested, rubbing at his arm. "Seriously, what's going on?"

She didn't understand his persistence. "Nothing," Adelinda repeated, raising an eyebrow at him. "I've just been sleeping a little better, that's all."

"It's not…" he seemed to rethink his words. Before she could ask what he was going to say, Draco and Pansy entered the common room.

"He looks rather ill," she said in a monotone, eyeing the boy.

Theodore turned to look at her for a long moment. "I suppose," he finally said. "I would be ill if I were snogging that thing, too."

Adelinda gave a startled laugh. The couple sat near them and she grimaced at the sound of Pansy's hyena laugh. "I'm going to—"

"Amaretto, stay," Theodore insisted, putting a hand on her knee to stop her getting up. "You can't simply disappear each time those two make an appearance."

"Why can't I?" she mumbled indignantly as she sank into her seat. "I hate being around them."

"I know, love, and so does Parkinson—why do you think she sits so close to us now?" he raised his brow at her. "Don't you want to show her that she doesn't affect you?"

"You're rather manipulative," she said, making a face.

"Oh, I know, Amaretto," he said proudly, pulling back his shoulders. "It's one of my best qualities."

She tossed a jellybean at him and he threw it back, missing—it flew by Pansy's face and she let out an ugly yelp, glaring around to figure out where it had come from. Adelinda grabbed the Bertie Bott's pouch and hid it under her leg as she choked back giggles. Theodore's face was red with the laughter he held in. When Pansy finally sat down, Adelinda held her hand out for a low, inconspicuous high five. "That was brilliant," she whispered, laughing.

"I try," he said with a smirk. "Did you hear the noise she made? She sounded like an injured dog!"

"Pug, to be exact," Adelinda said with a raise of her brow; he started laughing. When his laughter was cut off abruptly she looked up to see his hands at his throat and his face turned redder. "Nott?" she said uncertainly and realized he had choked on a jellybean. "Bloody hell, boy!" She leaned forward and smacked him hard on the back several times until he finally gave a rough cough that continued. They had gained the attention of the common room.

"Does someone have some water?" she asked, glancing around, looking worriedly at the boy coughing his lungs up beside her. She watched the girl sitting across from Pansy grab her tea, handing it promptly to Adelinda as the witch protested, trying to take it back.

"He's choking, Parkinson, don't be callous!" the girl shot back sharply. Adelinda, ignoring the dark looks she was receiving from an agitated Pansy, held the cup to Nott's lips and watched him drink.

"There you go," she cooed. "You okay, Nott?"

He rubbed at his chest. "Ah, yeah," he said, glancing around. "You lot can stop staring now."

There were a few giggles before everyone turned around and went back to their own business. Pansy was glaring at them. "C'mon, Draco," she said, but the man was watching Adelinda. "Draco, _now." _She gave a huff of annoyance and grabbed his arm, dragging him from the common room.

Adelinda eyed the girl as she went. "Nasty thing, that girl is," she said with disgust. It amazed her that she was so selfish as to try to refuse a choking boy a drink. Tea could be replaced.

Nott was sipping at the tea still, his eyes locked onto Adelinda. "You alright?" she asked again, sitting down in front of him.

"Yes…" his eyes were boring holes into her and she fidgeted under his stare. "…you saved my life, Adelinda."

She frowned at him. "Now, Nott, don't be dramatic," she waved her hand at him. "You would've been fine, I'm sure."

"No, really, you saved my life," he insisted, leaning forward. "Let me repay you. Go to Hogsmeade with me this weekend."

"Hogsmeade?" she repeated. He nodded at her eagerly. "I don't know, Nott."

"Why don't you ever call me by my name?" he inquired. She raised an eyebrow at him.

"Well, you call me by my surname, too," Adelinda pointed out.

"Maybe we should stop that."

"Nott, are you sure you're feeling alright?" she questioned wearily, leaning forward to feel his forehead. He wasn't running a fever, but he was behaving quite oddly.

"Better than ever," he insisted with a smile.

"Perhaps you ought to go up to your room," she suggested. "You're acting rather odd."

"You really think I should rest?" he asked. She took a hard look at him. His eyes were bright and wide and his skin had paled noticeably; his normally still and composed posture had become slumped and fidgety.

"Yes, I do," she told him firmly. He gave a heavy, child-like sigh.

"Well, I'm sure you know best, Adelinda," he said, pushing himself to his feet. He leaned forward and when she realized he was about to kiss her she turned her head; his lips pressed against her cheek. "Goodnight."

She watched as he walked to the boys' dormitories and felt a presence beside. "Oh, hi, Penelope." The girl sat where the wizard had just been seated.

"Things are progressing, I see," she said with an impish smile, gesturing towards Nott's retreating figure.

"I'm not sure what that was all about."

"He likes you, what do you think it was all about?"

"That was odd, though, he doesn't do things like that," the young witch insisted, though as she spoke she immediately thought of the kiss in the dungeons and his request for 'friendship and maybe a kiss every now and then.' Perhaps his behavior wasn't so odd after all.

"I'm sure he was just grateful that you helped him," Penelope pointed out with a shrug. "I'm telling you, Adelinda, give it a shot."

"We'll see," was her simple response. She plucked at the jellybeans that still sat in her lap. "It's getting a bit late and I've got a paper to write…McGonagall has made Hagrid start assigning out of class work…" Penelope laughed at the face Adelinda made. "See you in potions?"

"Of course," Penelope said. "We'll continue our discussion in the morning."

Adelinda screwed up her face at the girl as she walked off to the dormitories, settling in for the night with a sip of Dreamless Sleep and her clothing for the next day laid out, something she hadn't done in weeks.

**_A short little filler. Sorry for the boring updates, I've been struggling to write. :( please review though! constructive criticism is, of course, always appreciated. _**


	17. Chapter 17

After another night of dreamless sleep, Adelinda woke in the morning feeling well-rested and happy, though reluctant to leave her warm bed for the cold of the dungeons. It was quite a struggle making herself get from beneath the quilts and into her uniform, but she finally did, throwing her bag over her shoulder and pocketing her wand. She always made sure to hide her Dreamless Sleep away in her armoire; she still had incredibly mixed feelings about the potion, but she could not deny that since using it, her mental health had greatly improved. She was sleeping much more, and the nightmares had, of course, ceased; she had more energy in the day and though not quite happy, she didn't struggle to get through classes and she didn't dread the moment her head hit the pillow at night…and yet, she had told no one she was using the potion.

As Adelinda left her room, she was greeted with odd looks; she raised an eyebrow at the sleepy faces, brushing it off as she watched Penelope exit the corridor and, just a moment later, slip back into it. When the witch spotted Adelinda she hurried over to her. "Nott is out there waiting for you," she whispered, slipping her arm through hers.

Adelinda's eyebrows shot up. "Why is that?" she asked, her pace slowing; Penelope tugged her forward.

"Because he likes you—duh?" Adelinda gave her a half-playful glare. They went into the common room and Nott was indeed standing off to the side, patiently waiting; he was leaning against the wall, a book propped in one hand as he flipped through the pages with the other. "Go get 'em." Penelope gave her an encouraging nudge towards the man.

"Bloody hell, Penelope," she muttered under her breath. Adelinda felt a hand on her elbow and looked up to see Nott; before she could say anything he had kissed her on the forehead, a gesture that reminded her of Draco. A feeling of nostalgia hit her like a bag of bricks; it was such a simple gesture, but so intimate, and she realized then that it was not one she wanted to receive from Theodore.

"Good morning," he greeted her warmly.

"Ah, Nott, _buongiorno_," she said. He slid an arm around her shoulders, chastising her for using his surname; she was filled with a feeling of discomfort as they made their way out of the dungeons and into the Great Hall for breakfast.

"So…you waited for me this morning?" she asked after awhile. She gripped the strap of her bag with both hands, not sure what to do with her arms; he still had one slung around her.

"Yes, of course I did," he told her, as if it would have been absurd for him _not_ to wait.

She hesitated. "Why?" Upon realizing how rude it sounded, she continued, "Of course, I appreciate it, but I'm…simply curious. We usually just meet after classes or in the evenings."

"Well, why wouldn't I? I enjoy every minute I spend with you," he said, unbothered, though Adelinda was taken aback by his statement. She took in his appearance. His eyes were bright, glossy, excited, but he looked a bit ill, just as he had after choking on the jellybean; she had chocked it up to that the previous evening, but there was no reason he should be sick now. There was a stomach bug going around the school, she told herself, perhaps it was that.

"Are you feeling okay, N—Theodore?" she asked.

"Adelinda, you're acting quite strange," he said, dark eyebrows furrowing. He looked down at her and she saw that he was genuinely concerned. "I'm feeling perfectly fine, amazing, even—it's getting warmer, the day has just begun, I have you by my side…stop worrying, love."

A sudden anger that she couldn't explain filled her as he addressed her as 'love.' It was something he called her often but it held a different tone this time; the way he spoke, the way he was touching her, it was as though he assumed it was his place to. She had told him before she did not want him in that way and that she still felt for Draco, her ex, his friend; she felt a strong sense of disrespect for her feelings at the way he was acting.

They reached the Great Hall and he stopped near the Slytherin table. "Can I walk you to your classes today?" he turned to her. She looked up at him for a moment, taking in the darkness of the skin around his eyes.

"Yes, I suppose," she said after awhile, despite her feelings of hesitation. Before she could turn away, he had leaned down and pressed his lips against hers.

"See you in a bit!" he strode away to his table and she stood there in shock; just as she shook herself from her thoughts and made to walk towards the Gryffindor table, a hand grabbed her wrist. She spun around, hand raised.

"Adelinda."

She stared for a moment before yanking her wrist from Draco's grip and lowering the hand that had been poised to hit him, taking a step back. "What do you want?" she asked, folding her arms over her chest.

"I need to talk to you."

"Why?"

"I just—would you come with me, _please?" _

"No."

"Bloody hell, woman…" she heard that familiar frustration of not getting his way and felt a deep sort of satisfaction.

Pansy walked up at that moment. "Draco, dear, why didn't you wait for me in the common room this morning?" she whined, sliding her arms around him and glaring over at Adelinda. She couldn't help but roll her eyes at the older witch, earning herself a sneer.

"Pansy, get off of me," Draco said in a monotone. Adelinda raised her eyebrows at this. There was trouble in paradise, it seemed, but she couldn't make herself feel guilty for the pleasure she felt upon seeing the hurt look in Pansy's eyes.

"_Si, _well, I'll be going," she said quickly and made to turn, but Draco grabbed her wrist again and insisted she stayed.

"Pansy, _go." _

The woman gave the two of them a look of absolute rage and Adelinda almost felt afraid; she had no doubt that if Pansy still possessed her wand, she would have hexed the younger witch to oblivion. She didn't understand what Draco could have to speak to her about that was so important he would push his new love aside.

"What is going on, D—Malfoy?"

"Just come on," he said, taking her by the hand and pulling her quickly from the Great Hall before she could protest.

"Let go of me, Draco." In her attempts to keep her voice even she missed her use of his name; she had been so determined to stay cold and distant and call him by Malfoy. His first name felt intimate and always had. It felt so strange speaking to him at all.

He continued to pull her along, down the corridors, ignoring the curious glances they received as she cursed him in angry Italian. Her bag bounced against her thigh and as they reached an empty corridor she yanked her arm away, throwing her bag down in a fit.

"You didn't have to drag me, for Merlin's s-"

She didn't get her sentence out before Draco's lips were crashing onto hers. He backed her into the wall and she pressed her hands onto it, feeling the cool stone beneath her fingertips; it brought her back for just a moment but not long enough to keep her from melting into his lips.

She had nearly forgotten how it felt to have a heart racing from passion and not anxiety, to have her fingers itching not with anxiousness but with need, and despite the way her mind protested they tangled into his shirt as his tongue ran along her bottom lip. Her mouth opened for him and she felt the familiar feel of his tongue wrestling against hers, not even thinking about the way she arched her back to make room for his arms wrapping around her; they moved together as though they'd never been apart.

But it was ruined the moment Adelinda smelled the scent of a woman's perfume on his skin. She shoved him away violently, taking several steps back and staring at him as she did. "_Come ti permetti_—how _dare _you think that after what you did, you could simply come back and—" she turned her back on him, running her fingers back through her hair, closing her eyes. She wanted nothing more than to kiss him again and could think of nothing but the perfume. Pansy's perfume, she was sure…or perhaps he had done to Pansy what he had done to her and it was a new girl she smelled on him. "Leave me _alone, _Draco." She hated herself for the way her voice shook.

"Adelinda, I don't know what happened…" she heard him taking steps towards her and cringed as he put a hand on her arm. He immediately removed it. "We fought, I know, and—I messed up, that's quite obvious, but bloody hell, I'm trying to tell you I don't know _why—" _

"Ginny said this might happen. _Aveva ragione,_ she was right, you and Pansy have fought and now here you are, running back."

"That's not what this is about," he said, his voice rising in anger. He grabbed her arm, turning her to face him. His voice softened when he saw the glossiness in her eyes. "Adelinda, I literally do not know what happened, I don't know why I…did what I did with Pansy, I don't want her and have never wanted her."

She gave a bitter laugh, one he had never heard from her; her arms were folded defensively over her chest and she wouldn't look him in the eye. "That certainly explains all the evenings I was forced to watch you two snog in the common room," she said quietly. "I suppose it also explains all the rumors of your shagging in various parts of the castle, no? How many of those were true?" She looked up at him, looked past the shock in his pale face. "How many were true, Draco?"

He was silent.

"That's what I thought." She grabbed her bag, blinking away tears. "Leave me alone."

Adelinda hurried away, leaving a flabbergasted Draco in her wake; the rest of the day found her struggling to focus in class and getting quite irritated with Nott, who would not leave her side. "He's following me around like a lost puppy," she told Ginny when she sat down for lunch; it had taken five minutes and a lot of frustrated sighs to convince Nott that the Gryffindors would not welcome him at their table with open arms. "It was all I could do to keep him from sitting here with me."

"Awh, he likes you, Adelinda!" she teased with a laugh. "He just wants to be around you."

"_Si, _I've known that for some time, but he never acted like…" she glanced over her shoulder and met Nott's love struck eyes. "…this."

"Well, the entire Great Hall saw you run of with Malfoy this morning—which, by the way, I still want to know about, you haven't gotten out of telling me—and it's all Parkinson has gone on about to anyone who will listen." Adelinda huffed. That woman was insufferable; she could keep Malfoy, Adelinda told herself, they deserved each other. "Maybe he's jealous and wants to make sure you're not running off to the ferret."

"It's none of his concern if I am!" she cried, turning red as students glanced at her. "Everyone is acting as though I should be flattered to have him so…enamored with me that he won't leave my side, but all it is doing is making want to bat-boogey him into oblivion…"

Ginny grinned. "Isn't that what we all want to do to our men?"

"What is being done to us?" Harry interjected, taking a seat beside Ginny. She patted his leg and gave an innocent smile.

"Oh, nothing, love." The rest of the group joined them and after Ron and Harry gave her a stern talking to involving her run-in with Draco that morning, he was not brought up again.

And yet, she couldn't stop thinking on it. As Nott walked with her through the corridors, arm around her, talking in her ear, complimenting her and not once noticing that she wasn't responding, she was thinking of Draco and what he had told her. _He didn't want Pansy and he didn't know why he had done it. _He didn't know why he had gotten with the woman; well, she didn't either. She thought of the way his lips had felt on hers and how touching him made it feel as though they hadn't spent so much time apart. She missed him greatly and suspected she had never truly stopped missing him, and when Theodore tried to kiss her goodnight that evening her feelings hit her like an Unforgivable; she pushed him away and hurried to her bedroom. She didn't notice Draco watching from his old spot in the leather armchair; Pansy was nowhere in sight.

On the third day of being followed around and doted on, Adelinda snapped.

"Theodore Nott, what has gotten into you?" she cried, stopping in the middle of the corridor. It was empty; she had lingered in the Great Hall for supper as long as she could, hoping that he would leave without her, but he didn't.

"What do you mean, Adelinda?" he asked, his eyes wide. He put his hands on her cheeks. "Are you feeling okay? What's wrong?"

She swatted his hands away from her and took a step back, flustered. "Stop touching me, for Merlin's sake!"

He stared down at her and the wounded look on his face incited an overwhelming sense of guilt for her harshness. "What did I do, Adelinda?"

She wished he would stop saying her name so much. "_Tutto andava bene_, we were alright, simply friends—the way it was meant to be. We talked about this, and _you_ said you were okay with being friends, you remember this?" He nodded slowly and she took a deep breath. "And now, you will not leave my side. You try to kiss me, you find every reason to touch me, and I do not like it."

He still had that hurt look in his eyes and she found herself unable to maintain eye contact. "Is this because of Malfoy?" he asked her quietly, his hands in his pockets. He was worrying at his lip in a way similar to her own habit; she had never seen him do it before.

She gave an exasperated sigh. "Nott—Theodore—you _knew _I was still getting over feelings for him." And she certainly was, perhaps now more than ever; they had been reignited and pushed away any chance for Nott, but she couldn't tell him that.

"But we shared a kiss in the dungeons…"

"And it was a nice kiss," she said slowly, carefully. "But that's all it was."

A sudden look of understanding passed over his features. "I'm just overwhelming you, yeah? Too much, too soon?" she wanted to throw her arms up in relief, but instead just nodded eagerly. "Well, I'll give you your time then, love. You'll come around, I'm sure. Can I still walk you to classes if I promise not to kiss you anymore?"

It seemed her talk had been in vain, and her relief had come too early; she did not need time, she needed him to stop trying. She had actually begun to like him before the events of the past few days, but the harder he tried, to less she felt for him. "_Si, _I suppose…" she gave a deep, defeated sigh, and they made their way to the dungeons where she quickly retired to her bedroom. She needed to study, she said, and couldn't be distracted by the students in the common room.

He couldn't say she hadn't tried to tell him.

She woke up the next morning before the sun had even come out; it was hours before anyone else would be up, but she had taken Dreamless Sleep immediately upon entering her room and had slept solidly for hours. Now she was wide awake at an obnoxious hour with the only option being to start her day early.

She gathered her clothes and made her way quietly to the showers. The common room was dark, the fire low and casting barely any light, and as she walked through it she was startled by the noise of someone clearing their throat. When she turned to find the source she found Draco sitting in his chair, books in his lap and a steaming mug in his hand. In the light of the fire he looked especially pale, and she couldn't quite tell if it was shadows or bags beneath his eyes. "Bloody hell," she breathed. "It's just you." She turned with a shake of her head, trying to ignore her heart pounding away in her chest.

"Adelinda…" he was quiet and she wasn't sure she had ever heard him sound as subdued as he did in that moment. "…please talk to me."

She halted. She felt shaky, anxious, perhaps excited—it wasn't much different from the way she had felt before they had begun seeing each other, during that time between the first kiss he had stolen and the first kiss she had given free of will. "I don't think that's a good idea," Adelinda said wearily.

"Please. Come sit down," he urged, standing. He wore his nightclothes still, silken pants and shirt, and she wondered if all Slytherins dressed so well for bed that they could go out in their nightwear.

"Pansy will be upset if she catches us talking," Adelinda said slowly.

"I don't give a damn about her."

She hated the way her heart jumped at his statement, and she hated the way her legs seemed to move of their own accord. Yet took a seat on the sofa, far from him, and clutched her clothes to her chest; she kept her body turned towards the fire and looked at anything but his face.

"Adelinda, I'm sorry. I can't begin to tell you how sorry I am."

They were not words she had often heard from him and she was surprised to hear them now. She was suddenly quite aware of the make up smudged beneath her eyes and the messy state of her hair, aware of the way she had worried incessantly at her lower lip until it bled.

"I don't know what happened, I truly don't. I don't know why I did that to you. I don't know why I went to Pansy…of all people, Pansy." She remained silent, thinking on the day she had seem them together, kissing in the corridors; she thought of how Ginny had found her crying in the loo. What a pitiful sight she must have been. She didn't know how she was supposed to react to his apologies. Ginny had always said to just ignore him, but here she was, hearing him out. Her mother would have good advice to give, she was sure, but her mother was not aware of what had happened. She thought of the pile of letters sitting atop her desk and wondered what Mrs. Malfoy would say.

"I care about you, I always have, you _know _that, Adelinda. You know I've never liked Pansy. Not even when she and I were…together….years ago. I've been thinking a lot the past few days, trying to figure out why this happened, what made it happen, and—I can't figure it out. I never had any intention of leaving you, never, I was just too bloody stubborn to apologize. But I was going to…and then Pansy happened, and I still don't know how."

Her chest ached. She didn't want to hear any of this. She didn't want to hear about Pansy or his feelings for her, whatever they may be; she didn't want to hear that he cared, or that he was sorry, or any of it. _That's not true, _a little voice told her, _this is what you've wanted since the day he hurt you. _

"Merlin, Adelinda, would you _say _something?" her eyes flit from the fire to his face, startled by the volume of his voice. She wondered how long it had been since he last spoke, how long she had been sitting there in silence. She could see the agitation in his face.

"Why are you out here so early?" she asked. He was quiet for a moment; it wasn't what he had wanted her to say.

"Couldn't sleep. Haven't slept well for days. Adelinda, _talk _to me."

"About what? What, _di grazia_, what would you have me say?"

"Anything," he said, his voice thick with frustration.

"Do you want me to say, oh, _va bene, _you're forgiven? That I'll forget this ever happened?" she asked incredulously, finally turning towards him. Her chest was tight and her face hot. "I don't know what to tell you, Draco Malfoy. It is not okay, it truly isn't—I don't know what you want me to say. Did you want to hear about the way I cried alone in the loo for an hour, until Ginny found me? Or how bloody pathetic I felt walking out of it?" she shook her head at him, trying to pretend her voice wasn't getting caught in her throat as she spoke. When she glanced up and saw the pained look on his face, her rage faltered. She felt the wetness in her eyes and stood. "_Non posso fare questo."_

She made to walk away but felt him behind her, his hands on her arms, and she realized there had been a part of her hoping that he would stop her; she asked herself what in Merlin's name she was doing. "Wait."

She closed her eyes, breathing slowly, deliberately. "Why?"

Guilt filled Draco's body at the cracking of her voice. "Adelinda…"

She pushed away and ran to the bathroom before he could see her crying.

She became more and more worn out as the day went on; she found it quite difficult to tolerate Nott at her side and barely listened when he spoke, missing their easy friendship and comfortable silences. Ginny and Hermione could tell that something was up but let it be the first time they asked and she refused to answer; she was sure they would just encourage a fling with Nott and scold her for entertaining Draco, and she didn't want to hear it.

By the time the evening rolled around, she had made up her mind to lock herself in her room, away from both the men who plagued her, but morning came again and Nott was waiting for her outside of the girls' dormitories; she could not get a minute alone, it seemed. She gave him a meek smile and noticed Draco looking over at them; the two made eye contact before she turned away.

Had she seen a hint of jealousy?

Nott stopped her outside of the Great Hall and she looked up at him, confused. It hit her how terrible he looked, and despite her irritation with the boy, she was worried. "Nott, are you okay?" she asked. His eyes were bloodshot and glassy and he was as pale as a ghost. "Are you running a fever or something?"

"I don't think so," he said with a shake of his head before taking her hands. "Adelinda, we need to talk."

"About…?" her eyebrows were raised.

"I've been hearing things," he said slowly, not seeming to notice the curious glances they received from passer-bys. "About you and Malfoy."

"Such as?"

"Well, people have said that Malfoy cheated on Parkinson with you…"

Adelinda couldn't help but laugh at that. "No. No, Nott, that did not happen."

She could see the relief on his face. "You have been talking, though, haven't you…?"

Her brow furrowed. "Once or twice, I suppose," she said carefully.

"Are you and him…" he let go of her hands to wave one of his own, searching for words. "Are you with him again?"

"No, I'm not," she said quickly. "But, Nott, it wouldn't be any concern of yours if I was…"

"I think it would be," he insisted, looking hurt. "Adelinda, I'm in love with you, of course it's my concern."

She stared at him. In love? "You're not in love with me," she said evenly, eyeing him; it was nearly a question.

"Yes, I am, Adelinda, you're all I think about," he said, his voice sounding as pained as he looked. "I can't sleep at night, and when I do…I dream of you. I love you."

Adelinda was silent; she could do little more than stare up at him.

"I know…too much, again, but I can't help it." He pulled her closer to him. "Adelinda, I want to be with you, I _need _to be with you."

"Nott, I can't-"

"No, don't answer right now. Think about it. Tell me tonight." He placed a kiss on her lips and left her standing, shocked and confused, outside the Great Hall.

"Adelinda Amaretto, what was that all about?!" Ginny put an arm around the younger girl. She jumped.

"Bloody hell, what is with people and sneaking up on me lately?" she said with a huff.

"Well, if you hadn't been so focused on your new boy…" Ginny had to stifle a laugh at the angry look she received.

"Ginny, he told me he's in love with me!"

"That's…good, isn't it?"

"No! I don't even know if I like him!" Adelinda walked over to the staircase and sat down. The corridor was nearly empty now, only a few stragglers walking by to go into the Great Hall. Ginny sat down beside her, shoulder-to-shoulder.

"Adelinda, you seem a lot more upset over this than you should be," she said gently. "Does it have to do with Malfoy?"

Adelinda thought long and hard on that. "No—well, _si, _probably, but—Ginny, you don't understand, Nott is acting downright strange; he is not this blunt, or this…emotional—"

"Love does strange things to people—"

"He is _not _in love with me, he's delusional. It's like someone cast a spell on him, or used a love p—" she froze, her eyes wide. "_Dio mio, _how could I be so stupid? I have to go, we'll talk later—" before Ginny could respond she was up and hurrying into the Great Hall.

She strode over to the Slytherin table, grabbing Nott's arm. Penelope waved at her from the other end and she gave the girl a brief smile. "Nott, c'mon," she said as he turned around. He gave her a bright smile and stood, not questioning her request for him to follow her.

She didn't miss Pansy watching her from another table, or Draco's cold stare.

"Adelinda, not that I'm complaining about being whisked away by a beautiful woman, but, ah—where are we going?" Adelinda was pulling him from the Great Hall and down the corridors by the hand.

"You'll see, shush."

He accepted her response with a shrug and followed her quietly through the castle until they reached a large set of doors. "The infirmary? I said I was feeling fine," he said, eyebrows furrowed. She took in his translucent skin and bloodshot eyes and shook her head. "I really don't want to go here."

"Nott, please? For me?" She felt a bit guilty for playing into his apparent love for her, but she felt she knew what was going on with him—and in any case, it was obvious that he wasn't well.

"Fine, for you," he said with a resigned sigh, following her in.

The infirmary was empty save for a few sleeping students, one of whom Adelinda knew to have a cold and the other, the flu; she told Nott to sit on an empty cot and that she would be back.

"Madam Pomfrey?" she knocked at the healer's office door lightly and heard a warm voice tell her to come in.

"Oh, hello, Miss Amaretto!" she was greeted warmly. "Need another batch of Witch's Brew?"

Adelinda blushed and shook her head. "Ah, no, but thank you. No, I was wondering—is there a way to determine if someone has been given a love potion?"

Madam Pomfrey looked to her, eyes wide. "A love potion? I thought that Professor Slughorn weeded out all of the students using those."

"Yes, but it would appear he missed a few…" she glanced over her shoulder at Theodore. He sat, fiddling his thumbs, almost looking himself.

"Ah, Mr. Nott." Madam Pomfrey stood. "I can find out, but you realize, dear, if he is under the influence of one I will need to know who gave it to him."

Adelinda nodded. "_Si, _I know."

"Alright, well, let's get to it!" she lead the young witch over to Nott and cast a silencing charm around the cot. "Hello, Mr. Nott. How are you feeling?"

"Fine, honestly," he said with a shrug, glancing towards Adelinda. He grabbed her hand when she moved to stand next to him and she shook her head when Madam Pomfrey cast a curious glance towards her. "Adelinda wanted me to come here, but I'm not sure why."

"Well, she's just worried about you, dear," the elder woman cooed, drawing her wand. "I'm just going to do a quick check-up spell, okay? Lie back for me and let go of Miss Amaretto's hand."

He reluctantly released her hand and she took a step back, watching as the healer waved her wand slowly, smoothly, in swirls above his chest. A thick, shimmering smoke spiraled from the tip of her wand before dissipating. "Oh, dear."

"What?" Nott questioned. "What is it?"

"You've come down with something, I'm afraid; I'm going to need you to stay for a day or two to be treated," Madam Pomfrey told him gently, giving Adelinda a knowing look.

"Well, what's wrong with me?" he asked. "I feel fine, I don't understand."

"Oh, you'll feel it in a few days, dearie; we've caught this bug early and you'll be treated before you even feel like you're sick."

Nott glanced wearily towards Adelinda and she nodded. "Madam Pomfrey is right, Theodore," she said softly. He had become quite a bit more tolerable, pitiable, even, once she had realized what it was causing his behavior. She was relieved to know that once the potion had worn off, he would be back to his old self and their friendship could go on as it had before. "I'm going to go talk to her for a moment, okay?"

He nodded hesitantly and remained lying down as the healer instructed him to before the two woman retreated into her office.

"We're going to avoid telling Mr. Nott that he has been under the influence of a potion until he has been cured of its effects, boys with love potions in their systems, well, they get a little rowdy when you tell them their feelings aren't real…" Madam Pomfrey trailed off. "Now, Miss Amaretto, he is infatuated with you and you knew he had been given a love potion—I feel as though I needn't ask you, but it wasn't you that gave it to him, was it?"

Adelinda was surprised that she would ask that, but felt it was protocol. "No, of course not!"

"Who was it then?"

Adelinda hesitated. "I'm not entirely sure, but—" Madam Pomfrey gestured for her to continue. "—I think it was Pansy Parkinson—"

"Why would she give Nott a love potion?" the healer questioned.

"I don't think she meant to. A few nights ago, we were in the common room and Nott choked—a girl handed me Pansy's tea to give him once he had coughed up the jellybean he choked on and Pansy threw a fit, tried to take it from the girl instead of giving it to Nott, and immediately after he started acting strange…"

Madam Pomfrey thought for awhile. "If there was a love potion in her tea, who was the tea meant for? We must check them, as well, so we can get any one under its affects the proper antidote."

Adelinda's eyes widened with realization. She had been so set on getting Nott there and proving that his infatuation was a result of magic that she hadn't thought about who the potion would have been meant for. "Draco, Draco Malfoy," she said quickly. "If—if it was meant for him, he's been without its effects since then—"

"Love potions tend to linger in the system for quite some time after their effects have worn off," Madam Pomfrey interrupted as she scribbled out a note. "Do you know what class he is in right now?"

"Potions," she answered immediately. Her heart was hammering away in her chest; was it possible that Mrs. Malfoy had been right to be suspicious of Pansy?

"Take this—" Madam Pomfrey handed her the note, sealed by magic. "—and give it to Professor Slughorn. He'll have some things to give you; bring back the antidotes he'll have for you and Mr. Malfoy, as well."

Adelinda nodded and hurried from the office, setting her bag on the chair next to Nott's cot and giving the boy a chaste kiss on the cheek, at his request, before leaving. She made haste in getting to the potions classroom. Class had only just begun and heads turned to look at her as she walked in. The attention made her anxious but she strode up to Slughorn with her chin in the air, pretending it didn't. "Goodmorning, Professor," she greeted warmly. He looked at her curiously but returned the greeting.

"Goodmorning, dear, is everything all right?" his voice was hushed.

"I'm not sure. Madam Pomfrey asked me to give this to you." She handed him the parchment and upon touching Slughorn's skin, the note unfurled. She watched his eyebrows raise as he scanned through it.

"Ah, this is no good at all…give me just a moment, dearie, and I'll fetch what she has asked for and you may take leave with Mr. Malfoy." He turned towards the class. "All right, students, we'll be going straight into brewing today—leave your papers on my desk and fetch your supplies from my office, you know the drill!"

With a collective groan, her classmates began shuffling up to the desk to drop their papers and into the ingredient closet. She caught Ginny's eyes and nodded when she mouthed, 'are you okay?'

'Later,' she mouthed back, a promise to the girl that she would be the first to find out what was going on.

Draco had walked up as Slughorn retreated into his office, and she grabbed his arm as he passed. "Hey, wait," she said quietly. He stopped, looked down at her, an eyebrow cocked up.

"Yeah?"

Slughorn returned at that moment with a small pouch. "Take this back to Madam Pomfrey. Mr. Malfoy, go with Adelinda, please."

Confused but happy to be out of class, Draco shrug and followed her out of the classroom. When she caught Pansy watching them leave, she couldn't help but smile. "Adelinda, where are we going? What are you taking to Madam Pomfrey?"

She was too deep in her thoughts to feel anything or even respond to Draco; she kept thinking about Narcissa's letters and the weeks she had spent feeling like he had left because of something she had done, that it was her fault Draco had moved on to Pansy. After a moment he stopped and grabbed her arm. "Adelinda, what's going on?"

She tugged her arm from his grip. "The other night, when Nott choked? You remember that?" he nodded. "Well, I'm sure you remember Pansy throwing a tantrum when that girl gave him her tea to soothe his cough, and I'm sure you've noticed how enamored he has been with me since…"

"Yeah, it's sickening, actually."

Adelinda gave a bitter laugh and kept herself from saying 'how do you think I've felt lately?' "I'm going to ignore that. There was some sort of love potion in the tea he drank."

Draco stared at her. "What?"

"You heard me."

"So, why am I coming with you…"

"Put two and two together…_venga con me, _come on." She grabbed his hand and started pulling him along, only glancing back when she felt his fingers lace through hers. Her heart raced when he gave her hand a squeeze and though a part of her wanted to pull away, she didn't. She couldn't.

At least not until they reached the infirmary. "Malfoy, what are you doing with her?" Nott shot up in his cot.

"Relax, Nott, Madam Pomfrey needed me." It took everything in Draco not to draw his wand on the man he'd thought was a friend—or at the very least, an acquaintance. He knew that for certain love potions, when given accidentally or with no target for their affections, it amplified feelings that were already there; Nott certainly hadn't been meant to drink the potion, and he felt betrayed by his former friend. As morally corrupt as most Slytherins were, there were unwritten rules against going after a friend's girl.

"Ah, Mr. Malfoy! Adelinda, you brought the antidotes?" She nodded and handed Pomfrey the velvet pouch. "Mr. Malfoy, sit over there, please—" she gestured towards the empty cot beside Nott. "—Mr. Nott, I'm going to need you to drink this." She promptly handed Theodore a small vial, the contents of which were clear; he swallowed half of it down before gagging. Adelinda narrowed her eyes at a smirking Malfoy before looking at Nott again; Madam Pomfrey forced him to swallow the rest down.

He shuddered with the aftertaste of the potion and looked as though he might be sick, but the color began to return to his pale cheeks; he blinked rapidly before looking at Adelinda, eyes wide. "What the hell was that all about?"

She looked to Madam Pomfrey, at a loss for words. "Someone gave you a love potion, dear." When he looked to Adelinda for confirmation she nodded.

"I made a fool of myself," he groaned, throwing an arm over his face. Adelinda couldn't help but grin.

"_Si, _you did," she agreed, watching his cheeks flush. Draco watched them from his seat on the cot, jealous of the way they were interacting. He missed her dreadfully and wanted her to smile at him. Not his friend.

"I can't bear for you to look at me," he said, voice muffled by his arm, and she laughed.

"Oh, hush, you'll be fine," she assured him. "You've been given an antidote and everything will go back to normal now." When he moved his arm, he had a look in his dark eyes that suggested otherwise, a look too similar to the ones he had given her when under the potion's affects. "Ah…you should rest, okay?" she began to draw the curtains around his cot and he just watched her. She felt much better once she was out of his sight until she saw Madam Pomfrey performing the spell she had used on Nott, now on Draco.

Another positive.

"Two boys under love potions, tsk tsk," Madam Pomfrey shook her head. "Oh, Miss Parkinson is going to have one angry Headmaster to deal with."

Realization seemed to hit her all at once as Madam Pomfrey administered the antidote to Draco and retreated to her office to send a message to McGonagall. Draco could see it pass over her features; her eyebrows furrowed and the pulse in her neck quickened visibly, and she gripped the rails on the cot he sat on.

"I told you I didn't know what I was doing," Draco said quietly, softly, grey eyes boring holes into her own.

She stared at him, emotion flooding her chest and head. She felt like she was going to collapse under the weight of it all; her chest ached and her heart pounded. "Hey, hey, sit down-" Draco stood and made her sit on the cot. Her hands shook and she focused on breathing normally. She didn't want to have an anxiety attack, not then.

"_Per favore_, don't touch me," she said softly, drawing her robes tightly around her. She closed her eyes once he put his hands to his sides. "I have to go."

Before he could say anything, she hurried from the infirmary—fleeing seemed to have become a skill for Adelinda.

**I was pretty excited to get this chapter out, so there are probably a lot of typos in it-please forgive me for that! I hope you all enjoyed, please review :) **


	18. Chapter 18

Students pushed and shoved through the corridors, being led along by their Prefects. The Head students had gone ahead with the First years; they were all being herded quickly into the common rooms. A student was missing, a Slytherin third year, one of the only other Muggle born students in the house; she had gone to Hogsmeade and never returned.

"What do you think happened to her?" Penelope asked Adelinda in hushed tones. The Slytherins were the only ones not hurrying along; though it was one of their own who couldn't be found, no one appeared nervous.

"Maybe she ran off with someone, you know she was seeing a Muggle boy—an older one, too," she whispered the last bit; it wasn't common knowledge and Adelinda knew only because she had overheard a conversation not meant for her ears. She trusted Penelope not to tell. "That's what I hope happened, at least…"

"Yeah," Penelope agreed in a solemn voice. Everyone knew that when students went missing, it was not good.

"Her friends said she was there one minute and then she was gone," someone chimed in from behind them. The girls slowed to let the younger boy walk with them; he was short and thin, a Third Year transfer student who had quickly made friends with everyone in the house and seemed to know all the gossip. He wanted to be a journalist. "When they found her she was sitting along by the Shrieking Shack and told them she wasn't feeling well and would catch up."

The girls gave each other a look. Maybe she really had been waiting for her Muggle lover boy. "Why didn't they make her go to the infirmary?" Penelope said critically.

"Have you met that girl?" the younger boy said with a shake of his shaggy, unkempt hair; he was walking away and called over his shoulder, "you can't make her do anything!"

"He's right, you can't," Adelinda said. "I hope she's alright."

They had reached the entrance to the common rooms at that point and waited for everyone to file in before entering as well; she opened her mouth to say goodbye and Penelope gave her a harsh look. "Stay out here with me tonight," she said. "Stop hiding away in your room, girl, put on your big girl pants."

Adelinda gave her a nasty look. The two were quit mean to each other sometimes, but it worked; they kept each other in check. Penelope let her know when she was being a pansy, and Adelinda let Penelope know when she was being downright insufferable. She was happy to have found a good friend within the house of snakes. It wasn't as intimate as her friendship with Ginny, but just as important and just as meaningful. "Fine," she said heavily. It _was _still quite early—the moment the last student had finished eating supper, McGonagall had informed everyone of what had happened and sent them off to their common rooms, house by house, each group accompanied by a Head student or prefect and a professor. McGonagall had Hogwarts on lockdown and classes for the next day had been postponed until the missing student had been found. They were taking no chances. A rumor was spreading throughout the students that a group of aurors had flooed in from the Ministry of Magic to search Hogsmeade for the girl.

"Let's sit off in a corner somewhere, though—let me keep _some _of my antisocial tendencies," Adelinda said melodramatically, making Penelope laugh.

"Fine, you bloody hermit," she said, pulling her happily over to the corner normally reserved for Theodore; he wasn't there to claim it. He was nowhere in sight, actually, but that was all for the better; Adelinda had worked hard to avoid both he and Draco since she fled the hospital wing. She was afraid to face Draco for the conversations she knew would ensue and afraid to face Theodore and the feelings the love potion may have awakened. It was a cauldron full of uncomfortable situations and unpleasant emotion, sure to brew hurt feelings in some or all involved. "Want some sweets?" Penelope opened her bag and began pulling out handfuls of candy. The girl had a sweet tooth and Adelinda found herself eating more candy with Penelope than she ever had in her mouth.

In her lap she held an assortment of candies—sugar straws, pepper imps, pumpkin pasties, Bertie Bott's…Adelinda took a handful and began sucking on a sugar straw, pulling her legs into her chair beneath her. "You must have cleared out Honeydukes today," she commented. "I don't know how you haven't given yourself diabetes yet."

"Dia—what?" Penelope said through a mouthful of pepper imp. Her eyes were watering and a moment later she burped; fire came out and Adelinda ducked, smacking the girl on the leg as she choked with laughter.

"Bloody hell, don't burn my hair off!" Penelope gave her a cheeky smile in response. When her eyes flit over to the common room entrance Adelinda's followed; Draco had just walked in and their eyes met for a moment before she turned away, her heart hammering away in her chest. It happened every time she saw him. Butterflies, a pounding heart, this feeling so mixed she didn't know if it was dread or excitement in the pit of her stomach; she hated it and loved it and she didn't understand.

She had put a lot of thought into the man and their situation. While a very large part of her had such strong hope for the resurrection of their relationship that it felt like a need, the other small part hoped he didn't even try to speak to her; it would save her decisions and troubles. She wouldn't have to decide to forgive him, she wouldn't have to face anything; it was the easier way out and perhaps the one best for her emotional well-being, but her heart disagreed. She knew that he had been under a love potion but it didn't excuse what he had done with Pansy and his digging into her past; it didn't excuse the week long silent treatment and lack of an apology. Adelinda couldn't help but think that if that hadn't happened, Pansy never would have had the opportunity to slip him the potion.

But because of those things, she didn't know what she would say should he come to her and apologize, and every time she thought of it she thought of how she would look in the eyes of her peers. She would be _that _girl, the one who forgave a boy who had lied to her and disrespected her; would they care that he had been under the influence of a love potion? He already had a bad reputation with women in terms of commitment.

It was an inner battle that had no winning side. "Get out of your head and breath some fire," Penelope said, waving a hand in her face; when she opened her mouth to protest she popped a pepper imp past her lips. Adelinda bit into it and flinched, her cheeks getting hot and eyes watering. She glared at the giggling girl as she chewed, but as she swallowed and blew fire over her head they both burst into laughter, laughing harder when a younger girl nearby shot them a nasty look.

"First years," Penelope huffed.

"Shush," Adelinda scolded with a grin. She was one of the few people who could take her mind off of her love life so quickly and efficiently.

The two remained in the common room quite late; the general mood of the students had gone from curious and frightened to cheerful as the day's events faded, but when Slughorn slipped in to inform them that there would be no classes in the morning, the students became somber; they knew that meant she had no been found.

"Are there really aurors looking for her? Is she okay?" someone called out, one of the friends who had been with her.

"Yes, there are aurors—" he began, then seemed to cut himself off. Adelinda knew he had a habit of saying things he shouldn't. "I'm sure she's quit alright, everyone, we've just got procedures to follow—better safe than sorry, I always say. Goodnight to you all." As he left, he gave Adelinda a nod and a smile.

"Professor," she greeted, turning back to Penelope. "She couldn't have gone far, not with a Muggle boy—she can't even apparate…"

"I don't want to think about it," Penelope said with a long sigh. They took a moment, listened to the conversations go from lighthearted to serious. "I might call it a night, I don't really want to sit here and listen to everyone talk about her. It's freaking me out."

"Agreed." They sat for just a bit longer before tossing all the candy wrappers and walking to their respective rooms, saying goodnight. Adelinda locked her door behind herself and lit the lantern on her desk and nightstand, casting away any shadows.

An eerie feeling had filled her; it had truly hit her that there was a student missing and quite possibly in danger or already hurt. No one knew what had happened and the idea that she had run away with her boyfriend was far-fetched at best; no one was daft enough to bring a Muggle into Hogsmeade, _if _they could even find it. Not even a lovesick teenager. She sincerely hoped the girl was okay. Feeling a bit silly but unable to brush that feeling, she covered her small window with a pillowcase and set a spell to keep her lanterns lit. She had a handful of unopened letters sitting on her desk, ones she had simply forgotten about and ones she had purposely ignored; the latter were all from Mrs. Malfoy.

Adelinda changed from her uniform into silken drawstring pants, part of an emerald-colored set she had bought shortly after she and Draco began spending nights together, and a black pullover. After running a brush through her hair and running the tip of her wand over her face, clearing it of make up, she sat down on her unmade bed with letters, parchments, quills and pots of ink scattered before her. She had two from her parents, one from her mother and one from her father, which was unusual, but the content was the same; checking up on her, filling her into what they were doing, asking her how classes were going and telling her they missed her dearly. She replied with the usual sentiments and prepared the letter for her owl; she would take it to the owlery as soon as students were allowed to leave their common rooms.

It took a bit of effort to be able to move onto Mrs. Malfoy's letters; the first few were mostly the same. She asked her how Draco was, if she had found anything out about the relationship between he and Draco, and towards the end seemed to become a bit more empathic—stating that she understood how hard it must be for Adelinda to be doing this, but she greatly appreciated it and would return any favors she asked of her in the future. It was the last letter that was interesting.

_Adelinda, _

_Though I was a quite displeased with your lack of responses, all is forgiven, as you have done something I was afraid you could not do; you have proven that Pansy Parkinson truly did have a magical hold over my boy, for which I thank you profusely. She has been expelled, as I am sure you are aware of,, and taken into the Ministry's custody; she was walking a thin line after what she and her friends did to you in Hogsmeade and it seems she has crossed it with what she did to my son and Theodore Nott. I am not sure if you and Draco have spoken since he last wrote me, so I will fill you in on what is to happen now: there will be a trial soon at the Ministry, as Pansy is an adult, and you will be called to witness along with Mr. Nott, my son, and Madam Pomfrey. You will have to travel to London with the boys, where I will provide rooming for you; only the best for my son and the girl who helped him so greatly. The Ministry will likely owl your parents for permission to bring you to London, however, and you may want to write them first to fill them in if you have not already. _

_I am not sure what Miss Parkinson's sentencing will be, but she is sure to be found guilty and I trust that after all she has put you through, you will have no sympathy for her. _

_Now I know that it is not my business, and you know that I am no good at minding my own business anyway—_Adelinda couldn't help but smile at this—_but I want to speak to you of Draco on a more personal note. Please do not tell him I have told you any of what I am about to tell you or spoken of it at all; it is up to you entirely whether you tell him I put you up to revealing Miss Parkinson's wrong doings. _

_My son cares deeply for you, Adelinda, more than he has ever cared for anyone save his own parents; since being released from the effects of the potion, you are all he has written of. He misses you and expresses great remorse for what happened. Several times he has said that he wished he never had me look into your life; he thinks that Pansy never would have succeeded in dosing him had the two of you not been in a quarrel, though I disagree. I may not like the girl, but she is quite cunning when she wants to be. She would have torn the two of you apart one way or another._

_That said, he desperately wants to speak to you, and you have—quite understandably—avoided him at all costs. I understand, Miss Amaretto, I truly do. You have been hurt by the one you love. But I ask of you, for my son's sake, that you remember that all he did was done unwillingly; that the love potion made him feel and say and do things that he never would have done otherwise. Go easy on him, if you can find it in your heart to do so; if not, at least hear him out. _

_The best of luck to the both of you. I thank you again, and expect to see you soon; I cannot wait to meet you, regardless of what terms you and my son are on when that happens. _

_Affectionately, _

_Narcissa Malfoy _

The drastic change in tone did not go unnoticed by Adelinda; she had become grateful, understanding, even sweet. She had signed the letter _'affectionately'_ rather than the impersonal '_sincerely_.' She wondered if Mrs. Malfoy had done this to hit her soft side or if the sweet, thankful tones that came through the letter were genuine. Regardless, the letter made her think on things she had been avoiding. Knowing that Draco wrote of her and felt guilty for the things that had happened filled her with a sort of satisfaction.

"I am not doing this to myself right now," she muttered with a frustrated sigh, pushing everything aside. She wasn't sure she would respond to Mrs. Malfoy, but if she did, she would do it the next day.

She wrote another letter to her parents, instead, simply an addition to the other one; _it is late and I am tired, so forgive me for this brief, forward addition to my letter; two boys have been given love potions by the woman who hurt me at the beginning of the school year. I was the one to figure it out and get them help, and because she had already had issues, she is being charged. At some point, I will be leaving school to go to London as a witness against her. You should be getting a letter from the Ministry soon, and I'm sure Professor McGonagall will write you as well. Don't worry; I'm perfectly fine. I love you both. _

With her mind on other things, the strange feeling that had overtaken her earlier was gone, and she was able to cut the lights and snuggle into bed; she had run of Dreamless Sleep and took Drowsiness Draught instead.

'_Finally back again.' _

_Adelinda groaned; her body hurt, her head was pounding, and her wrists were on fire. She lifted her head and looked around, seeing the familiar setting of a room she hadn't visited in quite some time. Sheets covered everything but the chair she was bound to. When she looked to the side, she saw Ashley Rogers; the missing Third Year. She was half awake but not harmed in any visible way. _

_The woman from the shadows was standing before them, but her back was to them; she could see a colored steam rising from a cauldron. She was brewing something._

"_I don't want to be here." She was surprised when she could speak, but her voice came out quiet and hoarse. _

'_And you won't be here long.'_

_It was that hissing voice that haunted her in sleep and in waking hours, and she watched the snake slid up Ashley's legs. The girl became alert and started screaming, struggling to move, but she was bound as tightly as Adelinda was. The woman at the cauldron began cackling without ever turning to see what had happened. 'Silly girls, afraid of snakes…' _

_The snake bit into Katie's arm without warning and the girl began to scream and cry, looking over to Adelinda with desperation in her eyes. "Help me, help me," she cried out. Adelinda was frozen with terror. _

"_What are you doing to her? Leave her alone, she's only thirteen!" she finally shouted, finding her voice. When the snake slithered towards her she began to tremble, but made a big show of spitting on the ground, near the woman's feet. She wanted them to leave the girl alone, she wanted their attention on her and not Ashley, if only for a moment. _

"_You insolent little slag!" the woman shrieked as she whipped around, smacking her. Within seconds the dream was ending the way it always ended. Blinding pain went through her body and both girls began to scream. _

Adelinda woke with the familiar feelings the night terrors always gave her—her skin crawled and was painfully tender, her breathing was uneven, and her nightclothes stuck to her skin with cold sweat. "Shit," she breathed, running her hands back through her hair and pushing it from her face. She fumbled for her wand and lit every lantern in her room, her eyes flitting from shadow to shadow.

Ashley's disappearance had gotten to her more than she'd wanted to admit, it seemed, and she wasn't quite sure why.

She took a few moments to regain her composure and slow her breathing before getting out of bed and pulling a blanket from her chest, one her mother had knit her. She wrapped it around herself and left her room, wand in hand. She hated walking down the hall at night, hated that stretch between her bedroom and the common room, but she hated being alone in her bedroom after a bad dream more than anything else.

The fire was going strong in the common room and there were a few lanterns strewn about the room, still lit. They cast Draco's shadow across the room; he sat in his old spot by the fire, a bottle of Firewhisky and a shot glass sitting on the table in front of him. He still wore his uniform and his blond hair was unkempt, like he had been running his hands through it, over and over again.

She walked slowly to the couch and when he finally heard her footsteps he looked up. In the days since being given the antidote he had gotten some of his color back, but dark, hollow circles still sat beneath his eyes. "I can leave if you want," he said after a long moment, his fingers wrapping around the neck of the bottle in preparation to leave.

Adelinda settled into the corner of the couch furthest from him, gripping her quilt tightly around her shoulders. "No, you're okay," she said quietly, hesitantly, her eyes fixed on the fire. He nodded and settled back into his chair, pouring a shot. He didn't normally drink on school nights or without a reason, but she didn't say anything.

"What has you out here so late?" he asked after a long, quiet moment. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to straighten it. He had been slumped before he noticed her but had straightened his back and crossed his legs in his usual way, ankle on knee. His face showed the anxiousness that his posture did not.

"I had a bad dream," Adelinda said. They kept their voices hushed in the empty, quiet common room; the quiet was too peaceful to break.

"You still have those?"

"Yeah, sort of," she said with a sigh, chewing at her lip.

"Same one?" When she nodded, he glanced at the shot in his hand and then back to her. "You want one?" he asked, lifting it towards her. She finally looked over to him. He looked so worn down with his dark eyes and mussed up hair, his tie loose and shirt wrinkled—she wondered how she looked to him, if it was anything similar or if she looked fine.

Without answering, she slid closer on the couch and leaned over to him; when she took the glass from his hands their fingers brushed. Draco watched her take the shot and screw her face up in distaste. It was an improvement when compared to the way she had spit it out every time she had tasted it before. Adelinda could feel the muscles in her neck and shoulders tingling as they began to relax.

"How have you been?" Draco asked quietly as he took the shot glass from her and poured another shot, this one for himself.

"Ups and downs, you know." She had her good days and she had her bad days; looking back at the time spent without him, she could only see the bad. Maybe that was pessimism. Maybe she just needed to get a grip.

"Adelinda, I'm sorry." Draco spoke quietly, his voice rough; it didn't match the cold mask he was so skilled at mantaining. Her gaze slid from the fire to him as she clutched the blanket around herself like a security device and wished she wasn't sitting so close. "I tried to tell you I didn't know what I was doing. I tried." She just nodded. He had, but she had had no reason to believe him. How was she to know he really was under the influence of a love potion? "I don't know what to do here, Adelinda, I truly don't—I know it isn't fair to ask you to simply forgive me, but I never would have left you. I had no reason to. Even with how badly I messed up, going behind your back to find things out, we never would have fallen out…I would have given in and apologized and I never would have been with Pansy had she not given me that potion. Since the first time we kissed, you've been all I think about."

She had to look away. His steely façade had fallen away to show hurt and desperation—there was not a trace of that Malfoy indifference. It had been replaced by shoulders that sagged in defeat and the eyes of a man with no hope or happiness.

"You are the only thing I've gotten right in my life."

There were so many words, so many emotions in her mind. She wanted to hug him, kiss him, she wanted to tell him she would forgive him and they could be together again. She wanted to slap the smugness back into his face and curse him until she was breathless. Instead, she leaned forward and poured herself another shot. She swirled the liquor slowly, watched it splash against the sides of the glass. "Did you shag?"

His eyes widened. "What?"

"Did you shag?" Her eyes raised to rest on his. When he was silent, she knew the answer; she took a deep breath and downed the Firewhisky. She had always known they were sleeping together, but his confirmation was more painful than the rumors she didn't have to believe. She couldn't be angry, though. She wouldn't let herself be angry. He had had no choice.

"I'm trying so hard to think rationally here, Draco, _veramente,_ I know you weren't—yourself—but it hurts." She took a deep, shuddering breath. He was watching her intently. "Thinking about the two of you together, thinking about…I _know _none of what you did was up to you, not really, but if you saw the way you looked at that woman while she had you on that potion, you would understand."

It was his turn to be at a lack of words; he replied with a meek, "I know," and leaned over to take the shot glass from her.

They sat in silence for awhile, drinking together, going shot for shot. Her tense muscles relaxed and a few shots in, she couldn't remember why she had come into the common room in the first place; thoughts of the night terrors had faded completely in her mind.

"How did you figure it out?" Draco asked her, leaning forward. She had moved to the side closest to him to make sharing the liquor a bit easier; it was the closest she had been to him without wanting to hex him since they had broken up.

"When Theodore started professing his undying love for him, I knew something was up," she said with a sigh. "That night that he choked in the common room and drank the tea meant for you—it clicked a few days later and I took him to Pomfrey." He didn't miss the way her words slurred, as subtle as it was, or the way she spoke so deliberately; he denied her the next shot she asked for and held back a smirk when her lips turned down in a pout.

"He does have feelings for you, you know," Draco said after a long moment, staring at the bottle he held in his lap. "It's why the potion chose you as his subject of affection." One of his feet was propped against the coffee table and the hand that didn't hold the Firewhisky gripped the arm of his chair.

"Does he?" she made a poor attempt at playing dumb. When he gave her a knowing look she gave up. "I don't want to think about it."

"So you don't have feelings for him?" his gazed bored a hole into her.

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Not that it's any of your concern, but no. He's been a good friend to me—that is it."

"Hm." He wondered how they had come to be friends in the first place, but didn't ask. He wasn't sure he wanted to hear anymore about how his friend had gone after his girl. _You messed it up, she's not yours. _That same critical, self-deprecating voice had been in his head every waking moment since being given the love potion antidote. If he didn't know any better, he would have said he was depressed, but Malfoys didn't suffer from emotional disorders. They simply didn't.

She leaned her head back against the sofa and closed her eyes. She was glad he had denied her anymore alcohol-her head was spinning. "I told him I had to get over you…" Adelinda said, eyes still closed; the blanket covered her lap and her body was visibly relaxed. "I don't know why I told you that, but it feels important. I wanted to get over you." She couldn't see the pain on his face as she spoke. "He kissed me and all I could think about was you and I almost hated you for it, almost, not quite. Notttt quite. I don't think I can hate you."

"He kissed you? Was it before the potion?" that admission seemed to be all Draco had heard and it lit a flame in him, gave him someone to direct his rage at instead of at himself. "I'll kill the bloody bastard-"

She lifted her head to look at him. "No, you won't, you'll sit there and drink more," Adelinda stated in a matter-of-fact way. "You are in no place to do anything to him, no right to be angry. It's my fault he ever even became friends with me, you can't blame him."

"You approached him?" Draco asked, his smoldering eyes narrowing. She was tipsy and talking freely, but he was on his way to being in the state of mind she was now in. He scolded himself again for letting her drink, why had he done that? He shouldn't even have been drinking himself, but he had decided to indulge in his self-pity, something he rarely felt in the first place.

"Your mum…she wrote me a few weeks ago, y'know," she told him. She propped her elbow on the arm of the sofa and rested her cheek in her hand, looking over to him as she spoke. Her cheeks were flushed and her hair still messy from sleep and her green eyes were glossy with the affects of the alcohol. "She told me I could tell you so I will, she knew Pansy was doing something to you. I don't know how but she _knew." _

"Mother knows everything," he muttered with a grimace.

"Yes, she does," she agreed solemnly. "She wanted me to prove it. I needed help and I asked Nott, but after a little while I gave up, it seemed too—I don't know, hopeless-and we just became friends…but then I figured it out when he drank the tea meant for you, the tea with milk in it…he said you hated milk. Is that true?"

"Yes, Adelinda." He wondered if she would be speaking so willingly to him if not for the Firewhisky, but he would savor every moment; if he could get her back, they would get tipsy together more. They would speak on lighter things and he would enjoy every second.

It was a big if. And first he had an old friend to hex the hell out of before that happened.

Adelinda stood and walked very carefully around the table to sit in front of the fire, snuggling into the blanket. She was quiet now, just staring through the flames.

"You okay?" he asked, watching her. She glanced over her shoulder.

"Yeah. Thinkin'."

"Can I come sit with you?" his words were hesitant, and he wondered if he had pushed it too far when she was quiet, but she nodded without seeming to think about it. He set the whisky down and took a seat next to her, not too close; their knees were inches from each other. Silence again. "Is this weird for you?"

"No, not weird," she said quietly, pulling her knees to her chest. "It hurts a little when I think too hard on it. Thinking about you and Pansy gives me anxiety. I don't know. It's not that bad. Kind of nice, really." She was confusing him, but he wouldn't admit it.

"I'm sorry," he said after a long moment, watching the way chewed at her bottom lip to keep it from quivering. "Adelinda, I want you back. I would do anything to have you again."

She turned to look at him. The light from the fire danced over his pale skin in a beautiful, eerie way. It made her nostalgic for the days spent in the Room of Requirement, reading and kissing and talking by the fire. She missed the butterflies and new feeling of it all, those warm rushes of affection and her need to give it. "I don't know what to say." Her voice was small.

"I know, don't say anything," he took a deep breath. "I can't expect much. I know. But—I love you. Adelinda, I _need _you." Her eyes darted to his face. He looked sincere. It was the first time he had ever told her that he loved her.

"You won't mean that in the morning," she said, voice shaky. "You won't. You're just—you won't mean it."

"Yes, I will. I promise."

In her tipsiness her shock had quickly turned to anger, her face hot and flushed. It felt like all the blood in her body had rushed to her head. "You promised me a lot of things. You proved all the rumors right, all the worries of my friends, all the—I can't do this." She tried to push herself to her feet but her head was still spinning. "Bloody hell!"

He grabbed her hands and she cursed him for it as she was thrown off balance, falling back to her bum. In any other situation he would have found it humorous. "I wasn't myself, I had no clue what I was doing! You cannot blame me for what happened with that witch, I blame myself enough, goddammit."

"Let go, Draco," she said harshly, yanking one hand away to rub furiously at her eyes. "I don't want to do this, I don't want to deal with this right now."

"Then when? When? I am not giving up on you," he said in a low, determined voice. "You're the only thing I've gotten right and I refuse to let it end this way."

"You're the one who made it end!" she snapped, her voice wavering.

"And I'm sorry! Bloody hell, how many times must I say it?"

She just kept shaking her head, over and over again. She was making herself dizzy. When she said nothing he grabbed her shoulders and his lips crashed against hers. He had wanted to kiss her all night, claim her as his again, push Nott out of the picture and pull Adelinda back into his own. He did love her, and he did need her. She was his saving grace and he hadn't known he needed one before she came along.

Adelinda felt herself melting into the kiss and put two hands on his chest, shoving him away. "You can't just kiss me and make everything okay again, dammit!"

"How can I make you understand this, Adelinda? You won't even try to hear me out, you won't try to forgive me—_I never wanted Parkinson. _Why, of all people, would I chose her to ruin things with the only woman I've cared for? Why?"

"_Perche_? I don't know, Draco, why? I know that you weren't in control but I can't make myself forget how I felt the day I saw you kissing her, _che troia…_I thought it was _my _fault, _miniera. _That maybe I'd overreacted, maybe I had become too—too—_prepotente,_ too clingy? That those jealous girls had been right all along and I wasn't enough to keep the elusive Draco Malfoy interested." Her voice went from angry to bitter, raising and quieting with every emotion. "For so long, I felt like that and you think it is easy to throw those feelings away, convince a hurting heart it had no reason to feel such pain?"

She had pushed herself to her knees and sat facing him, gesturing with one hand, the other balled into a fist. "Every ounce of my being wants to forgive you but you say I will not try, no, that isn't it. That isn't it. You want me to be the girl who will forget her pain for a boy, who will readily make a fool of herself for love. No."

She was shaking her head, trying to push herself to her feet. Her face was hot and she had quickly become emotional. "You have to give me time," Adelinda said through a throaty voice. "Time to think. Time to rationalize, Merlin knows I can't now-"

He stared up at her, standing as she seemed to give up on doing so herself—he bent and took her hands, pulling her to her feet. "Go to bed, Adelinda. You need to sleep this off." His voice was unemotional and she looked at him, glossy eyes narrowed in scrutiny. She was angry again, furious that after her heartfelt words he would shut down in that usual way of his.

"Fine," she said sharply; Adelinda grabbed her blanket and her wand, stomping off on unsteady feet.

Draco watched the way she gripped the rail as she walked quickly up the stairs. When she was out of sight, he grabbed his bottle and took a burning swig of Firewhisky before storming to his room.

Adelinda woke up, stretched, and immediately groaned—her head was pounding. She sat up. She didn't quite remember the trip from the common room to her bedroom, but she had apparently fallen asleep atop her blankets and not under. Her hair stuck to her face and when she tried to run a hand through it her fingers only got caught in the knots. She grimaced and fumbled for her wand, finally locating it and casting a quick charm to detangle the mess. If only there were a spell she knew for headaches.

She pushed herself slowly to her feet, her entire body protesting; she needed water and food and a steaming shower. She rested her wand on her desk and opened her armoire, almost going for her school uniform when she remembered that there were no classes. She wondered if there was any news on the girl. She pulled on jeans and an oversized sweater, tying her hair back. It was as she walked out of her bedroom that she noticed a little tray next to her door. She knelt to pick it up and shut her door, sitting on her bed to inspect it. It was a familiar set up; a goblet full of juice and bread, fruit, meat and cheeses. There was a small vial, labeled 'for hangovers,' with a note attached that read _Like old times. –D.M... _

The corners of her lips began to turn up in a smile before Adelinda remembered the way she had so readily spilled her emotions the night before. Even drunk, Draco had—for the most part—remained composed and private, cold at the end of the conversation. It was how she knew she had struck something in him with her words, but she wondered exactly how she had made him feel, what he had been thinking as she spoke.

'Like old times.' He had reminded her of the way their relationship had begun, with him helping her after what Parkinson had done. He had reminded her of meeting in the Room of Requirement and bringing her lunch or dinner, or bringing her breakfast when she had missed it. He had always been looking out for her in little ways. She opened the vial and sniffed it, gagging. Hangover potion, a popular one at Hogwarts, had always smelled terrible—and tasted terrible, too—but it worked wonders as long as its user wasn't in such poor shape that they regurgitated it before it could get into the system. She forced it down and, after a few minutes, the pain in her head had dulled into an ache that could be fixed with Muggle medicine and her stomach had settled; she had her appetite and began to munch at some of the bread.

She didn't really want to leave her room. She was afraid of seeing Draco or Theodore or, even worse, both—but if she were being honest with herself she would admit there was a little bit of excitement when it came to possibly seeing Draco. She needed to bathe and brush her teeth, though, and so she gathered her things and made her way down to the women's bathroom once she had eaten her fill; she showered and dressed—back into the sweater and jeans-in front of one of the mirrors. There were more girls than usual because of cancelled classes and it was loud, not relaxing. Her still aching head disagreed with it. Once in her room again she cast a drying charm on her hair and swiped a bit of makeup onto her eyes, making herself appear half-human again. She slipped her shoes on and made her way towards the common room.

Once there she found Penelope and took a seat next to her. The common room was filled with students, some having taken to sitting on the floor atop the sofa pillows because there was no space on the chairs. "This noise is going to drive me insane," Adelinda groaned after greeting her friends, glaring at a particularly loud group of young boys.

"Someone must be a touch hung-over," Penelope whispered with an impish smile and a twinkle in her eye. Adelinda turned narrowed eyes to her, folding her arms over her chest. "A little birdie told me you were drinking with Malfoy last night."

"So what if I was?" she said indignantly, glancing around. She felt quite self-conscious after Penelope's comment.

"Relax, girl, I walked out late to use the loo and saw the two of you sitting with an open bottle of Firewhisky—I put two and two together, you know," she winked. "Did anything happen? I didn't know you were talking to him again."

"I'm not," she said quickly. "Wasn't. I don't know. We just drank and talked."

"Does he want you back?" the witch asked curiously, excitedly. "Not that I entirely agree with it, you know, but still." She gave a little nod. "Are you going to take him back?"

"I don't know yet," she said. "Let's talk about something else."

"As you wish," Penelope teased. Theodore chose that moment to walk down, dressed well as usual, his dark hair brushed but still messy. "We could talk about him."

"_Mio dio_, you are annoying today," Adelinda huffed, making the other girl smile. "Why do you hate me so?"

"Oh, come on, I don't hate you," Penelope assured her, slinging an arm around her shoulders. "Have you eaten? I'm sure you feel like rubbish."

"_Si,_ I ate," she said. "And yes, but not as poorly as I felt when I first woke up. Is there any news on Ashley?" She had followed Theodore's movements until he went towards the loo.

"No," Penelope said, her tone turning serious. "She still hasn't been found. Slughorn came by this morning to escort everyone to the Great Hall and back—you were probably still out cold, which makes me wonder who brought you food, but I won't ask—and told us."

She rolled her eyes at her comment about the food. "I hope she's alright," she said a bit absently, her mind going to the dream she had had.

"Me, too."

The rest of the day was spent lolling about in various parts of the dungeons. The two girls went back and forth between their respective bedrooms, got all of their assignments done in their boredom, spent an hour in the bathroom playing with charms and another hour gossiping in the common room amongst some of the others. There was still no news on the missing girl come dinnertime and the corridors were eerily quiet as the students were led to the Great Hall. Immediately upon entrance, students were directed to their house's respective tables and told to stay there. Adelinda quickly found Penelope. She hadn't sat at the Slytherin table in months.

"This is so strange," she said to the girl in a hushed town, glancing around at her housemates. A good amount sat with bored expressions, though some were chattering away like normal, other, more anxious students waiting for the speech McGonagall was sure to give soon.

"It feels so surreal…these things aren't supposed to happen anymore," Penelope said quietly, her face somber. "It's been a day, Adelinda. I don't think she's okay."

Adelinda's eyes found the girls that had been with Ashley the day before; they looked frightened, upset, but of course they did. Their best friend had been missing for twenty-four hours and they may have been able to prevent it; she thought of her dream again and wondered if it had been a sign, if perhaps through her Legilimency she had heard the girl reaching out…but no, that wasn't possible, was it? Perhaps it would have been if Ashley was in the castle, but Adelinda had no doubt that it had been searched head-to-toe both by foot and by spell. No student would go missing in their own school.

She remembered, though, the story of the Chamber of Secrets. She thought of the snake in her night terrors and her stomach churned.

A nudge in the arm from Penelope tore Adelinda from her morbid thoughts and she glanced to where her friend looked; Theodore had taken a seat at the table behind theirs and Draco had gotten up and sat close to him, positioned directly behind Adelinda. "What is going on?" she whispered to her friend, her eyes narrowing.

"Some sort of territorial thing, I suppose," Penelope whispered back, fiddling with the silverware before her. "Perhaps I wasn't the only one to walk out late last night."

Adelinda wondered if he or anyone else had walked out; perhaps seen them holding hands briefly when he helped her up, maybe even seen Draco kiss her—her stomach dropped at the idea of Theodore seeing that and she wasn't sure why. Guilt, perhaps, though she had nothing to feel guilty for.

The heavy doors closed one final time and as the Great Hall quieted without instruction, McGonagall began to speak, her voice loud and clear. "Good evening, students. I will begin by saying that Ashley has been located." There was a collective sigh of relief and excited noise began to pick up. "Hush, hush. She has been taken to St. Mungo's Hospital, but she is okay. I cannot go into any more detail." McGonagall was silent for a moment. "As I am sure you've all expected, there will be no more trips to Hogsmeade this school year, and for the time being you will all follow a slightly stricter set of rules. There will be no more wandering throughout the castle; you will come to the Great Halls for meals, you will go to close, and once classes are over you will go to the library or you will go to your respective common rooms. Think of these rules as simple precautions that I and all other professors expect each and every one of you to take."

She gave the students a moment; they looked around, some made faces, most were too busy thinking about Ashley to care about the 'rules.' "Classes will resume tomorrow. Please, enjoy your dinner and return to your common rooms." The headmaster took a seat and food appeared in everyone; as soon as she had finished speaking the Great Hall was filled with voices.

"She's okay!" Penelope said happily.

"Yeah," Adelinda said, forcing a smile. She couldn't get her earlier thoughts out of her head and she hadn't missed McGonagall's lack of an explanation for Ashley's temporary disappearance. "I'm sure her friends are relieved."

And they were. One had burst into tears upon hearing that her best friend was alive and (presumably) well and her friends were hugging her, all smiles. Everyone at the table was talking to them. "Well, now that that's over with…let's eat." Penelope dug in and Adelinda poked at her food, ever aware of the men at her back and the tension between them.

**_A/N: I suck at updating, I know. I hope everyone's holidays were wonderful, and I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I'm trying to get things rolling and I'm trying to strengthen Adelinda as a character, constructive criticism/tips are always welcome! _**


	19. Chapter 19

Adelinda was perched on her bed before her armoire, waving her wand to-and-fro as she packed her trunk for Muggle London. "What in Merlin's name do I wear to the Ministry?" she wondered aloud, eyeing the robes and dresses in her wardrobe. Mrs. Malfoy had written her just a few days prior to inform her of the trial date and give clear instructions on what attire the young witch should bring-a dress and shoes that were fit for an evening out to dinner, an appropriate Muggle outfit for the trial and robes to match, and warm clothing. She wrote of what Adelinda should bring for walking through the non-magical parts of London and the behaviors and 'odd sights' she may encounter as though Adelinda hadn't been reared in a Muggle community. She, Draco, his mother, and Theodore would be staying in the city for just under a school week to allow for any delays or problems during the trial. Unhappy with the rooming the Ministry would be providing—it was too 'drab,' she said, too common-Mrs. Malfoy had arranged for everyone to stay at a hotel close to the telephone booth they would use to get into the Ministry. After getting parents' and guardians' permission to do so, of course. Her parents would arrive the day before the trial and would be staying in the same hotel, despite her assurances that she was fine without them.

Her drunken talk with Draco had reminded her of the anger she harbored towards her parents for not telling her the truth about her birth mother, something she had forgotten in the events of the weeks passed; Adelinda had not yet made them aware that she knew. Their failure to teach her to control her magic early on and the way they had hidden her away from the magical community was the source of so many of her childhood traumas; terrible happenings that she now knew could have been avoided. A life could have been spared had they simply taught her what she was and kept her out of Muggle schools. She didn't want to pretend she wasn't angry with them and wasn't sure she could if she tried; she was conflicted, however, almost feeling guilty for her outrage. Her mother and father had taken her in when she had been given up by a bad woman trying to do right by escaping Voldemort's dictatorship, but it did not change the fact that they had kept her identity from her. The more she thought about it, the angrier she became. She didn't want to face it, but it seemed she would have no choice but to either confront them or stew in that vexation. It would eat her alive.

With a few lazy waves of her wand, the clothing she wanted to bring was neatly folded and in her trunk. She stood, packing away the rest of her essentials, which consisted of a cosmetic bag and all of her school things, her mother's blanket, her favorite robes, and a few vials of Dreamless Sleep that she had managed to brew; after Ashley had been found and deemed physically okay at St. Mungo's, the tightened security in Hogwarts had become lax again. Adelinda closed her trunk, shedding her school clothes and slipping into something that would help her blend into Muggle London, but also, hopefully, impress Narcissa Malfoy. The students would be going by Floo to the Ministry of Magic, where the elder Malfoy would be waiting.

She stood there, wondering what on earth she could wear to impress one of the richest witches there was, and also wondering why she felt the need to. It wasn't as though Adelinda was involved with her son anymore. _But you'd like to be, _a little voice told her.

After a few long, painful moments, she decided on a black, long-sleeved cotton dress that flared at the hips and fell just above her knees; a pair of charmed tights kept her legs warm and she slipped her feet into black heeled boots that laced up her calves. Not wanting to look too much like a Muggle, for Narcissa's sake, she pulled an emerald green, thick wool shawl over her head; it stopped above her waist and silver buttons closed the front of it. The shawls had always reminded her a bit of robes. Adelinda spotted something shining at the top of her armoire as she went to shut the doors and pulled it down; toying with the platinum bracelets that Draco had gotten her, she thought about wearing them. She wanted to. She hadn't been able to stop thinking about him since their night in the common room, and they _would _add a nice, expensive touch to the outfit she wanted to meet Narcissa Malfoy in. She immediately felt a bit guilty for thinking that, but slipped the shining jewelry onto her wrist anyway. She ran a brush through her hair one final time, clipping the front pieces away from her face with the silver and emerald hairpin she had worn to the Christmas dance; Adelinda wrapped a warm black scarf around her neck and wore gloves to match. "_Wingardium Leviosa_." Her trunk trailed behind her as she walked at a leisurely pace through the corridors to McGonagall's office, in no hurry at all to deal with what the next few days would bring.

The two men were waiting there for her, along with Slughorn, who would be accompanying them. He would be 'supervising' his students; Adelinda knew this would mean they could do what they pleased as long as they were not hurting themselves or others. He was a bad choice for a chaperone, she thought.

When she stepped into sight of the Slytherin men, Draco stood and greeted her; Adelinda was sure it was for Theodore's sake. She still had not spoken to the darker haired boy but in passing. "Hello, love."

She shot him a stern look and received a smirk in return; Adelinda knew what he was doing and knew that it was working when Theodore rose to his feet, his jaw set in controlled anger. "Hey, Adelinda."

"_Ciao_, Theodore," she greeted him warmly. She felt that as long as his feelings for her were not brought up, their friendship could be normal and comfortable.

"Now, you all know the rules," McGonagall spoke, breaking the tension. "You are not to leave the hotel without Professor Slughorn's permission. You are to be on time to the trial, dressed well, and representing your school properly; I expect that you will remain in your respective rooms and listen to what your elders tell you." She gave Malfoy a rather pointed look and Adelinda bit her lip to stifle her smile. "Your professors expect each assignment they've given you to be completed and handed in upon your return in a week." The elderly witch passed the bowl of Floo powder to Adelinda. "Miss Amoretto, why don't you let one of the boys take your trunk?"

Both men immediately stepped forward and looked at each other. McGonagall raised her eyebrows at her and Adelinda responded with a sheepish shrug of the shoulders. She lowered her trunk to the floor and tucked her wand into the inner pocket of her shawl before taking a handful of Floo powder and passing it to Theodore; she stepped into the fireplace and turned. "Enjoy your time away, Miss Amoretto."

Adelinda smiled at the headmaster before tossing down the silver powder and saying loudly, "Ministry of Magic!" She was engulfed by green flames and when they died down she stood in a whirlwind of dust; as it cleared, she spotted a tall, regal blonde woman, and her heart caught in her throat.

Narcissa Malfoy was painfully beautiful, even as she aged; she wore long, heavy black robes embroidered with shimmering golden thread, forming pretty, swirling shapes. Her hair, as white as Draco's, was pulled into a neat top knot, kept in place with gold netting; Adelinda had no doubt that the precious metal was real. Her skin was pale and unblemished, her blue eyes lined by soft grey shadow; her posture said wealth, confidence.

The young, nervous witch stepped out of the fireplace, brushing the dust from her dress as elegantly as she could manage. She pushed her shoulders back and lifted her chin; she did not want to appear small before Mrs. Malfoy. "You must be Adelinda," the woman said. Her voice was neither warm nor cold, just polite. Adelinda had expected something harsh, arrogant, perhaps.

"Yes," she said with a smile, only slightly forced, extending a hand after removing a glove. She had been terrified to meet Narcissa, in truth—she did not know what she would think of her or whether her opinion had changed at all since discovering her mother had been a Death Eater, and if it had, whether it be for better or worse. The older witch clasped her hand between her own; she wore several rings and her hand were small, fingers long and nails perfectly manicured. She was the kind of woman that could very easily make another insecure.

"It's wonderful to meet you." Narcissa's fingertips brushed the bracelets she wore. "Ah, these are the ones my Draco got you as a birthday gift, yes?"

Adelinda's cheeks flushed pink. She should have realized Narcissa would know what her son had bought her. "They are," she admitted, trying to maintain eye contact without fidgeting.

A knowing smile played around Narcissa's thin lips. "Hmm." Her gaze moved to the fireplace Adelinda had stepped out of and the younger witch turned as Theodore arrived holding both his and Adelinda's trunks; once he had stepped out of the fireplace he cast a levitating charm on them and joined the two witches.

A moment later, Draco came through the fireplace. Both men had worn dress shoes, black trousers and silken shirts, Draco's white and Theodore's a deep red. Draco wore a tie and Theodore did not. They would blend in well once they took off the robes. Adelinda wondered fleetingly how much time either boy had spent in the Muggle world; she would have no problem feeling at home, but it would be interesting to see how they adjusted over the next few days.

Narcissa welcomed Draco with open arms and he leaned down, hugging her and pressing a quick kiss to his mother's cheek. "Hello, my love," she said happily, and Adelinda watched her eyes brighten.

"Hello, mother," he said warmly. "I see you've met Adelinda, and of course, you remember Theodore Nott."

"Yes, yes. Hello, dear." She greeted Theodore with a smile; Adelinda suspected she was using niceties to make up for not acknowledging his presence earlier. Draco had become polite and civil to the Slytherin man once in the presence of his mother.

Last but not least, Slughorn came coughing through the Floo network; he greeted Narcissa with a grin and, though she didn't seem fond of him, she returned the greeting. "Well, children, Professor Slughorn, let us head to where we shall be staying. But first—" she inspected everyone's attire and with a flick of her wand in each direction had charmed the men's' robes; they appeared shortened and seemed to have buttons and tightened sleeves, looking much like long winter coats. Each trunk was shrunken, able to be held by a handle.

Narcissa peered at Adelinda's shawl and made a humming noise. "That is quite charming…" she charmed her own robe to look similar to her top, smiling. Adelinda couldn't help but be flattered and when she glanced back at the boys, Draco had a genuine, relieved smile on his face. It had to be a good sign.

The odd group made their way into Muggle London together, the students quiet and the adults making small talk as they walked through the hustle and bustle of the city. It had been unusually cold winter, and the cold had persisted into the beginning of spring; every Muggle they passed wore heavy coats, hats and scarves, and many carried umbrellas in case of rain.

It was a short walk to where they were staying; the hotel was enormous, mansion like, and each window was lined with white lights, illuminating it beautifully in the darkness of the evening sky. "How pretty," she commented; she had stayed in many hotels with her parents on trips, but never one like this.

"It is, isn't it?" Mrs. Malfoy agreed. The two women were heading the small group. They walked into the lobby; the floors were marble and two carpeted staircases led to the second floor. There were people lounging at the sofas and tables that were scattered around, some drinking spirits, most on their cell phones or talking to one another. The group got checked in and given room keys, and their luggage was taken by the concierge as he showed each of them to their rooms; each person had their own room, but they were all on the same floor, just a few doors down from one another. Adelinda had to keep from laughing when the elevator lurched and Slughorn jumped; Theodore had a slightly worried look on his face, and Draco just looked bored. She wondered just how much time he had spent in the Muggle world.

They were shown each room so they would know where each person was, and then left to their own devices; Adelinda was actually a bit excited. Her room was quite spacious, and the large window looked over the city. The king-sized bed was positioned in the middle against a black headboard, a night stand with a lamp and phone on one side, a black leather loveseat sitting caddy-corner on the other. A television sat atop the dresser across from the bed, and a peak inside the bathroom revealed a huge tub and assortment of Hotel toiletries, including the essentials and then some; it was a beautiful room. Further inspection showed a mini-fridge stocked with wines and liquors, but she knew better than to touch those unless she wanted to run Narcissa's bill up.

She opened her trunk and organized her things, turning the television on for a bit of background noise; it had only been twenty minutes before she heard a knocking at her door. "Who is it?" she called out as she unbuttoned her shawl, draping it over a chair.

"It's me, Nott."

Adelinda frowned, wondering what he was at her door for, but she pushed herself up and opened the door. "_Ciao_, what's up?" He looked a little sheepish and she raised her eyebrows at him.

"I don't know how to work any of the things in my room…and this bloody key won't work." He seemed embarrassed but she couldn't help but laugh.

"_Dai, _I'll show you." They walked to his room and she told him to try to unlock it; he was putting the key card in backwards and she corrected him. They left the door propped open. His trunk sat atop the bed, clothes laid out neatly across it; his room was set up and decorated similarly to hers. "This is a television, it's a Muggle device used to watch movies—ah, it's like pictures, but with sound, and they're long. Here, this is the remote; you use it to change the picture." She sat on the edge of the bed and patiently showed him, thinking nothing of the fact that he watched her so intently. She thought it quite endearing that he didn't know how to use Muggle technology. "Okay, there's that. Lamps. There's a little switch—" she tapped on it and showed him how to turn it. "—to turn it on and off. That's the telephone, but you shouldn't need to use that."

She pointed towards the mini-fridge. "That's a refrigerator, it keeps drinks and food cold; Mrs. Malfoy has to pay for each thing taken out of it, though, and it gets quite pricey, so I wouldn't touch any of it unless she says it's alright."

"The, ah, bathroom things all work the same…if anything has a cord, don't let water get on it. I think that's it, Nott."

He nodded. "Thanks. I'm a bit useless when it comes to Muggle things," he said with a crooked, embarrassed grin.

She shrugged and smiled at him. "That's all right, it'll be a fun experience for you."

"Mmm, I suppose," he said, taking a seat on the sofa. His eyes were on the television; it was some show meant for young children. "I think it'll be quite uncomfortable."

That comment made her nervous. "Why?" she asked hesitantly, hovering near the bed. She clasped her hands in front of her, playing with the bracelets on her wrist.

He was quiet for a second. "You're wearing his bracelets again," Theodore said softly, nodding towards the platinum jewelry. He had overheard Narcissa pointing them out and had a feeling she had done so on purpose; he had spent a lot of time around the woman as a child at dinner parties and knew her to be quite cunning.

"They're pretty," she said with a little shrug, perching on the edge of the bed again and fixing her eyes on the television.

"There's not really any hiding that I have feelings for you, y'know, after that bloody love potion," he said a bit bitterly. He took on a comfortable stance, but one she recognized from months of being with Draco as a defensive one. His posture said indifference, but his hard eyes did not. "Parkinson really mussed our lives up, huh?"

"_Si," _she agreed quietly, digging the toe of her boot into the carpet. "She seems to be good at that."

They were quiet for a moment. He stood, taking a seat next to her. "Do you love him?" he asked.

She looked at him, surprised by the question. "I—I don't know, Theodore. Why are we talking about this?"

"I've wanted to talk about this, but you've done a wonderful job of avoiding me, though." His eyes were hard. "You want to be with him."

She gave a little shake of her head. She was fidgeting with the bracelets, her eyes fixated on the emeralds, studying them as if she had never seen them before. "I don't know," Adelinda repeated.

"Hm." When she glanced over at him, his lips were set in a line, his jaw clenched and the muscle in his cheek popping. He was angry.

"_Cosa, _what? What reason could you have to be mad?" she asked, her irritation showing in her voice—he had known from the beginning she had always had feelings for Malfoy.

"I don't understand why you would even consider forgiving him."

"Not that it's any of your concern, but I haven't—" she pushed to her feet, folding her arms over her chest. "—and if I were to, perhaps it would be because he was not in the right state of mind. He was being dosed weekly with Amortentia, perhaps daily with it potions—and you know, he tried to tell me one time, and I didn't listen. When I came to you asking for your help, it was to bring out the truth, and you _knew _I still felt strongly for Draco…who, might I remind you, was your friend at one point."

He shook his head. "Draco Malfoy doesn't have friends, he has acquaintances."

She frowned at him. "Shame on you for saying that." She felt quite protective of Draco and she was becoming more and more irritated with Nott, though she was trying not to; she was trying to understand where he was coming from. He liked her, he had been forced by a potion to make a fool of himself with her; he was probably quite embarrassed and maybe that was why he seemed so bitter.

"It's true, and you know it."

"Says the boy who sits alone in the common room reading each evening," she said sharply. "Do you think there is even one Slytherin who has never been alone in their life? We're a lonely, haunted bunch, and you know it. Even those who were not there for the war."

He had no response. They were both quiet, and just as she made to leave the room, he spoke up. "Why won't you give it a chance?" He meant, 'why won't you give me a chance?' and she knew it.

"It wouldn't be fair to you," she told him, struggling to find the words. "Half of me in a relationship, the other half pining over another? Do you want that?"

"Did you not feel anything when I kissed you before?" he asked, his voice angry again. "You kissed me back, or were you simply lonely? Did you just want someone to snog so you wouldn't feel alone?"

"That is not fair," she said, voice hard. "You kissed me. _You _kissed _me_, Nott, and it is not my bloody fault you didn't get the reaction you wanted. You told me you understood that I still cared about Draco. You knew I was still getting over it."

"Yeah, well, it's taking an awfully long time," he said with a shake of his head. "He'll only hurt you again, and I won't be here when it happens."

"What, is your goal to make me feel insecure?" she said, her hands gesturing with every angry word. "To make me doubt myself and him? You realize even if you succeed in that it will not secure your place in my life."

"You've become as cold as him," he shot back, his eyes chilled. "He may have had an excuse this time, but he will hurt you, just as he has done every other girl. And you're just going to let him."

"I don't have the patience for this," she snapped; Adelinda turned on her heel to leave his room, shutting the door hard behind her and nearly smashing into the front of Draco as she made for her room.

"Bloody hell, girl," he said, grabbing her shoulders to keep her from losing her balance. "Where's the fire?"

"Let me go, Draco," she said with a tired sigh, looking up at him. He missed being so close to her; he missed the smell of her, that soft vanilla scent she always had, he missed the green of her eyes and the way her palms felt against his cheeks.

"That's not your room," he realized, glancing towards the door she had shut.

"Nope," she said simply; she was tired of explaining herself and didn't want to do it again. She peeled herself away from him but he grabbed her hand, his grip gentle. She could have torn away but she didn't.

"That's Nott's room," he stated slowly, his voice void of emotion. "Why were you in there?"

"I was showing him how to work the Muggle technology," she answered, not facing him. She felt him let go of her hand as a Muggle passed by.

"You left the room angry," Draco said. "Why?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Did he do something he shouldn't have?" his voice held an edge of anger now.

"Draco, I said I don't want to talk about it," she insisted, finally turning to look at him. She had her arms folded across her chest and she looked up at him defiantly.

"Fine." He glanced at the door again. "Are you…involved with him?"

She couldn't help but laugh at that. "For Merlin's sake, we're here in London for a bloody trial against a classmate for dosing the two of you with love potions, and all either of you boys can worry about is which I'm involved with—" she shook her head, giving him a critical look. "You could be spending time with your mother right now instead of worrying about my dreadfully nonexistent love life."

He couldn't help but smirk. "Well, she's busy getting things in order for the trial," Draco informed her. "Dreadfully nonexistent, you say?"

"Yes, and it will stay like that for the time being," she said as-a-matter-of-factly.

"Hm, is that so."

"_Si." _

"You're wearing the bracelets I gave you, Adelinda."

"Yes, well, they're very pretty, and they match my shawl…and my hairpin."

"You wear quite a bit of green, it brings out your eyes, but this is the first time I have seen you wear those bracelets since our…falling out." he raised an eyebrow at her. "Why is that?"

Her cheeks were pink and she narrowed her eyes at him. "I wanted to," she said. "Why the questions?"

"Why the blushing?" he shot back. She was vaguely aware that they still stood in front of Nott's room and he could likely hear the conversation.

"I'm going to my room," she told him, turning to walk briskly away.

"Dinner is in an hour," he called after her, smirking. She paused, and he answered her question before she spoke it. "I'll come get you, you'll likely get lost in this hotel."

She wanted to insist that she could find her way but instead returned to her room to freshen up, thinking on the two conversations; Draco had reverted back to his arrogant self, it seemed, but she knew him well enough to know it was likely a façade. She didn't know how he truly felt. He did, however, seem quite sure of her feelings for him, a fact that frustrated her; she would never master the art of hiding her emotions but she wanted to, badly. Theodore had taken on a personality she had never seen from him—angry, bitter, even. He almost seemed to feel entitled to her emotions and that made her angrier than anything Draco did or said; after the comments Nott had made, she didn't even want to see him. 'He'll only hurt you again.' She wondered if there was any truth to that statement.

She touched up her makeup and played a bit with the position of her silver hairpin. She had an hour to kill and hoped what she had worn would be appropriate for dinner with Mrs. Malfoy; she was quite sure it would be an uncomfortable event. When Draco came knocking at her door, she opened it and then walked back into the room, draping her shawl around her shoulders. She had no pockets to keep her wand in and did not want to go without it, so she would wear her shawl and keep it tucked into that.

He watched her walk about her room trying to find something. She hadn't set a word to him. "What are you looking for?" he asked her, leaning against the wall. He had thrown a black suit jacket over his shirt and slicked his hair back. It had gotten longer, and a few pieces fell free of the pomade's hold. He was too handsome to look at; she wanted to be angry with him still, she didn't want to fall back into their normal routines so easily.

"My handbag," she said, digging through her trunk.

He flicked his wand. "_Accio handbag." _A shuffling noise was heard and it flew out of the bottom of her luggage and into his hands. She frowned, and he smirked at her. "I'm not sure why you did not think of that yourself, but you're welcome."

"You're a prat," she huffed, walking over to him and plucking the bag from his hands. "_Grazie_."

"All ready?" he said, pushing away from the wall.

"Yeah." He offered his arm and she looked at him for a long moment before hesitantly taking it. She wasn't sure what she was doing with him, but it didn't matter; he led her down to the hotel's restaurant. It was large and lit by dim overhead lights. Each table was large and round, covered by white table cloths and place settings and flowers; a Muggle band played soft music on a small stage. There weren't many other people in the dining room and they quickly found their company. She fought the urge to yank her arm from his as she saw the look on Theodore's face. A part of her enjoyed it, after the way he had made her feel. She felt a bit guilty for that.

Draco pulled her chair out for her and she took a seat, smoothing the skirt of her dress out and slipping out of her shawl. He took the last remaining seat, which was between the two women; Adelinda was sandwiched between Draco and Theodore. _How pleasant_, she thought to herself.

"How do you like your rooms?" Narcissa inquired politely. A waiter walked over and took their drink orders; Adelinda took pity on Theodore and Slughorn when they were confused by the options of pop and ordered them both a cola.

"It's lovely," Adelinda told her sincerely. "This hotel is stunning, I've never seen one as grand as this."

"I'm glad you're enjoying it." Narcissa turned her blue eyes on Theodore, whose face and posture were neutral; his silence suggested a less neutral mood. "Is your room to your liking, Mr. Nott?"

"Yes, Mrs. Malfoy, thank you," he said politely with a nod. As appetizers and drinks were brought out each guest laid their cloth napkin across their lap. Slughorn engaged Theodore in conversation.

"As you know, the trial will be the day after tomorrow," Narcissa said after a few moments. "We will go to the Ministry an hour beforehand to get settled in and go over anything. I know I needn't ask that you all be dressed properly for it. I expect it to go smoothly." Adelinda wanted to ask what would happen to Parkinson, but did not. She wasn't sure she actually wanted to know and she certainly didn't want to dampen the mood. "Adelinda, your parents are arriving tomorrow, yes?"

Adelinda hadn't wanted to be reminded of that. "_Si, _they will be here in the afternoon."

"Ah, good, good. Perhaps us ladies could go out into the city," the witch said brightly.

"I would enjoy that, and I'm quite sure my mother would, as well," Adelinda said with a smile and a nod, not sure how she truly felt about the idea. An evening out with the mother she was angry at and the woman who had inadvertently caused that anger did not sound pleasant.

It wasn't long before their orders had been placed and their food arrived; they made polite conversation as they ate, and Adelinda found that conversation easy with Draco.

"Mrs. Malfoy, if I may excuse myself," Theodore said after awhile; a glance revealed he had finished only half his plate.

"Is everything okay, dear?" Narcissa asked, looking at him curiously. Her voice had a hint of coolness to it that suggested she may not like the boy; Adelinda wondered if she knew of his feelings for her.

"I'm a bit tired, that's all."

"Ah. Well, go get some rest; you have an eventful week ahead of you."

Theodore nodded and dismissed himself from the table. Adelinda knew that he simply didn't want to sit next to her and Draco and was unable to care. The further he was from her the better.

The four finished their meals. "A bottle of wine, please," Narcissa requested of the waiter when he returned to ask if they would like dessert. "You are of age, yes?" she asked Adelinda, who nodded. He came back shortly with what Adelinda recognized as a wine that was quite expensive and filled their glasses.

"Thank you," she said, waiting until the older witch had taken her first sip to do the same. They chatted over their drinks and when Narcissa noticed Adelinda yawning beneath her hand, she asked if she was tired. "Just a bit," she admitted.

"Draco, love, why don't you walk Adelinda to her room?" Mrs. Malfoy suggested. "You want to stay well-rested, dear."

"Thank you for dinner, Mrs. Malfoy," she said, standing and slipping her shawl around her shoulders. "Goodnight, Professor." Adelinda took Draco's offered arm once again.

As they left hearing range, Draco said, "You know what she's doing, right?"

"No, _cosa?" _

"Giving me an excuse to be alone with you."

Things almost felt normal, as if they weren't in Muggle London to attend the trial of the girl who had torn them apart. "Ah. Well, you don't seem to be complaining." She nudged his side.

"Why would I?" he asked simply, and she was quiet. He led her to her room and she slipped her key card from the same pocket her wand was in. "Goodnight, Adelinda." He seemed to hesitate, but leaned down and brushed his lips against her forehead, letting them linger, and she closed her eyes.

She was still conflicted, very conflicted, but there was a part of her that wanted strongly for him to stay. That part was bigger than the one telling her to keep him away. "Would you like to come in for a bit?" she asked tentatively. Her expression was reminiscent of the shyness at the beginning of their relationship and the barest hint of a smile played at his lips.

"I would love to." Draco took the key card from her and held the door open, closing and locking it behind them. "Always lock doors in hotels," he said simply when she gave him a look. She sat on the bed and began unlacing her shoes, turning the television on. Draco eyed the musicians in the music video that played. "Such odd devices."

Adelinda smiled at that. Her heart was pattering away; she was surprised to find herself nervous to be alone with him. "When I was little, I would fight with my parents over whether I could leave the television on while I slept. I loved it."

Draco joined her on the bed, sitting back against the headboard. When she had taken both boots off he patted the space beside him and she slid up to where he sat. Everything felt new, fresh-exciting. "You want a glass of—what is it, champagne? That bubbly stuff that Muggles love." He pushed himself up off the bed and retrieved two flutes from a cupboard, pulling a bottle from the mini-fridge.

"Won't your mother have to pay for it?" she questioned, watching as he poured two glasses. He handed her one and clinked the rim of his glass against hers before taking a sip.

"I'll take care of it," he assured her. He slipped his shoes off before pulling his feet up onto the bed, leaning back on his elbows, still holding his glass. He swirled the liquid around, looking at it and then over to her; she sat with her legs folded beneath her and her hair spilled forward, all but what was pinned to the side with the hairpin. Her cheeks were rosy and lips red and he realized she actually looked more rested than she had in months—there were no dark circles beneath her wide eyes and the whites of her eyes were clear. It seemed her weight loss had been continuous and he wanted to say something about it, ever the worrier when it came to that, but he didn't; it was never a good idea to comment on a woman's weight. "How have you been? Honestly."

"_Onestamente_?" He nodded. She had been looking down at her champagne flute, swirling it as Draco had been, watching the lights in the room hit the liquid, but her eyes rose to meet his and she gave a little smile. "I've been a mess, I suppose, but I've always been that. I don't know." Draco watched her take a sip of her champagne. "You know, I never used to drink…you're a bad influence." Her words were meant to be playful but they struck a chord in him.

"I'm just bad for you, period," he said with a little shrug. She wasn't sure what to say to that. "I wanted to apologize for upsetting you the other night." His pride had demanded he not apologize, but his pride had been what ruined them in the first place. He wanted her back, and if that took changing his arrogant ways, so be it. "Adelinda, I want to talk. I want to talk about us, what happened, what's going to happen."

She was silent, sliding up to lean against the pillows beside him. "_Bene…_but that means free speaking. Free speaking and trying to keep emotions in check..."

"On both parts?" Draco said, eyebrows raised, and when she gave him a look but nodded he agreed to it. They spoke of light things at first, drinking their champagne and talking as though nothing had gone wrong between the two; halfway through the large bottle the mood became more serious.

Adelinda hesitated before asking, "Why were you in the common room drinking that night?"

He opened his mouth to speak, closed it, and opened it again. "I don't know."

"Yes, you do. It is not like you to drink without reason for celebration or with a meal." She looked at him. "Truth, remember, that's what this is about."

He was quiet. "I missed you." Draco's eyes were fixed on the television as he spoke and she watched the way he chewed at his inner cheek while he thought about his responses, a habit she knew he had picked up from her. It made her heart ache, thinking of how close they had been. "I couldn't sleep. I was…angry. Angry with Parkinson, with myself for letting this happen. I never should have had my mother dig into your life like that, and I should have apologized."

"So you got drunk? Since when is that how you solve your problems?" She nudged his arm, trying to lighten the mood. "That's not the Draco Malfoy I know."

He just shrugged. "Things change, I suppose."

"_Si…" _She looked down at her glass before leaning over him to grab the bottle of champagne, refilling both hers and Draco's. His eyes lingered on the curve of her back when she leaned over.

"I want to know why you were in Nott's room earlier," he said suddenly, looking up at her.

"Nott doesn't understand that I can't give him a chance because I'm not over you," she said quietly. "Something I have told him since—since he told me he liked me—before the love potion. He won't accept that I don't have feelings for him. That's what we were talking about it, that's why I was angry when I left his room."

"What did he say to you?" Draco asked, pushing himself up.

She shook her head. "It doesn't matter."

"Perhaps, but I want to know." He was sitting up, looking down at her now instead of up.

She glanced to him. "He tried to turn things around on me—as if I was the one who had kissed him. You would think I had led him on, but no."

"That's all he said?" Draco asked, refusing to believe that could upset her so.

Adelinda hesitated. "He said you're just going to hurt me again." She wasn't looking at him now.

"You believe him." His jaw was set in anger, his eyes hard. "I'll kill that bloody bastard—" he had pushed to his feet and she pushed to her knees, grabbing his arm with both hands.

"No, neither of us needs any more trouble," she insisted. When he pulled his arm away from her and began putting his shoes on, she said loudly, "Draco, stop!"

He turned to look at her, his eyes dark and glazed. "He can't believe that it is okay to try and make you his; or that it's okay to say those things—"

"I don't care about it," she insisted.

"But I do. I do! I've lost enough, I can't lose you, and if I do it won't be because of something fucking Theodore Nott said." His strong language took her aback. "You're my girl, mine."

"I am no one's," she insisted in a hard voice, sliding to the edge of the bed so that she was eye level with him. "But I will not be his."

He looked at her, his eyes smoldering. He had one shoe on and the other in his hand. "If you were to be someone's—" he paused, watching her reaction. Her chin was turned up towards him and her eyes were on his, her heart pounding in her chest. "—whose would you be?"

She stared up at him before sitting on her knees, still looking at him. "I—I don't know, Draco," she said softly. "I—care about you still. You know I want to be with you, but…"

"But what?" he took a step closer, dropping his shoe.

"But all those things with Pansy are still fresh in my head, and I'm trying so hard to understand—" she swallowed, looking down and back up, trying to find the words to explain how she felt. "—I'm trying to understand, but it hurts, and my head is conflicted."

"But your heart is not?" he asked, his eyes searching hers. She hesitated before shaking her head, looking down; he cupped her chin in his hand and lifted her face.

"Did you mean what you said that night?" Adelinda asked him, her voice wavering.

"That I love you?" his hand slid to hold her cheek, his thumb moving in familiar circles on her skin. "Yes."

She closed her eyes, the words replaying in her mind. "You're going to be meeting my parents for the first time tomorrow, and we aren't even together," she said softly, leaning into his touch.

"We could be," he said, and she looked at him. "I know you're hesitant, but Adelinda, I promise nothing like this will ever happen again—and think of how angry Pansy will be when we walk in arm-in-arm." She couldn't help but smile at that.

"She would be furious," she agreed with a soft laugh.

"You know, you haven't said how you feel about me," he pointed out, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear.

"You know how I feel about you," she said quietly. "You sent out my letter."

"I love you, Adelinda, do you love me?" he had read it in the letter she had written to her parents the night of their final fight which he had, indeed, sent for her; he wanted to hear her say it, he wanted that confirmation. He needed it.

She opened her lips but did not speak for a second and he found himself nervous. "Yes," she said quietly, her own voice as nervous as Draco felt. "Yes, I love you."

He lowered his face to her, kissing her softly; she responded without hesitation, and when he began to push her back she slid her arms around his neck. He rested her against the bed, tall enough to lean over her with his feet still on the ground. After a moment he rested his forehead against hers, his arms on the bed to support him. "I've missed this," he said quietly, voice rough. "So bloody much."

She nodded in agreement, her cheeks pink. "I didn't think this would happen," she admitted. "I thought we were done with, even after the antidote—but things have felt so…normal with you today."

"My feelings for you never changed, Adelinda," Draco told her, kissing her nose, her forehead, her cheeks. "Only my control over them." Her eyes were tearing up and she couldn't pinpoint why; she was a whirlwind of emotions—incredibly happy but nervous, sad for the time they had lost and what both she and Draco had been put through at the hands of a bitter witch, angry. She had come to terms with the fact that Draco had not been in control of himself, at least for the most part, and did her best not to place blame on him. It was a terrible thing, what Parkinson had done to him. "Hey, what's wrong?" his eyes were worried. He sat on the bed beside her and pulled her up. "Why the teary eyes?"

She just shook her head and let him pull her close. "Nothing, I'm okay," she assured him, nestling her face into his neck and breathing in the smell of him. "I'm okay. This feels so—"

When she hesitated he looked down at her and she met his eyes; they were bloodshot and tired, like he hadn't sleep in weeks. There were dark circles beneath them. He looked exhausted. "Feels so what?" he said. He couldn't help but worry that she would suddenly change her mind, not want him; he felt filthy after being with Pansy for so long and he had never felt that way after being with a woman. He felt violated in ways he had never felt before and he worried that Adelinda would reject him after all.

It was worse because he had been tricked by the love potion into enjoying everything with Pansy; it wasn't until after that he had been smothered by disgust and self-loathing.

"Natural," she finally said, looking up and seeing the anxiousness in his grey eyes. She was surprised to see it there. "What?"

Draco didn't answer, only took her face in his hands and kissed her deeply. She felt the urgency behind his lips and reacted to it, her fingers tangling into his hair and ruining the smoothness of it; he rolled over her so that she was on the bed and he was above her, his body pressed into hers. His hands slid along her legs to grip the bottoms of her thighs, pulling her legs around him; she tightened them and kissed back with a fierceness that told her she had missed him more than she'd realized.

He ran his tongue along her jaw and kissed down to her neck, nibbling at the skin and making her shudder before running his tongue and teeth along every part of exposed neck and chest; she pushed up into his chest and she felt his fingers digging into the flesh of her thighs. Both of their minds were cloudy with Muggle alcohols and neither seemed capable of thinking, only feeling. When his fingers slid just beneath the waist of her tights she didn't protest and he continued to sit up and slide the tights slowly from her legs, his fingers running along her skin as he exposed it. His eyes never left her face and he reveled in the way hers shone as they followed the movements of his hands until she tangled her fingers into his shirt and pulled herself up, kissing him again. "Bloody hell, I missed you," he spoke during the few seconds that they were apart. When her fingers began loosening his tie he undid the buttons of his shirt; she was gripping his tie, using it to pull him closer to her. The only time he had felt such ferocity in her was the night of the ball.

Adelinda didn't know what it was that she wanted from him, exactly, just that she wanted him close to her—she felt like she _needed _him close, like some part of her had locked itself away and had been awoken at his touch and couldn't settle. Suddenly that touch was between her thighs and she was moaning into his lips, body bowing against his, and he was smirking down at her—but his eyes were filled with as much desire as her own were and when her lips moved to his neck, biting and suckling the flesh there, he couldn't keep that desire to himself.

And then they were working together to undo the buttons on his trousers, something her trembling hands couldn't manage, and her legs were around his waist and he was pushing into her with a roughness she'd never felt before. He had always been gentle with her; he had treated her like a prized possession in bed, something he wanted to enjoy thoroughly without breaking. Her nails dug into his skin and they were kissing and gripping each other, noises slipping from her lips with each push of his hips. He paused for only a second to shove her dress further up, his hands gripping her waist and holding her against the bed.

The way her hands tangled into the pillows behind him and her back arched upwards, the expressions that danced across her face as he sent pleasure rippling through her body, brought his own pleasure and he collapsed against her. They were silent except for their heavy breathing and his face was pressed into her neck. He felt her hand rest on the back of his head, her other hand still half-tangled into the pillowcase. After a few moments he pushed himself up.

She stared up at him with glossy eyes, her hand resting at the back of his neck now. She had half-expected to feel regret, perhaps fear or insecurities, but there was nothing but an overwhelming warmth and affection and the afterglow of sex.

"I love you," he told her warmly, leaning his forehead against hers and kissing her. He kissed all over her face in a show of affection. "I love you so much."

"I love you, too," she said, her voice little more than a murmur. Her head was spinning but she felt good. "I'm tired."

"Let's get cleaned up and we can go to sleep, if you want," he murmured, slowly pushing up from the bed. They took their respective turns in the bathroom and tidied up.

"Do I know where I stand with you, then?" Draco asked her from his seat on the bed. He wore his black trousers and his white undershirt, and his hair was mussed up from her fingers running through it.

She looked at him incredulously as she stepped out of the bathroom, dress straightened. "Do you really feel the need to ask that?" she teased, the playful tone hiding the anxiousness that was creeping into her mind.

"No, no, I guess not."

They cuddled for awhile, talked and said sweet things and drank a little more, but after awhile fell into a deep, alcohol-affected sleep. When they were woken in the morning, it was by the sound of Adelinda's parents knocking on the hotel room door.


	20. Chapter 20

Draco groaned and rolled onto his back. There was some loud noise that sounded far-away but was rather bothersome—it was just loud enough to slowly wake him. When he opened his eyes, he saw Adelinda. She was peeking out the peephole in the hotel door. "Bloody hell!" She turned to him, the blanket she had tugged from him wrapped around her body; her face was pink with sleep and her hair sticking up all over the place and in his tired haze all he could think was that she looked quite cute when she woke up frazzled. "Draco, get up, my parents are here." The word 'parents' was enough to make him sit up immediately. He was shirtless, wearing only his knickers. They'd had a good night, it seemed; there were two champagne bottles on the nightstand, one empty and the other half-full. "Give me a few minutes, _Mamma_! I need to dress," she called out through the door. Draco heard a soft, thickly accented voice say happily, _"_Take your time, _tesoro."_

"I need to dress—you need to get dressed, and we need to get rid of those—" she gestured towards the bottles on the bedside table. "—and then we must do something with you—" her voice was hushed. She was fumbling through the closet she had hung her outfits in and quickly yanked on a pair of jeans and a sweater. She could change into something more Mrs. Malfoy-appropriate later. A quick charm tidied her hair and cleared her face of makeup and a scarf hid the marks on her neck—she would have to figure out a charm for those or perhaps cover them with makeup, and perhaps give Draco a verbal lashing for leaving them there, but for now she needed something fast. "Up, up, Draco!" she pressed a kiss to his lips and he blinked at her, stretching the sleep away and getting up.

"I didn't realize they were coming so early," he said to her quietly, pulling his trousers and shirt on, missing several buttons. He grabbed the bottles of champagne, putting the half-full one in the back of the mini-fridge and the empty bottle into the rubbish bin. As long as her parents did not come into her room and look through her rubbish, they would be fine. He wanted to say 'you're of age, why does it matter?' but knew it would only earn him an annoyed look.

"Neither did I," Adelinda said with a huff.

"How am I going to get out of here?" he asked in a strained voice, glancing around. She looked at him incredulously.

"Apparate, _si ragazzo sciocco,_ my parents cannot meet you for the first time in my bedroom, half-dressed and in such a disheveled state," she said. He scowled at her and watched the way her lips turned up in a smile, even as she tried to keep a straight face.

"I'll see you later," he said, pulling her close for a moment. Disregarding each other's morning breath, they kissed, a little hesitant at first on Adelinda's side, but she quickly relaxed into it and wrapped her arms around him.

"Yes," she said softly. "I suppose I'll be introducing you to my parents as my boyfriend, then..." it was said as an uncertain question.

"Yes," he told her firmly. "You will be." There was a quiet popping noise and he was gone. She glanced around and spotted his tie and shoes.

"Bloody hell, Draco," she muttered, but she was smiling as she shoved the evidence of his presence under her bed.

She hadn't had any time to prepare for her parents' presence and didn't even think about the anger she still felt towards both of them; she was too caught up in the panic she had felt upon realizing she needed to get her room and appearance straightened and Draco back into his own bed. There they were, though, waiting patiently in the hall; she wondered where their room was. Adelinda took a deep breath and opened the door, smiling at them when they looked over. Her mother gathered her up into a hug. "Oh, love," she gushed, grabbing the girl's face and inspecting her. "You look thin, are they not feeding you well at that school? Have you been sleeping well? No illnesses?"

Her father cut in with a deep laugh. "Relax, my dear, she is growing and fine; you thinned out too, at that age, I've seen the pictures." He winked at Adelinda while her mother wasn't looking and the young girl smiled a little.

"I can't help but worry," her mother said with a shrug, kissing her daughter on the forehead before letting her father in for a hug.

"She's been worrying ever since she found out about the trial," Adelinda's father whispered into her ear and she nodded as if t o say, 'I know.'

"Have you gotten into your room yet?" Adelinda asked them, slipping her hands into the pockets of her sweater.

"No, not yet." Their luggage sat against the wall and he had their keycard in his hand, she saw now. "It's right down there." He gestured a few doors down.

"Mrs. Malfoy was saying something yesterday about meeting in the dining room for breakfast, if we were all up," she said. "At eight—thirty minutes, then? Would you like to go?"

"Sure, dear," her mother said warmly, and Adelinda realized she had never told either of her parents who "the boy she was involved with" was, or that he was involved in the trial. It was going to be an interesting day.

"I need to shower and change into something more appropriate; why don't you go get settled in and perhaps freshened up, and we can go together," Adelinda suggested. They agreed and off they went to their room; she let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding and retreated into her own room. She bathed quickly and dressed in something she felt more comfortable being around Narcissa in, a knee-length long-sleeved dress similar to the one she had worn the day before but in a cream color. She wore charmed tights and the same black boots from before, as well, and kept the scarf around her neck, coating her lashes in mascara and drying her hair. After pulling a black cardigan over the dress and tucking her wand into the inner pocket designed specifically for it, Adelinda left her room to see her parents leaving theirs. She listened to her mother worry over her weight and her father talk about the local fairs the entire way down to the dining room where the continental breakfast had been set out. They spotted Mrs. Malfoy and Draco sitting at a table and made their way over; Draco had showered and his hair was slicked back again. He wore a grey button up tucked into black trousers, a black tie done loosely, casually, around his neck. When he saw them he stood and she was relieved to see that he would be on his most gentlemanly behavior for her parents; she shouldn't have expected anything less. She wondered briefly if Slughorn and Nott hadn't been invited or if they simply hadn't come; either way, she was grateful for their absence. Introductions would be easier.

"_Mamma, Padre, _this is Mrs. Malfoy," she said, gesturing between those she introduced. Mrs. Malfoy stood now as well, shaking her mother and father's hands; they exchanged pleasant words and the attention was then put onto Draco. "This is her son, and the boy I told you about, Draco Malfoy."

"Ah, so your boyfriend?" her mother said, doing well to hide the surprise in her face but letting a mischievous twinkle shine in her eyes. Her father looked completely unemotional. She wondered if her mother had told him that their only daughter had a man in her life.

"_Si," _she said nervously, sneaking a glance at Mrs. Malfoy; she was smiling smugly as if she had known they would be back together, but that meant she was okay with it, and that gave Adelinda a bit of relief.

Ms. Amoretto stepped forward, taking Draco's outstretched hands in both of hers. "It's so lovely to meet you, _caro," _the woman said warmly, kissing him on both cheeks; Adelinda knew the informal greeting meant she was okay with her choice in Draco, and also knew it to be a show of support to quell whatever negativity her father now felt upon finding out her boyfriend was a Malfoy, son of a Death Eater, and several years older than her. She was quite sure she would get a talk from him later but didn't care. Draco gave the elder witch a dazzling smile.

"I'm very happy to meet you, Ms. Amoretto," he said politely, turning towards her father. He extended his hand with a respectful nod to Mr. Amoretto. "Sir."

"It's nice to meet you, young man," her father said, shaking his hand more firmly than was necessary. Draco seemed unbothered by it and kept smiling.

"The pleasure is all mine," he said in a voice that sounded sincere. "I hope your room is to your liking?" It was an echo of the polite small-talk his mother had engaged them in the night before.

"Yes, wonderful, actually," her mother butt in; Adelinda's father simply nodded in agreement.

"I'm sure you are quite hungry; let us fix our plates and sit and talk," Narcissa suggested, gesturing towards the food. Adelinda made sure to pile her plate full with sausage, fruits, grilled mushrooms, and toast; she didn't want to hear about her weight, especially not in front of Mrs. Malfoy and Draco. Her aching head needed the food, anyway.

They sat and talked, making plans for the day; it was decided that Adelinda, her mother, and Mrs. Malfoy would go into the town to shop and discuss the trial over lunch. While the women were out, the men—this apparently included Theodore and Slughorn—would go into the town for coffee and their own discussions of the trial which would be happening the next day. Adelinda was a bit apprehensive about her father being practically alone with both Draco _and _Theodore, but there wasn't much to be done about it.

"Well, ladies, shall we get going?" her mother said happily, much too awake for nine thirty in the morning. Everyone had eaten as much as they were going to.

"Certainly," Narcissa said. Draco and Adelinda glanced at each other; she wondered if he was feeling nervous about the day out with her father. Everyone stood and as her parents kissed good-bye, Draco walked over and pressed a chaste kiss to her cheek.

"Enjoy yourself," he said firmly, seeming almost certain that she wouldn't. He was probably right.

"I'll try," she murmured to him in response and he gave her a little nudge towards their mothers.

Their day was spent walking through various Muggle shops; the way the two witches talked, it was as though Adelinda was a third wheel. She didn't really mind, but the lack of conversation involving her let her think about things she didn't want to think of—the trial, her parents dishonesty, what Theodore's reaction would be to finding out she and Draco were back together. She knew she shouldn't care but she did.

By the time they found a small café to sit down in, each women had several shopping bags in hand. It felt a bit odd to Adelinda to be treating the time out of school as a vacation, but as her mother said, "We should let something good come out of this, _si_?"

They sat down and ordered tea. When their server returned with it they placed their food orders and began to talk. Adelinda held her cup between her hands, savoring the warmth of it. She wished the unusually cold weather would ease up. "Shall we talk about the trial?" Narcissa prompted, and both witches looked to her.

She was in the middle of sipping her tea so she simply turned her eyes up towards Narcissa and nodded. She felt like she was being cornered; the two older witches had sat on one side of the table with her on the other. She knew that this conversation would be uncomfortable.

"I do have a few questions—" her mother began, looking over to Adelinda. Perhaps it was because this was the longest amount of time they had spent apart, but she had noticed changes in her mother; there were lines forming in her skin where there had been none before and her dark hair was littered with gray and white strands. She looked worn-out. She wondered if there was something going on that she hadn't been told of. _It certainly wouldn't be the first time, _she thought bitterly. "—now, you simply told me there was a trial with the girl, Pansy Parkinson, was it?" Both she and Narcissa nodded. "You told me she had given two boys love potions. How were you involved in this?" Her voice was hushed to keep their talk out of Muggle ears.

Narcissa looked to her, realizing the young witch hadn't given her parents the full story. Adelinda sighed, sipping her tea again to stall. "One of the boys was Draco," she said slowly, looking down at her tea, suddenly becoming quite interested in the tea leaves at the bottom of the purple mug. "And the other was Theodore Nott, who you will meet at some point today, I'm sure."

"Draco—your boyfriend—and your son?" the latter part was, of course, directed to Narcissa. Her mother looked quite shocked. "You said this went on for—"

"A month and a half or so, yes," she said quietly. "Obviously, Draco and I were not together during that time."

"Why did she do this?" her mother asked, reaching out to put a hand on Adelinda's. She had had no idea her daughter was going through such things.

This time, Narcissa answered. "Miss Parkinson and my son were involved, years ago," she began to explain. "It was nothing serious, but the girl never got over her feelings for him, and her parents were always pushing her to gain his interest again. I believe after what happened at the beginning of the year, when our children became involved with one another, her jealousy spiraled out of control."

Adelinda just gave a little shrug when her mother looked back to her. "_Questo e terribli_," her mother said softly. "I am sorry, my love."

"It's over now," she said, her voice a bit bland. "Or it will be soon, at least."

"_Si," _her mother agreed, then turned to Narcissa; she could tell her daughter did not want to speak of it, but she still had questions. "How did this other boy, Theodore, become involved?"

Adelinda and Narcissa's eyes met for just a second before their expressions went back to normal. Ms. Amoretto didn't catch it. "Adelinda and Theodore are friends; they were in the common room one night, I believe—" Adelinda nodded. "—and he choked on a sweet, and someone handed the tea Miss Parkinson had made for Draco to him."

"Ah, so he began to pine after this girl, too," Ms. Amoretto said, thinking.

"No, actually," Narcissa began slowly, glancing towards Adelinda.

"Who, then—my daughter?" she asked, eyebrows raised. When Adelinda began to squirm in her seat she smiled. "It is a good thing we did not have this conversation with your father present—first he must come to terms with you having a boyfriend, then this?" she laughed and Narcissa chuckled with her. Adelinda was not amused but instead of showing it, gave a little smile.

To change the topic, she turned to Mrs. Malfoy and asked, "What will happen to Parkinson?"

"Likely Azkaban," Mrs. Malfoy said quietly. "Her family committed crimes during the war, as you likely know; they paid the price for their involvement, just as mine did, but they never let go of their prejudice and that is also well known. Especially throughout the ministry. Between that, what happened at the beginning of the school year, and now this, there will likely be no sympathy for her."

Adelinda felt a twinge of something indescribable. Pity, perhaps? If Pansy was sent to Azkaban, she would be miserable—though the Dementors were no longer present at the prison, there were still signs of them that had lingered behind; those who had gone mad in their presence, the graveyards holding their victims…she had heard, also, that the prison did not cater to women's individual needs. She chastised herself to stop feeling bad for the woman; she was a terrible person and had done her wrong on many occasions now.

"I've been wondering, why am I required—there are usually no witnesses at trials, correct?" Adelinda finally spoke up, but did not wait for an answer. "I understand Draco and Nott being at the trial because they were the ones who took the potion without realizing it, but I thought traditionally, the accused person simply went before the members of the Wizengamot—sometimes not even that, sometimes they just appear before one person—and were given a chance to defend themselves."

"After the war ended, the Ministry, as if to set an example or perhaps make a point, began to slowly incorporate Muggle ways and laws into their own practices," Narcissa began to explain, Adelinda's mother nodding as she spoke. "Now, in more serious cases or ones where it is not the first offense, you will appear before the members; the 'defendant' can bring witnesses. It used to be that the person they wronged did not have to appear, but now they do, and those people can bring witnesses as well. Both sides are heard as well as the witness' stories and then a decision is made in private."

Adelinda sipped at her tea. Their food had arrived and they all went into an uncomfortable silence as their server set their plates in front of them. She had asked all she wanted to know and ate slowly to spare herself from more conversation. Her head still ached from the champagne and the wine and the lack of sleep; she and Draco had been too busy drinking and doing other things to rest.

It wasn't until her mother asked if she was okay that she realized she was sitting there silent, simply clutching her tea in her hands. Her head was spinning and the thought of food was making her nauseous, so she had stopped eating.

"My head hurts a bit," she said after a moment, glancing up. She didn't meet Narcissa's eyes but saw the knowing smirk on her lips, one that rivaled Draco's; now she knew where he got that from.

"Oh, dear," her mother clucked, reaching over to rest the back of her hand against her forehead. "You're clammy, _amare; _let me give you something when we return to the hotel."

Adelinda waved her hand, taking a sip of her tea. "No, I'm okay," she assured her. She told her she would give her something anyway; she knew better than to argue and they simply finished their food. Adelinda couldn't stomach it and promised to eat it later, leaving the café with a take-out box.

They walked through the two, slowly making their way back to the hotel. Adelinda wondered if it was bothersome to Narcissa to have to carry all of her bags instead of levitating them alongside her. She found herself thinking on small things like that to distract from the pain behind her eyes. It was sharp and persistent and it was making her eyesight go in and out. She kept telling herself they were almost to the hotel, just a few more blocks, she could do it.

She didn't realize she had slowed until her mother stopped and looked back at her. When the two women turned to face her, she stopped completely, trying to blink and focus her eyes—there were dark, looming shapes behind them. Her eyebrows furrowed and she knew she wasn't feeling the right response to whatever was going on. She felt confused but calm, in too much pain to do much more than wonder what the shapes were—she couldn't hear the witches asking her what was wrong, she only stared past them, gripping her bags. The forms were really people with long, tattered black cloaks on, the hoods pulled up and nothing but shadows beneath them. She could see thin, pale hands, almost skeletal looking-

The closer they came, the less calm she felt; as the pain in her head increased so did her panic. It all felt too familiar—she wanted her wand, that little piece of security, and reached for it with her free hand. Narcisssa grabbed her wrist to stop her, looking back and forth from Adelinda's face to where she stared.

When the forms flipped their hoods back, Adelinda stumbled, her shields crumbling; as the noise of the people around her rushed into her mind she dropped to her knees. She couldn't hear her mother's panicked voice in her ear and could barely feel Narcissa's hands on her arms. She just stared up. The faces beneath the hoods were dark and gaunt, the skin rotting. Their thin lips stretched over their teeth in taunting grins. She didn't understand how her mother couldn't see them and kept saying so. "They're right there," she said, voice hoarse. "They're there."

Everything seemed to move in slow-motion and she watched, her body tense with terror, as one of these dark forms pulled away from the group. She saw skin, full and supple, a pink mouth and dark eyes. There was dark hair poking from beneath the hood.

Her skin was crawling in the way that it did after night terrors; all of the voices in her head ceased and the noises of the world around her disappeared—the silence that was left was eerie. Her mother was dragging her up off the sidewalk but she didn't feel it. She saw nothing but the man walking into the road, felt nothing but the pull of his magic.

"_Adelinda…." _The voice slipped through all the others in her head; it was soft and hissing, the voice of the snake in her dreams. _"…you will come to me." _

She fought it. Merlin, did she fight—she could see the oncoming traffic like blurs around her now, but that form, that man, was standing in the midst of it all and he glowed. He glowed and smiled at her and he was heartbreakingly handsome, and every ounce of her being wanted to go to him and bask in the glory he seemed to feel in the middle of that busy London road. And so she moved forward-it was only her mother's fast reflexes that kept her from walking in front of a double-decker, and when the bus's horn blared in front of her face, the forms were suddenly gone and the world rushed back at her. She was left gasping, grabbing at her mother in panic. "Adelinda, Adelinda!" The witch shook her, held her face firmly in her hands. Her daughter's eyes were wide and terrified, her pupils so large there was no color to be seen. She could see nothing—all that was there was darkness, blackness and noise and the color of the figures' rotted teeth.

"They made me do it," she cried, her body shaking. "I didn't want to, I didn't want to, I almost—"

Her mother hushed her crying daughter and Narcissa dragged them into an alleyway. The few people who had been paying attention to them had lost interest. Together, the three witches apparated into her bedroom, with the youngest witch never letting go of her mother's robes. She soothed the girl in soft Italian, trying hard not to panic for her daughter's sake. Adelinda just kept crying, "I didn't want to do it," over and over again in broken English.

"What happened?" her mother asked her urgently, pulling her down onto her bed. Adelinda gripped her wand in her hand now, blinking repeatedly, her head aching as her eyes returned to normal and light flooded her sight. "Adelinda, my love, _cosa e stato_, what was it?"

She shook her head, over and over again, remembering how no one had believed her before. No one had believed that she had seen something when she fainted in The Three Broomsticks. It was her fault, they had told her, she hadn't been eating or sleeping. Perhaps she was losing her mind. She had to be bonkers to step into the path of a two-story bus. Perhaps this was because she had been taking Dreamless Sleep—had she become addicted and these were withdrawals? Had she taken too much at some point and damaged her mind?

"Talk to me!" her mother cried, gripping her shoulders. Adelinda just stared at her, unresponsive, completely lost in thought and emotion. Narcissa put a hand on the witch's shoulder.

"Adele," the woman said gently. "She is in shock, my friend. We must get her something to eat and retrieve the men. I do not know what happened, but her father and my son would want to know about it, yes? And perhaps Professor Slughorn will have something to calm her. " As a mother, Mrs. Malfoy knew what the woman must be feeling, but she also knew that she had to keep her composure for her daughter's sake. She was also quite aware of Adelinda's hesitancy to talk to or trust her mother, something she herself was at fault for.

"_Si, si, _I know you're right," Miss Amoretto said, her voice strained. She rubbed her daughter's cold cheek. She felt as though death had touched her and her skin was as pale as parchment.

"You must go find them. They will likely be having tea in the dining room, or perhaps they will be at the bar; I gave Draco instructions to be back in the hotel around this time. Find them, and bring back something sweet for Adelinda," she instructed the woman, and before she could protest, added, "I will watch over her. She won't leave my sight, I promise you."

Adele Amoretto pressed a firm kiss to her daughter's forehead and then both cheeks, looking into her eyes. They were bloodshot and wet and empty and the skin beneath them was streaked with mascara. She rubbed her thumbs along her cheeks to wipe away the makeup. "I'll be right back," she assured the young witch, and then she was hurrying out of the room in search of her husband.

"Adelinda," Narcissa said, softly at first, and then again in a much more authoritarian voice; it seemed to startle the young witch and she finally responded, looking up. She was sitting on the edge of her bed, one hand clutching her wand and the other gripping the blanket. "The only thing that kept you from walking in front of that bus and killing yourself was your mother."

"I know," she said, her voice empty. She spoke, she looked at the witch, but she did not seem to see her.

"Why did you do that?" she said, taking a seat beside her. "Adelinda, you were staring at something. What did you see?" That took her by surprise and Narcissa could tell. "You are aware I know many things about you. I know about what happened in Hogsmeade at the pub, and I know you told Draco you saw something before you fainted. Was that it?"

"Yes—no—" she shook her head, over and over again, like she had before. "—I don't know. I don't know. Why did I do that?" She buried her face in her hands, letting her wand fall to the bed. Narcissa moved it to the nightstand and slid further onto the bed, taking Adelinda's wrists in her hands and pulling her hands slowly from her face. She remembered doing this with Draco once; it had been when he had found out what the Dark Lord had tasked him with the killing of his own headmaster. He had argued with his father about it once Voldemort had left, earning himself a harsh slap and harsher words; she had found him in his bedroom, tearing it apart in a fit of despair. She had yelled at him until he sat on the bed and he had broken down; she remembered kneeling in front of him and peeling his hands away from his face, forcing him to look at her, to talk to her. It was then that she had decided to ask Snape to take on the responsibility of killing Dumbledore, should Draco fail, and she had known he would; her son was not cut out for killing and it was what she was most proud of him for. He would be the change in the Malfoy bloodline. No more cruelty, no more killing.

"Tell me, child," Narcissa said, her voice soft now. She met Adelinda's eyes. "Tell me what happened, what you saw."

"It wasn't anything," she insisted, her voice little more than a quiet rasp. "Madam Pomfrey said last time it was because I wasn't eating."

"True, but you have been eating," she pointed out.

"I've been taking Dreamless Sleep," Adelinda said. She couldn't bring herself to feel ashamed when she knew she should.

"What?" Narcissa said, shocked. "Does Draco know?"

"I have bad dreams," she said. Narcissa wondered if she was in shock; her voice was monotone, void of the emotions any other person would be feeling. "Maybe the potion has ruined me. Maybe I've gone crazy."

"You weren't taking that potion the first time, though," she said slowly, waiting for Adelinda to confirm that; when she was silent, thinking, Narcissa continued. "Adelinda, tell me what you saw—before your parents return to the room. I will not tell them about the Dreamless Sleep, and I will not tell them what you tell me without your permission, but I promise you that I will believe whatever it is."

Adelinda stared at her. Even Draco hadn't truly believed her the first time.

"Tall—people," she said quietly, twisting her skirt between her fingers. She was ruining the fabric. Her words came quicker and quicker until they ran into each other. "Dead people—they wore black cloaks, torn up black cloaks, they looked like Dementors until they pulled down their hoods and then—they were rotting—"

"Calm down, child," Narcissa said, standing. She poured just a touch of wine from the fridge into the glass and brought it to Adelinda's lips, letting her sip it.

"They just looked at me and smiled and kept coming closer," she said in a wavering voice. She wrapped her arms around herself; she couldn't get warm. "And then…and then one of them walked into the middle of the road, and he was alive, he was there—he made me do it. He made me go to him. He made me want to."

She looked up suddenly, almost startling Narcissa. "He made me want to kill myself," she said quietly, as if the realization had just hit her. "And he made me think I would enjoy it—"

"Drink," Narcissa told her, pushing the glass to her lips again. With a flick of her wand the glass was gone as soon as the hotel room door opened; in came Adelinda's mother and father, Draco right behind them. She could see the restraint it took her son to keep from going straight to her; instead, he allowed her parents to. She could also see the way Adelinda's eyes were set, not on either of her parents, but on Draco.

"Is she any better?" Adele asked Narcissa, looking Adelinda over as if she had actually been hurt. Her father was demanding information, and between the two of them, Adelinda was beginning to feel like pulling her hair out. She wanted calm, quiet, not worrying, not panic. She would feel enough of that herself.

"She is fine," Mrs. Malfoy assured them both. "I don't think she is ready to talk about it, but if she will allow me to, I can tell you what little I know…" Adelinda recognized this as a way out of her parents knowing the truth, but she nodded. They would find out anyway, she was sure. "…let us go consult Professor Slughorn and perhaps call a healer. Trust me when I say that as a mother I understand your need to be by her side, but I think she needs to calm down. Draco may be better for that," the witch suggested. Adelinda wondered if the witch was purposely finding excuses for her parents to leave her alone; regardless, she was grateful for it.

"Adelinda?" Miss Amoretto looked to her daughter, her eyebrows furrowed. Her father's face was hard with worry and hesitation to leave her daughter alone with a man he himself had just met, but logic told him they'd been alone before and would be again. It was the time for being over-protective, but not about that.

"She's right," Adelinda said, finally looking to her mother. She couldn't make herself feel guilty for not wanting her parents or being comforted by their presence. She couldn't make herself feel anything at all.

"We'll be back soon," her father told Draco after a moment of silence, kissing his daughter's forehead and taking his wife's hand. "Don't let anything happen to her." It was almost a threat, and Draco recognized it as such. He didn't take it personally.

"I won't, sir." He waited for the group to leave before going to Adelinda. He sat on the bed before her, taking her face in his hands.

"Why does everyone keep doing that?" she snapped, turning her head and pulling her face from his hold. He looked at her, taken aback by her tone.

"Because we're worried about you, Adelinda," he said. "You almost walked in front of a bloody bus! You were that close to being killed!" He had just gotten her back and she was trying to hurt herself. He would not lose her again.

She pushed herself to her feet. "You don't think I know that? I was the one who saw that bus pass by, inches from my face," she said, her voice loud. Emotion flooded into her but none of it was good. There was fear, irritation, pure rage, and she didn't know where to direct it or where it came from. "And I don't even know why. I've lost it, Draco. I've lost my bloody mind." She began to rant in Italian, pacing her room.

He had never seen her in such a state and he didn't know what to do at first, but when her hands tangled into her hair he stood, grabbing her hands. "You are going to hurt yourself," he said in a low voice, turning her chin up to make her meet his eyes. "Stop it. Now. Go sit down."

He was surprised when she did what he told her to do, and he went into the bathroom after searching the cupboards for a hand towel. He was going to wet it and make her lie down; perhaps the cool towel on her face would help calm her. He found two small vials of potion instead, and when he opened one and waved the scent of it towards his face, he knew what it was; he could identify most potions by smell, particularly the ones you were not supposed to have at Hogwarts; they were the ones his father had taught him to brew first. The forbidden ones would be most useful, he had told him, because they were the ones that would actually help their cause.

When Draco walked back into the room she was sitting on the bed again; her eyes went immediately to the vials he held. "Why in Merlin's name do you have Dreamless Sleep?" he asked, his voice low and angry.

"My dreams kept getting worse," she said quietly, meeting his eyes. Somewhere, there was a voice telling her she should feel bad, ashamed or embarrassed, but she didn't.

"Don't you know what this rubbish does to you?" he said, struggling to keep his voice down; he was furious. He had never been this angry with her before. He wanted to shake her and ask her how she could be so careless. "It eats away at your mind if you take it long enough. It makes you want to sleep forever. It makes you bloody insane, and you're sitting here telling everyone you don't know what happened."

She stood suddenly, forcing him to step back. His words had struck something in her. "I saw something, Draco," she snapped. "Maybe it has ruined me, I don't know. But I saw something, I _know _I saw something, just like I did in Hogsmeade—but you didn't believe me. You didn't bloody believe me and now it has happened again but this time, I almost got hurt. And still, no one is going to believe me, _nessuno." _

"It's not about believing you," he said sharply, his grey eyes searching hers. He knew she had been crying but this anger in her was better than the lack of emotion she had first shown him. He was terrified, but he wouldn't admit it. He didn't want to believe that she was truly seeing things and that something had made her walk in front of that bus. "It's about fixing whatever the hell is going on. You almost killed yourself, do you understand that?"

"It wasn't because I wanted to," she said, her voice rough. "You didn't see what I saw, Draco, or feel what I felt—_he made me do it." _She gave a sharp laugh when the words replayed in her head. "_Mio dio_, I do sound crazy, don't I?"

He looked at her, watching emotion fill her face. She suddenly looked tired and worn out, her red eyes looking everywhere but at him. She went into the bathroom and ran water, wetting her hands and closing her eyes as she pressed her palms to her cheeks.

She didn't understand what was happening to her. She knew that it could very well be the potions, but if that was the case, what had been the cause in Hogsmeade? She hadn't even thought about that since it had happened; she had had no reason to. She hadn't been in danger. And now she had been put in danger and she didn't even know if it was outside forces trying to hurt her or her own head. "I don't know what is going on," she whispered as she heard Draco walk in behind her. He slid his hands around her waist, still holding the potion.

"We'll figure it out," he assured her, hugging her tightly. He rested his cheek against the top of her head and felt her leaning into his touch.

"Do you believe me?" she asked suddenly, her voice quiet. She dropped her hands and looked into the mirror at his face.

He stared back at her. "I don't want to," he answered honestly. "I don't know what to think. Things like this aren't supposed to happen anymore, Adelinda." It was too similar to the things he had seen during the war, the invasion of minds and loss of self-control under the Dark Lord's influence. He had watched people tear themselves apart simply because Voldemort had told them to. There was this small part of him saying, _he came back once before, why not again? _But it was impossible—the horcruxes had been destroyed. Half of Hogwarts had seen him die.

"But it is happening." Given his last thoughts, her words struck him as eerie, made his skin crawl. He pushed those feelings aside.

"Yeah. And this rubbish isn't helping," he said, pulling away. "How the hell did you even get this? How long have you been taking it?"

"Not that long," she said quietly. "I know I never should have started, but I couldn't sleep. I was terrified to go to bed at night. I was falling asleep in class, forgetting about assignments, I had no appetite…" she took a deep breath, glancing at the vial. "…and then when I started taking that, everything seemed a little bit more okay."

"Where did you get it?" he asked again.

"I went into the potions classrooms at night and brewed it," she said after a moment. He wasn't surprised to know that she could brew it. Given a recipe, she could brew anything. It drove him insane sometimes. She truly was like Granger in that sense.

"How did you get in? Slughorn keeps the doors locked," he said slowly, a suspicion forming in his head. He knew how Slughorn operated for the students he liked and if he had been the one to put this idea in Adelinda's head, he would kill the man.

Adelinda didn't want to lie to him, but she didn't want to get the professor into trouble. She had never thought about how inappropriate it had been for Slughorn to suggest she use such a potion, one that was addictive and forbidden at the school. "He left them unlocked," she said after a moment.

"Why?" he demanded, his sharp jaw set in a way that let her know he was angry. Furious, really. She was silent. "Why, Adelinda?"

"He knew I wasn't sleeping."

It was all he needed to hear. He threw the bottle down and it shattered in the sink; Adelinda cringed as the sound of breaking glass filled her ears. He snatched up the vial that remained intact and stormed from the room. She stood there for a second, staring at the steaming liquid going slowly down the drain, before running after him—though not before tucking her wand into one of her boots.

When she reached him he was halfway down the hall with Slughorn cornered. He and her parents had been on their way to her room. She saw the vial in his hand and froze. She didn't want to go to them and hear what Draco was saying. She knew there would be no hiding her use of Dreamless Sleep. She wondered if her parents would decide to pull her from Hogwarts.

When Draco shoved Slughorn up against the wall, seeming completely oblivious to the few Muggles that passed them, she forced her legs to move. He had his arm pressed against the man's throat and his mother was talking in his ear, trying to get him away from the wizard; her own parents just stood there, staring, and her father's face became more and more angry.

"—kill you for giving this to her." she barely caught the last bit of Draco's snarling threat before she grabbed his arms and pulled him away.

"Stop it!" When he turned around and set those angry eyes on her she pushed him in the chest, just enough to make him budge. "What are you thinking, Draco?" He could get into serious trouble for threatening a teacher like that, especially if any Muggles overheard. If the police got involved the Ministry would not be happy.

"That this bloody idiot should be put in Azkaban right along with Parkinson." His voice was a low growl, angrier than Adelinda had ever heard it.

Narcissa was trying to calm everyone. "Professor, back to your room. Now. Give me those," she took the little bag that he held. He was red in the face and looked petrified; regardless of how many times he got into trouble or allowed a student to do something they really, truly shouldn't, he never learned. He accepted his dismissal eagerly and pushed past them; Adelinda saw the purple mark of Draco's hold on him and wondered if it would bruise. That would be interesting to explain to the Wizengamot if they asked.

"All of you. Into the bedroom," she ordered, and Adelinda dragged Draco back to her room with her parents and Mrs. Malfoy following. She entered the room last and cast a silencing charm on the room, just in time for her father to begin yelling.

He was not a man that yelled often, only doing it when he was truly angry and usually rightly so. "Adelinda, what were you thinking?" she tried to remember the last time she had gotten into trouble with them and couldn't. "Is this what Hogwarts has done to you? We should have kept you at home with us. Bloody hell, we send you away for the first time and you get into addictive potions—and from a professor. Minerva will know about this."

She could feel her own anger building; her chest tightened and she felt her face getting hot, but stayed silent. Draco was pacing behind her and she wanted to snap at him to stand still. The sound of his boots hitting the floor over and over and over again was making her want to scream. "Why would you do this?" her mother asked her, grabbing her hands. "Why would you need that? I thought we taught you better!"

Adelinda was still quiet, looking anywhere but at her parents' faces, her eyes dark and glittering with anger. She couldn't speak, couldn't think of anything to say that wasn't curses and spite. "So you don't have an answer for us?" her father snapped. She hated the way they stood before her, demanding answers and explanations. She felt small. "You're going to stand there, silent, with no explanation, no reason for what you've done?"

"I was having night terrors," she finally spoke, and her words came out quick and loud. "I was having night terrors, I still am, I couldn't sleep, my marks were falling and I knew if I told you—I knew if I told you, you would come to the school, or say you never should have sent me, you would do anything to keep me at home and coddle me as you've always done." Her voice was venomous.

"Coddle you?" her mother said in disbelief, her accent thicker in distress. She had been speaking in both Italian and English the whole time. "You should have told us! You know how serious these things are, we could have helped you, but you didn't tell us!" she shook her head. "I thought that you could talk to me. You always did before."

When her father began to rant and rave again, about Slughorn and how she had lied to them every time she said she was doing alright, how she told them nothing of importance, she snapped. "You're right. _Hai ragione_." Adelinda turned on them, her arms folded over her chest defensively. At the sound of her voice Draco had stopped pacing and turned to look at her, his eyes weary. "I stopped telling you things. But when have you _ever _been honest with me?"

Adele looked taken aback, her eyes wide. "What are you talking about, Adelinda, I do not understand—"

"_Non, _don't do this, don't play dumb," Adelinda snapped, shaking her head. "_Si sapeva._. You knew from the moment you adopted me that I was magical. And you _lied_. You lied to me!"

"What are you talking about?" her father butt in, still angry, still yelling, and when Adelinda answered she was yelling, too. She had never yelled at her parents before.

"_You knew I was magical!" _She was gesturing with every angry word and she had forgotten Narcissa and Draco were still in the room. Her face was red and hot and her chest burned with emotion. "When were you going to tell me that my birth mother was a Death Eater? All the things that happened when I was little, they could have been avoided. I could've gone to Hogwarts…no, you made me suffer in Muggle school. You turned me into—into an outcast—_mi lasci male persone_. You let me kill a boy, and you didn't even tell me then!" her parents were silent now, staring at her. She saw her mother glance at Narcissa, but of course, she already knew. She was the reason that Adelinda even knew. "I have had to live with that guilty because of _your _dishonesty!"

"What happened wasn't your fault, you know that—" her mother said quietly, reaching out to touch her arm. Adelinda stepped back.

"No, _hai ragione_, it was yours." Her voice was loud, but so empty of emotion that it made Draco look at her face to see if she was still angry.

"You will not speak to your mother like that," her father said, putting an arm around Adele. Adelinda shook her head and pushed past them. "Where are you going? You need to stay—"

She wasn't listening anymore. She was leaving the room, walking blindly down the hall. She knew it wasn't smart after what had happened in the street but she couldn't make herself care. She heard Draco calling after her and ignored him, too. She didn't know where she was going but she wanted out of that room; suddenly she was at the elevator, hitting the button and stepping into it. The doors were closing and then a pale hand stopped them. Draco slid through the small space and looked at her. "Bloody hell, girl."

She glared at him. "You shouldn't have done that to Slughorn—at least not in front of my parents!" She hit the button that would take them to the highest floor possible and kept hitting it until the elevator started to move. The roof was her destination. She wanted air and she wanted solitude and she would welcome the cold.

"I was angry," he said simply. How was he so calm? He had gone from completely furious to fine, and she wasn't sure how. His grey eyes were unemotional, almost pleasant, and though his hair was a bit mussed up from his hands running through it, that was the only sign that anything had been wrong. "You're right, I should have controlled my anger. You didn't exactly control yours, either."

She was silent, fuming. Her arms were folded stubbornly over her chest again and when the doors finally opened she stepped out and looked around, trying to find the door she knew would lead to the roof. It was at the end of the hallway and she walked briskly to it, checking for Muggles before pulling her wand out. "_Alohomora,"_ she whispered, and the lock clicked. There was a set of stairs and she walked up them. When the wind hit her face she took a deep breath and tilted her head back. The air was sharp, crisp; the skies were grey and it looked like rain. She welcomed it. She wanted cold air, she wanted cold raindrops on her skin, anything to clear her mind.

"I've never hated my parents before. I've never been this angry with them."

"It'll happen again, I assure you." Draco knew that before Hogwarts, she and her parents had never been in any altercations; they had had no reason to fight. She had been content at home, going to festivals and events with them, being taught by them; she hadn't known of their lies. He felt guilty for revealing them and causing this and wondered if they would have ever told her.

"I don't know what I'll say when they ask how I found out."

"Whatever you want," he told her. He kept his distance from her, watching her take in the cold air; it had hit him like a bag of bricks when they had walked out. He had stayed in many Muggle hotels with his parents as a teenager but he had never gone up to the roof; the sign on the door had said 'do not open' but Adelinda hadn't seemed to care so he didn't, either.

She was spreading her arms and tilting her head back; her eyes were closed and the chill was putting a bit of color back in her cheeks. He just watched her. It felt like they had been apart forever; her mannerisms had changed, her personality had changed…Hell, the Adelinda he had known a few months prior would never even have considered Dreamless Sleep. It made him feel incredibly guilty, and it made him feel a complete sense of loathing for Pansy. "I don't know who I am anymore," Adelinda said quietly, her back still to him. Just like that, her demeanor changed; her shoulders dropped and she straightened, staring straight ahead. She wanted to walk to the edge of the building but after what had happened in the streets, she was afraid to.

"You're seventeen, love," Draco said quietly. "That's what happens. You lose your sense of self and then you have to find it again."

She shook her head. "Most seventeen year olds don't see things, Draco," she said. She leaned against one of the air conditioning units, sliding down to the concrete after a moment. She brought her knees up and looked at him. "Most seventeen year olds don't walk in front of buses."

He sat down beside her, sliding an arm around her shoulders. She didn't nestle close like she normally would have. "We'll figure this out, Adelinda," he told her. "I didn't get you back just to lose you to dark magic or whatever this is."

She looked over at him. "So you believe me?"

"You know what you saw," he said simply, pulling her close. He kissed her, gently at first, and when she didn't respond he kissed her until she did. "It is going to be okay. I promise. If I can be optimistic, you can, too."

He saw the barest hint of a smile play at her lips. "Thatta girl."

They were quiet for a moment. "I don't want to go back inside," she said softly. "I don't want to see my parents. I've been so bloody angry with them ever since I read those letters. I feel—_non lo so—_I feel betrayed. I feel—I hate them. I do. I wouldn't have hurt those boys when I was young if I had known, if they had just _taught _me—why would they put me in Muggle school knowing what could happen?"

"Who knows," he said quietly, hearing her sniffle. He hugged her tightly and didn't mention her crying; she was glad he didn't. "I think that if you found out more about your adoption and your birth mother, you may find the answer to that."

She looked at him again. "Will you help me?" she asked quietly. "I know I was angry before at you and your mother for digging around, but—I want you to now. I want to know everything there is to know about her, and about who my biological family is. I need to know."

He nodded. "I can do that, Adelinda. We need to go inside, though, before you get sick. C'mon."

He led her back into the hotel, holding her the entire time. Her parents did not try to speak to her again that day.

_A/N: I was a little uncertain about whether I should post this chapter or continue writing it and go to the trial, but I decided to leave it as is. :) so enjoy, and please review! as always, constructive criticism is more than welcome and much appreciated. _


	21. Chapter 21

_Tap. Tap. Tap.  
_

"Is it true, Miss Parkinson, that late last year, you lured a classmate to a secluded place and began to assault her?"

"It was only a prank," Parkinson protested, side-eyeing her fellow Slytherins. "A prank gone too far."

"Is that so?" the same man spoke; the students were surrounded by rows of witches and wizards in plum-colored robes. The room was dark and ominous, presumably to strike fear into the hearts of those accused of crime—or perhaps, Adelinda thought, it made interrogations easier. Did the Wizengamot hold interrogations? "I have the report from Madam Pomfrey here—it says that there were 'severe bruises to Miss Amoretto's torso and arms,' and that she arrived to the hospital wing unconscious and barely able to breath. Would you like to explain this prank to me?"

_Tap tap tap tap tap. _

Draco's hand on her leg made Adelinda realize how loud her heels were every time she clicked them against the cement floor. She was incredibly anxious and antsy and she needed an outlet for it, but all she could do was sit there and do her best not to fidget. It wasn't going well so far and it didn't help that she felt as though every member of the Wizengamot was staring down at her. She couldn't see their faces clearly and their looming figures reminded her of her near-death experience in the London streets.

Her gaze shifted from the intimidating figures to where Pansy sat. All four students were seated in the middle of the room facing the Chief Warlock; Draco was to her left and Theodore to her right, and Pansy was several feet away. The steel chair that Pansy sat in had shackles attached to the arms and legs, though they weren't in use. The woman looked angry and the way she scrunched her lips and furrowed her brow made Adelinda think of a small child throwing a tantrum. The description was fitting.

"I never meant to _hurt _her," Parkinson said coolly. "I don't even understand why this is relevant to the case at hand."

"Well, Miss Parkinson, it makes a statement about your character," the wizard said sternly. "Your hesitance to provide an explanation for the assault does, as well." Pansy seemed to realize that the more she spoke, the deeper her grave became, and she fell silent. "I do not believe it to have been a prank, but the Wizengamot will speak on it later during the decision-making. Let us move on to the case at hand, as you said."

Adelinda was amazed by the cockiness on Pansy's face—she couldn't truly think that she would get out of this with a slap on the wrist. "Mister Malfoy, explain to us how this all began."

"Well." Draco straightened beside her, raising his chin to meet the warlock's eyes. All four students were dressed in their finest dress robes, and he looked breathtakingly handsome in his black robes, his hair slicked back and his posture confident. She couldn't help but find his arrogance attractive when it wasn't directed towards her. "Pansy and I were—well, we were together years ago. Our parents, but hers especially, pushed for marriage between us. I did not want it and ended it; my mother accepted this but hers did not. Regardless, I don't believe that her feelings for me ever waned, but it wasn't a problem until Adelinda came into my life. I could ignore it before that."

"Why did it become a problem then?"

"She was jealous. She wouldn't leave me alone, and she wouldn't leave Adelinda alone—which is quite obvious. It didn't help that Adelinda wasn't a '_proper_' Slytherin in her eyes." She knew what he was doing; he was using the truth to put the Wizengamot on his side and baiting Pansy.

"_Jealous? _Of her—" Pansy cut herself off before the Chief Warlock could say a thing, looking flustered and angry.

"What do you mean by 'proper' Slytherin?"

"A proper Slytherin would be pureblooded and coldhearted; Adelinda is neither. She would have associated only with Slytherin students, but her best friends are in Gryffindor—" Draco paused. "—and a proper Slytherin girl would know not to speak up to a popular, pureblooded student, but Adelinda didn't sit by quietly while Pansy bullied her."

"You speak of this 'proper Slytherin' and pure blood as though you were not once involved in the war," the warlock pointed out, and Draco looked down. She was sure that, to the witches and wizards of the Wizengamot, he looked ashamed of himself, and while she knew of the guilt he felt for his part in the war, she knew that this was a show. He wanted to make them empathize with him, or at the very least, feel a touch of sympathy.

"Yes, sir, I was," he said calmly, looking up. "I have done my best at atoning for my crimes and prejudice, as you all most likely know, and I continue to make reparations on behalf of the imprisoned or killed Death Eaters who will not."

"And you believe these Death Eaters are rightly imprisoned, do you not?"

"I do."

"Even your father?"

Adelinda felt him tense and relax all in a matter of seconds. "Yes. He committed serious crimes against Muggles and the magical community alike, and no one is above the law." He truly did believe that, this she knew to be true.

"We are deviating—tell me about when you suspect you were first put under the effects of Amortentia."

"I'm not sure, exactly," Draco said honestly. "Adelinda and I had fought, but were still together; one day I was contemplating apologizing for being a git, and the next day, I was infatuated with Parkinson. I didn't know why, but I didn't question it; I wasn't capable of logical thoughts."

"And this was how long ago?"

"Roughly two months ago," the Slytherin answered.

"To keep you under the influence of the potion, she would have been giving it to you every few days." Adelinda heard the scribbling of quills as notes were taken. "While in the hold of the love potion, did you do anything you now regret?"

Draco dropped his gaze in genuine embarrassment for the first time during the trial. He didn't want to think of what he had done to Pansy and what she had done to him. It made him feel filthy, disgusting. Violated. He knew Adelinda didn't want to think of it either. "Yes. If it is all right with you, I would rather not go into detail—" he opened his mouth to speak, closed it, and opened it again. "—just know that any and every single thing that I did for Pansy was done against my will, and everything that she did for me was unwanted. I simply could not fight it at the time."

Adelinda's foot began to tap again, her eyes fixed on her shoes-black leather heels, barely visible under her robes. She wondered what her parents were doing. What they would say if they were there. All the parents had been forced to stay outside of the room because all of the students were of age. They needed no familial representation.

"Understood," the Chief Warlock said. His eyes turned on Theodore. "Now how do you fall into this, young man?"

"I choked in the common room and was given tea meant for Malfoy to soothe my throat." His answer was much more to-the-point than Draco's had been. Theodore seemed bored, like he just wanted to get the trial over with and go back to school. "When I began to profess my undying love for Adelinda, she figured it out and went to Madam Pomfrey with her suspicions. As I'm sure you know, a quick charm showed that both Malfoy and I had love potions in our blood."

"How did you figure it out, Miss Amoretto?" the elderly wizard turned his eyes on her.

"I—well, I had had my suspicions—" she said. Though she spoke softly, her voice echoed throughout the quiet room. She wasn't as comfortable speaking before fifty authoritative figures as Draco and Theodore were. Of course, they had been through it before. "—after awhile, I realized how strange it had been for Draco to run to Pansy. I never doubted that he cared about me, and it made no sense for him to betray me with the women who had attacked me and whom he could not stand. Especially after such a miniscule argument." They were lies, but they were lies that would save Narcissa from becoming involved in the trial—Draco, Adelinda, and Mrs. Malfoy had come to the agreement that it would be better for the court not to know that it was she who had prompted Adelinda to try and figure out the truth behind the forged relationship. The trial would run more smoothly and be over with more quickly if they didn't know.

The room was completely silent for a moment. "Miss Parkinson, do you have any response to these accusations?" he asked. "Please, keep in mind the advice your parents likely gave you, as well as the testimonies we have from Madam Pomfrey and Headmaster McGonagall. I advise you to speak the truth and nothing less."

She seemed to struggle with her words for a moment and Adelinda wondered what nonsensical lie would leave her lips. "I have no response," she finally said, her voice strained and angry. "Though I would like to apology for any pain I have caused. I will do my best to make amends."

Adelinda did not believe it for a moment, and if the members of the Wizengamot had any sense, they wouldn't either; she wondered if it would be like Muggle court, where if a person plead guilty and pretended to feel even a shred of remorse, their sentencing would be less harsh. "Apology noted. Miss Parkinson, remain seated. You three—" he turned his gaze on them. There was a dull chatter in the seats above them as members began to discuss. "—you may leave the room the way you came. Thank you."

Both men nodded at the warlock before standing. As Adelinda rose to her feet, Draco offered his arm, and she wondered if it was her imagination or if she could truly feel Theodore tensing beside her. She took it, albeit hesitantly, and the three walked from the room. She resisted the urge to look back at Pansy, who had remained silent and brooding.

For the first time, Adelinda realized that Theodore had no one waiting for him outside of those large doors. Draco had his mother and Adelinda had her parents—not that their presence was of much comfort to her. She felt a stab of loneliness on his behalf. If he hadn't been such a git to her about Draco, she would have gone over to speak to him; but he had been, and she was quite sure that he knew of her renewed relationship.

"What happens now?" Adelinda asked, facing Mrs. Malfoy. The woman was dressed as splendidly as ever, in her long embroidered dress robes, her hair beautifully put up. She didn't want to admit it but her own mother looked incredible, as well; Adelinda had never seen her in formal robes, having lived in the Muggle world with them her entire life—they were a deep maroon with golden swirls decorating the bottom. Her dark hair fell in beautiful waves against her shoulders. If she and her daughter had been on different terms, they would have been gushing over one another's appearance.

"The members will speak amongst themselves will Pansy awaits her sentencing," Narcissa explained, reaching up to rest a hand momentarily on her son's cheek. He would never show it but she knew that being before the Wizengamot was trying for him to begin with; it would be worse when he was there for offenses committed against him, not by he or his peers. "Depending on the opinions of each individual member, it could take half an hour or two hours; we wait here." A quick glance around the room showed several other people sitting, anxiously awaiting the trials of their loved ones. They wouldn't be allowed in but they would be the first to know the outcome. They paid the large group no mind at all, too consumed with worry.

"So we just…sit here." Adelinda sighed and took a seat; she still had not said a word to her parents, but then, they hadn't really tried to talk to her since her fit the day before. She wasn't sure if she wanted an apology from them or if she welcomed their silence; she didn't know what she wanted at all, actually. She felt entitled to an apology. They had lied to her since the day they adopted her. They had, inadvertently, caused her a lot of pain. The logical part of her mind told her that they had likely been trying to protect her or perhaps they hadn't known how to explain it to her. The emotional part of her mind told her that was a load of rubbish and nothing excused what they had done.

She could recognize that she had been in the wrong, as well, but as she had told Draco, "I'll be damned if I apologize first." She knew she should have told them of the dreams and she knew she never should have taken or even thought of taking Dreamless Sleep; it was dangerous and addictive. She should have told them about what was going on with Draco and she should have told them about what had happened in Hogsmeade. Perhaps the things that were happening had to do with her mother, the dark witch, and maybe if she had told them, they would have stopped lying to her.

Or maybe they would have continued to lie and everything would have gone the way it had regardless. Who knew. In any case, she wasn't going to apologize first or end her silent treatment, even if she was—in Draco's words—acting like a spoiled brat.

When Draco sat beside her and put an arm around her shoulder, she couldn't help but glance over to Theodore; he sat across from them, his legs cross and arms folded over his chest. He was just like Draco in the sense that he could appear completely emotionless, bored, even during the most stressful of times.

"What, it isn't over yet?" she heard a voice that sounded vaguely familiar and when she turned her head she saw the elder Parkinsons addressing Mrs. Malfoy.

"No," was the woman's brisk reply. Draco's head turned as well and they watched the interaction openly; the three Slytherins had no qualms about showing their distaste for the couple.

"Why not?" Mrs. Parkinson said, her tone as cool as Narcissa's eyes.

"These things take time. You of all people should know that," she said in a matter-of-fact tone.

"I don't believe I understand where this sudden change of heart is coming from," Mrs. Parkinson said, her voice almost sounding hurt. "You can't possibly believe these accusations against my daughter."

"I can when they are coming from my son," Mrs. Malfoy answered easily. Adelinda felt Draco's body shift as he rested his hand against the pocket that held his wand.

"Well, perhaps Draco is confused," she suggested, glancing over to the student with pity in her eyes. "It's been a rough few years for our children and I'm sure that it's hard for them to remember where their loyalties lie and who they should trust."

"No, I highly doubt that—and I do not appreciate you suggesting that Draco does not know where his loyalties lie," she said, her tone venomous. "I believe he knows more about that now than he ever did before. Perhaps it is your daughter that is confused—my son did, after all, lose interest in her years ago. She couldn't seem to let go."

Mrs. Parkinson's face turned red. "Your son is a traitor, dating a—" she smiled sweetly, glancing to Adelinda. "—younger girl, someone who rides on the Gryffindor coattails just as everyone else has done after the war."

As quickly as the woman's nasty words left her lips, Narcissa's wand was out and pressed to her navel. Adelinda's mother made a little noise of shocked and made to step forward; her husband put a hand on her shoulder to stop her. Mrs. Malfoy wouldn't cause a scene or do the woman any real harm unless she was threatened. "Narcissa," Mrs. Amoretto said in a hushed voice, trying not to draw attention to them.

"We may be in the Ministry of Magic," Narcissa said, her voice soft, poisonous. "But everyone here will testify that what you just said was hidden bigotry, a verbal attack on my son's beloved, and do you think the Wizengamot will punish me for hexing the magic out of you when they learn that?"

Mrs. Parkinson narrowed her eyes and stepped back. "Point taken," she snapped. "Just know that if Pansy gets Azkaban, I will hold you and your child responsible."

"You know firsthand how I respond to threats, Parkinson," Narcissa said with a cool smile, sliding her wand back into her robes. "I wouldn't do that again if I were you."

The witch scowled at her and grabbed her husbands arm. Her eyes rested on Adelinda. "You know, dear," she said, and smiled at the young witch's mother. "You look like someone I used to know before the war." She took her husbands arm and dragged them over to the seats directly by the doors. Draco stood and began to speak to his mother quietly, angry but collected. Mrs. Amoretto took a seat next to her daughter and rubbed her tense shoulders, not seeming to noticed the way she stiffened even more.

It felt like hours passed before a member of the Wizengamot finally came out to speak to them; the elderly man spoke to the Parkinson family first and they became visibly agitated. Before he had finished speaking they hurried past him and into the room; he seemed unbothered by this and simply walked over to Draco. "I would like to let you all know that your classmate has been sentenced to the minimum of three months in Azkaban, and—"

"Why three months?" Adelinda's mother said, her voice heated and Italian accent particularly thick. "She should have gotten more than that."

"—well, Mrs. Amoretto, if you would let me finish…" he waited for her to settle down. His tone was chastising but not unpleasant. "…this is the first time Pansy Parkinson has been charged with a crime, and when she is released, she will have to go through extensive counseling. She will also be losing her wand and will be forbidden from performing magic. If she does not abide by the rules we will set for her upon release, she will be sent back for an undetermined amount of time."

Adelinda's parents looked angry about this, but Narcissa seemed to have expected this. "Thank you for letting us know. Are we free to go?"

"Yes, you may go," he said, nodding at them before turning and reentering the room.

"Well," Narcissa said, gesturing for everyone to stand. "Let's get back to the hotel and have something to eat now that this is done with. The children must be back in school tomorrow, they all have exams coming up."

"How are you not upset by this—this minimal punishment?" her mother asked, shocked. She was angry on her daughter's behalf; not only had Pansy actually hurt Adelinda physically before, but now she had hurt her badly in an emotional way, as well. She didn't doubt that while Adelinda and Draco had reconciled, their relationship would be shaky, at best. At least at the start of it.

"I expected it," she said simply. "Forgive me for saying this, but Pansy is from a Noble family full of wealthy Purebloods. The Parkinsons have connections, just as I would in a situation like this. I could have used those connections but I wanted to do this honestly, for my son's sake."

"It isn't right," Adelinda's mother said quietly. "_Andiamo,_ let us go."

Adelinda went to Draco's side and together they made their way to the fireplaces in the lobby of the Ministry, where they charmed their formal robes to look like Muggle clothing. She wasn't sure how she felt about Pansy's sentencing. She was glad that she wouldn't be returning to Hogwarts with them, but her parents threat to Narcissa left an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach, and she thought it unlikely that Pansy would obey the no-magic rule. The woman couldn't resist doing things she was forbidden to do.

Once the group returned to the hotel, they parted ways; Adelinda's parents stated that they would like to spend time with their daughter and upon hearing this, Draco gave her a sympathetic look and a kiss on the cheek before taking his leave. She and her parents walked around the hotel in silence for awhile until stopping at a meeting room. She had a feeling they weren't supposed to be in that area of the hotel but a quick repellant charm cast by her father took care of that.

"We want to speak to you, Adelinda," he began, gesturing for her to take a seat. They sat across from her. She felt a bit nervous, like she was being interrogated—this was all new to her. Bickering with her parents, speaking back to them, accusing them of things; prior to the past few days she had never so much as raised her voice at them.

"About what?" she said, folding her arms defensively over her chest and looking at them. If being in Slytherin had taught her anything, it was how to keep her expression carefully trained to show no emotion.

"We understand your anger." She noticed that her mother was unusually quiet. It didn't give her a good feeling. "We truly do. We shouldn't have lied to you, you're right, and while telling you the truth may have changed things for you, it may also have made things worse. We can't really explain—"

"That's rubbish," she interrupted, much to her father's surprise. "You owe me an explanation. I want to know the truth, the _full _truth. _Tutto questo._"

"Adelinda, you don't want to know the truth, _prometto—_this isn't what we wanted to focus on. We are sorry we lied to you, my love. We are. But you have pushed us out of your life and we're worried about you," her mother was finally speaking and her voice was pained. Adelinda felt guilty as she heard the emotion in her mother's words. "Dreamless sleep, passing out at Hogsmeade, and the way you have spoken to us since we got here—"

"Because you lied to me," Adelinda said in a monotone, and her mother kept talking, not acknowledging this interruption.

"—this is not like you. What happened the other day, and what we now hear happened at Hogsmeade…we don't know what is going on but you need to be at home. We need to figure it out and we need to make sure you don't use that potion anymore—"

"What, do you think I'm addicted?" Adelinda said sharply, straightening in her seat. "The school year is almost over and I like it at Hogwarts. I'm not going to use the potion anymore. Draco wouldn't let me if I tried. I'm just as safe at Hogwarts as I would be at home—if not safer…nothing has ever happened to me inside the school."

"It isn't about that...you are changing, Adelinda," her father said quietly, his eyes boring holes into her.

"Well, what else did you think would happen when I finally got to interact with people my own age?" Adelinda asked, her voice angry. "Do you think you can shelter me forever?"

"We weren't sheltering you, we were protecting you!" her mother answered quickly, her voice rising. "I will not take this disrespect from you!"

"Then tell me the truth!" Adelinda proclaimed, slapping her hand against the table. "Tell me about my birth mother. Tell me why you adopted me. Tell me why I wasn't allowed to go Hogwarts, why we moved from England to Italy before anyone even knew that Voldemort was back."

Her mother stared at her and her father rubbed his eyes in frustration. "Tell us what you know."

Adelinda turned scrutinizing eyes on him for a moment before finally answering in hopes that they would answer her questions. "I know that you knew I was magical." She said slowly, bitterly. "I know that my birth mother was a dark witch and I know that she was probably a Death Eater. I know people were after her—I want to know who. I want to know why. I want to know why you kept me out of wizarding school, why you exposed everyone around me to—to uncontrolled magic."

"Your birth mother was—well, we don't know her name, but she was half-blooded. She was running from Voldemort. What we were told is that when she became pregnant, she realized she didn't want to be a Death Eater anymore; she went to Albus Dumbledore for help. He sheltered her until she gave birth and then he went on the search for a suitable home." Her father spoke while her mother sat next to him, fidgeting and chewing at her lip in the same way as Adelinda.

"So why did he choose you?"

"I don't know, Adelinda. Perhaps because we have always been so uninvolved in the magical community and were the least likely to become activists—we're also one of the few people who believed at this time that Voldemort was, indeed, back." He clasped his hands together and looked down for a moment. "Dumbledore didn't have many families to choose from. He wanted a couple with no other children so that the parents could be totally focused on protecting you, hiding you."

"Why did I need to be hidden?" she asked, narrowing her eyes in suspicion. She had this irking feeling that they weren't telling her something still.

"Because your birth mother was a dark witch running from Voldemort, and he knew she was pregnant, and—I don't know. Children would be good for him; children are impressionable. They will do as they're told and believe as they're taught. I don't know, Adelinda."

"Are you sure you don't know?" she asked, folding her arms tightly over her chest and looking her father boldly in this face. He gave a frustrated huff and didn't answer. She didn't push it. "So you knew I was magical. Why did you have me in Muggle school? Why did you have me believe I was Muggle-born my entire life?" At this her anger broke to reveal insecurity, pain; for all her life she had believe herself to have a completely different identity.

"You were too young to know the truth, we couldn't—you cannot trust small children with secrets as large as that. We couldn't put you in Wizarding school because Voldemort would be looking for a magical child. He wouldn't be looking for a Muggle, and—if he ever got your hands on you, we—we needed you to believe you were a Muggle or at the very least, Muggle-born. He would have no interest in you. He would never think that you were the child he was looking for—"

"But when my magic began to manifest, when things began to happen, you—you didn't even try to train me in magic. You waited until I killed someone." Her voice was rough and she couldn't look at them anymore. "You lied to me about who I was. You lied to me about wanting a child; you said you adopted me because—because you _wanted_ me. You lied to me every time I asked if you knew anything of my parents. I can forgive that—but _non posso_—I can't forgive you letting things get so out of control that I hurt someone." Her voice was slowly getting louder and louder. "I can't forgive you and I will never forgive myself for it, _mai piu_. I always thought it was my fault. You knew what could happen when a child was not taught to control their magic!"

"You do not think we feel guilty, Adelinda?" her mother finally said sharply, slamming her hand against the table. "Because of our negligence to teach you about magic, a boy lost his life and others were forever scarred, forever traumatized, and it is in no way your fault, and in every way ours. I think about that every day. Every time I write you a letter, I think of how that boy's mother will _never _see him again, never speak to him, never hug him—" she seemed to shake herself. "You have every right to be angry with us, Adelinda. But do not let that anger turn to hate." Her mother stood and hurried out of the room. Adelinda knew that meant she was crying and she wanted to do the same but she bit down against the knot in her throat and blinked back the heat of tears.

Her father stood a moment later, looking solemnly at his daughter. "Don't think for a second that we didn't want you." With that last statement, he left the room, and she sat there with tears filling her eyes, torn between guilt and rage.

Two days later, she sat in the Room of Requirements with Ginny and Hermione, trying to explain to them why she was back with Draco Malfoy, the 'scum of the earth.'

Her departure from London with Draco and Theodore had been swift and rather unemotional. She had kissed her mother and father goodbye after not speaking to them for a day, and that was that; she was of age and they couldn't force her to return home with them. She wasn't even sure she even wanted to go home for the summer—she had half a mind to go stay with Ginny. She knew she was welcome, and though the rift between her and her parents was reason enough to go, it had hit her that nearly all of her friends were finishing their final year of schooling.

"Forget about Malfoy, I want to know about the trial!" Hermione chastised Ginny over their tea, smacking her arm with a book. Ginny glared at her.

"It was—oddly simply," Adelinda began, fiddling with her spoon. "We told our side of the story and then we had to leave the room…Pansy's parents were there and Mrs. Parkinson said some, ah, rude things…"

"Let me guess," Ginny began, rolling her eyes. "If Pansy was sentenced to Azkaban she'd have your head, Draco should have been with Pansy the whole time, et cetera…"

"Pretty much," Adelinda said. "Narcissa pulled her wand on her because she threatened her, and then that was the end of that. It was ridiculous."

"Narcissa?" Ginny raised her eyebrows. "You're on a first-name basis?"

"Ah—not really—hush!" she huffed at the girl, frowning. "I know—I know you don't approve, and with good reason, I suppose. But Draco was being force-fed love potions this whole time—maybe everyone is right, maybe one day he will hurt me and it will be of his own accord, but I don't think he will. I felt like something was missing the entire time that he was with Pansy. I couldn't…I can't _not _try again." She gave them a sheepish look and added, "Also, Mrs. Malfoy isn't all that bad." She had calmed her after the incident in London and spoken to her like a person and kept her parents at bay for as long as she could.

Hermione and Ginny looked at each other for a moment and Adelinda sat there fiddling, waiting for their response.

"All I'm going to say is that if he ever does hurt you of his own accord, _I _will hurt _him, _and I will get every Weasley, man and woman alike, to help me," Ginny said sternly before smiling. "C'mere, you!" She grabbed Adelinda and hugged her tight. "I'm just glad Parkinson is gone and we don't have to worry about you anymore."

Adelinda smiled, but all she could think about was the fiasco in the London streets. She hadn't told them and she didn't think she was going to—perhaps she would once there was an explanation for it. "_Anch'io. _Me, too," she agreed, wrapping her arms around her friend for a moment. "My parents and I aren't speaking, though…"

Hermione seemed especially concerned about this and demanded to know what had happened; the younger witch spilled everything and made them promise to tell no one, not even their boyfriends or family. She left out what had happened in elementary school—only Draco and Mrs. Malfoy were to know about that. "It explains why you were sorted into Slytherin," Hermione pointed out, deep in thought. "The Sorting Hat has a way of knowing these things. It almost put Harry in Slytherin, you know."

"Really?" Adelinda said, surprised. "Why?"

"His connection to Voldemort, I suppose," Ginny answered. "That, and he can be quite cunning when he needs to be. He wasn't deemed 'The Chosen One' for nothing."

The witches laughed and just like that, their conversation become lighter, easier; they spent the rest of their evening in the Room of Requirements before sneaking back to their respective common rooms. Adelinda was walking briskly through the dungeons, peeking around every corner for the Prefect, when she felt a hand on her shoulder pushing her against the wall. In a second her wand was out and she had shoved her assailant far enough back to use it; the only thing that saved the Head Boy from a nasty hex was his quick reflexes. He shoved her hand up and the spell hit a lantern instead of him. Sparks flew this way and that as the spell ricocheted for a few seconds before finally disappearing.

"Well, at least I know you can protect yourself," Draco said, an amused smirk on his lips. She rolled her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest.

"You know better than to scare me like that," she scolded, leaning up to kiss him after tucking her wand back into her robes. "I'm sorry I tried to hex the life out of you."

"I'm sorry I snuck up on you," he said. She smacked his arm, hearing the laughter in his voice.

"No you're not," she told him. They had yet to go to any classes; McGonagall had given them a day to settle back in and finish up their assignments—if they were not handed in to their professors the next day, they would get no credit for them.

"Did you have a nice time with Granger and Weasley?" he asked her, putting his arm around her shoulders as they walked to the common room entrance. She wondered when his voice had become so much less hostile when speaking of her Gryffindor friends; it had been a long, long time since it had been anything but pleasant when referring to them, but she had never noticed the transition. It had taken some time apart to fully recognize the changes that had occurred in him over the school year.

"_Si,"_ she answered with a smile.

"Did you tell them that we are together again?" he asked, glancing down at her to read her face. She nodded.

"Mm-hm," she put an arm around his waist. "They say that they knew it would happen, and that if you ever hurt me, the Weasley family will have your head. But they don't disapprove _entirely." _

"Well, that's certainly a step up from their previous hatred of me," he said with a laugh, unbothered. "Merlin, if you could have seen the looks those two would give me in the corridors…and I didn't even know why." He shook his head. She wondered at his sudden indifference towards what had happened—she knew there had to be some type of inner conflict, but she was hesitant to ask.

"Just treat me like a queen and they'll come around," she teased, giving him a squeeze. When they entered the common room, many eyes turned towards them—it hadn't taken long for the entire Slytherin house and eventually the school to find out what Pansy had done, and when that gossip began the talk of their relationship and what would come of it began, too. She put on a brave face, but there was a small part that worried what people would think of it.

"You underestimate the stubbornness of your friends," he told her. "Come on, let's sit for awhile."

She looked at him with weary eyes. "Are you sure?"

Before Draco could answer, Penelope had pounced on her. She stumbled backwards and had to wrap her arms around the girl to keep them both from falling. They tried and failed miserably to stifle their giggles. "Bloody hell!" Adelinda exclaimed. "Did you miss me?"

"Duh," Penelope said with an impatient sigh, finally pulling back. Draco was watching them with an amused smirk. "And you have to tell me how it went. You promised."

Adelinda gave Draco, whose eyebrows were raised, a sheepish look. "Later," she murmured, nudging the girl. Penelope's eyes went back and forth between the two.

"Ahhhh." Her eyes lit up with mischief. "That didn't take long. You've got beans to spill, missy. But we'll talk tomorrow."

Adelinda's cheeks had flushed pink. "_Si, _fine," she huffed. "During potions."

When Penelope practically skipped away, she took a seat next to Draco, who had sat down on an unoccupied sofa away from the fire. He put an arm around her and she nestled into his side. "Details, hmm?"

She gave a little shrug, smiling sweetly up at him. "You can't expect me _not _to give her details. She has as much against Pansy as anyone here."

"I know." He said, thinking for a moment. "All I ask is that you do not include myself or details of what happened while I was—you know."

She looked at him, shocked. "Draco, I wouldn't," Adelinda said firmly. "And, _onestamente_, I'm a little hurt that you think I would tell anyone those things."

"It's not about you," Draco said, shaking his head. "I _know _you wouldn't, but I feel like I have to say it. Humor me."

She looked at him for a moment. He was right, it wasn't about her. As different as it had been for each of them, they had both been hurt and humiliated. "Okay. I will keep those details to myself."

"Thank you."

They spent the better part of their evening in the common room, helping each other with their make-up assignments; it didn't feel like long before the common room had emptied and they were alone in the chilly underground. "We actually have to wake up on time tomorrow," he murmured. They sat before the fire with their books and parchment scattered in front of them; Adelinda was laying down, her head on his thigh and his robes covering her.

"I know." Her eyes were half-open; the movement of the flame was hypnotic.

"You need to get some sleep," he said, looking down at her. She was exhausted. He himself hadn't been sleeping much lately, but his exhaustion came in short waves.

"I know," she repeated, her eyes closing for a minute and then opening; they kept doing this until finally, they closed and remained that way. Her breathing slowed and she fidgeted for awhile before finally settling, with her face buried against his stomach and one of her arms thrown onto his lap. He didn't know how she could possibly be comfortable but he didn't want to move her yet.

It felt too good to be true, and he wondered if it was. When he had finally escaped the effects of Pansy's potion, his first thought had been of Adelinda and their failed relationship. He knew what she believed—that he had betrayed her with another woman, and her enemy, at that. He had been consumed by regret and by guilt but mostly by fear that she wouldn't be able to forgive him.

Then, when she finally began to speak to him, his fear changed; even if she could forgive him, could she touch him again knowing that Pansy had touched him, too? He and Pansy had been together long before Adelinda, of course, but it was different this time. It had happened when it was supposed to be the younger witch in his arms, in his bed. He wondered if she would sleep in his bed again. He wondered if their honeymoon phase would end and reveal the cracks that_ had_ to be there; he wasn't sure they would be able to fill them.. He found himself concerned with Adelinda's opinion of him when he had never before cared much for the opinion of anyone. Draco didn't want her to think poorly of him or to associate her feelings for him with negativity.

Looking down at her and observing the way her skin glowed in the moonlight, the sweet way her small hands gripped his shirt like a security blanket, Draco made a promise to himself and to her: unless she wanted it to end, nothing would come between them again. He cared for her too much—and his mother even seemed to approve. That was a hard task to accomplish and she had done it without trying. He couldn't let her go now.

He slid his arms beneath hers and pulled her up onto his lap gently. "Adelinda, you've got to go to bed," he said softly to her, pressing kisses to her cheeks and forehead. "C'mon, girl."

She gave a little whine. "No." Her arms slid around his neck. "_Non voglio…" _

"We have classes in the morning, you silly girl." He gave her a gently shake. "I'll carry you if I have to."

She nodded before nuzzling her face into his neck. "_Si, _that's fine." Her voice was sleepy and her eyes were still closed, but she was half-awake now.

"Little minx." She gave a little noise of protest and he smirked. One-handed and trying not to jostle her, he gathered their things and shoved them into her bag, slinging it over his shoulder before wrapping both arms around her and standing carefully.

She held on tightly when she felt him stand, beginning to wake with every step he took, her heart suddenly pounding. It would be the first night she was sleeping alone, and without the Dreamless Sleep potion…

"Give me your key, love," he whispered, trying to be discreet; hopefully none of the girls in neighboring rooms would decided it was time to use the loo or sneak into their boyfriend's rooms.

Adelinda forced her eyes open and slid her key from around her neck with the arm that wasn't around Draco's. He unlocked it and pushed the door open with his foot. "Light, _per favore_," she murmured, and after closing the door and laying her on the bed, he pulled his wand from his robe and lit the lamp on her desk.

She was sitting up, yawning and rubbing at her eyes. Her room was the tidiest it had been all school year; her bed was made and her desk was organized and all of her clothing was put away neatly, save for what was in her trunk. Draco was impressed and was about to say so when he noticed the look on her face. She never had been good at hiding her feelings, but no matter how skilled in the art of concealment she became, he could always tell when she wasn't feeling right. "What's wrong?" he asked, pulling the blankets back for her. She had stood up and was sliding out of his robe and her clothes, pulling a nightgown from her trunk.

"I don't want to sleep alone," Adelinda said quietly, handing his robe to him. He set it aside.

"Why not?" he questioned, locking her door; it didn't take much for him to decide to stay there with her. "You seem nervous."

She gave a little shrug, watching him as he slid his belt off. It was the first time he had been to her room in the night since they had gotten back together but he seemed to feel as at-home as he had before. "It's just…I don't…" she paused. "The Dreamless Sleep…"

His eyes flit to her face. He was unbuttoning his shirt, laying his clothes over the chair. "I thought you weren't addicted."

"I'm not!" she said quickly, defensively. "But I got used to not worrying about bad dreams, and I got used to falling asleep with a magical aid…and the past few nights, I've had you at my side, and that in itself is enough to keep me feeling sane, but…"

"But you're afraid that if you're alone, you'll have a nightmare, and if you do have bad dreams there will be no one there when you wake up." She nodded, a bit embarrassed. She was seventeen years old and plagued by ridiculous nightmares. "Adelinda, it's fine. Let's get to bed."

Thinking about the Dreamless Sleep situation made him angry. He was sure her parents were composing their letter to McGonagall about Slughorn at that very moment, ready to get him kicked out of the school if they hadn't already, and he couldn't say he didn't want the same. It wasn't the first time he had given forbidden potions or spells or information to students, and if anything bad had happened to her as a result, it wouldn't have been the first time Slughorn's 'help' had gotten a student into serious trouble. He had never liked that man, not since he had failed to invite him into the slug club (no matter how justified his reason for not doing so had been).

"You must think I'm an idiot for using that potion," she whispered once they were in bed. She had used her wand to dim the light but not put it out completely.

"You were desperate," he said after a long moment. "You had a lot on your plate, and nightmares, too? I think if you hadn't taken the potion, you likely would have wasted away to nothing by now—I know how you get when you're stressed out, Adelinda, don't give me that look. You forget to eat for days, you don't sleep—I'm positively furious that Slughorn allowed you to use that potion, but perhaps it was okay for that short-term use…" he gave her a look. "…as long as you promise me that you'll never touch it again."

"I won't," she said immediately, shaking her head. "I won't, I promise."

"Good," he said, satisfied. "Now hush up, girl. We both need to sleep. I'll be right here."

She nodded and rested her head against his chest, comforted by the tightness of his arms around her. It didn't take long for both of them to fall asleep.

_Wake up, Adelinda. Wake up. _

_The familiar voice was calling, and when she opened her eyes, she was in the middle of the street. Double-decker buses and taxis sped past her, paying her no mind. It was as if they didn't see her. Every time she tried to make it to the sidewalk, one or the other would come so close to her she had to jump back. Her heart was pounding and her stomach was in knots. _

"_Why are you doing this?" she yelled, turning round and round, trying to find a way out of traffic. _

'_You are the only way out, Adelinda.' _

_She couldn't find the source of the voice, but she realized as she tried that she couldn't hear the noise of the busy London street—no car horns or radios, no shouting, no cell phones ringing; there was nothing. Nothing but the hissing voice of the man in her dream. _

"_What do you mean? Out of what? I just want you to leave me alone!" _

'_Funny, that's what your mother once said.' _

_Traffic came to an abrupt stop and the drivers froze mid-movement, some with their hands on the wheel and mouths open to speak, some with their hand poised to blow their horn, others yelling at their passengers. It was just a normal day in London. _

_She took her chance to run across the road, stumbling to stop as she saw skeletal hands reaching for her from the sidewalk. "Stop it!" she screamed, tearing away from the hooded figures. She ran again, but she was surrounded and ended up back in the middle of the street. _

_Through the lines of cars and buses, she saw a woman crouched; she wore robes and was bleeding from the mouth. 'My love…my love…' there was a moving photograph of a baby at her feet. 'Don't hurt her….don't hurt her!' _

_Adelinda began to walk closer, slowly. The man speaking had to be hurting her, too. "Miss?" she called out, her eyes flitting from sidewalk to sidewalk. The people in black just stood there, watching, waiting. _

'_She can't hear you, Adelinda. Does she look familiar?' _

_The woman was small and waifish, with dark hair. Her pale skin was littered with scrapes and bruises, and her robe was torn around the feet, little bits of leaves and dirt sticking to it. She had been running through a forest, away from someone, something. _

'_DOES SHE LOOK FAMILIAR?' _

_Adelinda jumped as he yelled. "Miss! Miss, are you okay?" The figures began to move towards her and she ran to the room, dropping to her knees in front of her. "We have to go!" _

_The lady was sobbing now, rocking back and forth, holding the picture of the baby in her hand. When Adelinda grabbed her shoulders, the woman looked her in the face and let out a bloodcurdling scream; she was taken aback by the greenness of her eyes and didn't notice as the busses began moving and pushed right through the woman, and then Adelinda was screaming as her own body was being dragged across the pavement, her arms caught in the metal of the bus-_

She woke up in a cold sweat, gasping. "Wha—wha's goin' on?" Draco mumbled, feeling her sit up. He wrapped his arms around her waist. She shook him off, fumbling for her wand to brighten the lamp on her desk. When the room was flooded with light he sat up, covering his eyes.

"Bloody hell!" he rubbed at them vigorously and blinked until his eyes had adjusted. "Adelinda?"

She was sitting on the edge of her bed with her back turned to him and her arms wrapped around herself. "Nightmare," she said quietly. "I'm fine."

"Come here," he said, propping himself up on an elbow. She crawled back into bed. "Was it the same one as always?"

"No." her voice was little more than a whisper, as if the man in her dream could still hear her. "I was back in London on that street, with all that traffic around me, and—those hooded people were on the sidewalks. There was a woman in the middle of the road and he kept asking if she looked familiar, he was getting so _angry—_he kept telling me I was his only way out. That he needed me."

"Who? Who is 'he?'" Draco asked, blinking himself awake.

"The same man as always!" Her breathing was becoming erratic. "And then the bus hit me, and it was dragging me, and—and it could've actually happened, maybe I shouldn't even be alive right now—" her words alarmed him and he sat up.

"Adelinda, you've got to calm down," he said firmly, grabbing her shoulders. Her eyes were wide and her face was void of all color. "Breathe with me. Now." His hands moved to her cheeks and he rubbed circles into her skin with his thumbs. "It was just a dream, okay?"

"But it was real a few days ago," she whispered, closing her eyes. Her hands were atop his, gripping them tightly.

He had nothing to say to that. She was right.

"Well, maybe this is a result of that—you're traumatized, as you should be after a near-death experience."

"It wasn't just that," she said. "It wasn't just that, he made me do it. They made me do it, and they're in my head. They aren't just dreams!"

She had never said anything like this before and a chill went down his spine. She believed this with every ounce of her being. "How do you know?" he questioned wearily.

"It doesn't feel right, it doesn't feel like a dream—it's all too real—" she took a deep breath.

"Adelinda, you've got to calm down, love," he said softly, trying to soothe her. He pulled her close and kissed her. "It was only a nightmare and everything will be okay. As long as you're with me, you're safe."

He kissed her, over and over again, until he felt the tension leaving her body. When he could no longer see her pulse jumping in her neck he began to kiss his way down her neck and chest. "You're safe, and I love you."

"I love you, too—" she gave a little gasp as his tongue flicked her nipple. "Right now?"

"Why not?" she squirmed beneath his touches and he undid the buttons on her gown, his lips following his hands.

"Because—we have to be up in the morning—_oh." _The tip of his tongue touched the most intimate part of her, sending a wave of pleasure through her body. Her fingers tangled into his hair, her other hand gripping the sheets.

"Do you really want to go back to sleep?" he mumbled against her inner thigh, caressing her legs.

"Uh-uhhh."

"Then hush." He touched her in ways that made it hard for her to do as he said, making her writhe and squirm in pleasure. When she cried out he moved up and kissed her, his fingers continuing his tongue's work. "Shh. You'll wake everyone."

"I can't help it," she whined into his mouth, her arms wrapped tight around his neck. His eyes were glossy with sleep and desire, his lips pink and shining. She kissed him feverishly and then moved her lips to his neck, biting and sucking at the soft skin there, drawing little noises from him.

"Wand," he muttered as her hand slid down to the hardness of him, stroking him slowly, softly. "You bloody tease." He cast a quick contraceptive charm and with a surprising suddenness was pushing into her, taking both her wrists and holding them above her head. His other hand covered her mouth as she let out a noise of pleasure, her body craning upwards against his.

"Silencing charm," she mumbled into his palm, nipping at his fingers. Her breathing was quick and her eyes closed, lips parted in a beautiful display of physical bliss.

"That's no fun," he murmured, still holding her wrists, and he began to bite roughly at her neck and shoulders as she wrapped her legs around his hips. "Oh, hell—"

His pace quickened and every time their thighs connected she was gasping and wriggling against him, and sure enough, their night was spent coming together instead of sleeping. As they lay basking in the warmth of each other afterwards, sunlight began to creep through her window. She buried her face in his bare chest.

"I hate to leave you," he drawled, kissing her. She lay against the front of his body, skin-to-skin. "But we both need to bathe, and I need to get back to my room before anyone gets up…"

It would do them no good for girls to see him sneaking from her bedroom, and in such a disheveled state. He dressed and left and she pulled her nightgown on, standing and stretching. She felt unusually awake but knew that would likely fade through the day. Gathering her clothes, she made her way to the baths and got ready for her first day back at school. It had been only a week but felt much as though it had been much longer.

She noticed that something was off immediately when she walked into the potions classroom. Instead of Slughorn sitting at the large desk, there was a short, thin man; the former professor's clutter was gone. She gave Draco a look when she spotted him. She knew why their potions teacher wasn't present.

Penelope was sitting at their table already, eyeing the new man. "Have you ever seen him before?" she asked Adelinda once she took a seat.

She shook her head. "No, I haven't. Maybe Slughorn is sick." Unlikely.

"Maybe," Penelope agreed with a shrug. Once everyone was seated and the doors had closed for the final time, the man stood to address them.

"Good-morning," he greeted, giving a little smile at the half-asleep reply the class gave him. "My name is Blake Connelly, Professor Connelly to you, and I will be taking over for Professor Slughorn."

"Where did Professor Slughorn go?" the question came from the Gryffindor side of the room.

"That is not for me to discuss," the new teacher said. "Today will be an easy day; I want to gauge each of your skill levels over the next few classes and determine the best way to help all of you prepare for your exams. We will begin today with a simple Calming Draught. You should know which ingredients and supplies you need for this potion, so I will give no instructions—you may begin. Gryffindor side, retrieve your things first. Mr. Malfoy, Miss Amoretto, I believe you have make-up assignments for me?"

Adelinda retrieved her work from her bag. It had been the most useless assignment she had ever had to do—five paragraphs on the brewing of Polyjuice Potion. All she had to do was look it up in her textbook and paraphrase the information she found. Regardless, she had finished it and she had written it well; she took it up to the desk and handed it to Professor Connelly.

"Miss Amoretto," the small man said quietly as she began to turn away.

"Sir?"

"I would like you to understand something. I am not like your former Professor; I will not sit by while students brew dangerous potions or play your friend. I am here to teach you, and that is it. I will tolerate no kind of trouble."

Adelinda's face hardened. "With all due respect, Professor, I do not believe you should speak on things when you've not heard the story in its entirety."

"And how do you know I haven't?" His dark eyes narrowed and she sighed, irritated.

"If you had, you would know that speaking to me about this is very inappropriate." Her face was void of emotion and her voice was as polite as she could make it.

"I'm simply letting you know, Miss Amoretto. I don't want any misunderstandings in my classroom. You are to brew only what I say you may brew, and only during class or under my supervision."

"Did Professor McGonagall say that it was okay to speak to me about this?" Adelinda asked, her voice sharp and eyebrows raised as she waited for an answer. "No? I didn't think so. Perhaps you shouldn't."

His pale face turned beet red. Draco had walked up with his own assignments and he was watching them, listening, ready to assist Adelinda or calm her down before she got into trouble. "You are in no position to tell me what I should and shouldn't do, young lady," he said firmly, loudly. "In fact, I'm quite amazed you haven't been expelled because of this!"

"I'm amazed you haven't gotten the hint and stopped talking," Adelinda spat in an uncharacteristic show of hostility. "If you speak to me about this subject again, I'm going to the headmaster."

Professor Connelly's face hardened with anger and embarrassment—the class was watching them now. Ginny and Hermione looked concerned and confused. "Detention!" he spat. "Tonight, and for the rest of the week. Do not talk back to your elders."

Draco slammed his papers on the desk and grabbed her hand, leading her away from the desk. "Adelinda, what are you doing?" he asked, exasperated. He stood beside her table. Penelope was looking at them, waiting for her to answer his question.

"You know what he was talking about," she said, her narrowed eyes fixed on the humiliated Professor. "He has no right."

"Well, actually, as much as I understand your anger—he does," Draco said, and she turned her angry eyes on him. He couldn't help the smirk that played across his lips. She was cute when she was mad, even when she was trying her hardest to be intimidating. "He is a presumptuous man, though. He won't make many friends here. Just get your potion done, show him how well you can brew, and perhaps he'll cut you a break." He turned his eyes to Penelope. "Keep her in line, yeah?"

Penelope laughed at that. "I'll try." Draco fetched both girls' ingredients for them before getting his own and sitting down at his table. "Uhm, I know you're going to tell me what that was about."

"Nope." Her reply was curt.

"Why not?" Penelope questioned, looking at her incredulously.

"It's embarrassing, and I really don't think I'm supposed to be talking about it, which is why I'm so angry that Connelly was. What kind of name is that, anyway?"

"An Irish one, I believe," Penelope replied cheerfully. She smiled back at Adelinda's glare. "You are a moody one this morning, hm? You must not have gotten much sleep." She had that impish twinkle in her eye that Adelinda either hated or loved, depending on who it was directed at.

"I didn't, and no, you don't get details," Adelinda said, her voice mockingly mean but her smile sweet. "Since you want to be so bloody annoying this morning."

"Oh, I'm hurt!"

"As if." And with that, they were discussing the potion, and eventually the outcome of the trial, until they were interrupted by Connelly.

"How's it going, ladies?" he asked, peering into each of their cauldrons. Penelope's was very slightly off in color, but he couldn't find anything to critique about Adelinda's. She thought about telling him he was an idiot if he didn't realize a student that could brew Dreamless Sleep could probably brew a perfect Calming Draught, too, but she already had detention for a week and there were too many curious ears around them.

He swirled the ladle around the cauldron and scooped some up, bringing it to his lips. "It's a tad bitter," he said, his tone reflecting his description of her potion. "Work on that."

Adelinda narrowed her eyes in anger. She and this teacher were not going to get along. "Bloody hell, what is that man's problem?" she fumed once he had left their table, throwing a handful of powder into the cauldron. The potion began to smoke. "Bet that's sweet enough."

"Good lord, you are irritable!" Penelope commented, nudging her when Adelinda turned angry eyes her way. "Oh, calm down."

"He's…ugh, he's just a pompous little man, isn't he?" she shook her head, taking a deep breath. "Whatever."

Draco walked her to her next class when potions had ended; there were stares and some whispers as the walked arm-in-arm, but she ignored them, too busy ranting about the teacher. "He's just angry nobody likes him," she said, nose in the air. "I mean, he can't dress himself, it seems, and his hair is a mess, and he's old. So he has to take it out on his young, lively students."

"You sound more and more like a Slytherin every day," Draco teased with a smirk. She frowned at him.

"Detention for a week. Can you believe it?"

"Considering the way you spoke to him—which I do commend you for, even if it did land you in detention—yes, I can believe it," he said.

"Whatever." She was pouting when he kissed her good-bye. She went through the rest of her day annoyed and tired and quite grumpy, and after supper with her Gryffindor friends, she walked solemnly to detention. Draco had promised to meet her outside the classroom when it was over.

She walked in to the classroom; there were lines and lines of cauldrons laid out upon the table. She groaned—of course she would be cleaning cauldrons. She wouldn't be doing it alone, however; there were two other students there with her.

"Miss Amoretto, I'm happy to see that you have decided to grace us with your presence," Professor Connelly greeted sarcastically.

She smiled sweetly at him. "Yes, I'm sure you were awaiting it eagerly."

He huffed angrily—she was determined to never let him have the last word, the best sarcasm, or the wittiest rebuttals. "You'll be cleaning cauldrons with your classmates," he barked. "One hour, no magic allowed."

"Uh-huh. I'll get right to it."

What she really wanted to do was get right to bed (or rather, to Draco). She walked to the front of the classroom to retrieve her cleaning supplies, draping her robe over a chair and rolling the sleeves of her sweater up. The other two students were quiet and it took her awhile to realize one of them was Ashley Rogers, the girl who had been missing for a few days before she'd gone to London—was the professor singling out students who had been recently traumatized, or was he that oblivious? She wondered what the young girl had done to land herself in detention. She wasn't a troublemaker by any means, so perhaps whatever had happened to her truly had messed her up.

Connelly cleared his throat and she realized she was staring. Her cheeks turned pink and she began scrubbing at the cauldrons again. Ashley had noticed her looking; Adelinda felt a pang of guilt. The girl was probably tired of people staring and wondering. No details had ever been released to the students when she had been found, and if Ashley had told her friends what had happened, they had told no one else. The Slytherin girl hoped she didn't think she was just another nosy classmate.

Ashley turned away when Adelinda went back to cleaning. She wanted the hour to be over with—she had assignments to finish and sleep to be had, and perhaps a warm mug of Butterbeer from Draco's personal stash. Whether he liked it or not, she was sleeping in his room with him. The nightmares were changing and she didn't like it.

"Alright, students," Connelly spoke, clapping his hands together. "You're dismissed. I will see you all again tomorrow. Same time, same task…you'll finish whatever you didn't get to today." Adelinda sighed and he turned his eyes on her. "What was that?"

"Nothing," she said sweetly, rolling her eyes when he turned away. She draped her folded robe over her shoulder and tucked her wand into the waist of her skirt, making her way to the doors.

"Amoretto!" a small voice called after her. She turned to see Ashley walking towards her.

"Rogers," She greeted cautiously, wondering what the girl could want. Perhaps to tell her off for staring? She decided to beat her to it. "Hey, I didn't mean to stare earlier—I don't want you to think I'm rude. I haven't had much sleep and I think I was dozing off." She smiled warmly at the younger girl. It wasn't really a lie.

"No, it's okay," Ashley said with a little smile. "I'm used to staring. I bet you are too. We've both been the talk of the school lately," she joked, and Adelinda laughed.

"Yeah, you're right," she said. Maybe that was why the girl was addressing her—she needed a friend who understood being the subject of gossip and stares in the corridor.

"How do you deal with it?" Ashley asked quietly. She was a small girl, smaller than Adelinda, thin and short; her features were fairy-like, sharp and pale. "The staring? Even my friends don't treat me the same as they did before—you know. They walk on eggshells like every little thing will break me."

"You just have to show them that you're not as fragile as they think," Adelinda told her softly. She was only seventeen, but the girl in front of her looked and sounded so young and nervous—she wanted to hug her. "I don't know what happened, but things will go back to normal, I promise. Just give it time."

"Thank you," Ashley said, looking down for a moment before meeting Adelinda's eyes with a warm, sweet smile. She was going to be very pretty when puberty truly hit her—her eyes were a brown that glowed in the yellow light of the lanterns, her curly hair wild and her dark skin perfectly unblemished. It was no wonder she was the subject of stares. "Really, thank you. I'll see you around the common room?"

"And at tomorrow's detention, of course," Adelinda said with a laugh. Ashley extended her hand to shake but Adelinda's heart caught in her throat.

On her forearm were several huge, slowly healing punctures, the perfect size for a snake's fangs to fit into. "—what happened your arm?" Adelinda choked out. Ashley looked down, alarmed. Her face paled and she yanked her sleeve down. "I—I'm sorry, I don't meant to be rude and you don't have to answer, it just—startled me. I'm sorry."

"It's okay!" Ashley said a little too quickly. "I don't—I don't really know what happened, but the healers said it was a snake bite…I don't really know."

Adelinda nodded. Her heart was racing and her chest was tight with panic. "I'm sorry I asked," she apologized again, and this time Ashley smiled.

"Don't worry about it, Amoretto," she said. "I'll see you tomorrow." Adelinda watched the girl walk away, so deep in thought that she didn't realize Draco was behind her.

"Adelinda?"

She jumped, turning around quickly. "Merlin, you scared me," she gasped, her hand on her chest. "Draco, I—I need to tell you something, let's go somewhere private—"

His mind immediately went to the worst—she couldn't be with him anymore, she couldn't stop thinking about he and Pansy, someone had said something to make her change her mind—but he agreed wearily and let her lead him to the Room of Requirements. Once inside she paced before the fire. "Would you stay still?" Draco grabbed her shoulders, making her face him. "What the hell is going on?"

She stared at him. "You can't call me crazy," she said. Her face had drained of color and her hands felt clammy.

He schooled his expression into one of indifference. "Adelinda, have I ever called you crazy?"

"No, but there have been times when you haven't quite believed me—"

"I was wrong not to believe you. Adelinda, tell me what's going on," Draco said firmly, letting go of her shoulders. She turned immediately to the fire, staring off into it for a moment.

She wouldn't look at him as she spoke. "When that girl went missing—Ashley Rogers—"

"The one you were speaking to when I walked up?" She hadn't realized he had been there that long, but she nodded. "Alright. Go on."

"When she went missing, I had a dream—the same nightmare as always, in that room with the covered chairs and the snake—" she hesitated. "—wait, it was the night that I woke up late and you were drinking in the common room and then I got drunk too—" she took a breath, trying to compose her thoughts. "It was the same dream as always, but Ashley was there. She was _there, _and I was there, and in that dream she got bitten by the snake…"

"So…?" Draco didn't understand what she was trying to tell him.

She finally turned to him, her eyes full of fear. "She has a snake bite on her arm, and it happened while she was missing."

He stared at her for a second before sitting down. It was all too reminiscent of the things that were happening before the war. Arthur Weasley getting bitten by Nagini in the ministry, Harry Potter dreaming of it…

"You were right, Adelinda," he said, his voice empty. He was just as scared as she was. "Someone is in your head."

_**A/N: oooo, exciting...;) hope you guys enjoyed and please review! **_


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