Disclaimer: Drusilla, Morwen, Samuel, and Jessica belong to me. The rest do not.

Look at the sky tell me what do you see

Just close your eyes and describe it to me

The heavens are sparkling with starlight tonight

That's what I see through your eyes

I see the heavens each time that you smile

I hear your heartbeat just go on for miles

And suddenly I know why life is worthwhile

That's what I see through your eyes

That's what I see through your eyes

Here in the night, I see the sun

Here in the dark, our two hearts are one

Its out of our hands, we can't stop what we have begun

And love just took me by surprise, looking through your eyes

I see a night I wish could last forever

I see a world we're meant to see together

And it is so much more than I remember

More than I remember

More than I have known

Here in the night, I see the sun

Here in the dark, our two hearts are one

Its out of our hands, we can't stop what we have begun

And love just took me by surprise, looking through your eyes

Looking through your eyes

Drusilla held onto the reins with practiced ease of the horse as it galloped across the wide expanse of lush green plains stretched out for the entire world to see. She felt the faint warmth of the creature beneath her, as the reins were the only accessories for it. Drusilla had always vastly preferred wild horses, because when they sped across the lands, they bestowed upon her the thrilling sense of freedom she had craved.

Well, she figured that it was pretty good, since her parents had long disowned her two years ago upon her entrance into Gryffindor House and befriending Harry Potter in Hogwarts. She supposed they had valid reason, because her father's side of the family had all been Slytherins and they hated Harry like crazy…Her mother? Well, her mother was not exactly on the side of angels too, to put it very mildly. It did not bother her-well, maybe a little, but a very little-that the reason her mother married her father was to produce an offspring that was both very well-versed in magic and had the ability to live forever without growing old whatsoever so that they could take over the world through her.

Yes, her mother was an Elf. An elf from Middle-Earth. Morwen, to be exact. All Drusilla knew was that she was Sauron's-whoever it was-daughter, and was determined to somehow join both worlds together and the rest was not so clear, but Drusilla was shrewd enough to know that Morwen was set to topple Voldemort and take over this world and Middle-Earth when Sauron got back his ring.

His ring. She thought, and she couldn't help but snort at the ridiculousness of it all. A little gold band had contained her grandfather's-so to speak-essence and most of his power. Once he had it, he would then be able to rule the world, to put everything in a nutshell. Which she figured would not be good for the free peoples of those lands. If her mother and heritage was anything to come by, those poor people would be suffering horribly under Sauron's rule. She closed her eyes and forced out a pang of guilt. Her father was a highly regarded Death Eater, his powers matched only by his cruelty and his thirst for Muggle blood. Despite the warm clothes she had on, she felt a cold, icy thrill course through her body at her father's unfeeling, cold eyes. Samuel Fontaine reminded her so much of a poisonous cobra sometimes. Since she was young, he had made her learn, allowing no room for mistake or failure. He always seemed furious at Mother, and she knew why.

Mother had refused to bind herself to him, to turn her back on her people and forsake her immortality. According to Mother, she had not planned on wasting all her lifetimes with "this pathetic rubbish".

There was no love lost between them, and Drusilla figured that it was a purely business deal, but how that kind of deal could come to pass without either of them falling in love with each other was totally beyond her. But then it wasn't her place now to care, was it? They had disinherited her, saying that she was a shame to the family, all because she had saved Harry Potter and his friends from Voldemort on more than a few occasions and had allowed herself to be close to them. "Going soft," were her mother's exact, disgusted words when Drusilla had thrown off the weight of responsibility to her family and decided to do what she wanted to do, not what her parents expected her to do.

It was the first semblance of warmth that she'd ever experienced from Harry, Ron, and Hermione, and she never wanted to let go. Not for her family, not for anyone. They had made her feel so accepted, feel like one of them despite the nature of the blood that coursed through her veins.

They loved her.

Drusilla could see the truth clearly when Hermione's parents decided to take her in, too, after Hermione begged them for goodness knew how long. She had been totally embarrassed at first, but had recognized this as a sign that she really wanted to help, and Drusilla could not possibly stay in Hogwarts for the summer, could she? Touched by the sincerity of the Granger family, she had moved in with them.

Unfortunately, for the first few days, the transition had been chaotic. Drusilla knew absolutely nothing about using Muggle items to pass the day, and it was very difficult for her, even with Hermione's ever-ready help. But even that passed, and she now held a deep-rooted fascination to the Muggle item they called an eggbeater. She would purposefully hang around in the kitchen if Mrs. Granger, whom she now called Mom--not Mother, because it was only reserved for Morwen, and using that name gave her bad memories--planned on making cake or some other kind of Muggle food that needed egg for the sole purpose that she could then volunteer to "beat" the egg.

It was fun, watching the whites and the yolk of the egg mix together within the vigorous spin of the contraption, and Mom seemed thoroughly amused at the ecstatic glee she showed on her face whenever she touched that Muggle artifact. It was fun, really. What was so wrong about Muggles? They were a fascinating species, and she grew to love them, since she found something new to learn every day.

Oh, and Ducky. She would never, never forget Ducky, a yellow rubber duck that made a sick wheezing sound whenever you pressed on it too hard. She loved him too. Truly, away from the Fontaine House, where every thing you did was a calculated move, every smile you wore was false, and the air in the room was freezing, totally without human warmth, Drusilla did not miss them at all.

In fact, with the death of Voldemort and all, it was pretty easy to see where the Fontaine House and her father was headed. The last she heard, her mother had packed and gone back to Middle-Earth, furious and shaking with rage. It was then very lucky for her that Dumbledore had performed the Fidelious Charm on her, rendering her invisible to her mother and father, so that they could not possibly find her and drag her back home, with alot of pain mixed in the equation. Well, it was mostly her mother, since her father was in Azkaban right about now, along with Malfoy's father and a whole bunch of the Slytherin students' parents.

It would not really be a surprise for her mother to drag her back, since she had made it clear on several painful occasions that she did not care a bit about her, and only cared about what she could do for her.

Which was nothing. She would never, never do anything for either her parents anymore.

Briefly, she lifted a hand from the reins and touched the cold crystalline pendant at her neck. This was the seal of her immortality, proof that she had the blood of an Elf from Middle-Earth. The pendant was a shimmering crystal that glinted in several colours against the light, flanked by two delicate snakes, giving the pendant an intricate design.

It really was a pretty thing.

"Noroavorn, muin Aeglos!"Ride faster, dear Aeglos! she whispered to her horse, automatically switching back to her mother tongue,-- Sindarin, the language of the Elves-- as she stroked its shock of white mane lovingly. "Norove' tel'sul!"Ride like the wind!

The horse whinnied in eager response, and the wind whipped harder against her face, almost stinging her with its sharpness. Drusilla's heart beat faster, and she couldn't resist a cry of delight at the sense of flying, of freedom. Nothing could beat this! Her hair tugged gently at her scalp, streaming, mingling with the sharp wind. It made her feel as light as a feather, made her forget everything bad that had happened to her...

She was free.


"Goodness! What happened to you?" Daphne Granger exclaimed at the sight of a muddied Drusilla entering the house, her hair uncharacteristically messed beyond belief, and her face hidden beneath mud. She could barely make out a bright grin from underneath the muck.

"Gone riding, I suppose?" Charles Granger chuckled from behind his evening paper, then frowned. "You'd better take a long, hot bath, Dru, before your Mom throws another fit with you soiling the house and everything."

"Sure." she already felt very comfortable with the Grangers and had accepted them as her foster parents as readily as they accepted her as their foster daughter. For Muggle dentists, they were exceptionally warm and friendly. "What's for dinner?"

Her foster mother was already horrified at the dark brown spot coupled with bits of grass on the carpet. She snapped to her senses at that question and hurriedly pushed Drusilla towards the staircase. "Do go and clean yourself, dear, you're shedding all over the floor!" she put her head in her hands and gave out a long-suffering sigh. "And here goes another prized carpet."


It was a good half-hour before Drusilla deemed herself clean enough to go down to the table. Mom and Dad were very particular about cleanliness in the house. Quickly making herself look neat and presentable--no matter how much she liked the Grangers and vice versa, she would always pride herself on looking neat and tidy as a mark that she was, like them, a very civilized person--she hurried down the stairs.

Drusilla was greeted by the sight of Dad, Mom, and Hermione seated at the table, conversing with each other warmly and laughing. They apparently did not see her enter, and she watched silently at the perfection of the family. It was warm and loving, nothing could go wrong. She saw the look in both the older Grangers' eyes when they gazed at Hermione that she had not seen when they looked at her. Of course, she could not blame them, they were not her real parents, after all, but even that did not stop a pang of deep sadness and envy when she saw the three of them simply sitting together.

"Oh, Dru!" Hermione caught sight of her and flashed her a megawatt smile. Drusilla returned the grin, feeling all her unease melt away in that moment. That was what Hermione's warm, friendly smile could do to you. She made you feel accepted.

"Hey, sorry I'm a little late for dinner." She sat down.

"You're here at last," Mom smiled as she scooped a few spoonfuls of whipped potato onto Drusilla's plate. "Hermione was just wondering if you'd drowned."

Drusilla couldn't help but grin. Hermione was one with the overreaction all right. "Drown?"

"You went horse riding again today?" Hermione asked her, changing the subject. She shook her head in disapproval when the other girl's reply was affirmative. "You shouldn't ride those unbroken horses, you know. They might trample you to the ground and kill you if you get too near."

"Oh, don't you worry," she replied easily, cutting through her vegetables. "I'm a born natural with horses, they love me. Witness my not dying yet."

"Still, you should be careful, you know." Dad replied, trying and failing to hide an amused smirk. "I mean, what with you dragging half the field in with you whenever you come back from a hectic day at "work" and all. You're driving Mom quite crazy."

At this, they all chuckled, including Drusilla, who was thankful for family dinners like this, where they seemed to comfort her, if anything, that she was a part of the family too.

"Have you girls packed your things for school yet?" Mom asked, a speared piece of steak halfway to her mouth.

"I can't believe you had to ask, Mom. I've already packed it last month!" Hermione told her, with a hint of impatience. "Remember?"

Drusilla stared at her in abject horror. "Last month?" She was never going to get used to that girl's odd habits. She'd just finished packing her own stuff just last night, and already she thought it was a slight over-eagerness on her part. But LAST MONTH?!? No wonder Herm was so calm about everything when she'd been in a hassle last night looking for her things.

The girl turned a shade of colour that Drusilla was about to say really did not match her hair or her outfit in the least, but was forced to keep her mouth clamped shut when she realized that Herm was just overeager to see Ron again.

The two had been at it last year, going out to Hogsmeade on their own and leaving her and Harry to wander around by themselves--not that it wasn't any fun. Harry was a very decent guy, and funny too--while they did things that she really did not want to know about.

And there was that night when Herm did not go back to her bed at all and the day after that, and that afternoon two days later... her mind pointed out.

She stared at Hermione knowingly, and was rewarded by the look of embarrassment on her features. God knew what she did with Ron...

"Well, it's good to be prepared." Mom said, looking a little surprised herself. Then she looked at Drusilla. "And you, dear? I hope you have packed all your things, too."

She nodded. "Just last night. I'm not as ah, eager as Herm to get to school." she grinned and helped herself to another serving of potatoes.

"Ahh," Dad realized, his smirk going larger. "Are you hiding something from me, girls?"

"No, Dad, really!" Hermione stepped in hastily, her cheeks burning. "It's nothing. I'm just looking forward to this year, that's all."

"Me, too." Drusilla conceded, apparently thinking that it was high time to help bail her best friend-cum-foster sister out. "It's been a while since we've seen Harry and Ron, don't you think?" She then winked. It was the first time morally-superior Hermione looked so uncomfortable, after all, and since it was a rare chance, albeit once in a lifetime, she decided to take it.

"Ah, the wonders of being in love. I remember when I was young, there was so many girls after me that I--" Dad sighed dreamily, then yelped as

Mom whacked him on his arm, an expression of mock anger on her pretty face.

"Don't you say that I chased you, Charles Granger!" she said, her voice falsely threatening.

"Ooh, feisty!"

Hermione rolled her eyes at the both of them as they continued that playful banter, obviously lost in whatever era they came from, and turned to an amused Drusilla. "I hate it when they do that."

"Oh, don't worry. You'll get your turn one day." she said, a little off-handedly, even more amused at the horrified look Hermione gave her. This was fun, she didn't even knew Hermione was so touchy about her relationship when Ron around her parents!


"Oi!" came a sudden shout that made Drusilla's eyes fly open in fright. What was wrong? was the first thought that came to mind before her sleep-filled brain registered Ron's grinning, freckled face not too far away from her. Before she could say anything, a familiar, handsome face popped into her foggy vision. Harry. He was sporting the same annoyingly bright smile that was on Ron's face, and she swore that if their smiles were any wider, their faces would crack open like a coconut.

Wait...this was not Hogwarts, she remembered. At least not yet. So what were they--? She bolted awake, all traces of sleep vanishing as she stared at them in amazement. "Harry? Ron? What are the two of you doing here?"

"We were bored down at the Burrow, so me and Harry decided to come pay you girls a visit. Good to see you again, Dru." Ron grinned rakishly.

"To quote a certain someone, you look very sweet when you're asleep."

"Ron!" Harry burst out, his face pink with embarrassment before Drusilla knew what was going on. She was wide awake now, albeit a little slow when it came to the brain department after being scared to death. Well, scared awake was more like it.

"Uh?" she frowned.

"Well now!" Ron beamed, standing up and heading for the door. "I'll look for my Hermione now, so, people, don't disturb!" he waggled a finger at them and jovially bounced out of the room.

Drusilla stared after him in reluctant admiration, the earlier remark made from Harry clean forgotten. "How does he manage to do that so early in the morning?"

"He hadn't seen Hermione for weeks," Harry grinned, running a hand through his hair, untidy as ever as his startling blue-green eyes twinkled merrily. "You'd be surprised at what love would do to you. Apparently, sending love letters and almost killing their house owl was not enough for them."

She smiled back at him. Truly, Harry was a very nice guy, and was able to make one feel very comfortable around him. His smile was infectious, of course, as was the present delight in his eyes, for whatever reason she did not know. But it was a very good thing, since he had not really smiled like that since the unfortunate death of Cedric Diggory. "Oh, I get it pretty much all the time around her, all right. We'd talk, alone in our room, when she would suddenly just have this look in her eye before going onto an hour long rant about Ron and how amazing he was." she shook her head. "I never really got to perfect the art of escaping in the nick of time before I became Counsellor."

He laughed, a very pleasant and clear sound that never failed to lighten her heart. It was as if whenever Harry was around, she had the feeling that nothing bad would happen.

Strange. But vaguely pleasant. They were good friends, after all, if not best friends.

"It's really good to see you again, Drusilla." he said softly, his eyes shining with joy. Drusilla couldn't help but chuckle. His happiness was so...catchy sometimes.

"It's good to see you again, too." she replied honestly. "Have you eaten your breakfast yet?"

"No," he replied. "We came here at the crack of dawn."

"I suppose we girls should be touched, then," then her hand flew to her hair. "Oh, no. I look a mess!" she looked at him accusingly. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Tell you what?"

"My hair's a horrible thing to deal with in the morning," she replied, a little irritably as she reached for her brush at the side of her bed. Why had she forgotten to comb her hair first thing in the morning? Now Ron and Harry had seen her at her worst! Her hair, normally slightly curled at the top and framing her face with normally well-defined ringlets, giving her an almost Victorian look, was now extremely horrible and unkempt. She could feel them sticking out in an unruly manner, and she furiously tried to brush them back into an acceptable shape, which was no easy feat, considering the hideous amount of tangles her brush kept tugging against. Not to mention the ghastly sight she was giving Harry.

This was so embarrassing.

Harry turned a faint shade of pink again, for some unfathomable reason. "I don't know. You still look very nice."

"Of course you would say that," she replied, a little calmer now that it was more or less in place. Or rather, less of a Hermione-like mane. "You're my friend." she looked at the clock of the wall, then got out of bed. "Come on, let's go get breakfast. I'm rather hungry."

"Want to call Ron and Hermione?"

"You think?"


"You won't believe how freaked Hermione was when Mom and Dad were so close to finding out about Ron and her. Not that they would mind, though." she paused. "Go on down, Harry. I need to wash up."


The cold water served to wake her up all the way, albeit a little unpleasant at first. She turned off the tap, and glanced at herself in the mirror. Not too bad. Self-consciously, she brought some of her hair down to cover her ears. It was pointed, and she knew that most people would not react very well if they saw her with pointed ears. They'd think she was an overgrown house-elf or something. And then she'd have a hell of an explanation to do and everything.

Very annoying.

But thankfully, she was glad that Hermione and the others had known about it. They'd known all there was to know about her. Well, her heritage, anyway. Drusilla couldn't really bring herself to tell them about her family, though she had a sneaking suspicion that they did, anyway.

If they did, then it was pretty much decent of them not to breathe a word to her.

"Right," she mumbled to her reflection. "I look much better now." She was about to turn away and out of the bathroom when her reflection suddenly shimmered in front of her. Drusilla stood still, stunned at what was happening.

As if the mirror was simply a still bowl of glass, it rippled, the circles going wider and wider until the bathroom behind her seemed to fade away.

Half of her wanted to turn away to see if she was still in the bathroom, but the mirror did not allow her to pull her gaze away. It held her, forced her to see.

And she did. The air was eerie and cold, yet thick with malicious intent and...death. It formed a blanket, choking the inky black sky overhead. Drusilla drew in a breath, and it seared through her lungs. It was then that people melted into the foreboding image. She was standing on some kind of cliff, overlooking barren land. The broken pillars at the side of the cliffs told her that this place was once magnificent.

But now, it was crawling with evil. It seeped through her veins, under her skin...it defiled her. Drusilla cried out in pain at the sudden, piercing scream, and she saw five hideous, white people in front of her. They were translucent and tall, and they looked like sea kings, with long tendrils of hair wisping around them. They looked as if they were about to fade out of existence any moment, and yet looked alarmingly...solid.

She looked at their faces and fought not to scream. They were awful. Eye sockets stared malevolently at her, sending chills down her spine. They held long swords, and their hands were mere bones, like the rest of their bodies. They were nothing more than phantoms. But she knew that she would see these phantoms in her nightmares for days to come...

Drusilla tried to speak, to formulate some kind of response, but her mouth was not hers to command. They edged towards her, and she felt a strange terror seeping into her bones. The five phantoms before her promised a black death. The leader held out a bony, curled claw, demanding something. She jerked away from the phantom automatically, and the hand withdrew.

She was confused now, what did he want? This time, there was no confusing the fury in it's eyeless gaze as it threw back its head and screamed. She cried out again. This time the cry was so much more painful. It etched it's black self into her brain and tore at her ears, this time with the silent promise of a fate much worse than death.

The phantom raised it's sword high, point down. It was headed towards her.

It brought the sword straight down with a vengeful scream.

This time, she joined it.

Drusilla felt herself being thrown backwards, and her butt hit the cold marble tile so gracelessly at her teeth hurt. The sudden pain and the realization that she was still in the bathroom brought her back fully, her head spinning for a moment. She stared at the mirror again, this time a little fearfully. She recognized it now as a vision. A terrible vision, because it all felt so real. The pain felt so real...she pulled down the shoulder of her bathrobe that the sword should have sliced into, and was vastly relieved when no wound was there.

She shuddered at the images she'd seen, and wondered what it was all about. The five of them looked like kings of some kind, and they were holding swords. Swords...they were from Middle-Earth.

They had to be.

She had acquired a sword from her mother, too, and realized that it was similar in make, if only hers was much smoother and straighter. No one in this world could possibly yield a sword, of all things. They all had wands, and Muggles, what with the little she'd known about them, definitely did not have swords. They had a black Muggle wand thing which they used to kill people, called gin...no...gin was not it...but something very similar to the word.

There was a throbbing ache in her skull now, and she massaged her temples in the hopes of alleviating it. Well, at least she had visions. What with the magical ability in her close to that of Neville's, it was strangely comforting. She was not that useless after all, not like what her father had said to her on many occasions.

The small feeling of pride faded away just as fast when there was a frantic banging of the bathroom door before it flew open and Harry burst in, followed only by Ron and Hermione, since Dad and Mom had left early for work, much to her relief.

"Drusilla"! Hermione exclaimed as she saw her on the floor. "What happened?"

"We heard you screaming from downstairs," Harry said, a little more calmly. "Are you hurt?"

"No, no." she replied as Ron helped her to her feet. She hadn't realized that she'd made so much noise. She shot another uncertain look at the mirror again, as if expecting it to have the texture of water any minute. "I had a vision."

"A vision?" Ron snorted, thinking of the batty old Professor Trelawney, the Divinations Teacher, who had never failed to tell him and Harry when they would die etc, often reaching new levels of originality in the manners of death and what they would die from. There was once she'd said that Harry would die from choking on mashed potatoes that sent Ron and Drusilla both into an incurable laughing fit that had lasted for ten minutes, and cost them both a detention and twenty points from Gryffindor.

A sharp look from Hermione silenced him. Although she thought Divination was a whole lot of bullcrap and visions were just nonsense, something inside told her that what Drusilla had just experienced was well, real. Her porcelain face was paler than normal, and her usually glittering elvish blue eyes were dimmed and cloudy, her breathing uneven. "What did you see?" she put a comforting hand on hers, and was surprised to feel it tremble violently within hers.

"Five...five phantoms. They were the ugliest gits you've ever seen," she told them, forcing on a brave front and unwilling to tell them how much it frightened her. "They seemed to be reaching for something, and then I jerked back, and the leader stabbed a sword into me."

"A sword?"

Drusilla nodded, sure now in her conviction even as she unconsciously touched her shoulder. "The vision was from Middle-Earth. Only they

could have a sword in that design. I've showed you guys mine, right? Just think of something more jagged and definitely thicker."

"But why would it show you something like that?" Harry questioned curiously, then looked her over. "I suppose it was very vivid."

"It had surround-sound," she agreed, not believing that he had to ask. "I could feel every single thing. And the place was so dark and evil. It was as if the air itself was trying to choke me." And answering his question, she shook her head. "I don't have control over visions, you know."

"I'm sure it's nothing much," Hermione spoke up, trying to comfort her. But she did not seem quite so convinced herself.

"Maybe you should take Trelawney's place as the Divination Teacher, you know." Ron joked weakly, trying valiantly to lighten the situation.

"Yeah," Drusilla laughed, desperate for anything to take her mind off the awful events earlier. "And you'll get more detentions than anyone else, Ron, because your methods of killing yourself is so ridiculous that instead of being morbid it's actually laughable."

"I'm glad someone actually sees through it." he replied dryly.

"It's getting late," Harry said suddenly, glancing at his watch. "And we've got to get to the Burrow to meet the rest of the Weasleys to go to Diagon Alley for our school books."

"Then let's go," Drusilla replied quickly. "Give me a few minutes for me to change into something decent, then I'll see you guys downstairs."


True to her word, Drusilla came down five minutes later, wearing a simple sweater and a skirt. Her Hogwarts cloak--a necessity for all Hogwarts students to wear--was neatly draped around her shoulders. She carried her luggages with her, her face flushed with the effort.

"Here," Harry said amiably, reaching out to take two of the heavier looking baggages from her. "Let me help."

She smiled at him gratefully. "Thanks."

She missed the knowing looks Hermione and Ron exchanged as they headed out of the door.


By the end of the day, the four had forgotten about the vision earlier that morning, since it was all a rush to get all the books they needed. Ron had dragged Harry with him to see the new Quidditch broomsticks that were currently the hottest items that season, and Hermione was fascinated by a quaint old bookshop a few blocks down Flourish and Blotts. Not seeing the point of Quidditch and being mortally afraid of Hermione's abnormal love for books, Drusilla decided to wander around by herself.

Finally, with all the books bought and everything done, she couldn't help but heave a sigh of relief. At least now she had a chance to relax, instead of running around like a headless chicken all morning. She absently jingled the gold Galleons in her pocket, and was secretly thankful for the fact that the Ministry of Magic had transferred her father's money in his account to hers since he'd be there forever. It was not very legal, but what with her...unique situation and all, they were willing to make some allowances so that she could at least live life not being a beggar.

She made sure her ears were properly concealed once more before strolling leisurely along, taking her time to take in the sights and sounds of the Alley. It never ceased to fascinate her, what with all the styles the various witches and wizards were dressed in. Owls of different sizes were flitting about, hooting merrily back to the post office that was located just around the corner.

Suddenly, a witch wearing a gigantic hat sauntered by, looking extremely ridiculous and like a penguin in that waddling fashion, and she couldn't help but stare, her eyes following the woman and marvelling at the way her hat did not seem to get in her way at all. The least it was supposed to do, she figured, would be to impede her progress towards her destination, since it was quite literally swallowing her head. All she saw, really, was simply a hat and a robe, showing off an ample bosom and even more an even more ample rear end.

And, as her luck would have it, she walked straight into someone.

It was like walking into a wall.

"Ow!" she cried out automatically, ready to snap the offending person's head off.

"It wasn't so pleasant bumping into you, too, House-Elf Fontaine." came the familiar, sneering voice. Malfoy.

Oh, of all sodding days--!

Her expression of pain turned into one of anger as she glared at him. Or rather, up at him. Draco Malfoy seemed to grow taller already over the holidays, and it definitely didn't help that he'd grown much more handsome in that time. His hair was still in the same, smarmy slicked back way, and his face, although looking older and more alluring, had not lost that sneering touch that reminded her of a pug.

A very handsome pug. She, to her own disgust, had never seen anyone who looked as good as him when he sneered.

Too bad his damn attitude stinks like hell, she thought vehemently as she glowered at him. He was dressed all in black, and that's a surprise because? and had worn his Hogwarts cloak, giving him an air of mystery and danger.

It was too bad that he knew all too well what kind of aura he exuded, too. Girls seemed to flock to him in droves because of his bad boy persona and a--in her opinion--rotten attitude, and she found herself wondering at how many hearts he'd so callously broken during the past few years at Hogwarts.

"Sod off, Malfoy." she snapped, trying to push past him. She really didn't need this now. He neatly stepped in her way and stared down at her, his gray eyes cold and unfeeling.

"What's the hurry to leave?" he drawled. "Going off to clean your master's house?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" she shot back, feeling her anger boiling. Damn it, she was NOT a house-elf, and she sure as hell was not going to clean anything for anybody!

His eyes flashed maliciously. "Potter and your other friends not with you, eh?" he spat out the name Potter as if it was poison. "Or maybe they've decided to leave you, after all. You and Granger would make a wonderful pair, though. Twin vermin of the wizarding world."

Drusilla could not help but feel stunned at this particularly venomous insult. Malfoy would normally say that she was a filthy House-elf and Hermione was a filthy Mudblood and leave it at that, but nothing as bad as this. She quickly collected herself, and fixed him with a condescending glare, ignoring the sudden flare of pain she felt inside at his remark.

"Tsk tsk, Malfoy. Angry because your father had been sent to Azkaban, huh? Decide to take it all out on me because you miss him?" She was determined to get her own back, to show the damned, arrogant git that she was not one to be toyed with. "How about you join him, since being a Death Eater is an obvious criteria to having a one-way ticket there and you have it?"

His eyes darkened, and he leaned in closer to her, almost snarling in his fury. "Don't you ever compare me to my filthy father, you disgusting half-breed! You don't know a thing!" he had grabbed her elbow, and it was beginning to throb in a dull pain from his death grip.

She was stunned for an instant. This was far too extreme, even for someone like him. What was wrong with that silly sod anyway? Then she smiled, more to rattle him than anything. "You're hurting me."

"I don't care!" he hissed, so that his face was barely inches from hers. She could see that he was really angry, but was more taken aback by the slight flicker of...disappointment that she'd seen for only a split-second. "Don't. Ever. Assume that I'm a Death Eater, do you understand?" his voice was cold and threatening, and she could feel his breath on her cheek. "You don't know anything about me."

"I don't want to know anything about you." she replied, her mouth set in a line. His nearness seemed to awaken strange emotions within her,

mostly heat, and she was horrified that her body was automatically responding to him. "You're a disgusting Death Eater."

Great, something was very, very wrong with her today.

Maybe it had something to do with the vision this morning.

"You think it's funny, do you?" he spat back, his grip on her arm tightening. "That all I am is a sodding Death Eater in your eyes?"

"Why would you care, anyway?" she retorted. "I thought I was beneath your notice, as you so eloquently pointed out to me several times?"

He growled low in his throat, and she found herself pinned against the wall. "Don't push me, Fontaine."

"What is your prob--" she demanded, but was cut short when he suddenly crushed her lips with his. It was not a loving kiss.

Far from it. His tongue forced her mouth open, and from there, it was a fight for dominance. Drusilla was drawn into this kiss, finding herself unable to pull away, no matter how much she wanted to. Despite the brutality of his kiss, she leaned further into it, throwing all common sense to the wind and giving in to the whirlwind of madness that had swallowed her the moment their lips made contact. He knew exactly how to...stimulate her senses, and she hated that she loved every moment of it, of teasing him and fighting back. Of feeling these deliciously forbidden emotions for him...no, a small part of her whispered. Nothing would ever be the same again...

It was then that her brain kicked in. With a disgusted sound, she pushed him away and wiped futilely at her stinging lips. He did not look angry, he simply looked amused. And she hated the fact that she wanted him right then and there.

"Why, I never knew you were so good, Fontaine." he smirked. "Practiced on the Weasel and Potty, did you? How much did you get after getting them up?"

This was definitely the last straw. He had been waging war on her senses, bringing out anger, lust, puzzlement, and abject humiliation at the shameless way he'd insulted her integrity. Before she even knew it, she delivered a stinging slap to his cheek. Damn, her palm stung. His head whipped to the side at the force of the blow, and she stalked away, her good mood broken.


The train chuffed through the lush green countryside, and Draco stared out, his feet propped on the opposite seat. He was inwardly relieved that no one had come to disturb him, including the too-thick Crabbe and Goyle. Everyone in his part of the train had recognized the deadly signs and had decided to leave him alone, due more to self-preservation than anything.

But maybe someone--anyone--should come in to annoy the hell out of him. At least he would be able to get a certain, damned girl out of his mind. Damn that half-breed. His mouth curled up in a disdainful sneer. An Elf and a Wizard, who'd think about that?

In his opinion, he did not care if the Elf was from another dimension or not. She was a halfblood. She was not pure, and that was all that mattered.

But even that piece of news did nothing to kindle his disgust for her these past couple of years. All he could freaking think of was how soft and firm her lips were. Not too squishy and not too hard, just the way he liked it. She was beautiful, he had to give her that. She looked especially so when he was pressed up against her last night. Strange how most women would look ghastly if he looked too closely at them, but not this Drusilla. She moved with a grace all her own, her head held high, and she generally had an aura about her that seemed to send guys falling at her feet. Guys, who were, for most part, him.

Damn her.

Malfoys did not love, as a general rule. They all were ruthless, heartless, and cunning in getting whatever they wanted. It was practically second nature to throw things away once their use was over. It was what he'd lived on for so many years. His old man, albeit being a despised Death Eater, had actually taught him a few things about life.

But he seemed to be going against himself, his eyes had always rested on her during mealtimes at the Great Hall, and he would often watch as she ate and laughed with Potter and the rest of his sodding friends. He even observed the faint flicker in her strangely sparkling eyes if she was nervous or upset, and the way she would smile. There had always been a different kind of smile she used, awkward, happy, uneasy, sad...

He was fascinated by the wide range of emotions that would be present on her face. He was fascinated by her, period.

It was disgusting.

Bloody gits, the lot of them, he thought bitterly. He had been especially nasty to that damned girl yesterday mostly because he wanted to cover his surprise at seeing her, and the hidden, ever-so-annoying delight he felt within. And so he lashed out, thinking to perhaps find something else to hate about. He wanted to hurt her, to somehow punish her for the alien feelings that were so overpowering and frightening and lovely at

the same time.

It was all her fault.

But to his surprise and horror, the fact that she was a halfblood did not bother him. Not in the least, ever since his father was sent to Azkaban for life. Was it then that he'd started developing feelings for her? He wasn't sure. And he wasn't sure whether he wanted to, anyway. All he knew was that she had succeeded in hurting him last night. Just the memory of her disgusted eyes looking into his was enough to make his blood boil.

Who the hell does she think she is? He raged silently, his eyes narrowing. His father was a Death Eater, not him. In fact, being a Death Eater was one of the last things he'd wanted to do. It was plenty stupid, really. Why serve a Dark Lord when one can plan on ruling the world himself? Well, maybe his father was some kind of a spineless git, and it bothered him, more than he would ever bother to admit. Draco Malfoy was anything but spineless.

So why did Drusilla's words bother him so? It was annoying, really, the way he cared so much for what she thought. That girl was just another face in the crowd, not worth bothering with at all.

It was really difficult to think along those thoughts when his brain kept going back to the events last night and the strange urge to kiss her again, to simply feel her lips against his own, to feel her touch once more. She had the softest skin he'd ever felt. It was like warm silk, comforting and perfectly loving, yet burning with a fire all on its own. And he realized that he wanted her, more than ever before.

Damn all those bloody Malfoy rules. Lucius was never going to come back, and he didn't care about what the old man would think anymore if he found out his son was lusting over a half-breed.

He wanted her.

And he vowed he would have her.


Drusilla was not listening to the usual banter between Hermione and Ron, who had been arguing about a grand total of five different and totally unrelated topics ever since they had stepped onto the train. Her mind was somewhere else, particularly, on Draco Malfoy.

Her fingers touched her lips absently, remembering all too well the kiss last night. Ever since then, she had not been able to sleep well, because everytime she closed her eyes, his words came drifting back to her.

"You think its funny, do you? That all I am is a sodding Death Eater in your eyes?"

She would never forget the momentary flicker of disappointment in his steel gray eyes, and she shook her head. Draco Malfoy looking disappointed was very unnerving.

I've gone too far yesterday, she realized with a pang. I called him disgusting. I never did that before.

But neither had he called her and Hermione vermin before, so maybe it all worked out. An eye for an eye and all that.

Still, she could not shake off the feeling that she'd done something she shouldn't have done, and she cursed her ever-so-annoying conscience. Since when did Draco Malfoy feel anything save for contempt and anger, anyway?

She felt a warm heat rise to her cheeks when she remembered the feeling of his hard, toned body against hers. He'd filled out pretty nicely, she reluctantly admitted. And hotter than ever. Way hotter.

"Why," Ron suddenly said, staring at Drusilla, who was obviously not listening to them and totally out of it. "Is she blushing?"

Hermione squinted at her and shrugged. "I don't know. She seems to be thinking of something. Was like that since last night."

Harry waved a hand in front of her face and frowned when there was no response. "Do you think she's under a curse of some kind?"

Hermione smirked mysteriously. "No. Not really. There's occasional movement on her part."

"She's lost her mind." Ron shook his head. "She doesn't usually think like this."

"Maybe," she said, noncommittally.

Ron frowned at his girlfriend, knowing that she was hiding something. "You know something we don't!"

"It's a girl thing, Ron," she said impatiently, snorting at his childishness. "You won't understand."

"Of course I won't understand," he grumbled. "You're refusing to tell me!"

Hermione crossed her arms in front of her chest and looked annoyed. "Don't be so childish, Ron. It's not very becoming."

Ron sputtered and was about to say something when the compartment door was flung open, drawing Drusilla out of her funk. Oliver Wood

marched in, a big, triumphant grin on his face.

"Potter!" he boomed, not waiting for either of them to greet him. "I've drawn up a whole new foolproof plan on the training sessions! We are going to train at night and during lesson breaks, instead of in the morning, and I will get McGonagall's approval on letting you people to sleep a little later! The Slytherins would use the field in the morning" he looked thoroughly disgusted. "And we'll see if they dare take our field time at night! And--"

"Wood!" Came an annoyed shout. It was decidedly female, and Harry, who had gotten over the shock of seeing the tall boy bursting into the room with all the force of a charging rhinoceros and the warped excitement of Quidditch practice, exchanged looks with Ron. Hermione and Drusilla looked knowing, which, in the boys' eyes, were very unnerving.

Oliver, for one, flinched and looked a little afraid. "Oh, no. I deliberately waited for her to go to the Ladies to sneak out to find you!"

Moments later, Jessica Kendall, another Gryffindor, poked her head in and glared at him. She was a beautiful girl, with sunshine gold hair tumbling to her shoulders and perfect features.


"Sweetie, this is very impor--" He looked very flustered and red, and Harry was amused. Since when did Wood ever act like this? WHEN did he ever use the term Sweetie on something that wasn't a broomstick, a Quaffle, a Bludger, or a Snitch?

Jessica turned on her heel and stormed off. Wood shot them one last, helpless look before chasing after her, leaving the four of them to stare at each other in bewilderment.

"Well, at least you don't have to worry whether Wood's obsession with Quidditch is healthy or not," Ron spoke, trying not to laugh. "He's got another one to keep him on his toes."

"How did they ever get together, anyway?" Hermione asked curiously. "Those two are could not be any more different."

It was true. Wood was only well known for his crazed obsession with Quidditch, and the fact that he had a girlfriend was very weird.

"Opposites attract, you know." Drusilla spoke up.

"Yeah," Ron joked. "Next thing we know, you're dating Draco Malfoy, eh?"

"What?" Drusilla turned a deep shade of crimson and rolled her eyes. "Don't be an ass, Ron."

"Ah, look!" Hermione said, pointing out to the train station in the far distance, which was nothing but a small speck. "Do you think we're


Drusilla looked out, her eyes focusing on the station in the distant horizon. "Yeah." she said. "We're just about a couple of leagues off." she shrugged. "They repainted the station. Well, at least it doesn't look too old now."

The three of them stared at her in surprise.

"You know," Harry said. "I think I'm never going to get over your ability to see things far away so clearly."

She smiled at him. "Get used to it. I'm not as capable of magic as you guys are, so maybe this evens it all out." She looked out the window

again, at the indiscernible spot a little further away. "I can see Hogwarts, too." she sighed. "I really missed that place."

"Me too." Hermione nodded, her eyes taking on a wistful light. "Especially the classes."

"Herm, it's only the beginning of the school year. Please don't horrify us with your obsession with lessons."

Sorry if it's a little long. Please read and review, I need your opinion. Thanks!