CHAPTER FOUR:
HEARTBREAK GIRL

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            The library had always been a place of comfort for the Fitzgerald girl. With its long, tall bookcases and dust covered books with magnificent covers and even more wondrous tales inside, there was no wonder why she loved the place.

         But one thing she didn't like about the amazing place she liked to think of as her third home was the fact that she had to do homework there, ruining a little part of the magic that went with it. But it really was her fault. She was the one who decided not to be the best student she could and do her homework, pushing it off until the last moment. It was no wonder why Professor Snape hated her.

         It wasn't that she absolutely loathed the class, Potions was a very important course, she simply hated the teacher and the directions. Sometimes, they made no sense, and other times she followed the carefully and correctly, yet she still caused the mixture to explode. Ever since that experience, she had given up on the subject and often went to Corey for the answers to all of the homework and outline for her own essays.

         (Corey was much more responsible and loved doing his homework and others because he often made a profit from it.)

         (The business was called Corey's Homework and Essays!)

         ("Your homework and essays done two days in advance for only a small price of one knuckle or a free butterbeer!")

         (Warning: Corey will not do your Transfiguration homework because McGonagall knows about the business and has agreed to let it still stand as long as her class is not included.)

         Sometimes, she really wished that she let the boy do her homework as well, but she knew that Corey actually cared about her education and wanted her to do it herself – something she didn't like about him. Nonetheless, she found herself hunched over her Potions book with a quill without ink in her hand a look of confusion on her face. A sigh escaped her lips as well as she looked up from the dreadful questions.

         How many crushed lavenders are used to make the Dissimulato Iuvenale Potion?

         Merlin, how she hated Potions! Why would she need to know this little fact? Unlike some evil wizards, she didn't want to use a potion to make her have a façade of being young. No, she wanted to age, to grow old and say that she had not been killed in her youth...unlike, well, unlike her parents.

         No, the Youthful Disguise Potion would do her no good in the future. And she didn't realty find it in herself to look up the answer, even though it was easier than the others.

         Moving on, she found herself looking at another potion she didn't find herself ever using.

         What is the special ingredient of the Polyjuice Potion?

         Who would need to know that? Only the most corrupt would use that, she was sure of it. No, someone good would never need to use the power of deception. At least, in her mind.

         Groaning, she threw her head up so she wouldn't have to look at the piece of parchment that her caused her so much mental pain. And there, across the library, was a fine Gryffindor standing in her toes to reach for a book that was on a shelf too high for her. And Amandla let out a wistful sigh, how beautiful she was with that innocent parting of lips as she mentally begged the bookcase to lower itself so she could reach the book, and rightfully so. The bookshelves of the library went too high in her opinion, especially for people who were on the shorter end.

         Biting her lip, she wondered if she should go to speak to the girl. She had tried to speak to Hermione, in all of her glory, in the past, and her attempts never worked. Especially not last year when she hoped to gain the help of the Granger girl for her Transfiguration essay. But, alas, she asked at a time when Harry and Ron weren't speaking and she was playing messenger for them.

         Hermione made it clear that she didn't have time for the girl, yet a foolish part of her still hoped to ask again, thinking that the answer she received would be different. It was really a foolish thought, Hermione looked to be searching for something important and didn't want to be disturbed. Still, Amandla wanted to talk to her.

         Soon, though, the girl left the bookshelf without the book she was so desperately trying to reach. But she did not leave the quiet library, no, she sat herself at a lone table with a large stack of the books in the right corner of the desk. And, with her small hands, took the one off the top and began to intently read.

         Amandla noticed that there was no parchment beside her. There was no quill in her hand or ink right in front of her, nothing to signal that she was doing homework. No, Amandla would have suggested she was doing a bit of light reading, but the large books she had stacked up in the even larger stack proved otherwise. It was more of a time-consuming read.

         She only snapped out of her trance when she heard someone beside her. Looking away from Hermione and turning, she looked to see Pansy Parkinson standing beside the table with a smirk.

         "Hello?" Amandla asked in a small voice. Though she would never admit to anyone, especially Draco because he would only laugh at her, she sometimes feared the girl that stood before her. Pansy was a very scary girl sometimes, and Amandla had heard the tales of what she had done to others before.

         "Hi," the Parkinson girl greeted with a fake smile, taking a seat beside her, "So, I just want to confirm something really quick. It's true that you and Draco are dating, right?"

         Amandla went wide-eyed with the accusation. Blubbering, she finally answered, "N-No! W-Why would you think that?"

         But Amandla already knew the answer before Pansy spoke. Someone, maybe her or someone else from Slytherin, had seen her and Draco talking only the night before. And she didn't think that Draco knew that yet, or else Amandla wouldn't have been confronted. She wouldn't have even known.

         "Well, Theo saw the two of you talking very intensely. So of course he told me right after he returned. I just wanted to make sure," Pansy giggled.

         Of course, was the first thought that rang through her head. The place they met wasn't exactly secretive, and she wasn't sure what Draco had actually said to his friends when he left to talk to her. But then, her thoughts rang to how careless they were. She was hopeful they wouldn't be seen, hopeful, and none of them had actually taken precautions. They could have gone into the girls' bathroom where Moaning Myrtle resided if they really wanted to keep the secret. But no, they were hopeful and careless and that's what got them caught.

         And poor Amandla, who never did like lying anyways, wasn't really good at the trick. It was helpful – well, could be helpful – in some situations, much like this one, but she had never been taught to lie. Anastasia always knew when someone was lying, and punishments were worse if you tried to lie your way out.

         "N-No. Malfoy was just, uh, yeah, he was just t-telling me not to, uh, go against him again," she tried her best, but the look on Pansy's face made her realize that she really needed to work on her lying skills.

         Still, even though she was unconvinced, Pansy stiffly got up, looking at her with that intense Slytherin stare, and coldly said, "If I find out anything is going on between you and Draco, I will end you. He. Is. Mine."

         And without giving Amandla a chance to speak, Pansy left with her head held high and eyes closed, letting the Fitzgerald girl have a chance to breathe. Really, she wasn't fearful of the girl, no, she just wondered why her cousin would keep that awful girl around. But, she might be better to her friends and that was all a façade the girl put up, much like Draco with everyone else except her.

         Amandla looked over again at the Granger girl, seeing her still intently reading whatever book she was without fail. Because of her concentration, Hermione had her tongue sticking out the tiniest bit, which Amandla thought was adorable. And she knew that if her friends were there, they would be pushing her towards the girl, saying something like, "It's now or never," or some other inspirational bullshit.

         But, even though she would never admit it, it was good advice. Amandla was never one to be brave, explaining why she wasn't even thought to be in Gryffindor, but she did have her moments. Sometimes, she could in fact be brave for little moments. So, breathing, she decided to be brave, and walked up with her stuff to the desk in which Hermione sat.

         "Hello," she meekly greeted, "You don't mind, do you?" She referred to the fact she had so bluntly sat without an invitation. Still, she asked anyway because she never wanted to be a nuisance to anyone – especially not Hermione.

         The girl looked up, shaking her head, "No, it's fine."

         Not very talkative, Amandla noted. Well, no, Hermione was talkative...with Harry and Ron, just not her; a stranger practically.

         "What are you reading?" Amandla asked, looking to see the side of the book, but Hermione quickly brought the side down before she could.

         "Nothing...just some more history of Hogwarts really," Hermione muttered, dancing around the ultimate truth.

         Amandla nodded, not asking anymore about the book. Instead, changing the conversation. "Do you think you could help me with Potions?" she asked, looking down at her incomplete homework.

         "Why don't you ask Corey?" Hermione looked up again, her face full of confusion, "Aren't you good friends with him?"

         Good friends didn't describe them. Cevira, Corey, and Amandla were tighter than anything – best friends they were, practically family.

         "We are. I just don't want to bother him more than I already do," she smiled, "Plus, he always lectures me about doing my own homework without his help."

         Hermione shrugged, "I get it. Ron and Harry are exactly like that. But I guess, just...just not right now. I'm busy."

         Amandla felt her mood deflate and the smile on her face almost fall. Hermione was always busy, always too busy for some Hufflepuff girl that probably meant nothing to her even though Amandla adored her so much.

         "Oh," she said, "Well, I'm free tomorrow – if you are, of course! Really, I'm free all the time."

         She hated admitting the last part. It made her seen like she did nothing with her life, but she didn't. Quidditch never sounded fun to her, brutality and violence, along with the slight chance that you could die while playing, but maybe that was just her past that made her hate it.

         And there weren't exactly any other clubs that were offered by Hogwarts, especially not with Umbridge there. She didn't know much about the pink lady, but she could tell that the woman didn't like magic but she also didn't like the muggle world. Really, she just liked the Ministry and that's all Amandla could tell.

         "Sorry," Hermione looked at her guiltily, "But tomorrow I have to help Harry and the Gryffindor Quidditch team to try and be able to actually participate. And then Ron needs help with Defense Against the Dark Arts."

         "Oh," Amandla said dumbly, though she wasn't surprised. "Well, what about next week? Surely everything will be sorted by then."

         "I have, uh, other plans," Hermione told her. "Sorry, really, I would. I'm just so incredibly busy right now."

         "No, i-it's fine," Amandla shook her head, trying not to cry, "I h-have to meet Cev and C-Corey anyways. I-I should go."

         Amandla collected her books with blurry eyes, hurrying out of there as she breathed a breath of fresh air. She wiped away her eyes, hoping no one saw and thought of her as a wimp, which Slytherins always loved to refer to the Hufflepuffs as. She swallowed the lump in her throat, hating that she got her foolish hopes up again before walking to meet her friends.

         It didn't take her long to reach the Room of Secrets as she called it. She had been going for so long, learning the fastest ways and which ways to go at night when you didn't want to be caught by the prefects or the professors.

         She stood in front of the wall where the door would appear, closing her eyes as she thought; I require a room where I can watch movies with my friends in peace and talk about anything.

         And, sure enough, the door appeared. Amandla didn't waste a moment before pulling the handle and revealing a dark room, the only light coming from the TV. She smiled, knowing this room well as she heard her friends arguing playfully, something they did often.

         "Amandla!" Cevira exclaimed at the sight of the girl, looking at her long enough to see the glum look on her face. "What's wrong?"

         "Is it Pansy again?" Corey guessed, shaking his head, "I've told you, you can't let their words affect you."

         "No," Amandla muttered again, going to put her books down near the door before joining her friends on the couch, pulling the pistachio colored blanket (her favorite) over her legs. "It's nothing."

         "It's not nothing!" Cevira said with a booming voice right in her ear, causing Amandla to wince. "Come on, you know you can tell us anything," Cevira said in a much softer tone.

         Amandla sighed, knowing that her words were true. She could tell them anything, yet she still felt foolish for even letting it bother her. It was just a stupid crush, that was the problem. Her crush was small, stupid, and it didn't matter, so why was she letting it? No, it couldn't hold power over her, yet it did.

         She knew she was being dramatic. It wasn't like she was actually rejected, not like she actually asked the Granger girl on a date or something, but it still felt like a huge rejection. But Amandla was a dramatic person, playing up her emotions more than she should, mostly happiness, because it was her way of dealing with everything else that happened to her.

         "It's just Hermione," she said, "It's always Hermione! GAH! She does this so easily, and I still let it affect me! Her and her perfect face and lips that I just want to kiss so badly!"

         Neither of them responded. Cevira just brought her arms around Amandla's small body as Corey went to grab the VHS tape labeled Grease before inputting it in the TV. Then, he laid back down with them as Amandla laid her head on his shoulder.

         No matter what she was with Hermione, strangers or acquaintances, even a nuisance, she had friends right there that cared for her more than anything. And that was all that mattered.

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         It was late when the movie ended. Granted, they did start watching it late, but that was beside the point. Knowing that dinner was soon, the three of them agreed to go back to their dorms and ready themselves before joining again.

         Amandla's spirits had been brightened again, not that it took much to make the girl happy, all thanks to her amazing friends and a quality movie. Her favorite, probably, but she hadn't seen them all, though she wished she had.

         She was smiling brightly as Corey told another horrible joke. "What does a nosey pepper do?" he asked. "Get jalapeño business."

         "That was terrible!" Cevira laughed, her eyes crinkling as she did so. Amandla had to agree, that joke was horrible, yet that was what made it so funny in the first place.

         "Okay, okay. Maybe it wasn't my best, but it definitely wasn't my worse," he agreed.

         The three of them walked, still laughing as Amandla caught sight of someone who wasn't exactly their friend but wasn't their enemy either. Caesar Stature, the loving brother of Cevira. Or so they made it seem.

         After spending years with the Stature family, Amandla had learned that the two had never gotten along. The twins were quite different. Caesar liked solving equations, found anything mathematics related the most interesting in the world. He liked being challenged and proving he was the best. And Cevira was quite the opposite of that.

         She wasn't lazy in any way, doing anything to help a friend, but she didn't like being as challenged as Caesar did. She didn't care for mathematics or science, reading was more her style. Even then, she liked easier books, not classics. Above anything, Cevira valued friendship and making sure her friends were alright, throwing away studies if she had to – something her mother and Caesar frowned upon.

         Anastasia herself was a Ravenclaw. She, like her son, liked to be challenged and thought studies became before anything else. Friendship was nice, but it wasn't needed – they had books, after all. Nothing else mattered than being smart, being at the top, and being respected. Cevira and Amandla agreed in the fact that they thought it sounded lonely.

         But even though they were very different, in front of everyone they acted like a loving family. Anastasia would smile at Cevira, faking love and proud, and she wouldn't favor Caesar as much. The twins would hug and act friendship, but the family knew it was all fact.

         And Amandla didn't know why, but Caesar seemed to despise Cevira. Even though they were different, they could have been great friends, but Caesar was always cold to his twin. Maybe it was because of their mother's wicked words and brainwashing, much like the families of Slytherin, or maybe it was because he truly thought he was better because he was much smarter, as anyone could tell, and had many more 'friends.'

         But through all his harsh words, Cevira remained faithful. She tried and tried again to be his friends, giving him only kindness when he threw coldness at her. And while Cevira didn't have as many friends, she knew that hers were better, because it was quality over quantity, and hers cared for her more than Caesar's ever could.

         And seeing him there, clutching his hand in pain and looking around skittishly, they all knew something was wrong, and Cevira aimed to find out. No matter how cold he was that morning, no matter how much he disliked her, she would always care for him. She would always make sure he was okay.

         "Caesar!" she called, rushing towards her brother. "What's wrong?"

         She didn't even look at his hand – she hadn't even noticed it, unlike Amandla, she simply looked at his face and knew something was off. It was Cevira's personal gift.

         "Nothing," he replied coldly, taking a step back from her, not missing the pain that reached her eyes.

         It was then that she noticed that he was clutching his hand quite tightly, and that there was a red liquid dripping slightly from his hand that was holding it.

         "Caesar..." she whispered, looking up at him before darting right back to the blood. "What...?" but she failed to continue.

         "It's nothing, Cevira. Just – just go away!" he yelled slightly, causing his sister and Amandla to wince. Corey, who was not used to his harsh tone, only looked at him with anger.

         But she didn't leave, she never would. Instead, she grabbed his hand, wiping away the blood to see the message underneath it.

         I will not act better than others.

         If it were any other situation, Amandla would have agreed with the statement. He shouldn't act all high and mighty, but this...this was brutality. This was a serious issue that couldn't be dealt with laugher.

         Cevira brought her now bloody hand to her mouth as Caesar yanked his own back. She looked at him shocked, as did the others, as he kept his hard glare.

         "Caesar...I'm – I'm so sorry," she whispered to him, her words as true as they could be. "Who – who did this? Was it Umbridge?"

         Caesar shook his head, "It doesn't matter, Cevira. I've told you that already. Yet you still haven't listened."

         "If it is, we have to go to Dumbledore. He needs to know," Cevira told him sternly, tears brimming in her eyes.

         "Like he could do anything against the Minsitry," he said bitterly before stalking away.

         The trio only watched him, Cevira straining to follow him but Corey stopped her, knowing that he needed time alone. And as her tears started spilling, she turned and brought her head into Amandla's chest, the said girl holding her tight and petting her hair to comfort her. Because that's what friends did.