Isla was sitting next to the fireplace in the Slytherin common room, as she had been doing every night since she got back to school. She liked the silence there, the quietness and the calmness as she just drowned in her own thoughts.

The flames sparked in front of her, and the scent of burnt wood circled her as she slyly flipped through the newspaper resting on the table, wanting to pass some time until she was tired enough to go to bed.

Isla hadn't been sleeping well during the last couple of days. She couldn't seem to focus. Didn't want to focus. She didn't want to sleep, eat, or even drink properly since she found out who her choices lived to be and how much of a problem they would stir because of it.

This wasn't on her. She knew it wasn't.

This wasn't something she'd asked for or anything she wanted to happen. This happened to her, and she didn't have one single say in it.

Isla simply had to settle and try to get along with the two boys who had their names written on her letter.

She'd even sent her mother an owl, asked if it was possible that a mistake had been made — her mother said it hadn't. This was meant to be. It had to happen this way.

One of the worst things about it was that they weren't strangers. Isla was well aware of the two Slytherins she got, and she absolutely hated it because all they did was hate her.

Not because of her, they didn't spare her enough glares to be able to hate her, but they hated her best friends. Draco Malfoy always saw himself as a rival to Ava, both of them dominant, both of them extremely wealthy, and both of them ever so enjoyed doing everything they could to make the other one go mental.

She wasn't a breathing human being to them, simply someone who they could use to make her best friend mad.

Isla didn't like them either. She hadn't heard more than rumors about the two boys, and it wasn't appealing. She wasn't impressed, and she couldn't wait for the day she was allowed to divorce whoever she chose.

She shifted a bit in her seat. Dropping the paper and dragging her knees up to her chest, she closed her eyes, trying to make sense of it all, trying to understand that within the span of a year, her whole life was different.

She had just gotten used to life as it was before the war and then how it was after, and now she was doomed to adapt once again.

It felt like someone was sitting upon her chest, weighing her down. Her heart had felt so heavy for days and days. She just wanted to cry. Isla didn't like to cry, she barely cried, yet she wanted to rip her own heart out and throw it at the people who made her this way, and then she wanted to cry.

Bending forward, she arched her spine, hugging her arms around herself.

''Clarke,'' The hoarse voice ripped through her ears with force, and her whole self flinched. Her head snapped to face him. She wished she hadn't.

The brunet strode up to her. His steps held serious, severe as he halted only inches away from where she sat. He was tall. She had never been this close to him. She didn't realize just how tall he was.

He looked down at her with something mean stained in his irises. His eyes were narrowed, decisive to make her feel small and pointed out.

''Yes?'' Isla hushed. Her head tilted back and struck the backrest of the couch. She peered up at the boy towering close to her, not clearly sure of where she was meant to look, ''What do you want?''

''Did you tell anyone?'' Theodore rushed. His voice was fast-paced, hurried as his hand dove into his pocket, and he hauled a pack of cigarettes up, ''Did you?''

Isla barely got a chance to blink, ''What?''

''About me being one of your choices?'' His shifted into something severe, something so serious that it had her spine straightening and her shoulders neatened. He made her feel nervous. His persona frightened her, ''About my name in your bloody letter?''

It took her not one, not two, but three breaths and a rich swallow to even comprehend that question. She shook her head, ''I didn't, or apart from Ava—''

''Ava?'' Theodore rose a brow at her as he placed the cigarette between his lips, lightening it with a deep breath, ''And that's the only person you've told? No one else? Not Green? Not anyone else in Slytherin?''

She could see on his chest, how it rose and fell quite roughly that his pulse was skyrocketing. Perhaps she made him a bit nervous too.

Giving him a frown, she shook her head again, ''I haven't told anyone but her.''

''Good.'' Theo's nodded, dragging a sharp inhale down his throat before his eyes snapped to hers, ''Let me make it clear to you—''

He bent down and leaned closer. His hand landed on the armrest of the sofa, whilst the other gripped around the backrest, and he trapped her in, ''No one else can know about that. Do you hear what I'm telling you? No one can know, Clarke, because you're not picking me.''

He blew his smoke out, straight onto her shocked face, and she lightly coughed at what he'd done, ''You are going to choose the other person you were assigned to, and you will leave me the hell alone, am I clear?''

The stabbing eyes narrowed in hers, and he took her silence rather provokingly, ''I'm not a choice for you. It has to be a fucking misunderstanding.'' He was so close to her that his raging breaths tickled at her parted lips.

Theodore stared at her evilly for a brief moment until he tended back, still glaring at her. He pinned her down on that sofa with something as simple as his eyes.

''Am I clear?'' He repeated himself, harshly, ''Answer me.''

''I think—'' Isla nearly choked on her own saliva at the way he gritted his jaw, and she looked away, ''You're clear.''

''Good,'' Theodore muttered, taking a step away from her. His hand came up to his face, over and over to inhale the fumes of his cigarette. He looked stressed to her, ''Who's your other choice?''

Isla froze in her seat before shifting uncomfortably in it. The question hewed her off. It threw her so off guard that she looked back at him. She was truly hesitant if she was meant to tell the brunet that her other choice wasn't anyone but his best friend.

Not that she thought it would matter to him, that it would've made him take what he'd spoken to her back, but because she didn't know if Malfoy even bothered to open his letter. She didn't know if he knew that her name was solidly penned to his as it had been to Theodore's.

Perhaps she could leave to come up with an excuse not to answer the question he'd asked her. She didn't want to answer. She didn't want him to stand there, with his stupid cigarette in his mouth, dragging that ridiculously attractive hand through his messy curls.

She wanted him, and his 'the world spins around me' attitude to piss off and to leave her alone.

''I can't tell you that,'' Her jaw tightened as she pushed herself off the couch, standing rather weakly on her feet ''And you'll have to excuse me, but I need to—''

Isla didn't earn the chance to step past him, before his hand wrapped around her upper arm, and he dragged her back to where she'd stood, right in front of him.

He was so close again, and he was hovering over her, nearly as if he was showing her that she couldn't do as she pleased around him, that he was the one to permit her to walk away, that she couldn't do that on her own.

That he was in charge of her, not the other way around.

Isla narrowed her eyes in his, staring right back at him before she rolled them away from his with crossed arms, ''Don't do that,'' She countered, ''That is very inappropriate, Nott—''

''Don't speak my fucking name.'' Theodore's grip around her arm stiffened, and he had her gulping again, ''I don't want my name to come out of your Goddamn mouth.''

Frowning as she tried to yank her arm out of his grip, her eyes stung out of the smoke his cigarette still caused, ''Let me go.''

''Tell me about your second choice.'' He didn't let her go. He stood looking down at her as she glared up at him, ''I want to know who it is.''

''No,''

''No?'' He raised a dangerous brow at her, and his tongue rolled over his lower lip before the tense look faded into an amused one. Suddenly, he smirked at her, ''You know what? Fine, I don't care about that poor boy anyway. Just make sure it's not me. Are you capable of doing that?''

Isla drew a breath, looking down at the grip he kept her arm locked in before she looked back up at him, ''I am capable of a lot of things, like a normal conversation, but you don't seem to be.''

His grin tightened, and his dense cloak was dragged over his face, ''What the fuck did you just—''

The door leading into the common room was slammed open with one of the loudest thuds yet, and furious, fast footsteps stormed down the stairs. Theodore's eyes slightly widened as he looked at Isla, before they both aimed their attention at the entrance to the room.

''Pansy, listen to me. I didn't fucking do what you think I did—''

''Oh shut up, Malfoy. For one, can you just keep that bloody mouth of yours shut?''

''Don't fucking talk to me like—''

''Like what? Like the bastard we both know you are?''

''I told you that I didn't—''

''Don't you dare follow me upstairs right now. I'm done with you. Now, leave me the hell alone.''

''You know what? Fine, be by your fucking self then!''

The girl sprinted up the stairs quicker than lightning, and she left the blond on the last step of it. He cursed loudly as she slammed the door to her room shut. His head was thrown back with a groan, and he clicked his tongue frustratingly.

''Looking good over there, mate,'' Theo sarcastically called out for him. The corner of his mouth dragged out to a smirk, ''That's why idiots like you shouldn't be allowed to have girlfriends.''

Draco snapped his head, looking right at Theodore as he stalked closer. His hands were shoved down into his pockets. His shoulders were straight and neat underneath his suit jacket.

But Isla could see the burning mark on his cheek, how it was red and sore. She looked away.

Malfoy didn't even look at her, to begin with. He kept his eyes on his friend until he stood as close to her as Theodore did. It was like he dared to watch her now, and she could feel how his intense stare burnt into her.

''And why in the bloody hell are you touching this pathetic excuse of a witch?'' Draco scratched his jawline, still avoiding her eyes at every cost, but his gaze roamed her body, her hair, ''And now? It's past fucking midnight—''

''I was just telling her not to pick me. Unfortunately, she got me in that bloody letter.'' Theodore slightly pushed her back, ''And we can't have that, can we?''

''You got her?'' Draco hissed, looking away altogether now, ''Bloody hell, Nott, that's low even for you.''

Isla's sight grounded, and her heart pounded roughly within. She felt ashamed for how they spoke about her when she was standing right there, and the embarrassment washed over her like a tidal wave.

Theodore took his cigarette back up to his lips, sucking a harsh breath in, while he looked straight at her, ''It is, isn't it? Well lucky for me, she agreed not to pick me but that other guy she got. It worked out just fine, mate.''

''Good, are you finished with her now? I want to—'' Draco rose as he rushed a hand through his blond strands, glaring at where he'd sprinted down from, ''Take a walk.''

''Yeah,'' Theodore yet again blew his smoke right at her, ''I'm done with her.''

The two Slytherins snickered and mumbled as they walked away from her, leaving her standing in front of the fireplace, more than shocked by what just happened.

Isla blinked quickly. Her hands dropped to her sides, and she cursed herself. She tried to process what just happened and how she would be able to get out of the mess she'd found herself tangled into.

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