Adrien.

The first week at Hogwarts passed in a blur of robes, enchanted staircases, and ancient magic that looked impressive but felt... basic.

Don't get me wrong—wandwork was fascinating. The castle had charm. And some of the classes actually seemed like they'd go somewhere useful. But so far, everything we were being taught? Already under our belts.

Although, Katie and I weren't raised spellcraft and survival.

Aside from the fact that my entire family is muggles and I met Katie at Beauxbatons when we were 11, my Mother made it her mission—when it was proven to be real—to give us as many books as possible to prepare us for the unknown. She ended up believing in throwing us straight into the deep end—wand first, questions never.

So, while the rest of the students scribbled notes and looked wide-eyed at levitating feathers or the color-changing properties of potions under heat, we... tuned out.

Until Potions.

It started innocently enough.

Professor Snape slithered into the dungeon, dark robes billowing like a curse and expression already dripping with disdain. He swept his gaze over the class like we were disappointments simply for existing. I could practically smell the favoritism before he opened his mouth.

"Miss Blackwood and—" He paused, shifting awkwardly, "Miss Blackwood." he drawled, turning to us where we sat—one desk over from the Slytherin table, not by choice. "Since our new students have such... colorful backgrounds, perhaps they'd like to demonstrate their talents."

His voice dripped with expectation. The trap was set. The room went still.

Katie arched a brow. "Be more specific, or I might disappoint you."

Snape sneered. "The Draught of Living Death. List its ingredients. Then explain the purpose of each—if you can."

From the corner of my eye, I saw movement—two boys straight-backed and smug at the Slytherin table. It was the two Slytherins we were having a staredown with last night.

Malfoy and Zabini. The stares from the Great Hall, now in the flesh.

Katie didn't hesitate. "Valerian root to slow the heartbeat. Asphodel to induce sleep. Wormwood for its neurotoxic properties, and slivered bezoar as a safety measure—if brewed correctly, it won't trigger until overexposure. And of course, a single drop of Lethe river water."

Snape's lip curled slightly. "And the counteragent?"

"Modified Wiggenweld, brewed at triple potency," I said, brushing my quill back behind my ear. "But that's if you want a full reversal. We were taught to just induce vomiting and blood-cleansing spells. Faster. More practical in the field."

Draco scoffed softly. "Field? What, did your last school teach battle magic with breakfast?"

"Something like that," Katie said sweetly. "You'd be surprised what real-world application looks like."

The room had gone quiet again, watching the standoff with keen interest.

Blaise leaned back in his chair, eyes on me like I was a particularly difficult riddle. "And here I thought transfer students were supposed to learn something."

"We will," I replied. "Once the curriculum catches up."

Snape looked like he'd sucked on a lemon. "Ten points to Gryffindor," he muttered through his teeth.

Class carried on, but the tension didn't fade. Malfoy and Zabini said nothing more, but the way they moved—the twitch of Blaise's jaw, the tap of Malfoy's fingers on his cauldron—they weren't done. Not by a long shot.

When we were dismissed, we didn't get three steps out the door before a voice cut through the crowd.

"You think showing off makes you clever?" Malfoy's voice was silk and venom.

Katie turned slowly. "I think answering the question correctly makes me right."

Blaise was watching me again, arms folded, expression unreadable. "You're awfully confident."

I stepped forward. "Confidence isn't the same as arrogance. You'll learn the difference eventually."

Something flickered behind his eyes. Amusement? Irritation? I couldn't tell, and I didn't care. The crowd had gathered, whispers buzzing like wasps around us. Katie's eyes locked on Malfoy's like she was daring him to say something stupid.

But for once, he didn't. He just stared, jaw tight, that trademark sneer faltering.

Score one for the new girls.

Later that day we managed to make our way into Defence Against Dark Arts with a disheveled looking Professor Lupin. Although he was one of the few Professors that managed to get and keep our attention—Katie nor I could shake the feeling he was more than human.

It started during partner work.

Katie and I had just finished pairing off—wands in hand, ready to demonstrate a basic shield-deflect combo—when—thanks to Hermione's explanation of the entire list of Slytherins to stay away from, that she insisted on reading us night one—we knew Pansy Parkinson's voice when it echoed from the back.

"Oh look, Millicent," she drawled, eyes locked on us like we were something she stepped in. "The circus let its trained monkeys loose."

Millicent chuckled darkly. "Wonder if they can do tricks."

Katie turned slowly, wand still at her side. "Is that supposed to be funny?"

Pansy bared her teeth in a grin. "It's adorable how hard you're trying."

Before I could say something, Professor Lupin—clearly exhausted by the Hogwarts-Slytherin drama—sighed. "Care to demonstrate, Miss Parkinson? Show us how it's really done?"

She smirked. "With pleasure."

Big mistake.

Pansy paired off with Katie. Millicent ended up with me.

Within thirty seconds, Katie had Pansy's wand skittering across the stone floor with a flick of her wrist, and I had Millicent flat on her back, blinking at the ceiling.

Silence.

Then someone let out a low whistle.

Katie stepped over Pansy's wand and didn't even glance down. "Was that the trick?"

Millicent pushed herself up, red-faced and fuming. "You're not special."

I met her eyes and smiled. "Neither are you."

From the Slytherin side, Malfoy and Blaise were watching.

It was Blaise who spoke, tone low but clear. "Told you."

Draco didn't reply—but he wasn't looking at me anymore. He was looking at Katie. Like he couldn't quite decide if he wanted to challenge her... or chase her.

We'd barely made it ten steps down the corridor when familiar voices caught our attention.

"Oi!"

"Thought I saw a duel go down in there—was that Parkinson's ego getting hexed?"

The Weasley twins.

Katie grinned first. "You two stalking us?"

"Merely patrolling the halls for injustice, drama, and potential test subjects," Fred said, bowing theatrically.

"We prefer to think of it as fate," George added, eyes sparkling. "And fate says you two are brilliant."

Katie tilted her head, clearly enjoying the attention. "Flattery's cheap."

"Good thing we've got loads of it," Fred shot back.

We fell into step together as we made our way toward the courtyard, the twins launching into a retelling of their most recent prank—something about a charm that made Slytherin robes whisper snide remarks under their breath until someone hexed the spell out of them.

"That explains Malfoy looking paranoid all morning," I said, deadpan.

Fred winked. "We do what we can."

Hermione, Ron, and Harry caught up with us, falling into the rhythm like it was natural.

"That was brilliant, by the way," Ron said to Katie, eyes wide. "You hexed Parkinson's wand right out of her hand—"

"And she barely blinked doing it," Harry added, looking impressed despite himself.

Hermione, arms folded, studied me. "Where did you learn that hold on Bulstrode? That's not in the textbooks."

"Exactly," I said with a small smirk.

Before Hermione could protest, a cold voice cut through the buzz of conversation.

"Well, well. What a charming little street gang."

Malfoy stood in front of us like he owned the corridor. Zabini stood just behind, half-shadowed but fully focused. Pansy and Millicent flanked them, scowling like it was their job.

Ron groaned. "Fantastic. As if this day couldn't get better."

"Still sore from class, Malfoy?" Katie asked, folding her arms.

"I don't waste my time on people beneath me."

"That's funny," I replied, "considering you're standing right in front of us."

Pansy stepped forward, lips curled. "You're just mad you got shown up."

Katie leaned casually against the wall. "No. We're used to winning."

"You're not even from here—"

"Still ahead of you," I cut in.

Draco's mouth opened, but nothing came out. Blaise watched it all unfold with his usual stillness, like he was calculating the fallout.

"You two think you're clever," Draco said finally, voice sharp.

Katie's eyes glinted. "Not think. Know."

Hermione scoffed, earning Draco's eyes and what came next almost made me lose my cool—and so early in our introductions too.

Draco's smirk widened as his eyes scanned our group. "Honestly, it's a wonder the castle's still standing with how many filthy bloodlines are running around unsupervised these days."

The words slipped out of his mouth too smooth, too practiced—like he'd been waiting for the perfect moment to say them.

Hermione tensed beside me. Harry took a step forward.

But Katie? She beat them to it.

"Oh, I'm sorry—I didn't realize we were letting insecure little boys talk like they're better than anyone else," Katie said, her voice sweet and sharp as a blade. "Remind me, Draco, how many OWLs did you score again? Or are we just throwing around slurs to distract from your inferiority complex?"

Draco's jaw clenched, and I swore for a moment, he forgot how to breathe.

Even Blaise's mouth twitched, barely suppressing a smirk.

Pansy's shriek of "Watch your mouth, you Mudblood-loving—" was abruptly silenced by Blaise's casual hand.

"Don't," he said simply, his tone bored but final. "It's embarrassing."

Millicent made a noise like she was winding up for another insult, but before she could open her mouth, Blaise spoke. "That's enough."

All heads turned.

He wasn't looking at us. He was looking at Pansy and Millicent. "You're not helping."

Pansy gaped. "Are you serious?"

Blaise didn't blink. "Deadly."

The silence that followed was thick.

Harry muttered something under his breath and nudged Ron. Hermione tugged them both away, clearly not wanting to start a full-on corridor war.

The twins exchanged a look with each other, then with us. "You'll be fine?" Fred asked, tone casual but clear.

"We'll live," Katie said.

George nodded. "Alright, Silver and Gold. Don't start a war without us."

With that, they drifted off, leaving just the four of us.

Draco stared at Katie like she was an unsolvable puzzle. Blaise's eyes hadn't left me once.

It was Katie who broke the silence. "You always bring backup to your arguments?"

Draco smirked. "Only when I expect a challenge."

"Well," I said, stepping forward just enough to meet Blaise's gaze directly, "next time, come prepared."

That got the tiniest twitch at the corner of his mouth.

Draco, to his credit, chuckled. "You're not like the others."

"Thank you," Katie said dryly.

"I didn't say it was a compliment."

"Didn't sound like an insult," I shot back.

Another silence, but this one felt different. Not charged. Curious.

Draco shrugged, motioning toward the open doors just ahead. "Courtyard?"

Katie glanced at me. I nodded.

We walked.

The stone benches were warm from the afternoon sun. Birds chirped in the trees above, entirely unaware that a Slytherin-Gryffindor conversation was happening without wands being drawn.

"This school's slow," Katie said after a moment, casually watching a group of second-years chase a flying book. "I don't know how you haven't all lost your minds."

"We've been asking ourselves that since first year," Blaise said.

Draco studied her, arms draped lazily over the back of the bench. "Where'd you learn to duel like that?"

"Home," she said.

"And home is...?"

Katie raised an eyebrow. "Not here."

"Cryptic," Blaise noted, voice smooth.

"We prefer mysterious," I added.

The boys exchanged a glance, and I swore I saw Draco smirk like he couldn't help it.

"This isn't over, you know," he said, tilting his head toward Katie.

She smirked right back. "Didn't think it was."

Blaise looked at me, and something about the way his gaze lingered told me this wasn't just rivalry. It was intriguing.

Maybe even respect.

Interesting.

The second the doors to our dorm shut behind us, Katie bumped her shoulder into mine, eyes wide with that look that always spelled trouble.

"So... that was something," she said, eyebrows raised.

I dropped onto the edge of her bed with a groan, pulling my tie loose. "Please tell me you saw Draco's face when you called him out for the 'filthy bloodlines' comment. I thought his eye was going to twitch clean off."

She flopped back beside me, laughing. "And did you catch Zabini? Like—he didn't even try to stop watching you."

"Noticed that, did you?" I smirked, tossing a pillow at her.

Katie dodged it. "You're not exactly subtle either, Adrien."

I sat up, shaking my head. "It's not that. It's just... they're not like the other guys we've dealt with—outside our all girls school of course. They're still smug, but—calculated. Like they're playing chess and we just landed on their board."

She hummed in agreement. "Maybe. Or maybe they're just bored and we're new."

I didn't respond, but something about Blaise's gaze—cool, curious, just short of too long—lingered in my head longer than it should have.

We managed to hang out in our dorms for most of the rest of the afternoon, completing insignificant homework assignments and chatting about how the Hogwarts dynamic was completely different than that of Beauxbatons.Before we knew it, it was dinner time.

The hum of conversation buzzed around the Great Hall like static. Katie and I slipped into seats near the end of the Gryffindor table, flanked by Hermione and the Weasley twins—who had already launched into tales of their newest "swamp in a jar" prototype.

"So what'd you think of Snape?" Fred asked, scooping potatoes like his life depended on it.

"Ten out of ten. Would duel in a dark alley," I said flatly.

George snorted. "That's high praise, actually."

Across the table, Harry and Ron dropped into their seats, beside Hermione, ever the picture of exasperated patience.

"I still can't believe he tried to make you two look foolish on your first day," she muttered, glaring toward the staff table.

"We're used to it," Katie said lightly, sipping her pumpkin juice.

That's when I felt it.

Not a touch—just that sense. You know when someone's watching you?

I glanced toward the Slytherin table.

Sure enough, Draco was leaned back in his seat, half-lidded gaze cutting across the hall like he wasn't even trying to hide it. Blaise sat beside him, arms crossed, expression unreadable.

Fred leaned closer. "They've been looking over here every few minutes."

"Just let them stare," George added, grinning. "Can't blame them. We're charming company."

Katie and I scoffed at the Weasleys' deflection and proceeded to elaborate on their latest Prank against some annoying Hufflepuffs that seemed a little too big for their pants.

"When's curfew?" I asked, finishing up my last piece of broccoli.

"For 3rd years?" Fred chimed.

"About 10:00 PM." George scoffed with a mouth full of potatoes.

"What year are you guys?" Katie asked, arching a brow.

"Fifth." George winked.

"Our curfew is whenever we've grown tired of running Professor Snape ragged." Fred nodded over his shoulder, making Katie and I smile at their defiance.

That night, Hermione and Katie had drained my energy arguing over the Fundamental Laws of Magic. Even with me groaning outloud and slamming myself flat on my back while attempting to suffocate myself, they didn't ease off.

"...these laws are derived from empirical evidence within the wizarding world..." was about all I caught before, slinging my legs over the bed's edge and wrapping my Gryffindor robes around my Red and Gold Pajamas.

"I'll be back when you two are done drilling each other." I waved over my shoulder as Katie nodded but rolled her eyes as Hermione started in with more facts.

"Adrien," Harry's voice cut through the silence like a hot knife through butter, causing me to stop short from the portrait.

"Potter." I sighed, turning from the door and finally sliding my arms through my sleeves. "You're up late?"

"So are you." He closed the book he had on his lap and rose from the couch. "Where are you off to?"

"A walk." I answered, short, eyeing his own Red and gold Pajamas.

"Do you want to borrow my cloak?" He questioned, gesturing vaguely up the stairs.

"I think I'm good." I gestured silently to my robes, but froze in mid motion when he chuckled. "What?"

"I have an invisibility cloak..." He clarified, raising his eyebrows. "...that way you don't get caught out and about your first week here."

I paused, thinking of his offer and narrowed my eyes suspiciously.

"I guess that's kind of wicked..." I shrugged, taking a step deeper into the common room. "If you don't mind."

"Not at all," He nodded, moving towards the stairs and disappearing for a few minutes.

Harry returned with the cloak bunched in his arms, handing it off like he was giving me some sort of sacred treasure. "Just be careful," he warned.

I rolled my eyes but offered him a tight smile. "Thanks, Golden Boy."

With the cloak draped around my shoulders, I slipped out of Gryffindor Tower and let the silence of the castle wrap around me. The night air bit at my cheeks as I crept through the courtyard and up toward the Owlery, boots silent on the worn stone stairs.

I hadn't expected to find anyone else there—especially not some dark silhouette standing by the open window, moonlight washing over him in sharp silver angles.

So I didn't exactly ease into my presence.

"Unless you're trying to launch yourself off the tower, I'm going to need you to stop brooding like a serial killer," I muttered, pulling the cloak back just enough for my voice to carry.

The figure jerked, turning sharply. "Bloody—"

Blaise.

He blinked once. Then again, slower this time as recognition registered.

"Well, that was subtle," he muttered, placing a hand to his chest like he was genuinely rattled. "Trying to give a man a heart attack?"

"Consider it karma," I smirked, stepping fully into the light, pulling the cloak off my shoulders. "What are you doing up here, Zabini? Feeding your bat army?"

He stared for a long moment, then laughed—low and reluctant, but real. "That's rich, coming from the girl sneaking around under Potter's cloak like a petty criminal."

"I'm pretty sure that makes me mysterious, not criminal," I countered, leaning against the ledge. "Also, technically, he offered it. I didn't steal it."

"Still doesn't answer what you're doing up here."

"Needed air," I said honestly. "And to get away from Hermione's five-hundred-page analysis on magical theory."

"Ah. Torture by textbook."

"You have no idea." I shot him a look, but it softened quicker than I expected. "What about you? Couldn't sleep or... needed to gloat in peace?"

He turned toward the window, resting a forearm on the cool stone. "Maybe I just wanted quiet."

Something in his voice made me pause. Not cold. Not smug. Just... honest.

We stood like that for a beat, the sound of rustling feathers and distant wind filling the gaps. Then, without looking at me, he said:

"You and your sister—you're not like the rest of them."

I arched my brow. "You say that like it's a bad thing."

"No," he said simply. "It's not."

We didn't say much after that.

Until—footsteps.

Heavy. Echoing up the stairs below.

Blaise tensed, already stepping away from the window, brows drawn. "Shit," he hissed under his breath.

A voice drifted upward, nasal and greasy.

"Who's up here? I heard something!"

Filch.

I moved fast, nearly crashing into Blaise as I yanked the cloak over both of us, dragging him down behind a support column.

"What are you—"

"Shut. Up." I hissed, practically nose to nose with him as the cloak settled around our shoulders. The warmth of him was immediate, startling. His hands caught my waist for balance, his breath brushing my cheek.

"This is your idea of air?" he whispered, voice tight but amused.

I rolled my eyes at his tone, "This is my idea of not getting detention three days into term."

Footsteps hit the top stair.

"Bloody owls," Filch muttered to himself, stepping fully into the Owlery. "Always squawkin'. Nothin' ever where it should be..."

Blaise barely breathed. Neither did I.

Filch shuffled dangerously close—close enough that one of Blaise's knees bumped mine.

I glared at him. He just quirked a brow, smug and infuriating.

Then—SCREECH!

An owl dropped a letter directly onto Filch's head.

He yelped, tripped, and knocked over a crate of feed.

I bit my lip to stop from laughing. Blaise didn't even try—his chest shook silently beside me. Our eyes locked in a death grip of attempting to bit back laughter.

"Bloody beasts! Always watching me!" Filch barked, retreating down the stairs, muttering about hexing owls and writing to the Headmaster.

Silence fell again.

I peeked from beneath the hood. "You done laughing?"

He smirked. "Absolutely not."

I rolled my eyes and peeled back the cloak, stepping into the open air once more.

"Well, this has been... dramatic."

"Let's call it a bonding experience," he said dryly, stepping out after me.

We lingered in that soft hush a moment longer before I shifted to leave.

"Don't fall off the tower, Zabini," I tossed over my shoulder. "Or do. Could improve your attitude."

"I'll keep that in mind," he called back, a note of something unexpected in his voice.

Katie shhed me as I gently shut the door behind me. I playfully popped her leg before crawling into my own bed, ignoring the subtle snoring from Hermione's bed.

"Where'd you go?" Katie whispered, turning over to face me.

"Owlery." I answered short, draping the invisibility cloak over one hook and my robes on the other that stood beside my bed. I slid under the sheets, catching Katie's gaze through the moonlight as she examined the cloak. "Invisibility cloak from Golden Boy."

"Is he why you're grinning?" Katie smirked, teasing me.

"Actually...no." I smiled, as she dramatically gasped.

"You're smiling?!"

I chucked one of the smaller pillows off my bed into her face as our giggles fell into a solid sleep.

"So the last Quidditch match is Gryffindor vs Slytherin?" Katie asked as we stretched out on the grass. "Sounds... bloody."

Ron perked up instantly. "It's the match of the year. We've got practice Friday—whole team's ramping up."

"We're gonna crush them," Harry added with a determined nod.

"I'm not saying I want to see you humiliate Malfoy," I said, "but... no, wait, that's exactly what I'm saying."

Hermione rolled her eyes, but she was smiling.

"Quidditch is serious around here," Ron said. "If you two want to come watch practice—"

"We'll be there," Katie grinned.

Before anyone could say more, that familiar chill washed over the grass like a shadow.

Draco and Blaise approached, robes fluttering in the spring breeze. Pansy and Millicent trailed behind them but looked much less smug today.

Draco's eyes landed on Katie, then flicked to me. "Gryffindor practice Friday?" he asked, voice smooth as silk and twice as smug.

"Wouldn't miss it," Katie replied easily.

Blaise's gaze lingered on me, unreadable. "Slytherin's is Saturday, late afternoon. If you're curious."

I raised a brow. "Are you inviting us, Zabini?"

"Not officially," he said, "but you're smart. You'll figure it out."

Pansy huffed, but Blaise shot her a look that shut her up immediately.

Draco smirked at us both, just enough to spark something dangerous in my chest. "See you then."

And with that, they were gone.

Katie looked at me.

I looked at her.

And yeah—we'd definitely be there.