The match between Hufflepuff and Gryffindor was cancelled after news that two more students had been Petrified — Hermione Granger and Penelope Clearwater.

Now, all the second-year Slytherins were gathered in the common room, discussing the events. Cyndee, Drew, and Wilby were squeezed together on a sofa, with Blaise managing to make himself elegant as he was perched on the armrest.

"I hear Hagrid's been sacked," Isabell said conspiratorially. Her golden blonde hair was as perfect as ever, and the curls bounced around as she blabbed with that mouth of hers.

Blaise frowned critically, "Heard from whom?"

"From me," Malfoy sneered. "And good riddance, too. That man — if he can even be called that — was a danger to all of us."

"What, was he the Heir?" Pansy asked, wide-eyed.

"No!" he snapped at her. "The Heir is a Slytherin, and he was most certainly not one."

Pansy dropped her eyes, "But Draco, he befriends so many creatures. The monster could be one of his."

"No, Pansy. It can't be him."

"And it's definitely not Harry Potter," Millicent added dully.

Malfoy tone was scathing enough to sear a hole through the stone walls, "Anyone who ever believed that rumour is a fool. Now that Granger's been attacked, surely the scrotes in those other Houses will come to their senses."

"I do hope the attacks stop though," Eliza murmured quietly from behind her hair.

Drew stared at her in surprise, along with the rest of the students. She thought she'd be delighted.

"Not that I care about the Muggle-borns!" Eliza cried hastily, waving her hands delicately. "It is just that — once people realize it is not Potter — the other Houses will hate us, since none of us have been attacked."

"They already hate us," Draco retorted dryly. "Do you have anything worthwhile to contribute to this or not?"

Eliza's face flushed scarlet, and with a flourish, excused herself and stalked towards the dormitory, with Isabell following. Drew found herself almost accepting Malfoy for half a second.

Seeing her curious look, he sneered once more, "That girl disgusts me. She hates every minority in existence. Ridiculous, I say. Blood purity should be the only one people care about."

Drew sighed, folding her arms to prevent herself from lashing out. "It was going so well."

"I hope you're next," he said vehemently.

Drew shot to her feet, blood boiling, "Listen here you pasty-skinned cabbage —"

"SHUT UP YOU TWO," Xavier yelled from his sofa. Drew stood up, and glaring at the both of them, stormed to her room.

* ° * ° *

Three weeks later, Ginny Weasley was kidnapped.

Malfoy was going mad, of course.

Drew was sprawled over one sofa, playing with Jinx while Wilby copied notes for her.

"But she's a pureblood!" Malfoy yelled to no one in particular. "I mean, she is still a blood traitor, but out of all the students at this school —"

The other Slytherins had taken to completely ignoring his rants by now, and only his friends chose to listen to him, albeit barely. Goyle yawned obnoxiously.

"Do you have any remorse?" Xavier snapped at the blond. "A girl is most likely dead, and all you can do is run off your loud mouth. Have some common decency."

Malfoy crossed his arms, turning up his pointy nose, "That Weasley girl — she doesn't concern me."

"Right." Xavier flicked through a pile of his homework, "Professor Dumbledore has been suspended, too."

"What?" Drew asked, sitting up and ignoring Jinx's mewled protests. "Since when?"

"I don't know," Xavier looked annoyed, but for once not at her, "I bet it was your father's doing, Malfoy."

"So what it if was?" the dimwad retorted defensively. "He's just trying to protect us."

"Believe what you want, kid. And on top of our perfectly capable Headmaster not being here, school is being cancelled."

Malfoy's mouth dropped open with stunned disappointment, "Really?"

"Yes," the prefect answered, eyes flashing. "Oh yes, Malfoy, your education is at stake. Now will you tell us who the Heir is?"

"No," Malfoy sneered, but his lacklustre eyes betrayed his half-heartedness. "I'll be enjoying some wonderful extra months at home with my family. Unlike..." he glanced around, searching for a victim. "...Unlike Potter," he finished finally.

Drew could hear the entire common room groan at the umpteenth mention of "Saint Potter" from the obsessed blond.

* ° * ° *

Drew could hear thumps and scratching coming from the corridor, and she lay in bed, wondering who — or what — was making them.

She scanned the area for her cat, but she wasn't around. Jinx was staying with Ari tonight, it seemed.

"Cyndee," she crept out of bed and shook her friend, "Cyndee."

Cyndee blinked open her eyes, tugging her blanket up further, "I-is it morning?"

"No," Drew shook her head, "do you hear the noises?"

They listened. This time it was more of a wheeze and a thump.

Cyndee nodded, "Sounds like a person?"

"I'm going to investigate. Come with?"

"Okay."

They both shrugged on robes and shoes, and quietly padded their way out into the hallway leading out of the dorm, wands out.

Right at the entrance was a small dark mass of heaving fabric.

"Are you okay?" Drew asked, cautiously coming forward. It resembled a student, but it was too dark to see who.

"Help..." they moaned.

Cyndee cast the Wand-Lighting Charm, and Drew saw the signature platinum blond hair. "Malfoy?!"

The blond's face had bruises all over it, and his lip sported a nasty cut. His left eye was swelling and his desperation was evident.

Drew's remorse flew away, and she scowled fiercely. "What is wrong with you? What happened?"

"The older kids..." he gasped, "they attacked me — and dumped me h-here. Th-they wanted me to stop the attacks. But I'm not. I'm not the Heir. I-I told them — I swore."

Drew crossed her arms and leered down at him, "Serves you right for bragging about knowing left and right, then refusing to say who! I should just leave you here. After all, you wanted me dead."

"I swear I didn't mean it," he begged weakly. His voice was hoarse and quiet; his windpipe must've been injured. "Just...get help, okay? I'm sorry...please..."

"Drew," Cyndee tugged on her sleeve, "let's get a prefect."

"Are you kidding?" Drew glared at her. Cyndee held her gaze, and she relented, "Yeah, okay. Stay with him, I'll find someone."

Cyndee sank down and began asking him where he was hurt, and Drew made her way into the boy's dormitory.

"Lumos." Her wand lit up and she walked into Wilby's room, shaking him.

"No," he mumbled, sliding himself completely under the blankets.

She tried to yank the checkered wool covering off, "Wilby, get up."

He peeked out from under his covers, and he took a few seconds to recognize her. "Yeah?"

"Do you know where any of the prefects sleep?"

"Xavier should be near the back," he answered woozily. "Why?"

Drew tossed the blanket back over him, "Malfoy's hurt."

Wilby hurriedly pulled on his shoes and hopped past a sleeping Blaise, following her out.

"Why didn't you get one of the female prefects?" he asked breathlessly, having managed to tug his sneakers on.

"The ones I like are on duty," she replied, peering into one room and quickly retreating upon seeing it was Theodore's. She'd memorized the prefects and teachers' patrols by now, as it was essential for causing mischief. "And plus, Xavier is the one who would lecture Malfoy until his ears fall off."

They eventually located the fifth-year prefect. He was snoring away with a heavy book on his chest.

Wilby put the tome on the bedstand and Drew tapped him. "Xavier! My favourite prefect, wake up."

He opened one eye, "What do you want, Headache?"

"Malfoy's got himself beat up."

Xavier sat up, eyes frantic, "Drew, what did you do?"

"It wasn't me!" she protested, offended. "He said it was some older kids who thought he was the Heir."

"It's true," Wilby confirmed, even though he hadn't been there to know.

Xavier shrugged on a sweater and got to his feet, "Lead the way."

"Babe?" a muffled voice asked. "What's happening?"

Drew spun around and saw Quentin rubbing his eyes in another bed. "I didn't know people of different years are allowed to be in the same room — wait, did he just call you babe?"

Quentin covered his mouth, then slowly lowered his hand, "No..."

Drew felt a sneaky smile spreading across her face, "This explains quite a lot."

Xavier looked like he could've been blushing, "Drew, just — be serious for now. Draco's hurt, you said? Quent, come on."

The four of them hustled out to Malfoy.

He was slightly better. Cyndee had cleaned up the blood and pulled his limbs out of the melted cobblestones, so now he at least wasn't stuck.

"Just get...me to Pomfrey," he sniffed, refusing to face any of them.

Xavier sighed, "Okay Draco, lie down. We'll Levitate you."

The two prefects trudged out of the common room, Malfoy floating crossly between them.

"Think they'll be okay with the monster about?" Cyndee asked anxiously.

"They're capable," Drew assured her. "All the same, there's a lot of other people patrolling. Don't worry about them. The real question is: what happened?"

Cyndee motioned for them to sit down, and they did. "As he said, a couple of fourth or fifth years wearing masks...grabbed him in the middle of the night. They dragged him to the common room. They wanted him to stop the attacks because he was giving Slytherin a bad name. But he wasn't the Heir."

"And then he refused to tell them who it really was," Drew guessed, now able to predict Malfoy's terrible decisions. "So they beat him up and demanded to know. Then he admitted that he didn't know that either and they dumped him in the girl's hallway."

She seemed surprised, "Pretty much, yeah."

Drew held the bridge of her nose, "What a bloody idiot. Is he badly hurt?"

"Nothing life-threatening. His throat was pretty bad though. They must have strangled him."

"He didn't know who any of them were?" Wilby asked.

"I don't think so," she said sadly.

"I actually feel bad," Drew muttered, hating herself for it. "I actually feel bad for him."

Wilby bit his lip, "It's okay. He's still a bully, but he never meant his death threats. Even with his...Death Eater parents, no second year could hate someone so much he'd wish them dead for real."

"I think he's got really controlling parents," Cyndee added. "He's always trying to please them."

"Which is no excuse," Drew countered testily, "but yeah...I pity him."

* ° * ° *

June came.

To the relief of her friends, Drew didn't get attacked by Slytherin's monster, because Harry Potter had saved them all again. This time the story was a bit more unclear. The monster had turned out to be a basilisk, and the Heir was...Ginny Weasley? People said she'd been possessed by some Dark Object, but nobody really knew much more than that.

The Headmaster and Hagrid — who apparently got sent to Azkaban for some reason — were back. Exams were called off, and Drew gladly burnt her textbooks.

The best part was that Lockhart was revealed to be a phony. For years, he'd been taking credit for people's accomplishments by wiping their memories. It made a lot of sense, considering his stupid attempts to teach classes with pop quizzes on his snail hair.

She really wished she could properly taunt him about the pixie incident, but Harry Potter or Ron or somebody had wiped his memory, and now he was just a dimwitted imbecile who couldn't feel the pain of a deserved insult.

The second Xavier had gotten back from bringing Malfoy to the Hospital Wing, he'd vigorously shaken Drew by the shoulders until she'd promised that she wouldn't tell anyone about the 'babe' incident.

He told her they'd come out once they felt more secure in their relationship, which she supposed made sense, and kept the information to herself.

That ended up being in early April, and the Slytherins had to endure two whole months of Quentin being overly flirty and sappy, and Xavier sometimes responding but mostly trying to act like they were business partners.

As for Malfoy, he never insulted Drew again. It was almost unbelievable. He even stopped his friends from doing the same, with the excuse that she wasn't worth their time.

In fact, he sought her out in her compartment on the Hogwarts Express. It was Cyndee who noticed him raising his fist to the glass and then lowering it over and over in an extremely uncertain fashion.

"What does he want?" Drew asked curiously, slightly irked.

Wilby shrugged, and Blaise hmphed apathetically, "Who knows?"

Drew opened it up, narrowing her eyes warily, "Yes?"

He found interest in his black dress shoes, and said balefully, "You'll be glad to know my father was removed from the school's Board of Governors."

Drew nodded to confirm this fact. "Mm-hm."

"I just...truce?" he held out his hand, grey eyes flicking up to hers. Despite his almost meek demeanour, they were still sharp and calculating.

Never in her life had Drew had a ceasefire with somebody she hated and despised for more than a year. But then again, she too was sick of fighting and getting detentions with him nearly every week. It was an endless circle with no reward. "Truce," she shook his hand.

"Alright," he let go, sounding surprised that she'd agreed. He wiped his hand on the side of his robes. "Well, er, thanks for helping me that day. You're not that bad." He muttered that last part, stepping back quickly.

"You're welcome. Don't expect me to say the same."

He sneered and strode away.

Then the trolley witch appeared at the door, and once they had gotten their food, they raised their glasses of pumpkin juice.

"To surviving our second year at Hogwarts," Drew said, smirking.

"To Lockhart losing his memory," Wilby grinned.

"To our new friend Blaise," Cyndee beamed brightly.

"To another year ahead of us," Blaise finished, giving the three a tiny but genuine smile. "I'm looking forward to it."