The four friends were at Hogsmeade, admiring all the shops and restaurants lining the street.

"Don't buy Love Potions," Blaise reminded them.

"I know," Drew rolled her eyes. "Thank you for the umpteenth reminder."

Blaise started to drag Cyndee away, indicating to them with glaring eyes and a lot of secret hand gestures that he wanted to be left alone with her.

"Great." Drew snorted, taking Wilby's arm, "now they're on a date. Let's go to Honeydukes first."

He followed her, "Is this a date too?"

At those words she paused, sighing exasperatedly and shooting him an amused look. "I'm not in a dating mood right now. Unless by 'dating' you mean paying for the food I'm getting, then sure."

He smiled innocently, "Is that all I need to do?"

Drew let herself inside Honeydukes, waiting for Wilby to nimbly maneuver himself around the door she'd let go of in his face. "It's the first step," she thrust a bag of Fizzing Whizzbees into his hand.

Half an hour later, she piled the sweets on the counter and passed the shopkeeper her own Galleons before Wilby could make a move.

They walked out loaded down with four bags of confectionery, snacking on Chocoballs. While chewing, Wilby dug through his Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans carton. "I didn't pay for any of this," he complained wistfully.

Drew shook her head. "Will, I know Hogwarts paid for your school supplies. There's no way I'm letting you pay for my sweets. I was joking."

He stared at her as if she were a saint.

"Don't look at me like that," Drew opened up Chocolate Frog. She checked the card — Cornelius Agrippa again.

Wilby eyes glittered light-heartedly. "Like what?"

She wrestled the frog back into its box for later. "Like I saved you."

He didn't answer, and she saw that it was because Theodore Nott was stalking in their direction. The pureblood smirked upon seeing them, and Wilby abruptly turned left, going across the street.

Drew followed him. "He's especially smug today."

Wilby walked faster, the conversation earlier apparently ended. "Do you want to check out Zonko's next?"

"Yeah, of course," Drew nearly had to jog to keep up with him.

He went in and held the door open for her — a rare occurrence since Drew was usually the one who got to it first.

She took in the sight with wonderstruck eyes. The place was packed to the brim with colourful joke objects, and she eagerly had a look around.

She was browsing a selection of Sugar Quills when she noticed just how tense Wilby was. "Hey, relax. He's not out there anymore. Has he been bothering you?"

"Not really," he answered, still staring out at the chilly street with an unreadable expression. "He's just giving me a bad feeling."

Drew nearly snapped a quill in half upon realizing what Nott must be up to. "I have to tell you something."

Wilby stared at her in surprise, "Yeah?"

"My boggart was you, but —"

"I know."

Drew's heartbeat was cut short, "He told you already."

"The day it happened," he confessed. And seeing her terrified expression, he launched into a lightning-fast explanation. "I guess I was rather upset, so I went to bed right after. Then after his patrols, Xavier came and told me about it. He'd seen Nott say something to me before he left, and then after he talked to you he put the pieces together. He figured I had to know as soon as possible that, y'know, it doesn't mean much."

Drew sighed with relief. Thank the heavens for dropping the insufferable Xavier Columbus upon this earth.

"I get it," Wilby shrugged sympathetically. "You're afraid that I'll be different. That Cyndee has a façade. That Blaise has some ulterior motive. It doesn't mean that you think it often, or at all. It's just your nightmare, and what you wouldn't know how to deal with."

Drew examined the brown Sugar Quill in her hand. "I'm sorry I never told you myself."

"And I'm sorry for not telling you I knew."

She dared to meet his eyes, but they only served to match his tone. His green eyes were kind and open. Wilby was always going to forgive her. Of course he was.

Of all the people he could've been friends with, Drew wondered with amazement, why would he choose a lying mess like me?

She placed the Zonko's item back on the shelf. "I don't feel like shopping for Smudge Erasers or Dyslexia Ink," she confided. "Let's go to the inn."

* ° * ° *

The Three Broomsticks was cozy, warm, and filled with people. She spotted a group of teachers and the Minister of Magic sitting at one table and quickly walked in a different direction.

She noticed Quentin and Xavier in the corner sharing a Firewhiskey and avoided them too. If she had to listen to them snog and compliment each other's intelligence one more time she was going to puke up both lungs.

Wilby spotted Percy and Penelope (oh no, more brainy couples) leaving the pub, and they took their now vacant table. Madam Rosmerta came by, and they ordered two hot Butterbeers.

When she dropped them off, Drew took a sip, the sweet liquid warming her up.

And Eliza and Isabell passed the window, souring Drew's mood at once.

Ever sharp-eyed, Wilby noticed this drastic change, and followed her furious scowl. He nudged her steaming mug towards her, "Focus on the Butterbeer."

"How could you be so nice and so calm?" she burst out.

For the second time today, Wilby looked stunned. He'd apparently thought she was done talking about serious things. "What do you mean?"

"How are you not spending every second of every day angry at that Death Eater?" Drew went on. "Angry at Nott for holding him over your head? Angry at Crabbe for knocking me off my broom and nearly killing me? Angry at me for choosing Eliza over you when you were clearly the better choice?"

He slowly put his mug down, sounding a little confused at her sudden outburst. "I...I just learned that being angry doesn't solve much."

"Don't you think I know that?" Drew demanded. Now that she'd begun her tirade, she couldn't quit. "But I can't help being angry 24-7. It's just how I am. I'm mad at Eliza — " she pointed out the window — "for what she did to me. I'm mad at my sister because she's so closed-off and haughty, even though she has a good reason that I don't bother to try and understand. I'm mad at my dad for never being home, and I'm mad at my mom for kicking him out and not giving me a straight answer why. I'm mad at Malfoy, Isabell, Nott, Gracelyn, and half the teachers. Sometimes I feel like I just hate everyone and everything."

She crossed her arms, gazing up at the wooden beams on the ceiling. "I'm just a simmering cauldron of hate and hostility. And you're the opposite. What's your secret?"

"Being nice and accepting is also just how I am," Wilby said softly. "But you can change. You can always change."

Drew snorted with disbelief, "And how do you reckon I do that? Funnily enough, I can't just suddenly like everyone."

"You don't have to. You've already changed the way you act. It's been a while since you've gotten in a fight, and I know for a fact that the old Drew would've never accepted a truce with Draco Malfoy, or even bothered to help him when he needed you."

"You," Drew realized with a start. "You're doing this to me."

Wilby looked almost smug, "I figured out right away that you hated it when people told you what to do, and that you don't listen when they do. I guess that's why you liked Eliza, because she was too afraid to go against anything you did. So I only stopped you when you were about to go too far, and then slowly stopped you more and more until you began to control your furious impulses a little better."

"...you have a lot of power."

Wilby just shrugged again. "Sometimes you just need the right people in your life, and to accept help from them. Otherwise, you could go down the wrong path."

"You should be in Hufflepuff," Drew muttered half-heartedly, because inwardly she was glad he wasn't. "You may have the mind of a con artist, but your heart is pure gold. You're compassionate, patient, loyal, and everything a Hufflepuff should be."

"The Sorting Hat was about to place me in Hufflepuff," he admitted, blushing slightly at her compliments. "It said I met the criteria equally for Hufflepuff or Slytherin, but that I'd fit the former's crowd better. I told it I wanted Slytherin."

Drew blinked, "Why?"

"Because I knew that's where you'd get in. Eliza was going to, so even if you were a better fit for Gryffindor, you'd still end up in Slytherin to be with her."

"Am I that easy to read?"

He made an ambiguous spinning gesture with his hand, "A bit."

"You chose to spend seven years in a dungeon to be in the same House as me?"

"Yeah." He laughed, "You make it sound so terrible. It wasn't bad by myself, really. Your cat visited me a lot."

Drew gasped, "No wonder she liked you so fast!"

He took a casual sip of his Butterbeer.

She waited for him to put the cup down, the asked, "Not to sound accusing or anything, but if you knew how terrible Eliza was, why didn't you step in?"

"I didn't think you'd listen to me."

"Good point."

"I also thought that you'd come to your senses soon. I just didn't realize it'd be in such a...cruel way."

"I never thought it would happen," Drew mumbled. "But I really should have. She kept giving me these...side looks. Like she hated to associate with me."

"You represented the opposite of everything she was taught," Wilby pointed out. "Muggle-born, yet skilled at Charms and DADA. Maybe she had the feeling that you were...a dangerous enemy to make. She both wanted you on her side and didn't."

"Her boggart was me," Drew said to herself, but she didn't feel satisfied with the fact anymore.

"You know why I think you never realized what she was?" Wilby asked.

Drew wondered how this boy could know something that even she didn't. "Why?"

"You push everything away when it truly bothers you. You just...block it out of your mind and don't think about it."

"Since when?"

"Like right now. I know things hurt you, Drew. I know you get upset. That doesn't mean you should forget about it all. You can't let yourself feel anger and that's it. Your fear and sadness — It's all going to build up and explode one day."

"I don't do that," Drew protested vehemently.

Wilby looked at her almost sadly, "When was the last time you talked about your parents? I know they fight Drew. I've been to your house, and I've seen the torn out family pictures. You've even told me a few times in unnaturally casual ways, like you don't care at all. But you do. What even happened during your summer holidays? You never told me anything."

"You know," Drew folded her arms, wiping her mind blank of last summer, when her dad had come back only to be sent out again. "I don't like where this conversation is going. Talk about something else."

"No," Wilby insisted. "I've done that for way too long. This isn't good for you, Drew."

Drew suddenly wanted to throw the mug at his face. "How is it not?! Do you want me to feel sad all the time? I don't, so I push the feeling and what's causing it away. Then it disappears. Poof. I don't need it."

"It does not disappear," Wilby argued. "It's still there, you're only refusing to acknowledge it. Believe me, I know how it feels. I used to have that small space of genuine frustration that I refused to ever think about or act on. Then I saw you. You voice any anger the moment you feel it — and I began to wonder what it would mean for me if I kept even the littlest fraction of all the fury you felt deep inside me. Still, I refused to act on it. Anger only hurts other people. Then I shoved Theodore off the stairwell."

Drew pushed a napkin around with her finger, remembering the terror she'd felt upon seeing his seething expression, and Nott's frightened one as gravity dragged him down. "It really showed him."

"Which is not the point," Wilby sighed. "What I did scared me half to death. Are you processing what I'm saying?"

"Yes," Drew nodded. She really was. "I'll think about it, okay? Right not we're at Hogsmeade, and we haven't finished checking out Zonko's or the Shrieking Shack. Please?"

Wilby gave her a suspicious look, "Promise me you'll think about what I said?"

Drew patted his hand. "I promise."

"Okay..." he finished his Butterbeer, "let's go to Zonko's again."

They were just outside the joke store when Wilby halted. She could read his thoughts this time, and it was full of something like pride. "For the record," he said gently, "you're everything a Slytherin should be too. Clever and unwavering."

Drew coughed. "Okay, you can stop now." She pushed open the door and waited for him to walk in, "But thank you. That's nice to hear."

* ° * ° *

"Guys!" Blaise was laden with bags. It'd been another hour since Drew and Wilby left the Three Broomsticks, and they'd met up with their friends. Blaise seemed horrified by something. "I discovered that Cyndee has a mad love for insects."

"I know that," Drew said, right when Cyndee tossed a Cockroach Cluster into her mouth.

Drew retched, "Okay, that is nasty. I guess I underestimated your love. Aren't those made of actual cockroaches?"

Cyndee shrugged nonchalantly, "They taste like butterscotch."

Drew averted her eyes, "Don't describe them."

"They're crunchy," Cyndee added relentlessly. "And brown and sweet and as cute as Blaise~"

Blaise glared at her, "What?"

She held one up to his face, "Same colour, too."

He slapped it out of her hand. "Shut up! I am heaps more attractive than that thing."

Cyndee gave the fallen Cockroach Cluster a respectful and longing glance.

"You don't happen to know what happened to Malfoy, do you Drew?" Blaise asked, desperate to change the subject. "I saw him and his goons running around like hooligans screaming about seeing Potter's decapitated head."

Drew tried to envision the scene. "Was it happy or terrified screaming?"

"Terrified."

"Oh, how curious. No, I don't know what happened." Then she gasped, the thought of beheadings giving her a marvellous idea, "Hey, who wants to break into the Shrieking Shack?"

Blaise's eyebrows rose, "You do realize that breaking and entering is slightly illegal?"

Drew smirked, "And my middle name."

Wilby frowned, "That's quite a long —"

She dragged him off, and soon enough, the four of them were sneaking off to the Shrieking Shack.