"Oh! You must be new here! I'm Michael Corner, what's your name?"

Isabelle sat, her right eye twitched as she stared at Michael Corner in disbelief. Anthony and Clementine sat with their hands covering their mouths, looking between the two. Both of them knew when Isabelle was about to snap, and they could tell... shit was about to hit the fan.

It was Wednesday — that day in the middle of the week that nobody likes. It was the second worst day only losing to Monday.

Unless you were Isabelle then Wednesday was your second favorite day of the week.

Isabelle, Clementine, and Anthony had been studiously studying in the library when Padma Patil and Michael Corner suddenly popped up to join them. It was a free period, and rather than hang around the castle as most students were doing, the three chose to hang out in the library like true Ravenclaws.

Clementine was for once not drawing, but rather frantically studying potions so that she might actually have a chance at passing the upcoming exam. Isabelle was not reading a grimoire as usual but rather reading through the current chapter of transfiguration.

Her Supreme Witch senses were telling her that McGonagall was going to slam them with a pop quiz come this Friday.

She decided to be a bad friend and not tell Clementine or Anthony. When the time came, she would laugh crudely and flash them her finger and thumb-shaped like an "L" stamped to her forehead. It was a stupid muggle teen thing that she picked up from walking around New Orleans so often.

Anthony was studying Divination, vocalizing his disdain for the class the entire time.

Of course, it was in the middle of one of his many curses to Trelawney that Michael and Padma appeared.

This was also when Michael took a double take at Isabelle and proceeded to introduce himself. For the SIXTH time — Isabelle was counting.

The witch almost could not believe it. Was he messing with her or was he truly this stupid?

But no, he stood there with that moronic smile on his face — hand outstretched.

Michael was an average-looking boy in Isabelle's opinion. His hair was far too long, colored a deep brown that contrasted greatly with his sky-blue eyes. His skin was nearly as pale as Malfoy's though he did not pull it off as well as the white-haired boy did.

Isabelle's patience had run thin — if this guy truly could not remember her when she introduced herself pleasantly, then she would need to MAKE him remember her.

With that thought, she slammed her transfiguration textbook closed and stood up so fast that her chair fell backward. The slamming of the book echoed through the library and many student's eyes suddenly went to them.

Students of varying schools, houses, and ages watched with wide eyes.

Her hands made a thunderous noise as she banged them on top of the closed book. Her caramel eyes seemed to blaze with pure unbridled fire.

Malfoy was wrong a few weeks ago when he assumed that he would see small golden flakes in Isabelle's gaze if he looked close enough.

No, if the Malfoy boy had looked close enough, it would not be golden that he saw but rather red fragments of fire.

But Draco Malfoy would not come to know this for a small while.

Isabelle sneered in such a way that it would even make a Slytherin shake in their shoes: her hair seemed to flow in every which direction, the curls wilder than usual.

"My name is Isabelle motherfucking Lockley and you would do good to remember it this time, Corner. Because if I need to tell ya' again, I'ma make sure that my face and name is the last thing ya' ever see and hear — we good?"

That honeyed Southern twang suddenly did not sound as sweet as usual.

Michael did not answer. Rather, he gaped at her as though he were truly seeing her for the first time.

Padma was staring wide-eyed from behind him.

All four of them could feel Isabelle's raw magic crackling around, something quite unusual for a witch of their age. But only Clementine knew the reason why.

Only Clementine knew that the newest Witch Supreme stood in their presence.

"Merlin's beard, you're psychotic!" Is all Corner managed to get out, not agreeing that they were good, and proceeded to run off.

Now it was Isabelle's turn to gape, the girl turning in his direction and wildly waving a fist.

"I am NOT psychotic, you absolute dickhead! Why, I oughta—"

Anthony closed his book along with Clementine.

"I think it's time that someone takes her daily nap..." Anthony interrupted her ranting slyly.

Isabelle turned to glare at him now. "I do not take daily naps..." she ground.

"No," Anthony shook his head sarcastically. "Of course not — but I am feeling quite tired myself, care to accompany me back to the common room?" The Goldstein male held out his arm for her to take.

Instead, Isabelle slapped his arm down causing him to yelp in pain. She then grabbed her textbook, linked her arm with Clementine's, and dragged her female friend off.

As they left the library, they immediately fell into giggles.

"He's right you know, you kind of are psychotic..." Clementine pointed out with a small laugh, but her tone of voice did not suggest her to be insulting Isabelle.

And Isabelle did not take it as an insult coming from Clementine. "Of course I am... but the best of us are." She laughed right back.

They continued down the corridors whispering in laughter to each other — Isabelle considering if she could get away with skipping her last two classes of the day.

"Don't look now but here comes your crude prince charming..." Clementine said under her breath.

Isabelle ignored her advice and quickly looked forward, seeing Draco Malfoy swaggering to go in the opposite direction that they were traveling. He, of course, was being flanked by Crabbe and Goyle.

She briefly wondered if he had received her note from Scrivenshaft.

He wore his usual neat Slytherin robes — the boy never having been seen in anything other than the cleanly pressed uniform, his tie perfectly straight, and shirt tucked tightly into his pants.

Seeing as she joined in third year, she was not around to see, as Anthony worded it, the "iconic" slicked-back hair of Draco Malfoy.

However, he stopped slicking it the year Isabelle joined, opting to allow it to grow out slightly so the white strands were fluffy and covered parts of his forehead.

That was the story of Draco Malfoy's hair.

Isabelle, of course, thought he looked absolutely dashing.

As the two of them got closer to one another, Malfoy's gaze which had boredly been taking in his surroundings unexpectedly met hers. He seemed slightly surprised too having not noticed her coming their way until they were feet away from each other.

Draco and Isabelle had not made eye contact for a few weeks now.

Whatever interest Draco had taken in her had seemingly vanished within days of him first stealing glances at her. However, Isabelle did not know that was far from the truth.

Seeing as the girl had never looked into Draco's mind (mostly out of nervousness for what he actually thought of her, she was not sure her heart could handle it) she had no clue what he was ever thinking.

Draco was still as curious as ever about this random transfer student that popped up out of nowhere. He was wrong in his assumption that people would be talking about her.

Slytherins did not speak of her, Hufflepuffs did not, and Ravenclaws had not either.

And she was in Ravenclaw!

Draco had even gone as far as to eavesdrop on Gryffindors of all people — but nothing! Everyone was too busy talking about the stupid tournament.

Malfoy felt slightly idiotic though, because he had a hunch that she had been here longer than he realized. If that was the case then of course no one would be talking about her. A transfer student was old news and Malfoy had missed the gossip train.

The few seconds of eye contact between them was cut by Isabelle being the one to break it, she turned to the Goldstein female whispering something in her ear.

Malfoy raised an eyebrow, his nose scrunching and eyes narrowing as it always did when he wanted to hear something he was not involved in.

AKA — when his desire to be nosy and eavesdrop kicked in.

Unfortunately for him, he had no hope of hearing as the two had already passed each other. Malfoy turned his head, surprised to see that the new girl was already doing the same. Her eyes widened when she realized she had been caught, and she whirled back around while walking quicker.

Malfoy smirked at that, turning back around and chewing his lip absentmindedly.

He had half a mind to ask either Crabbe or Goyle if they knew that girl, but his pride once again outweighed his curiosity.

It could not be long now, they shared nearly every class together. A teacher was bound to call on her at some point and then at least maybe he would learn her name.

His thoughts soon spun away from the transfer student and back to what had actually been on his mind all day.

He still had no leads on that stupid note.

He thought it might be Daphne's younger sister, Astoria, as he had caught her looking at him only for her to blush and look away.

It was very much possible, but somehow Draco doubted it.

He managed to get his hands on a copy of Astoria's handwriting and compared it to both the letter and the note. It was not even a close match.

Not to mention, if it was Astoria who was writing to him, he would be rather let down seeing as he had no desire to potentially pursue his friend's younger sister.

Not that he even knew for sure that he'd be pursuing whoever it was that wrote the letter.

Merlin forbid it was some ugly Gryffindor, in that case, feelings be damned. Malfoy would have a new target on his list of people he bullied.

Draco cringed at his own thoughts.

Okay, maybe his cruelty was reaching unforgivable levels.

He quickly shook off those weak thoughts. The thought of Potter and even Longbottom was enough to destroy the small guilt he briefly felt.

He was beginning to wonder if the notes were perhaps sent by an upperclassman Slytherin.

Draco still believed that it had to be a Slytherin seeing as there was no other way that letter would have ended up in the common room.

His mind was reeling — who the bloody hell sent that letter and wrote the note?

★✯☆★✯☆★

"You've missed dinner — how're you still sleeping?! Anthony was right, you were just cranky earlier!"

Isabelle was rudely awakened by her friend's voice shaking her from her wonderful dreams. Slowly, she reached up and lifted her silk eyemask from her eyes, glaring heatedly at Clementine who stood at the foot of her bed with her hands on her hips.

Isabelle lay in her bed, snuggling under sheets — her body adorned in nothing but a silk nightgown and her hair wrapped in a silk sleeping cap.

She could see that her friend was correct — when Isabelle laid down to 'take a nap', the sun was still shining through the windows. Not that it much affected her seeing as she had a sleeping mask.

However, now, the only source of light came from the few lamps that were lit. Clementine and Isabelle were the only two girls in the dorm apart from Mandy Brocklehurst who was snoring in her bed on the other side of the room.

Isabelle wished more than anything that she was still sleeping as well.

"And?" Isabelle murmured, cuddling closer to her pillow. "I'm not hungry when I'm tired..." she hummed, on the verge of falling back asleep.

"Don't you want to at least spend a few hours in the Ravenclaw common room before going back to sleep?" Clementine tilted her head, voice much calmer than before.

"What is the point? I've finished my homework and I am ready for bed. Other than you and Anthony, I don't really like that many other people in our house, so..."

Clementine clicked her tongue. "That's not true, what about Padma?"

"She's alright..." Isabelle drawled, her accent much thicker.

"Well, scoot over then, I'd at least like to talk to my friend for a few minutes before she goes to sleep!" Clementine rolled her eyes playfully while nudging Isabelle to the other side of her bed.

Isabelle easily scooted over, the bed just barely wide enough for Clementine and her to fit. It would certainly be uncomfortable if they were actually trying to sleep, but there was more than enough space for a few minutes of talking.

And that was how the next few minutes were filled with quiet laughter and easy gossip.

"You and Goyle then?" Isabelle suddenly nudged Clementine who shook her head.

"Merlin — no — I simply wanted to draw him! What is with you people and making assumptions!" She whisper-yelled jokingly.

Mandy Brocklehurst gave a loud snore from where she was asleep on the other side of the room.

As the sun had already set, the only source of light came from the dim candles floating around. The ceiling, like the Great Hall, reflected a twinkling night sky. The drapey silks that fell around all the dorm beds and warm blue carpets over the stone floor created the perfect sleeping environment in Isabelle's opinion.

It also opened the door for the most creative of dreams.

Isabelle whispered right back playfully. "Well, he did blush when you gave him it..." she laughed.

And it was true as about a week prior, Clementine had approached Goyle in a rare moment when he was by himself to hand him the sketch. Isabelle, of course, had been standing right behind her, her gaze dark and threatening — promising a painful death if Goyle so much as did anything mean to her best friend.

Clementine was a ball of sunshine and Isabelle would be damned if she let anyone put it out.

Goyle had barely even noticed Isabelle; however, in lue of gaping at the sketch and taking it eagerly.

He had blushed while shyly thanking Clementine before the two Ravenclaw girls took off.

Isabelle was willing to bet that he did not show any of his Slytherin friends the sketch. If Goyle had, Isabelle did not doubt that at least one sarcastic comment would have already been made toward Clementine.

"I think most people would blush if they received such a gift." The blonde pointed out.

Clementine's hair was thrown into a messy bun revealing her clear skin and pretty face. Her blue eyes seemed to sparkle under in the dimness of the room, and Isabelle found herself momentarily envious of her friend's immense beauty.

Clementine was gorgeous inside and out.

And she was the classic sort of pretty on the outside: the perky-faced blue-eyed blonde that seemed to be the stamp mark beauty symbol for many.

Isabelle felt out of place at times — she was pretty in her own right, but she would never be able to achieve that trademark look. Not that she had ever really wanted to before she started attending Hogwarts, but it was hard when the majority of the student population was quirky white kids.

The diversity of Hogwarts was low.

Especially in comparison to where she lived in Louisiana.

As quickly as those thoughts came, she shook them away and forced a confidence boost upon herself.

What the fuck was she thinking? She is Isabelle motherfucking Lockley: Supreme Witch extraordinaire. Smart, badass, and beautiful.

And despite those thoughts, there was still that ugly emotion of lackluster that lurked beneath the surface.

Being a teenage witch was hard.

"Well, I didn't blush when you gave me my sketches..." Isabelle pointed out, her voice hard and not giving away anything that she was feeling internally.

Clementine's brows came together in an amused cute furrow.

"Isabelle, the only time I have ever seen you blush or be anything less than powerful is when you're talking, looking, or in Draco Malfoy's presence..."

Isabelle shrugged but could not exactly deny it. She hated how weak this crush made her.

"I still think you should talk to him," Clementine said after a small silence between the two.

"Well... I did leave him a note at Scrivenshaft's when we were in Hogsmeade the other day," Isabelle mentioned carelessly.

Clementine's eyes went wide. "Wait what?"

And so that was how Isabelle ended up explaining how she made a quick-paced decision to leave a note in Scrivenshaft's for Draco Malfoy. She explained that she did not leave a name from who it was from and she asked Scrivenshaft himself not to say anything to Draco — she was not even sure if Draco had gone into the quill shop.

Therefore, she had no clue if he received the note from her, "the secret admirer", or not.

Clementine was squealing and excitedly hitting Isabelle's shoulder by the end of it.

Mandy Brocklehurst shifted slightly and mumbled from the other side of the room, making both girls freeze. However, they relaxed when a few seconds later she was once again snoring — the girl having rolled to her back and sleeping with her mouth open.

Isabelle cringed at the sight knowing Mandy would wake up with a sore throat because of it.

"Isabelle, why don't you at least try to talk to him now? Just a conversation even...?" Clementine suggested, her voice quieter than before to not wake Mandy.

Waking her was the last thing they wanted. Merlin forbid she overheard this conversation.

Isabelle rolled her eyes. "No way! Have you seen the way Malfoy treats people? That boy would not be interested in some backwater swamp witch in the slightest..." She trailed off toward the end almost sadly.

Clementine stared at her in disbelief. "There is no way that you — the Witch Supreme — who comes from one of the wealthiest families in America just called yourself a simple backwater swamp witch? You have never thought of yourself as lesser than anyone, that should not change when Malfoy becomes involved in the conversation.

Not that it should matter, but do you truly not think that Malfoy won't be impressed by a foreign rich, powerful, and pretty transfer student? You are from a different continent — you could probably have him wrapped around your skinny little finger with one conversation!"

Isabelle was staring at her friend with nothing but appreciation. Clementine truly did know how to pick up her mood.

"Thank you, Clementine..." Isabelle said in a genuinely grateful tone. "And while I suppose you do have a point — I'm pretty badass..." she laughed as Clementine smacked her shoulder playfully, her smile on her face. "I just can't bring myself to do it, I don't know what it is. I just can't be the person to start a conversation with Malfoy, no matter how attracted to him I am..."

"I suppose I understand..." Clementine said. "But what about some more secret admirer stuff? You could send more letters to him! That might help, plus it will be fun!"

Isabelle thought it over before shrugging. "Maybe — I think I am okay with where I stand though."

And she was. It was honestly quite nice to have this routine. This familiar crush that she occasionally would make eye contact with, her few friends, and her classes. She was just a normal teenage witch, and that was how she wanted it to stay.