"Have you heard? Someone sent Draco Malfoy a love letter!"

"Merlin's beard, you'll never believe this — Malfoy was sent a love letter!"

"Someone sent Malfoy a letter confessing their love for him!"

"I mean — who could possibly fancy an egotistical git like him?"

"I heard he's trying to find the person who sent it!"

"He'll probably just humiliate and ridicule the poor girl if he finds her..."

Isabelle walked through the corridors clutching her grimoire tightly to her chest, eyes twitching, and paranoia eating her alive. She kept looking over her shoulder as though Malfoy himself was going to randomly appear and claim that he knew it was her who sent him that embarrassing letter.

But rather than snog the hell out of her as many of her fantasies: he would laugh at her and call her pathetic before kicking her and leaving. And then, Isabelle would be on his radar of people to harass and her social life would officially be over (not that she had much of one to begin with).

Her nice dress shoes clacked against the stone floor, and her thick curls were tied back into a tight-slicked ponytail. She chose to wear trousers today — a nice pair that made her legs look long.

It was not typical for girls to wear trousers with the Hogwarts uniform, but as long as they were the nice business casual type it was okay.

She should have suspected that it would not take long before the whole school knew about the love letter. Obviously, Draco would not keep something like that private.

He was much too pratty to not want to boast about something like this.

But to her shock, she had learned that Draco announced the letter not necessarily in making fun of it — but rather by standing on the Slytherin common room couch and demanding that whoever wrote it be brave and step forward.

No one did.

It was now between classes — in the late morning and the letter was all anyone had been talking about all day. Even the Gryffindors whispered amongst themselves, but it was more confusion as to who could possibly have a crush on Malfoy.

The Ravenclaw passed by a group of gossiping Slytherin girls, turning the corner of the corridor only to run straight into Padma Patil.

Padma had an immensely guilty expression on her face, and it was apparent that she had also heard of the recent gossip. Except, Padma was involved directly.

She was the reason the school knew.

"I am so so sorry, Isabelle! I didn't think—" she yelped as she was cut off by Isabelle covering her mouth with her hand and dragging her into a nearby broom closet.

"Shh! Don't talk about it in the corridors, anyone could hear!" Isabelle finally whisper-shouted as she closed the door to the closet turning to Padma. "It's fine, what's done is done. But has Malfoy come up to you at all?"

Padma quickly shook her head. "No — I reckon he's going to have a hard time tracking down the first year I gave it to seeing as first-years are terrified of him... no one would come up and admit they were the one who originally had it."

"Not if the first year went up and handed it to him directly!" Isabelle panicked.

Padma calmed her. "I have a feeling if that was the case then Malfoy would have already approached me. And even if that does happen — I already told you, I'll tell him the truth..."

"What!" Isabelle practically screeched, her voice ridden with panic.

"That I found it lying in a corridor with his name written on it. I assumed it was meant for him and sent it his way." Padma shrugged and Isabelle breathed a sigh of relief. "There's no way he's going to track it back to you!"

Isabelle nodded her head. "You're right, thank you, Padma."

"Anytime — now can we please leave this broom closet — it's quite stuffy in here..."

★✯☆★✯☆

This year, Isabelle had far more classes with Draco Malfoy than she did last year.

Potions, DADA, Charms, Care of Magical Creatures, and Transfiguration.

It was currently DADA, short for Defense Against the Dark Arts (the most nonsensical class to exist without its counterpart, in her opinion), and Isabelle chose to sit in the back. She wanted to fly under Moody's radar.

Harry Potter was up front along with Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. Draco and Goyle were sitting near the center. Clementine sat next to her in the back and Anthony was up front sitting next to Hermione.

Anthony and Hermione were friendly with each other seeing as they were both into much the same things. Isabelle had only ever spoken to Granger once, and that was on her first day when she asked Hermione who Draco Malfoy was.

Isabelle had made it a point to not so much as glance at Draco today.

Not when she knew in her letter she had explicitly said she finds herself staring at him longingly. If she admired him from afar as she normally did he would no doubt realize that she was probably the one who wrote that letter. Especially as he was acting far more perceptive of his surroundings than usual — most likely with the purpose of finding the girl who "watched him longingly".

Malfoy may have been the epitome of a super douche, but he was still a teenager. And one of the biggest parts of being a teenager was messy puppy love. Of course, he would be curious and engaged about the aspect of some secret admirer.

The current lesson that Moody was teaching was less dramatic than his first class a little over a month ago.

While Isabelle had barely been affected by the show of the Unforgivable Curses, the majority of the class was traumatized and effectively scared of Moody. Surprisingly, Isabelle actually agreed with the professor in his "practical" approach: to learn how to defend yourself against such curses you needed to know exactly what you were up against.

Poor Neville Longbottom was horrified by the display of the Cruciatus Curse though — Isabelle had heard that his parents went insane from Bellatrix Lestrange using the curse on them when he was but a baby. They were now permanent residents of St. Mungos.

Unable to recognize even their own son with their madness.

Moody was lecturing the students on the importance of "constant vigilance" or something. It had left the station of lecture thirty minutes ago and was now in the territory of insane ranting.

Isabelle sat closer to Malfoy than normal in this class seeing as she was more cautious of Moody than she was of achieving her goal of avoiding Malfoy. He was only two desks in front of her and to the right.

It was the entire reason that she heard him mumble something about Moody being mad under his breath. "Mad-Eye Moody? More like Mad-Man Moody..." He said sourly. "Just wait till my father hears about this..." He mumbled the last part to Goyle who nodded along with him — doing his part as a loyal "yes man".

Luckily, Moody did not hear this over his own voice.

Isabelle could not stop herself from chortling quietly at the comment. She was nose-deep in her most recent grimoire regarding spells that involved the use of pentagrams and all their purposes.

However, she still had one ear open in case Moody said anything of actual interest and happened to call on her.

She did not look up from her book as she lowly snickered at Malfoy's comment, it was why she missed the way the white-haired Slytherin snapped around and stared at her. He, surprisingly, picked up on her low laughter.

At first, he was angry as he thought this girl was laughing in the name of his father, but then when she muttered something else under her breath, he realized she was laughing at his small joke that had been meant for Goyle's ears only.

A joke Goyle did not laugh at but only agree with to appease Malfoy.

"Mad-Man Moody, that's a good one..." she murmured, her very full lips quirked up in the corners.

Now, who was this?

Draco Malfoy was not the most observant student to those who did not matter, but he at least recognized all the students in his year. They had all been going to school together for four years now, after all. Nine months out of each year.

But this girl, he did not recognize.

She was a Ravenclaw — the house that bothered him the least. The only other house apart from Slytherin that his father somewhat approved of. Insufferable know-it-alls they were, but still better than loathsome Gryffindor or pathetic Hufflepuff.

Even though she was not in his own house, Draco definitely should have recognized her, especially if she was in his year.

Her cocoa skin was perfectly clear, something hard to achieve at their age: it appeared smooth and Draco wondered if it was as soft as it looked. Her hair was tied back tightly but puffed out in her ponytail in ample bouncy raven curls.

He could not see her face very well as she was staring down at whatever book she was reading, but Draco could see that her lips were rather full. He was sure he had never seen her.

His attention was taken to the large book that she was reading — his eyebrows shot up as his nosiness got the better of him.

Was that a grimoire? That sure looked like a grimoire to Draco.

An odd read, the grimoire area was small and in the restricted section of the library. It was filled with spells of black magic as much as it was light magic. That was why it was in the restricted section, it was why the students of Hogwarts rarely touched such texts apart from grimoires being decently difficult to read seeing as they were handwritten records from different wizards and witches through the ages.

Draco himself had never been particularly interested in grimoires — even as Malfoy Manor's home library had quite a few, he'd never so much as touched one. It was out of a lack of interest more than fear, he was no nerd like Granger.

When he read he preferred it to be fiction tales.

His attention was taken back to the fact that this RAVENCLAW girl actually laughed at his joke. It was not often that anyone from outside of his friend group — let alone in a different house laughed at any of his snide remarks.

And a Ravenclaw at that? Draco was under the impression that all Ravenclaws either had wands stuck up their asses, they were insane like Looney Lovegood, or absurd hippies like the Goldstein twin female.

Speaking of the Goldstein twin female, Draco realized she was sitting in the seat right next to the unnamed girl. She was sketching as always, something that had Draco rolling his eyes and scrunching his nose in disgust.

While the Goldstein family was not as bad nor poor as the Weasleys, they were still blood traitors nonetheless. And they had conformed to the muggle religion of Judaism at that. Both the twins rarely spoke of this, Malfoy only knew because of his father who had something bad to say about nearly every one of his classmates.

It was also part of the reason that Draco knew who every single one of his classmates were: it was how he knew if they were mudblooded, half-blooded, blood traitors, or pure of blood like himself.

But this girl, he had never seen before. He briefly figured she must have been a mudblood seeing as he did not recognize her, but that did not make sense either.

He knew all the mudblood students: this girl was simply unfamiliar.

He racked his brain trying to remember his first year during the sorting ceremony almost four years ago. Draco did not care about his fellow students that much, so he did not remember every student that was sorted, but he was positive she had not been there.

He had NEVER seen around.

Goldstein female — Clementine — if Draco remembered correctly, suddenly looked up from her sketch toward Moody. Only for her gaze to drift around the classroom until she was looking right back at Draco Malfoy.

Malfoy sneered meanly at her, not backing down and her eyes widened.

Clementine dropped her colored pencil nudging the girl next to her harshly. At least this would allow Draco to finally see the girl's face fully.

"Ouch — what?" Isabelle was pulled from the part she was on, rubbing the side of her arm as she looked at her friend.

It was explaining how pentagrams can be used for teleportation. And there was no hindrances of it — no spells can keep anyone out and there was no distance that was too long for pentagram teleportation.

Although, it was complicated and required a great amount of understanding and magic.

Clementine said nothing, only pursing her lips and nodding her head in the direction of Malfoy.

"Malfoy's staring..."

Isabelle's heart dropped and her throat felt tight.

Draco Malfoy had never looked at her or even noticed her in the time she had been here. Not once.

Did he know she crafted that love letter? There was no way!

But what are the chances that the first time he notices her or so much as glances at her it'd be the day after he received her love letter?

Perhaps it was just a glance.

As though reading her mind, Clementine muttered lowly so only Isabelle could hear. "He's still staring..."

Okay — so obviously it was not just a glance.

What does she do? Isabelle had prepared for a lot of things: she had prepared to be attacked, she had prepared for emergencies, she'd even prepared for the uprising of vampires! But she had NOT prepared for the snobby rich pretty boy on whom she had a massive crush to actually look at her!

Her body was tight, eyes frozen to her grimoire on the same sentence.

However, she could not resist her own curiosity, because there was no way that after almost a year — Draco Malfoy was really looking at her.

Hesitantly, she looked up in the direction she knew Malfoy was sitting. Her heart stopped as her gaze clashed with familiar pale grey eyes. Eyes that looked nothing less than storm clouds amid a rioting thunderstorm.

She had never made eye contact with Draco Malfoy before. And he looked as gorgeous as he did every day. But it was different since she was not just admiring him from afar — no, now his attention was on her.

Draco had been glaring at Clementine, basking at how she shrank under his menacing gaze. He had been raised in one of the most influential, rich, and powerful families of Great Britain's Wizarding World.

Draco was taught from birth that he was important. Always his mother's priority and he was his father's pride. Usually.

Being raised like that obviously made him arrogant — and watching his father be cruel to others for his entire life rubbed off on him. The apple does not fall far from the tree, after all.

Any of the small kindness he had came from Narcissa, but even then Narcissa was not the nicest woman in the world.

She was a Malfoy neé Black.

Therefore, it was why Draco Malfoy enjoyed watching most shrink under his gaze. It was not a sick enjoyment he got out of it, but rather a joyous feeling of entitlement.

Besides, most at Hogwarts knew that Malfoy was more bark than bite. It was rare that he actually harmed someone — the most he ever did was stupid jinxes when he was riled up enough.

His venomous words were his true weapon.

And he was not a complete douchebag to everyone — even Clementine Goldstein — while Draco certainly had more than enough ammunition to ridicule her into oblivion he left her alone. Save for a snide comment or two every once in a while.

It was the Gryffindors who were his real target.

Even mudbloods he barely interacted with: Hermione Granger was the only one he ever truly harassed, and that was because among being a mudblood she was also horribly pestilent.

He noticed that Clementine whispered something to the mysterious girl sitting next to her, but it was so quiet that Draco could not hear it. He did; however, notice how the curly-haired girl suddenly stiffened.

Before, it was apparent that she was reading. But now, Draco could tell she was only staring at the grimoire rather than reading it.

He wondered what was in that grimoire.

He was not necessarily surprised that a Ravenclaw was reading a grimoire seeing as most thirsted for knowledge, but still... he'd expect a Slytherin to be the first one to pick up a grimoire.

Slowly, as though scared, the girl finally looked up. Draco was glad to finally be able to see her face clearly.

Now who was this?

He was surprised he had never noticed her before, she was rather cute. A pretty girl with full pouty lips and a button nose. Her eyes were large and round, colored a peculiar shade of brown.

Rather than a dark muddy brown, her eyes were the shade of buttery caramel. Draco was willing to bet that if he got close enough he'd be able to see little golden flakes in her gaze.

Overall, her features were almost doll-like. Far too innocent for the sharpness that hid under the surface. An intelligence that Draco Malfoy could see clear as day, something rare for a person of their age.

Draco's eyes narrowed, but unlike how he was staring at Clementine, his eyes were not cold nor was his gaze speaking of an unspoken threat. Rather, the boy was just staring curiously.

It was taking every ounce of Isabelle's willpower to not blush and avert her gaze. All she wanted was to look down and allow that dark rosy color to spread over her face. Thankfully, the slight blush that was managing to peak through was covered by her darker skin tone.

And she did not allow this frazzled nature to show in her features. Rather, she kept it blank.

Isabelle sensed the school bell was about to ring, and so she made a show of boredly dragging her gaze back to her grimoire: closing it, and stuffing it into her bag.

Draco slowly moved his gaze away from the mystery girl and back to Moody. He slouched in his chair, truly wondering who the hell that was. The bell rang and as Malfoy stood up whilst packing his bag, he could not help but let his gaze wander to where the girl had been sitting.

He was surprised to see her already gone, Clementine was still there packing her own things up. Malfoy briefly considered approaching Clementine to ask about the curly-haired girl, but he thought better of it.

Even if he was nosy, there was no need for a Slytherin of noble wealth and blood such as himself to bother with such nonsense. He would figure it out eventually.

Despite his logic, he could not help but feel disappointed as Clementine left with his opportunity to quiz her and ask about the dark-skinned witch.

★✯☆★✯☆

It was later that night that Isabelle found herself sitting between Clementine and Anthony as Clementine filled her twin in about how Malfoy had been staring at Isabelle all day.

Isabelle was not sure that she would describe it as 'staring all day' as after DADA where the two had a initially had small stare-off, Malfoy simply glanced at her every now and again in the other classes they shared. It was more as though he was realizing just how many classes they had together.

Her stomach had been in knots from this all day. What if he knew that she had been the one to send that letter? She doubted this; however, as she knew that if Draco suspected anything he would not have hesitated to approach her by now.

In fact, the guy had not so much as nodded to her. He quite literally only looked at her but that was as far as their interaction had gone. He had not smiled nor frowned nor even glared as he normally did.

He only looked at her with a neutral expression and so she made sure that she did the same in return.

"Are you serious, I can't believe that git was looking at you without a glare. Maybe your nightly manifesting of him falling in love with you is coming true?" Anthony teased in a lighthearted manner.

Isabelle glared at him. "I will hex you..." she warned while bumping his shoulder. "I have proven to be quite proficient in turning things to toads in transfiguration — I'm dying to see if I can manage it on a person.."

Anthony only held his arms up in defense with a happy smile. Like his sister, he was the epitome of sunshine.

Isabelle was quick to pile a bit more food on her plate as she had skipped lunch in favor of laying down in her dorm room.

Her personal favorite food tonight was the potatoes, so she took more of that along with a piece of brisket.

The brisket was no Louisiana brisket but it was good nonetheless.

No place (except for maybe Texas) can beat Louisiana barbecue.

"You should try some of the black pudding," Anthony nodded toward the round circle of brown.

Black pudding was distinctly a British, Scottish, and Irish dish. A blood sausage of pork or beef, sometimes both.

The thought of it alone was enough to make Isabelle sick.

"That's disgusting..." she turned her nose up almost snobbishly at their British foods.

Anthony rolled his eyes with a smile, but he expected nothing less. He'd been trying to get Isabelle to try either the black pudding or the kidney pudding since they had become friends.

Seeing as he was raised with these dishes, they were not particularly offputting to him. He found amusement in how grossed out Isabelle got from it, especially seeing as she was into hoodoo something that had concepts and rituals far nastier than any pudding.

"I've got it!" Clementine suddenly cheered and she was coloring in her sketchbook.

Isabelle and Anthony both looked at what she was drawing with raised brows.

"Uhm — is that Goyle?" Isabelle drawled, her Southern accent ringing thicker than normal.

She usually tried to hide it, opting to speak in the general American accent.

"What the bloody hell are you doing drawing Gregory Goyle?" Anthony hissed in an upset manner.

She had drawn Goyle leaning against a tree.

She shrugged in response, not listening to either of them. "I thought he was a great subject to draw, and I finally created the right shade for his eyes...!" She mumbled as she gently created a delicate blue for the drawing's irises.

Clementine was incredibly talented — she could draw anything and everything. And she did draw anything and everything.

Isabelle had quite a few portraits of herself from Clementine: pretty pictures of her in random acts. Her personal favorite was the one she had of herself sitting in the forest. She and Clementine had chosen to hang out on the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest.

Isabelle, of course, had been nose-deep in a grimoire while she sat under a tree. She did not notice her friend sitting across from her and drawing.

It was very detailed and Isabelle thought that she might even look pretty in it.

"You better not start absurdly fancying a Slytherin too..." Anthony grumbled at his twin before looking at his food and stabbing his fork into it rather violently. "And Gregory Goyle too, of all the idiots in the world..."

Isabelle, on the other hand, noticed the small smile that adorned her face at Anthony's words. Now, that was interesting — Isabelle would need to poke at her friend later when no one else was listening.

She allowed her gaze to sweep to the Slytherin table, finding the boy in question. Goyle was currently laughing at something Crabbe had told him — Zabini was rolling his eyes at the two but he had a small smile on his face.

Theodore Nott was engaged in a conversation with Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson. Malfoy's head was resting on his arm as he watched his friend with a scoff.

Isabelle swallowed harshly and quickly averted her gaze before she was caught by him. She reminded herself that it was now unsafe to stare at him as she used to. Both because of the damned letter and the fact that he now knew she existed.

Around twenty minutes had passed with a comfortable silence between Isabelle and Clementine: Isabelle had pulled out her pentagram grimoire reading through different theories while Clementine continued to color.

Anthony was in a deep conversation with Padma and muggle-born student Terry Boot.

They were talking about muggle Hollywood. Well, not talking about it more like Terry and Anthony were trying to explain the concept to Padma who was a pureblood. Padma's family emigrated from India when the two were born.

They moved from India's wizarding world to Great Britain's wizarding world for reasons unbeknownst to Isabelle.

If she was correct, the Patil family was rather known in India. Seeing as they were pureblooded, Padma did not know much about Muggles.

Isabelle only knew as much as she did because she quite liked the culture. Films in particular were something that Isabelle loved sneaking out to see in the muggle world back home. Her parents would never approve, so she always had to make up some lie about walking around Port Orleans (the wizarding underside of New Orleans).

In reality, she would actually be sneaking in no-maj New Orleans to go to the movie theatre.

"May I have everyone's attention!"

All eyes of the Great Hall befell on Dumbledore. The Headmaster stood with his half-moon glasses sitting on his nose, the familiar twinkle in his blue eyes. Isabelle watched with a dead expression.

Surprisingly, the girl missed the long inquisitive look that Malfoy was throwing her. The pureblood was looking at the girl he'd only noticed for the first time today, slightly amused by the deadpan face she was watching Dumbledore with.

He doubted it was on purpose — but the facts were certain: this girl had a major case of resting bitch face. And it was quite funny.

His attention was taken away from her and back to Dumbledore along with the rest of the students as he continued to speak.

At the beginning of the year, about a month and a half ago, the students of Hogwarts were told that there was to be no Quidditch this year as they would be competing in the Triwizard Tournament.

Isabelle had a feeling she knew where this was going. Many students claimed that earlier whilst she had been laying down in her dorm room both Beauxbatons students and Durmstrang students had arrived.

Beauxbatons arrived in a carriage that was led through the sky by a dozen pegasus — they had almost taken Hagrid out upon landing. And Durmstrang shot up from the Black Lake in a large ship.

The students would be living and attending classes in their respective ways of transportation: the ship for Durmstrang and the enchanted carriage for Beauxbatons. However, they would share meals with Hogwarts students.

Isabelle could see the extension that had been placed on the Ravenclaw table and Slytherin table respectively. She was willing to bet everything she had that Beauxbatons would end up sitting at the Ravenclaw extension (sadly) and Durmstrang would end up with Slytherin.

The teenage angst was real as Isabelle thought of the beautiful Beauxbaton girls that would be sitting with Ravenclaw — why could they not sit with Gryffindor or Hufflepuff?

Isabelle had been zoned out for the majority of Dumbledore's speech, jumping as the doors to the Great Hall suddenly slammed open.

"Please join me in welcoming the lovely students of the Beauxbaton Academy of Magic and their Headmistress, Madame Maxime!"

The majority of the students standing in the doorway were female, but a few males were standing in the back of the formation.

The young ladies stood in beautiful baby blue silk dress robes — hats that were equally as fine sitting over their heads. Their hair and makeup were done in correspondence to each other: a low-curled ponytail and light makeup.

Not that any of them needed it seeing as almost every female looked to be some part veela.

The males wore robes the same color: each handsome.

The students from Beauxbatons were graceful, poised, and refined in both appearance and demeanor. They all moved forward in perfect synchronization with a kind of ethereal grace that was impossible to achieve for some.

Isabelle crudely wondered how much training it took from the Headmistress to get this out of these students. Probably years seeing as these students were very obviously all seventh years.

Isabelle rolled her eyes seeing Anthony along with the rest of the students (namely the boys) admiring the pupils of Beauxbatons. Even Draco Malfoy seemed to be unable to take his eyes off them: his expression reflecting a rare dopey smile that Isabelle was positive she had never seen the boy wear.

He appeared captivated and utterly taken as he appreciated the females of such beauty and elegance. It made Isabelle steam angrily in her seat, hurriedly ripping her gaze away from the rich boy before she could get even more butthurt and accidentally make something explode again.

They even smelled delightful as they walked past.

"I think I'm in love..." Anthony swooned dramatically and Isabelle only scoffed.

Clementine was not even paying attention — her lips pulled into a small smile as she perfected her picture of Gregory Goyle.

"Mmhmm..." Isabelle muttered in an unimpressed manner.

Madame Maxime was the last to walk in — a half-giant woman whom many students gaped at. She was gorgeous, nonetheless.

It was a few more minutes of introductions being made between Madame Maxime and a few other Hogwarts professors: the Beauxbatons students taking their place at the extension of Ravenclaw.

Isabelle pointedly ignored them whilst almost all the other students in the Great Hall continued to watch the Beauxbatons students. Many Ravenclaws nearly tripped over themselves to introduce themselves to the French.

'Fuck the French...' Isabelle thought to herself sourly, fully knowing that many people of New Orleans came of French heritage.

Hell: she was of French heritage herself on her mother's side.

"And now!" Dumbledore announced silencing everyone.

Isabelle could not believe they were actually going through with this stupid tournament. She could sense it already — call it Witch Supreme intuition or whatever — but someone was going to die.

"Our friends from the North, please greet the proud students of Durmstrang and their Headmaster, Igor Karkaroff!"

They came stomping in a tight formation — not one person offbeat. Large fur coats and hats concealing their identities sat atop their heads. The coats made them look larger than they actually were, more muscular. In their hands were greater staffs, each hitting the floor in unison — sparks of magic dancing in the air upon each hit.

They were led by Igor Karkaroff, a stern man with his face set in a permanent scowl.

A long thick beard that bled into a mustache was cut neatly upon his face — bushy brows that were sat downward and piercing black eyes.

He looked like he strangled children for fun in his free time.

Isabelle shivered, looking away from him to the professors who were staring at the students of Durmstrang with apprehension.

To Isabelle's surprise, Igor Karkaroff embraced Dumbledore like an old friend.

The students were quick to move their way to the Slytherin extension. Isabelle caught sight of Draco with a stupid grin on his face nudging Theodore and motioning to the Durmstrang students.

She hated that she thought the stupid grin was cute. She also hated that she was incredibly curious as to what he was saying.

"Hogwarts! Let's entertain our friends in the best way we can! All stand!" Dumbledore suddenly exclaimed from the front.

"Oh hell to the no..." Isabelle mumbled as everyone around her stood up.

No way Dumbledore was going to make them sing the school song. Why could they not bring the Frog Choir out or something? This was about to sound absolutely ludicrous.

Thankfully, no one noticed that she remained sitting otherwise she had no doubt that Dumbledore would wait to begin until she also stood up.

"Aren't you going to stand up?" Anthony nagged her while Clementine playfully poked the back of her head from where she was standing behind Isabelle.

Isabelle swatted at her hand and glared at Anthony.

"Merlin no..." she murmured so as to not draw attention, "this is just embarrassing..."

Did Dumbledore have nothing better up his sleeve to show the two other schools apart from some bad singing on the student's part?

He pulled out his wand — waving it causing lyrics to appear in the air. Dumbledore turned around before using his wand to direct the singing.

Isabelle actually put her head down on the table, covering her face and ears when the off-tune singing started. Call it teenage angst or whatever, but she refused to participate in this in any manner.

"Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy-Hoggy Hogwarts, teach us something please...!"

Draco Malfoy, while he was standing, was certainly not singing. Rather, he adorned a heavy scowl on his face and appeared as though he was in pain. He continuously looked toward his expensive shoes, especially when all the students started waving their hands.

But no one was doing it on time with each other or in the correct direction.

Not that either of them knew it, but Draco was currently thinking the exact same thing as Isabelle Lockley.

This was bloody fucking embarrassing.

His father would definitely be hearing about this one.

Draco looked in Crabbe's direction when his friend nudged him. Malfoy made eye contact with a happily smiling Crabbe who sang the school song heartily. Draco gave a half-assed nod back, his lips still pulled into a frown.

Slowly, he allowed his gaze to sweep the room in disdain, looking toward every student who sang and did bad motions.

Harry Potter looked the most ridiculous doing this.

Draco was officially done. Screw learning about the Triwizard Tournament, he wanted to go back to the common room right about now. Actually, scratch that, he was ready to go back to Malfoy Manor in Wiltshire.

Of course, seeing as Isabelle was the only student sitting down and not only was she sitting down, but her arms were covering her head that was resting on the table — it did not take Draco long to spot her.

The unknown girl he'd seen earlier in class.

His first reaction was to also sit down, because if she could sit down then Draco Malfoy could sit down. However, his gaze did not leave her, bemusement once again finding its way into his soul.

Who was this?

His pride still would not allow him to ask anyone directly, but he'd be listening around for talk of a new student. Draco was about 99% sure she was a new student — there was no way he'd never noticed her in four years!

But transfers were rare, therefore, if she was a transfer there was no way that people would not be talking about it. At least from Ravenclaw house, they would no doubt be talking about it.

Excited at gaining a new student.

Draco tried to think if he had any acquaintances from Ravenclaw. None came to mind.

Draco had no positive affiliations with anyone outside of Slytherin, something that made him frown for just a second before he shook it off. That was how it should be.

Malfoy realized he would simply need to be more nosy than usual and eavesdrop on conversations from Ravenclaw if he wanted the information he sought.

He wondered for a second if she could perhaps be the one who wrote that love letter for him. But no — Draco had no doubts that it was probably some Slytherin girl. Only a Slytherin would not fear him enough to develop a crush, also Pansy had found the letter in the common room.

There was no other way it could have got in the common room unless that was where it had been written.

Draco Malfoy was just confused, it was the reason he kept stealing glances at this girl. How had he never noticed her before? A girl who did not seem entirely horrendous (seeing as she had let out a chortle at his sarcasm earlier and was now the only student brave enough apart from him to not sing the school song — she was obviously cringing at it along with Draco).

Not to mention — she was not ugly. In fact, she was rather pretty, but Draco was not about to let himself wonder if her skin felt as soft and smooth as it looked.

But Malfoy did not know enough about her. She was a Ravenclaw, which again while not the worst house was still not Slytherin. He had no clue of her blood status. His father would kill him if Draco accidentally befriended a mudblood.

And, she might not even be worth it to try and befriend. It could be the opposite, she could be someone that Draco should add to his hit list of targets to ridicule.

Either way, all Draco knew was that he was curious about her but he would ignore her for now. Not until he either found out more or his curiosity ran dry (which would undoubtedly be soon).

Thankfully, the singing soon stopped and Draco's attention was back to the front listening to Dumbledore speak. It was not until he introduced the Triwizard Cup that Draco found himself looking back at the spot where the girl had been out of pure curiosity for her reaction to such a prize.

How someone reacted to expensive and pretty prizes such as this says a lot about a person. In Draco's opinion, at least, but that was also coming from someone who was very materialistic.

To his shock; however, the girl was gone! She'd managed to sneak out without anyone seeing in the time of the school song and Dumbledore speaking.

How peculiar.