When Isabelle was four, she killed a man.

It was on accident—sorta—and she probably would never do it again.

Not many people outside of the Lockley family knew this.

The Lockley family was powerful and wealthy enough to have that little incident covered up, only high-ranking officials of MACUSA knew about it.

After all, how bad would it look to the country—no not just the country, the world—if everyone knew the newest Witch Supreme killed someone? As a child nonetheless.

Harry Potter had been drowned in adoration when he defeated the Dark Lord. But how would people react if they knew that Isabelle had killed a helpless no-maj?

However, Isabelle would argue that the man had not exactly been helpless.

How else was a four-year-old supposed to act when an old and racist no-maj hick nearly hits her with his vehicle, proceeds to scream in her face, and drives off?

She figured her response of setting the car ablaze was perfectly normal for a toddler.

However, her mother would argue that.

Even if they were not the fondest of no-maj people, that did not mean they could justify killing them.

This all to say; Isabelle had never wanted to kill someone again until this very moment.

Élise Barbier was as elegant as her name sounded. A rich fifth-year pureblood from Beauxbatons, she was French barely able to speak English, but stunning to look at.

The kicker was that there was no part of her that was Veela: her beauty was natural and she was 100% of magical blood. Allegedly.

Isabelle was willing to place a bet that she could find something about the Barbier family that made them not as pure as they claimed. Perhaps Élise herself was a bastard child.

There was no way there was not a smidge of Veela blood somewhere in her.

Isabelle could see the story now. Élise's mother, a whore who cheated on her husband with some half-Veela man and had Élise.

The reason that Isabelle was currently plotting the death of the older French student was quite simple really.

The news had been floating around Hogwarts for the past few days.

Élise Barbier was meant to be accompanying DRACO MALFOY on a date to Hogsmeade this coming Saturday.

Draco Malfoy as in THE Draco Lucius Malfoy who Isabelle has harbored the biggest crush on for over a year!

There were about a thousand different versions of the story on how this happened, but the most believable and popular one was that Daphne Greengrass had introduced the two (as they were friends or something) and Élise had asked Malfoy out directly after introducing herself.

Unsurprisingly, he said yes.

What reason did he have to deny her?

He was clearly uninterested in Parkinson and Barbier was older, gorgeous, and foreign. Not to mention she was everything that the Malfoy legacy stood on. Rich with pure-blooded magic.

Allegedly.

Embarrassingly enough, Isabelle had found this out on Thursday and had been depressed ever since.

Well... depressed and angry.

That same night Anthony had to wrestle the girl when he caught Isabelle in the middle of making a poppet AKA a voodoo doll of Élise Barbier.

All is fair in love and war.

He managed to take it from her, quickly throwing it in the fireplace and praying to Merlin that it was not complete enough to set the real Élise on fire as well.

Isabelle was then scolded for an hour by Anthony about how illegal that was and how badly that would have ended if she managed to complete the poppet.

Not to mention, poppets were just morally wrong.

Isabelle defended herself by saying that she would not have used the poppet to hurt Élise (which both Anthony and Clementine immediately called bullshit on) but rather to make the date with Malfoy go horrible.

"So what? You were going to make her shit her pants or something?!" Anthony had cried out.

"Exactly! Nothing bad!" Isabelle exclaimed right back.

Clementine was dying of laughter in the background.

Anthony then snapped at Isabelle, claiming that if she had it so bad for Malfoy that she was willing to break countless laws just to ruin a date then she had no reason to not fess up to him. Or at least attempt to talk to him.

Because pulling crap like that was just embarrassing and selfish.

And then he said some snarky insult about how the sorting hat made a mistake and she was meant to be in Slytherin or something.

But Isabelle was a selfish person, and she couldn't care less. It was why she tuned out the entire lecture.

When he realized he was not getting through to her, Anthony stormed off and the two haven't talked since.

Similar to Harry and Ron's little spat at the beginning of the year, just a lot less drastic.

Clementine was stuck in the middle, attempting to talk sense to both Anthony and Isabelle.

For Anthony, Clementine was telling him that he really should not expect anything less as they fully knew the type of person Isabelle was. Especially seeing as she had not been around many people for the first 13 years of her life.

And for Isabelle, Clementine attempted to get her to see Anthony's perspective of it all. She also explained why she could not just make a poppet doll of people she doesn't like.

Overall, the week had been chaotic and it was now Saturday.

Exactly two weeks from the last Hogsmeade outing where Isabelle had left a note for Malfoy.

And a week and a half since Isabelle chewed Michael Corner out in the library and scared him shitless.

He still did not even look at her.

However, on this particular Hogsmeade trip, Isabelle and Clementine (bless her heart, the things we do for friends) were attempting to follow Malfoy and his date in the most discreet manner possible.

Thankfully, it was not hard seeing as Draco and Élise had not yet left the Three Broomsticks and the pub was just as busy as it was last time.

Barbier and Malfoy were sitting at a table for two in the corner — Isabelle and Clementine were sitting at their own table just a few away.

Malfoy nor Barbier had yet to notice the two girls, not that Draco probably would in the first place. There was also the fact that Isabelle and Clementine were adorned in long robes and pointy hats that just about covered the top half of their face.

Seeing as it was what the majority of older witches and wizards wore — it did not draw attention and rather did the opposite. Because why would anyone look twice at what they assumed to be two old witches getting a butterbeer together?

But really, these two "old" witches were teen girls spying on a date.

"You know — I really would not worry, Malfoy looks dreadfully bored over there..." Clementine mentioned.

And it was the truth.

While they could not hear everything that was being said, it was obvious that Barbier was barely able to be understood through her thick French accent. Not to mention, she would pull out her hand mirror every few minutes to look at herself.

Élise was as beautiful as the rest of the students from Beauxbatons.

Her skin was olive: the girl was of caucasian origins but well-tanned from many days of laying under the French sun in the gardens of her manor.

Her hair was a dark brown and her eyes a bottle green: long fluttery lashes and thin lips that somehow suited her. Her figure was full in all the right places, and she stood not too short but not too tall.

Just above her lip on the right side was a beauty mark.

She wore her hair down and pin-straight, her outfit being a warm blue dress.

Isabelle turned her nose up, not liking the style of the dress. Not because Élise didn't look good in it but because Isabelle knew that dress would never look good on herself.

Élise, on the other hand, looked as though she could make rags look good.

It made Isabelle even angrier.

Malfoy was wearing the familiar dark colors that he wore when not in the Slytherin uniform. A black turtle neck sweater under an expensive suit jacket, dark slacks, and smart shoes.

His platinum blonde hair and alabaster skin contrasted greatly to the dark colors.

Isabelle was too jealous to fully appreciate his looks as she always did. Rather, her gaze remained trained on the beauty that was Élise Barbier.

Even her name sounded appealing when rolling off the tongue — Isabelle hated it.

Seeing as Isabelle was raised in New Orleans AKA Port Orleans for wizards, she actually did speak a bit of French.

It was rather broken and had a cajun slur when she spoke, nothing like the elegance of the Beauxbatons talk, but she was at least able to understand the majority of the language when others spoke it.

"He probably looks that way because he's too busy admiring her good looks!" Isabelle spoke back, her voice unnecessarily quiet for how loud the Three Broomsticks was.

She did not want to even chance Malfoy seeing her and realize they were following him. Isabelle would rather die than admit she stooped so low as to spy on him and his date.

If her mother could see her now then Isabelle would probably be lectured for hours about how unbecoming this was for a Witch Supreme.

Anthony sat on the other side of the pub with Padma and her twin, Parvati.

He watched his own twin sister and his friend with a shake of his head. Whilst he was annoyed with Isabelle, he would get over it in the next few days as would she.

This was probably the fifth spat that they had in the lifetime of their friendship.

Clementine honestly did not mind the situation, in fact, she found it rather funny that she was dressed in an oversized disguise with her virtual best friend in a pub eavesdropping on the date that the richest boy in school was on.

Not to mention, the creative girl also found it absolutely hilarious when she walked into the common room only to find Isabelle sitting with a half-finished poppet of Élise Barbier.

Anthony, of course, had not found this funny.

Thank Merlin there had been no one else in the common room when they found Isabelle.

Isabelle was skipping dinner and so they went to find her as they assumed she was so beside herself at the news of Draco going on a date that she couldn't leave bed.

And beside herself Isabelle was — except it did not take the form of sadness but rather red-hot anger.

And if both twins were being honest, they really should not have been that surprised to find Isabelle lying on the common room carpet under the charmed ceiling making hell's doll.

Clementine reassured Isabelle once more. "Izzy..." she said softly. "Look at Malfoy — the boy isn't even looking at her anymore..."

Isabelle looked to Malfoy only to see Draco staring off into space, his head resting boredly on his arm as he half-heartedly nodded along to whatever the French girl was saying.

Draco Malfoy would admit that he was rather hasty to accept this date — especially knowing he was barely able to understand this girl. But Daphne seemed rather excited to introduce them and Élise was pretty and older, Draco had figured she must have had a charming personality to go along with it.

Plus, Pansy had somehow got even more pushy in the last week so he hoped this date might finally send the message.

Unfortunately, Draco was right about only one of those things. Pansy had barely shown herself around him since she had heard about the date, so he was assuming that meant it was 'message delivered'.

On the other hand, Élise Barbier was terribly boring.

Honestly, it was not even that she was boring, it was that she was exactly like every other pureblooded girl he had met in his lifetime. Simply more vain and less intelligent.

Even Pansy could hold a more interesting conversation with him.

All Élise appeared to be talking about (from what he could understand through her broken English) was herself. But that was the bad thing — there was not much to this girl.

She had not done anything particularly great nor was she very interesting... therefore she was just talking about her... well, Draco was not completely sure what she was even talking about. He just knew it had something to do with herself.

She was pretty, sure, but the longer that Draco sat looking at her, the less attractive he found her. Whether that came from him getting to know her more than just the very surface level or if it was legitimately from sitting here and studying her — he'd never know.

For one: there was no way her beauty was humanly natural. She must be lying when she claims that she is a pureblood, there was some part of her that was Veela, he was positive about it.

Her eyes whilst an intriguing color were so green that it was almost off-putting. There was no warmth about them — only glassy irises that seemed to stare straight through everything.

If there was the typical by-the-book beauty — for witches of Europe that was — then Élise Barbier hit every single target. There was nothing different about her, nothing interesting nor diverse nor exotic. Not in physical appearance nor in personality.

Draco Malfoy sat on this date regretting every second of it and utterly bored. So bored that he tuned her out, staring off into space and making sure to nod his head every few seconds so she did not realize.

Rather, his thoughts were on anything else. The paper for Potions that was due next week, when he would have a chance to train on the quidditch pitch next, the things he'd want for Christmas, what he was planning to get his mother for Christmas, and many more random things.

"I can't believe this..."

Isabelle and Clementine both jumped, turning to look at Anthony surprised. He stood staring at them in their ridiculous disguises while shaking his head. In the next second, he pulled up a chair, sitting between both girls.

"Get over yourself yet?" Isabelle asked with an attitude that Anthony returned.

"Learned basic morals yet?"

There was a pause for a few moments before Isabelle's shoulders slumped and she looked to Anthony sort of apologetically.

"Truce?" She finally questioned.

Anthony relaxed as well and gave her the ghost of a smile. "Truce..." he agreed. "So anyway, have you heard anything interesting on their date?" Anthony continued, looking at Malfoy in a manner that was anything but inconspicuous.

Isabelle immediately grabbed his chin and forcefully turned him away from the couple, the boy yelping as she did so.

"Don't be so obvious!" She hissed under her breath.

It was a miracle either of her two friends heard with how loud the busy pub was.

Clementine shook her head and relaxed back into her chair. "We can't hear anything with how loud it is in here — all I've seen is a terribly boring date..."

Isabelle was quick to respond. "But how can you know that?"

The blonde girl rolled her eyes. "Just look at him! Malfoy looks like he's about to fall asleep!"

All three turned to look at Malfoy whose eyes were nearly closed, his head beginning to slip from his hand. Isabelle had never seen him look so bored, he had never fallen asleep like that in public.

Malfoy was a bully, sure, but he was also always put together.

In that instant of watching Malfoy, her heart beating frantically, her throat going dry, and her mind floating on an ocean of admiration.

No one knew what exactly it was nor why Isabelle felt so strongly toward Draco Malfoy. It was not for his looks nor his wealth nor his power. How could she love someone for their money or wealth when she had plenty of that herself?

She supposed it could be for his looks, but this attraction went far deeper than just his physical appearance.

Isabelle had run across multiple guys whom she found attractive, but none of them made her feel as Draco Malfoy did. And they had never even spoken to each other.

It was as though from the second she looked at him, something in her clicked, and decided that he was the only one for her.

Of course, Isabelle severely hoped this was not the case as they were still young and had never even spoken to each other. But something inside of her told her that there was not going to be another who could evoke the feelings out of her that Draco Malfoy did.

They were only fourteen! She wasn't supposed to meet 'the one' until at least another decade!

It has to be a Witch Supreme thing—there was no other explanation.

And it was that realization that had Isabelle standing up.

Clementine and Anthony both looked at her with furrowed brows.

But Isabelle took a deep breath and turned in the direction of Draco. Slowly, she walked toward him.

Clementine grabbed Anthony by the arm, shaking him like a crazed person.

"No way, no way, no way — she's actually going to do it! It's happening!" She squealed.

Anthony hushed her but held onto her as well. "Shh — we don't know for sure!"

Isabelle pushed past multiple people as she got closer to Barbier and Malfoy. He did not look as though he was falling asleep anymore, but his eyes were narrowed and trained onto the girl in front of him almost judgementally.

Not that Élise noticed as she continued to speak with him.

Isabelle was feet away, the same thought running through her head.

She would hate herself for not even trying — to be forced to watch someone else walk away with the person she wanted most. Even if it did not happen today, it was bound to happen someday.

To one day watch as Draco Malfoy walks arm-in-arm with another girl. And she would hate herself for not even trying to talk to him.

Not to mention, she was Isabelle fucking Lockley — Witch Supreme!

There was no way that Draco Malfoy wouldn't like her. No way that he would ever hate her like he hated Hermione Granger. No way that he would make fun of her and heckle her and throw snowballs at her...

Her feet stopped.

She was feet away from the table simply staring at Draco and Élise. And all she could see in that moment was the perfect couple.

Isabelle missed the way that Élise was barely looking at Draco — she missed the way that Draco was looking at Élise not with fondness but as though he was ready to stupefy her.

Because all she saw was something she had been craving for so long still being out of reach.

Unattainable.

She heard her Southern accent — the roughness of it and its inelegance in comparison to Draco's smooth way of speaking. How inadequate she was to a pretty French girl.

And admittedly, she saw herself as a black sheep... literally.

She was proud of her heritage, but she was no by-the-book beauty. Everything about her was different.

How the fuck would Draco react if he had been the one to walk in on her making a poppet? How would he react if he knew she read grimoires for the fun of it? How would he react if he saw her at home when she dabbled in the black magic of hoodoo?

How would he react if he knew she had killed a man before?

Even Clementine did not know that.

How would he react to all her imperfections?

If Draco Malfoy turned his head to the left at the moment, he would see Isabelle Lockley standing just feet away and staring at him with tears filling her eyes. Not tears of sadness because he was on a date with someone else, but tears of frustration because her insecurities about being different once again got the best of her.

As has happened and will continue to happen with many girls in their teenage years.

But alas, Draco Malfoy was so taken aback by Élise's vanity that he did not turn his head. He was in disbelief that Élise had still not managed to ask him even one question about himself.

Draco himself was pretty self-centered guy but this girl managed to exceed even him by 100. It truly was amazing. So amazing that Draco promised he would never speak to this girl again.

He even preferred Pansy Parkinson's bad habits of hanging herself from him and listening to every word he said as if on the edge of her seat.

Draco mused that it was one extreme to another. First was Pansy and her extreme coddling of him, which was nice only sometimes (it'd be a lot nicer if he was actually into her) and now it was Élise with her inability to care about anything but herself.

Draco wanted to slam his head on the table with his foul luck. But then again, he was a foul git at most times of the day, perhaps this is what he got.

Isabelle swallowed harshly, her previous determination to march up to Draco Malfoy and do who-the-fuck-knows-what was long gone. Instead, she stood frozen, angry tears gathering in her eyes.

"Bloody hell..." Anthony murmured as both he and Clementine stood up, witnessing what was happening.

Before either of them could make their way to her, Isabelle's fists clenched at her sides. Frustration surged through her and before she could stop it, every single candle in the pub suddenly flickered in an amazing show of explosive fire.

Multiple people yelled at this, ducking to find cover.

Malfoy in particular screamed as Barbier used him as her personal shield, the blond boy upset as he was once again forced to "protect" another female.

He'd cover and protect those he wanted for Merlin's sake!

Both Anthony and Clementine covered their faces.

The dramatic display of power lasted seconds before Isabelle caught ahold of herself and stopped. In the next second, before anyone was able to react and look around — she was gone. Unseen by all those in the pub.

People gasped while looking around and muttering in confusion. Students were immediately chatting about how similar that was to the Potions incident that occurred earlier in the year.

Malfoy gently placed Barbier away from him.

He may have been a git, but his mother raised him to respect a person he was on a date with at least. And, as much as he did not want to admit it, Élise came from too powerful of a family for him to treat as he did most students at Hogwarts.

Even if he intended to never talk to her again — his father would kill him if he decided to spread rumors and act mean to her.

Otherwise, he certainly would have shoved her away from him harshly.

He smoothed out the front of his suit; getting rid of any wrinkles that happened amid the incident. His grey eyes immediately darted to Harry Potter angrily, blaming him for this accident despite the boy looking rather confused.

Draco had accepted that anytime something strange happened at Hogwarts, Harry Potter was to blame.

Clementine Goldstein was the only person in the entire pub who knew the actual reason behind this. She knew that it all revolved around the emotions of the newest Witch Supreme.

"C'mon, let's go find, Isabelle!" She pulled her twin toward the exit, both twins passing by Malfoy's table who barely even noticed them passing.

Isabelle, on the other hand, was already at Scrivenshaft's door by the time people in the pub started to get ahold of themselves. She walked through the threshold of the quill shop in an upset manner, but at least she was no longer crying.

Thankfully, no one else was in the quill shop when she entered.

She flew to the back of the store, ignoring all the other brackets of quills.

Mr. Scrivenshaft was fixing up a quill when Isabelle came storming toward him. He was leaning against the back counter that held the most expensive quills, all locked up in a glass case on display.

He had his large working goggles on and small tools to fix the intricacies of the quill.

He jumped as a familiar curly-haired student slammed her hands on the glass casing. He gasped, nearly messing up his quill but saving it just in time.

Slowly, he removed his goggles and looked into warm caramel eyes that seemed to dance with flakes of fire.

Ah yes — the girl who admired his more expensive quills but never bought one. Also, the one who left that note for Draco Malfoy two weekends ago.

"Yes? What can I do for ya' kid?" He asked in a scratchy voice, his Scottish accent thick.

"I'd like to see this quill!" Isabelle proclaimed dramatically, pointing through the glass casing at a nice red quill made entirely of leather. It also had self-filling ink.

Mr. Scrivenshaft rolled his eyes but said nothing as he leaned down to get her desired quill. He handed it to her, Isabelle gently holding the quill and admiring it.

After a few moments, she requested another thing.

"And a sheet of parchment, please, to test the quality of this quill..."

Mr. Scrivenshaft rose a brow: he highly doubted that she wanted to 'test' the quill. Nevertheless, he pulled out the parchment and handed it to her.

Isabelle eagerly got to work in 'testing' the quill AKA writing a letter to Malfoy expressing all her bottled-up feelings.

She leaned over the glass casing, quill scratching furiously over the piece of parchment.

The letter went something like this:

𝒟𝑒𝒶𝓇 𝒟𝓇𝒶𝒸𝑜 ℳ𝒶𝓁𝒻𝑜𝓎,

ℐ 𝑔𝑒𝓉 𝒾𝓉 — ℐ 𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓁𝓁𝓎 𝒹𝑜, ℰ́𝓁𝒾𝓈𝑒 ℬ𝒶𝓇𝒷𝒾𝑒𝓇 𝒾𝓈 𝓅𝓇𝑒𝓉𝓉𝓎 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓇𝒾𝒸𝒽 𝑜𝓇 𝓌𝒽𝒶𝓉𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇... 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝓃𝒶𝓂𝑒 𝓈𝑜𝓊𝓃𝒹𝓈 𝓁𝒾𝓀𝑒 𝒾𝓉'𝓈 𝒶𝓃 𝑒𝓍𝓅𝑒𝓃𝓈𝒾𝓋𝑒 𝓅𝑒𝓇𝒻𝓊𝓂𝑒 𝒻𝓇𝒶𝑔𝓇𝒶𝓃𝒸𝑒... 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝒾𝓈 𝓃𝑜 𝓌𝒶𝓎 𝓈𝒽𝑒 𝒽𝒶𝓈 𝒶𝓃𝓎𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝑒𝓁𝓈𝑒 𝑔𝑜𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝒽𝑒𝓇. 𝒪𝒷𝓋𝒾𝑜𝓊𝓈𝓁𝓎, ℐ 𝒹𝑜𝓃'𝓉 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓈𝓊𝓇𝑒, 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝓈𝑒𝑒𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒶𝓈 𝓈𝒽𝑒 𝒸𝒶𝓃 𝒷𝒶𝓇𝑒𝓁𝓎 𝓈𝓅𝑒𝒶𝓀 ℰ𝓃𝑔𝓁𝒾𝓈𝒽 (𝓃𝑜 𝒽𝒶𝓉𝑒 𝑜𝓇 𝒶𝓃𝓎𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊'𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝓀 𝓈𝒽𝑒'𝒹 𝓈𝓅𝑒𝒶𝓀 𝒾𝓉 𝒶 𝓁𝒾𝓉𝓉𝓁𝑒 𝒷𝑒𝓉𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝒾𝒻 𝓈𝒽𝑒'𝓈 𝓅𝓁𝒶𝓃𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝑜𝓃 𝒶𝓈𝓀𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝑜𝓊𝓉 ℰ𝓃𝑔𝓁𝒾𝓈𝒽-𝓈𝓅𝑒𝒶𝓀𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓌𝒾𝓏𝒶𝓇𝒹𝓈) 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒸𝑜𝓇𝓇𝒾𝒹𝑜𝓇𝓈 𝒾𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝒾𝓈𝓃'𝓉 𝒶 𝓁𝑜𝓉 𝑔𝑜𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝑜𝓃 𝓊𝓅 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒... 𝒾𝒻 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌 𝓌𝒽𝒶𝓉 ℐ 𝓂𝑒𝒶𝓃.

𝒜𝓃𝓎𝓌𝒶𝓎, 𝓂𝓎 𝓅𝑜𝒾𝓃𝓉 𝒾𝓈 𝒽𝑜𝓌 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒻𝓊𝒸𝓀 𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝑔𝑜𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝑜 𝒹𝑜 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇𝓈𝑒𝓁𝒻 𝒹𝒾𝓇𝓉𝓎 𝓁𝒾𝓀𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉, 𝒟𝓇𝒶𝒸𝑜? 𝒯𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝒮𝒪 𝓂𝒶𝓃𝓎 𝒷𝑒𝓉𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝑜𝓅𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃𝓈 (𝓂𝓎𝓈𝑒𝓁𝒻 𝒾𝓃𝒸𝓁𝓊𝒹𝑒𝒹 𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉, 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓉𝑜 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝑜𝑜𝓃 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒷𝒶𝒸𝓀 ℳ𝒶𝓁𝒻𝑜𝓎) 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓉𝑜 𝓅𝒾𝒸𝓀 𝒻𝓇𝑜𝓂.

𝒜𝓃𝒹 𝓂𝒶𝓎𝒷𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒾𝓈 𝒿𝓊𝓈𝓉 𝒿𝑒𝒶𝓁𝑜𝓊𝓈𝓎 𝓉𝒶𝓁𝓀𝒾𝓃𝑔 — ℐ 𝒹𝑜𝓃'𝓉 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌 — 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝒾𝓈 𝓃𝑜 𝓌𝒶𝓎 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒶𝓃𝒹 ℬ𝒶𝓇𝒷𝒾𝑒𝓇 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝓀 𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓁𝑜𝓃𝑔 𝓇𝓊𝓃. ℐ𝒻 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓌𝒶𝓃𝓉 𝓂𝓎 𝓉𝓌𝑜 𝓀𝓃𝓊𝓉𝓈 𝑜𝓃 𝒾𝓉.

𝒫𝑒𝓇𝓈𝑜𝓃𝒶𝓁𝓁𝓎, ℐ 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝓀 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓂𝑒 𝓌𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝒶 𝓅𝓇𝑒𝓉𝓉𝓎 𝒻𝓊𝓃 𝓉𝒾𝓂𝑒 𝑜𝓃 𝒶 𝒹𝒶𝓉𝑒. ℬ𝓊𝓉𝓉𝑒𝓇𝒷𝑒𝑒𝓇 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓈𝑜𝓂𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝒽𝒾𝓉𝓉𝓎 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝑜𝒹𝒹𝓁𝓎 𝑔𝑜𝑜𝒹 𝒻𝑜𝑜𝒹 𝒻𝓇𝑜𝓂 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒯𝒽𝓇𝑒𝑒 ℬ𝓇𝑜𝑜𝓂𝓈𝓉𝒾𝒸𝓀𝓈? ℐ 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹𝓃'𝓉 𝒽𝑒𝓁𝓅 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝓃𝑜𝓉𝒾𝒸𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒶𝓅𝓅𝑒𝒶𝓇𝑒𝒹 𝓊𝓃𝒻𝒶𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓂𝒶𝒷𝓁𝓎 𝒷𝑜𝓇𝑒𝒹 𝑜𝓃 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒹𝒶𝓉𝑒 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 ℬ𝒶𝓇𝒷𝒾𝑒𝓇 (𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 ℐ 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓁𝓀𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝑜𝓇 𝒶𝓃𝓎𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒷𝑒𝒸𝒶𝓊𝓈𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓌𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝒷𝑒 𝒲ℰℐℛ𝒟) 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓌𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝒹𝑒𝒻𝒾𝓃𝒾𝓉𝑒𝓁𝓎 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓅𝑒𝓃 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓂𝑒.

𝒥𝓊𝓈𝓉 𝓈𝒶𝓎𝒾𝓃𝑔...

𝒯𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝓌𝑒'𝒹 𝑜𝒷𝓋𝒾𝑜𝓊𝓈𝓁𝓎 𝓃𝑒𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝑜 𝒸𝑜𝓂𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝒮𝒸𝓇𝒾𝓋𝑒𝓃𝓈𝒽𝒶𝒻𝓉'𝓈 𝒷𝑒𝒸𝒶𝓊𝓈𝑒 𝓃𝑜𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒾𝓈 𝒷𝑒𝓉𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝒾𝓃 ℋ𝑜𝑔𝓈𝓂𝑒𝒶𝒹𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓃 𝒶𝒹𝓂𝒾𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝑒𝓍𝓅𝑒𝓃𝓈𝒾𝓋𝑒 𝓆𝓊𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝓈𝑒𝒸𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃 — ℐ'𝓁𝓁 𝒻𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒾𝒻 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒹𝒾𝓈𝒶𝑔𝓇𝑒𝑒.

𝒜𝓃𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓃 ℐ 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝒹𝑜𝓃𝑒 𝑒𝓃𝑜𝓊𝑔𝒽 𝓅𝓁𝒶𝓃𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓈𝑜 𝒾𝓉'𝓁𝓁 𝒷𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓉𝓊𝓇𝓃 𝓉𝑜 𝓉𝒶𝓀𝑒 𝓊𝓈 𝓌𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓌𝒶𝓃𝓉 𝓉𝑜 𝑔𝑜. ℐ𝒻 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓈𝒶𝓎 ℳ𝒶𝒹𝒶𝓂 𝒫𝓊𝒹𝒹𝒾𝒻𝑜𝑜𝓉'𝓈 ℐ'𝓁𝓁 𝑔𝑜 𝒷𝓊𝓉 ℐ 𝒲ℐℒℒ 𝒷𝑒 𝒿𝓊𝒹𝑔𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝒽𝑜𝓁𝑒 𝓉𝒾𝓂𝑒. 𝒮𝓉𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓊𝑔𝒽!

𝒴𝑒𝒶𝒽... 𝓂𝒶𝓎𝒷𝑒 𝑜𝓃𝑒 𝒹𝒶𝓎 ℐ'𝓁𝓁 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝓀 𝓊𝓅 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓇𝒶𝑔𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝒶𝒸𝓉𝓊𝒶𝓁𝓁𝓎 𝒶𝓈𝓀 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝑜𝓃 𝒶 𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓁 𝒹𝒶𝓉𝑒... ℐ 𝓌𝒾𝓈𝒽 ℐ 𝓀𝓃𝑒𝓌 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓇𝑒𝒶𝒸𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃 𝓉𝑜 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓈𝑒 𝓁𝑒𝓉𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓈.

𝒜𝓇𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒹𝒾𝓈𝑔𝓊𝓈𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝒶𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓊𝑔𝒽𝓉 𝑜𝒻 𝑔𝑜𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝑜𝓃 𝒶 𝒹𝒶𝓉𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓈𝑒 𝓅𝓁𝒶𝒸𝑒𝓈? 𝒞𝓇𝑒𝑒𝓅𝑒𝒹 𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝒶 𝓈𝑒𝒸𝓇𝑒𝓉 𝒶𝒹𝓂𝒾𝓇𝑒𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝑜𝒷𝓈𝑒𝓈𝓈𝑒𝒹/𝒾𝓃 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓎𝑜𝓊 (ℐ'𝓋𝑒 𝒿𝓊𝓈𝓉 𝒶𝒸𝒸𝑒𝓅𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 ℐ'𝓋𝑒 𝓈𝑜𝓂𝑒𝒽𝑜𝓌 𝓂𝒶𝓃𝒶𝑔𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝑜 𝒻𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝒾𝓃 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓃 𝓉𝒶𝓁𝓀𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝑜 𝓎𝑜𝓊, 𝓅𝒶𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓉𝒾𝒸 ℐ 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌...).

ℬ𝓊𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝒶𝓁𝓈𝑜 𝒟𝓇𝒶𝒸𝑜 ℳ𝒶𝓁𝒻𝑜𝓎 — 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓇𝒾𝒸𝒽𝑒𝓈𝓉 𝓅𝑒𝓇𝓈𝑜𝓃 𝒾𝓃 𝓈𝒸𝒽𝑜𝑜𝓁, 𝓈𝑜𝓁𝑒 𝒽𝑒𝒾𝓇 𝓉𝑜 𝓉𝒽𝑒 ℳ𝒶𝓁𝒻𝑜𝓎 ℋ𝑜𝓊𝓈𝑒, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓂𝑜𝓈𝓉 𝓃𝑜𝓉𝒶𝒷𝓁𝓎 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝑒𝒶𝓃𝑒𝓈𝓉 𝒷𝑜𝓎 𝒾𝓃 𝓈𝒸𝒽𝑜𝑜𝓁. ℐ 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝓃𝑜 𝒹𝑒𝓈𝒾𝓇𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝒷𝑒 𝒶 𝓉𝒶𝓇𝑔𝑒𝓉 𝑜𝒻 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓉𝒶𝓊𝓃𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 — 𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓃 𝒾𝒻 𝓈𝑜𝓂𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓈𝒶𝓎 𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝑜𝒸𝒸𝒶𝓈𝒾𝑜𝓃𝒶𝓁𝓁𝓎 𝒻𝓊𝓃𝓃𝓎 — 𝓈𝑜 ℐ 𝓈𝓊𝓅𝓅𝑜𝓈𝑒 𝒾𝓉'𝓈 𝒷𝑒𝓉𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓌𝒶𝓎.

ℬ𝑒𝓉𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝒾𝒻 ℐ 𝓇𝑒𝓂𝒶𝒾𝓃 𝒶 𝒻𝒶𝒸𝑒𝓁𝑒𝓈𝓈 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓃𝒶𝓂𝑒𝓁𝑒𝓈𝓈 𝒾𝓃𝒹𝒾𝓋𝒾𝒹𝓊𝒶𝓁 𝓌𝒽𝑜 𝒶𝒹𝓂𝒾𝓇𝑒𝓈 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒻𝓇𝑜𝓂 𝒶𝒻𝒶𝓇.

𝒫𝑒𝓇𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓈 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝒶𝓁𝓌𝒶𝓎𝓈 𝓈𝒾𝓂𝓅𝓁𝓎 𝒷𝑒 𝓊𝓃𝒶𝓉𝓉𝒶𝒾𝓃𝒶𝒷𝓁𝑒, 𝓃𝑜𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓂𝑜𝓇𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓃 𝒶 𝒽𝑜𝓅𝑒𝓁𝑒𝓈𝓈 𝓇𝑜𝓂𝒶𝓃𝓉𝒾𝒸 𝓉𝑒𝑒𝓃𝒶𝑔𝑒 𝒹𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓂.

ℰ𝒾𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝓌𝒶𝓎: 𝓌𝓇𝒾𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓎𝑒𝓉 𝒶𝓃𝑜𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝓁𝑒𝓉𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝒽𝒶𝓈 𝒽𝑒𝓁𝓅𝑒𝒹 𝓂𝓎 𝓈𝓊𝒷𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓈𝒸𝒾𝑜𝓊𝓈 𝒾𝓂𝓂𝑒𝓃𝓈𝑒𝓁𝓎, 𝒟𝓇𝒶𝒸𝑜.

𝒮𝑜 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓃𝓀 𝓎𝑜𝓊.

ℬ𝑒𝓈𝓉,
𝒜 𝒢𝒾𝓇𝓁 𝒮𝓂𝒾𝓉𝓉𝑒𝓃 𝒲𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝒴𝑜𝓊.

As soon as she finished the letter, she felt like she could breathe. Looking up, she pursed her lips at the sight of Scrivenshaft reading the letter from the other side of the glass case with furrowed brows.

She had no energy to argue the older man away from reading her letter.

Instead, she wordlessly set the nice leather quill down next to her and folded her hands in front of her.

"Did Mr. Draco Malfoy come in and receive my note the last time?" She questioned as though she had not just written another love letter for said person.

Scrivenshaft looked away from the love letter, a single eyebrow raised.

"Yeah, the lad comes in almost every Hogsmeade trip..." He said.

"And what was his reaction?" She asked.

She could read Draco Malfoy's mind — AKA she was a rather talented witch of legilimens, not that she enjoyed it — but that was also a massive invasion of privacy.

Most people she could give less of a fuck if she was invading their privacy or reading their mind without their consent (cry more, as she would say). She barely ever entered anyone's mind anyway, but that was less because she cared about their feelings and more because she hated going into others minds.

But with Draco, it was different, even if he wouldn't know that she was performing legilimens on him (there was no way he knew how to perform occlumency so he wouldn't sense her lurking in his mind) she didn't want to invade his privacy like that.

He was a total douche and probably deserved it the most of any student at Hogwarts, but her affections toward him would not allow her.

The way her heart softened at the thought of him made her not want to invade the only place that was suppose to be completely safe for everyone.

She did not want to invade his mind.

Not to mention she would be crushed if she went into his mind only to find he thought negatively of her.

Even if it was probably best for her to know that he didn't like her sooner rather than later.

"Well," Scrivenshaft scratched his beard, "He was mostly confused and asked me who left it. I didn't tell him, of course..."

"Why, thank you!" Isabelle chirped before pushing the letter toward him slightly. "Would you mind doing it aga—"

"Let me guess, ya' want to leave this here for him?" He cut the Ravenclaw off.

Isabelle lit up like a Christmas tree. "Exactly! And please—"

Scrivenshaft cut her off, holding a hand up and finishing her statement for her. "Don't tell him who ya' are, whatcha look like, what house yer in, and nothing else... as far as I'm concerned, it's some random teenage girl who I never ask the name of nor notice what she looks like..."

Isabelle smiled. "Perfect! Thank you, Mr. Scrivenshaft! I'm trusting you, you know how Draco Malfoy can be, so please — not a word of my identity..." She folded the letter and handed it to him.

Scrivenshaft nodded his head, placing the folded piece of parchment under the counter and putting his goggles back on. The old man would not admit it out loud, but he was quite curious about how this teenage love drama would play out.

"Don't suppose ya' actually want to buy a quill today, young lady?" He questioned while beginning to fix up the quill he was working on before.

Isabelle shook her head — her parents had not sent her nearly enough to afford a nice quill. She had enough for a few more meals at The Three Broomsticks and maybe some candy from Honeydukes for the rest of the semester.

She would get more school money when she went home for the winter holidays.

"Not today, Mr. Scrivenshaft, but thank you for letting me test out your quills once more..." she waved as she walked out the door.

Mr. Scrivenshaft only grumbled as she left — perhaps the Malfoy boy would make a purchase when he came in today then.

As Isabelle left the small shop, a small smile on her face, she ran straight into Anthony and Clementine who were looking for her.

"Isabelle, are you okay?" Clementine quickly embraced her friend.

"We were so worried about you!" Anthony continued.

Multiple students passed by them, each lost in their own world.

"Oh — I'm fine!" Isabelle waved it off while dragging her friends away from the quill shop and toward the pathway that led back to Hogwarts.

Both the twins shared uneasy looks with each other

"You're okay now? Because you stared at Malfoy about to burst into tears the last time we saw you..." Anthony said unsurely.

"Yeah — I thought you were going to confess your love for him finally!" Clementine said as they walked together.

Isabelle smiled. "See, I was going to do that, but then, logic kicked in! And instead, logic suggested that I write him another secret love letter and leave it with Scrivenshaft for him to pick up!"

"Wait what?" Anthony deadpanned.

Clementine looked happy. "Well, that's better than nothing I suppose!"

"Are you two serious? What if Scrivenshaft just tells Malfoy who left the letter? What if Malfoy does not even go in there today? What kind of logic is that?"

"Ravenclaw logic!" Clementine yipped with a twirl as she walked.

"Exactly..." Isabelle pointed to her friend.

Anthony sputtered. "That's not Ravenclaw logic — that sounds more like Hufflepuff logic!"

Isabelle scrunched her nose in disdain. "Don't you ever compare me to a Hufflepuff..."

Anthony rolled his eyes. "Seriously, do you really not think Scrivenshaft will tell Malfoy who it was? Especially when Malfoy no doubt harasses him to tell him...?"

Isabelle snorted. "Scrivenshaft is a 6'3 old Scottish man — I don't think Malfoy will be able to get it outta him..."

"What if he gets his father involved?"

"I really doubt even the likes of Malfoy would want his father involved in that personal of issues for him..."

Anthony shook his head as the three huddled closer against the cold wind. "We'll see..."