The Hogwarts students were greeted by a snowstorm on the first day of classes. As such, all outdoor classes were canceled meaning that Isabelle got to hang out in the back of the library during what would typically be her Care of Magical Creatures lesson.

She went unnoticed by most of the student population, but her table was perfect for watching all the other students in the library.

Including a certain Slytherin boy sitting by himself, something that was rare, writing on a piece of parchment paper.

Isabelle suspected it was the brutal 9-inch Potions essay that Snape had so graciously gifted them on their first day back. Thankfully, it was not due for two weeks, but that was mostly because the subject was hefty.

It was meant to be about Ashwinder eggs and the many different potions it was useful for.

Isabelle was postponing starting her essay until next week. Rather, she was sitting reading the grimoire on Divination that she had received from her mother at the beginning of December.

There was no guaranteed way to bring upon a vision of the future. It was nearly impossible to peek into the great future on a whim—although, some seers could predict the immediate and most likely future. That was the current skill that she decided to focus on learning.

Much like a Demiguise, a magical beast capable of predicting the immediate future, according to Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them: 4th Edition. Isabelle would learn to do that, but it would take much patience.

However, her attention had long since fallen off the best techniques of how to do it and rather went to Draco Malfoy. He had not noticed her in the slightest, his expensive-looking quill scratching on the parchment furiously.

He was resting his head on the hand that was not writing, eyes boredly darting from line to line on his parchment.

She was more tempted than ever to take a look into his mind, but she continued to remind herself that she liked him too much to do him dirty like that.

Isabelle wondered what Draco had said to Pansy Parkinson over break, it was apparent that there was tension between the two as they seemed to be avoiding each other. Not that she was watching him closely or anything.

Although, in his last letter he did mention that he was planning on friendzoning Pansy on Christmas.

Her eyes slowly slid back to the grimoire in front of her, smiling at the thought.

It was as she slowly read through the next passage that... a flash of lightning suddenly lit up the white snowy sky outside. It was followed by a loud cry of thunder that made students looked up in a startled manner.

Draco jumped from his place, accidentally spilling ink onto his parchment and ruining his entire assignment. An essay that had almost been finished.

He slammed his hands on the table with frustration, pinching the bridge of his nose with a huff.

The one time he decided to use a quill that was not self-filling.

Isabelle blinked, looking around in a confused manner. Immediately her eyes slipped to Draco who was still diligently working on his essay. All the other students were still working, chatting quietly, or reading.

There had been no lightning flash from the storm outside or roll of booming thunder.

Not yet, at least.

Isabelle swallowed, thoughts running at the speed of light. She knew what she just experienced—as real as it felt, it had not yet come to fruition. It had not yet come to pass. So yes, it felt real because it was real... just not yet.

Isabelle continued to eye Draco, the girl moving to pack her things up before she could stop herself. If it was real and if it was her foreseeing a most likely immediate future, that meant she had seconds if not minutes before it came to pass.

As she finished packing up her backpack, swinging it around until it was on her shoulders, she slowly started making her way to the exit. However, more than the exit, she was going to pass by Draco Malfoy's lonesome table on her way out.

Her heartbeat was frantic in her chest, the girl's palms beginning to sweat out of nervousness. The closest she had ever come to talking to Draco outside of their little letters was that time in History of Magic when he sort of addressed her by referring to a 'muggle' as a 'no-maj'.

As much as she liked him: his reputation was bad.

She did not want to approach him, especially if he was in a bad mood, that was just a recipe for disaster in her mind.

Then again: she really really liked Draco Malfoy. And she would feel bad if she allowed his essay to get ruined knowing she could stop it.

Just as she was feet away from his table, his eyes still locked onto the parchment—her vision came to pass.

Outside, through the snow-filled white stormy sky, a streak of blue lightning hit the Earth. Its electric light flashed for miles, visible through even the old library windows. Barely a second later, a cry of thunder shook the Earth with its ferocity causing nearly every student to jump from its pure sound and unexpectedness.

Draco included in this, the Slytherin's head snapping up, eyes wide in surprise. His hand brushed against the inkpot, and just as it tilted over with its content ready to spill, another hand came out of seemingly nowhere and stopped it.

Draco was looking at his inkpot with furrowed brows, his eyes stuck on the feminine hand with sharp nails painted black holding his inkpot and stopping it from spilling and ruining his essay. The hand slid the inkpot a few inches away from his parchment.

His gaze followed the dark-skinned hand up... up... up... he met piercing brown irises.

They had never been so close to one another, but they were close enough now that Draco realized his speculation about the new girl's eyes from a few weeks ago was wrong. In Isabelle Lockley's eyes, Draco did not find golden flakes but rather flakes that screamed a firey orange, near red.

Intense and ever-burning.

The two stared at each other for a few seconds, an unfamiliar energy dancing around the both of them.

Isabelle swallowed thickly, forcing her eyes away from Draco's before she could get lost in the silver hue. Her cheeks unintentionally warmed—thankfully invisible from under her darker skin tone.

"Careful, darlin'," Her Southern accent drawled in an enticing lull. "Wouldn't want to make a mess..." She said before standing up straight, taking her hand away from the inkpot.

Isabelle took a step back, almost shyly looking at her feet as she broke eye contact with Draco. He stared at the pretty witch in front of him, for once at a loss of words. But not wanting to make an utter fool of himself, he spouted the first thing that came to mind.

"I'm always careful..." He said, tilting his head up slightly—British accenting ringing in direct contrast to Isabelle's.

He did not say it meanly or crudely. Rather, he just said as though it were a fact.

Isabelle's lips pulled up in the corners.

"I'm sure you are..." She said softly before spinning around and leaving.

As she walked away, she was mentally kicking herself for being such a coward. That was her IN, he clearly did not mind talking to her based on his response. She should have stayed—should have made more conversation!

Despite her thoughts, Isabelle kept walking, unable to stop her feet nor make her head turn around. Even as she felt Draco watching her until she disappeared by rounding towering bookshelves.

Draco himself sat back in his chair, arms folded over his green Slytherin sweater and eyes narrowed thoughtfully. Despite everything, he was a rather sharp individual: quick-witted and intelligent.

He wondered how Isabelle had moved so fast and stopped his inkpot from spilling—it was almost as if she knew it was going to happen.

Draco bit his lip as he thought, suspicion eating away at him.

His little bird was either a Slytherin or Ravenclaw... and Isabelle Lockley was a Ravenclaw.

Draco had barely anything to go off, but he did find it rather odd that she seemingly grabbed the inkpot before it even fell over. At that moment, the boy decided that he would be making a trip to Hogsmeade this coming weekend.

★✯☆★✯☆★

Of everything that happened, Isabelle should be most impressed because she had managed to predict the most likely immediate future. However, this was the last thing on her mind as she whined to Clementine that evening in the empty third-corridor girl's bathroom.

"And then I was all like 'bE cArEfuL', like who even says that? Who am I? His mother?!" Isabelle cried in frustration before covering her face with her hands.

Clementine was doing her best not to laugh. She did not want to upset Isabelle any more than she already was, but she thought it was good that Isabelle actually talked to Draco Malfoy, even if it was for only a moment.

Clementine leaned back against one of the stalls while Isabelle was leaning against the sinks.

"And that's why I'm not going to dinner!" She finished her statement.

"Isabelle, you can't just skip dinner because—"

"Because I made the ultimate fool of myself in front of my crush? I think I can!" Isabelle sighed.

Clementine crossed her arms over her chest, her face contorted into a rare stern expression. "That's not good!"

"One night, Clem..." Isabelle said in a pleading tone of voice. "And I know you are always the bestest super friend in the world, so ya' think ya' might be able to smuggle me a plate out of the Hall?"

Clementine slowly nodded. "First of all, what do you want? Second of all, since you're skipping dinner, what will you be doing instead?"

Isabelle answered in a breezy manner. "Chicken and potatoes, I still can't believe there isn't any barbecue food here—"

Clementine cut her off. "How? You have been here almost two years—"

Isabelle waved her words away, continuing on with her previous statement. "And I am going to be visiting Snape for supplies. There's this potion that I'm going to try to make, it's supposed to help relax me enough to make astral projection easier..."

"That sounds suspiciously like getting high..." Clementine trailed off. "Can I try some too?"

"Sure!"

"But do you think Snape is actually going to give you—a fourth-year—supplies to make a potion that's probably not approved by the curriculum unsupervised?" Clementine rose a single brow.

"So!" Isabelle started. "I thought about that, and I am going about it in one of two ways. If I'm lucky, he'll be at dinner with the rest of the school and then I'll just assume he'd be fine with it and help myself to his personal stores! The other option is getting on my hands and knees and—"

Clementine cut Isabelle off. "Merlin's beard, GROSS! You can't do that! You can't just sell your body for—"

"—Getting on my hands and knees and begging..." Isabelle finished, interrupting Clementine's freak out. "Which is just as bad as getting on my knees and offering to suck Snape off, in my opinion, at least!"

Clementine breathed in relief before furrowing her brows. "The fact that those are on the same level for you is concerning, love..." She sighed. "But hopefully for your sake, Snape isn't there..."

"Hopefully..." Isabelle agreed as the two girls started walking toward the door, as they left the bathroom, they were greeted by only a few students in the corridor, all of them making their way to dinner which had started five minutes ago.

Isabelle and Clementine waved each other goodbye as they wandered in opposite directions. However, only moments later, they both whirled around at the same time, their voices echoing down the corridors to each other.

"AND DON'T TELL ANTHONY!" They both shouted in unison.

That night, Clementine Goldstein noticed that Professor Snape was at dinner—eating in silence with the other professors as he typically did. It made Clementine calm a bit as she considered the fact that Snape would not catch Isabelle.

Most likely.

Anthony also noticed the lack of Isabelle's presence, questioning his sister who spouted a half-truth about Isabelle's location.

She told him about Isabelle's exchange with Draco. Clementine then said that Isabelle was so embarrassed that she was currently huddled under the blankets of her bed in the dorms.

Anthony bought it easily enough, only throwing a worried look Clementine's way and helping her toward the end of dinner in making a plate for Isabelle.

Isabelle, on the other hand, wandered into Professor Snape's classroom only to realize that he was at dinner as she had hoped. After helping herself to the cupboard of Potions ingredients, Isabelle decided to be even more risky and take it a step further.

She brewed the Olioxan Draught in his classroom.

If Snape had walked in and caught her brewing a potion in his classroom, a potion that was far above that of anything that Hogwarts students got taught, without supervision or permission... he no doubt would try to have her expelled.

If not expelled then it would easily be detention for the rest of the year.

The Olioxan Draught was similar to the Draught of Peace in that it provided comfort and relieved any stress, anxiety, or agitation within a person. Except, it was about five times more powerful than the Draught of Peace and often made people feel higher than a kite.

There was also the sense of unreality that came with it—the potion caused a small rift from the soul and body thus creating a feeling of ascension from the physical world. It was why it made astral projection so much easier.

Along with being exponentially more powerful than the Draught of Peace, it was considered to be a darker magic potion.

The ugly twin to the Draught of Peace as some called it.

A step below the Draught of Living Death.

While the Draught of Peace used the lighter side of magic, Olioxan tiptoed on the darker side.

For obvious reasons: it was not an approved potion to be taught at Hogwarts seeing as it was not the safest and students would no doubt attempt to take some for themselves.

However, Isabelle had a full handwritten guide from her family grimoire on exactly how to brew this draught. It was much easier than she expected (well, easy for Isabelle) and it was also a quick brew in comparison to many potions.

This one took no more than fifteen minutes if one was moving swiftly.

Isabelle was moving swiftly, and she was definitely not moving carefully. She waved her wand as every ingredient haphazardously flew into the bubbling cauldron.

She didn't have time to be careful, she had to finish this before Snape came back.

"Ugh, why is this handwriting so trash?" She complained, using her wand to itch the back of her head, sticking it through her mane of curls as she did so.

A moment later, she decided that the it was sixteen and a half counter-clockwise twirls that was written. Or at least, she deftly hoped that is what was written—there was no telling what could happen if she accidentally messed this potion up.

Nothing good.

Minutes later, Isabelle was stealing seven empty vial bottles from Snape's desk and pouring her newly and successfully brewed potion into each of them. There was seven vials in total—three were going to Clementine and four to herself.

This would last her at least a month.

As soon as she was finished pouring all the vials, she quickly waved her wand, and muttered the reversal spell causing all the supplies and ingredients she used to go flying back to their original places.

Sticking her wand into her robe, Isabelle was quick to scoop up the seven vials and hide them in the pockets of her robe as she practically raced out of the classroom.

Thankfully, there was no one—not even a ghost—lurking in the corridors as she exited the classroom.

Merlin knows how bad it would have went if she ran into Peeves.

She did not start seeing any other students until she turned corridors, heading toward the stairs that led away from the cold dungeons.

Slytherin students were beginning to walk down those steps, leaving dinner and heading to their common room which was located somewhere in the dungeons to Isabelle's knowledge.

As she went up the steps taking two at a time, her eyes widened as she saw Draco Malfoy walking down the stairs flagged by Crabbe and Goyle.

Her already racing heart from not wanting to run into Snape started beating faster at the sight of Malfoy. Embarassed enough, the girl was quick to school her features and stare straight ahead while quickening her pace.

Draco himself did not notice her until they were quite literally passing one another.

His eyes lit up in surprise at the Ravenclaw leaving the "snake den" as many students called this area. Immediately, his nosy persona wondered what the fuck she was doing in the dungeons.

She was nearly running past him, the white-haired boy not hesitating in turning his head and watching her as she fled the dungeons with a curious scowl drawn over his face.

What the bloody fuck?

"Did you see that?" He demanded to Crabbe and Goyle as she turned a corner and was gone from his sight in the next moment.

"See what?" Goyle questioned.

Draco gave an irritated huff. "Lockley! She just—you know what, nevermind...!"

Malfoy simply could not believe his sodding idiot friends did not notice the highly suspicious Ravenclaw running away from their house's area of the school. And as much as he wanted to chase after her and demand answers, Draco continued stomping toward the Slytherin common room.