With Stitches.

Another sleepless night plunges into the shimmering golds and precious pinks of sunrise, pulling me from my wrinkled sheets and into my unwashed school robes. Hours before any student will begin to stir, I throw my schoolbag (that has seemed to get increasingly heavier) over my shoulder and I glide toward the door, grasping the cool, brass knob and sneaking away from the sleeping girls. Climbing cautiously down the creaking steps, I finally land on the carpet of the common room being slowly lit by the opportunities of the new morning.

I haven't seen nor heard from Severus in days, the night in his office haunting me from dusk until now, dawn, harsh thoughts forbidding my eyelids from drifting down over my unrested, bloodshot eyes.

Striding toward the farthest wall, I quickly push the portrait from its resting place and jump through the wide passage, replacing the dozing fat lady and, finally able to pick up my pace, I race down marble staircase after marble staircase, panic running through every vein like painful venom.

"Why do you feel the need to make my job so hard?!"

"Because that's my job, sweetheart," I stop mid-step, straining my ears toward that familiar, irritating voice. Stepping down from the stairs gently, I lean around the nearest corner, staring at John towering over a frustrated Slytherin, her hands placed firmly on her curved hips.

"Why would someone get up in the early morning to flood all the 2nd floor bathrooms?!" Her thick French accent rings clearly down the hall with astounding power and resonance as she screeches at John.

"Trouble is my middle name, baby-"

"Oh lala! I have more problems with you than I have with anyone in my own house- and I'm in Slytherin! Why don't you go irritate one of your prefects?! And stop calling me those pathetic little pet names!!" With this, she hurtles into a spout of raging French, scribbling feverishly on a pad of faded, yellow paper.

"Another detention tonight, then, Mr. Hemlock! No surprise there!" John mischievously snatches the slip from the girl's hand and rips it pleasurably into two halves, smug grin spreading across his face.

"Don't you have something better to do than torment teenage girls, Hamhock?" I call before Frenchie can pounce, walking forward as they glance toward me, John with an eye roll and the girl with a slight frown.

"Well, well, well- if it isn't Snape's little pet! Did you come to tell me about how great he treated you in his office?" I laugh much too loud, glaring menacingly up to John.

"How about you run along before I tell McGonagall how you tried to sneak in through the girl's dorm window last night?" Without even a snarky remark, only a malevolent glare, he stomps away, letting the yellow halves spiral to the floor.

"Thank you," the prefect mumbles, bright hazel eyes brimming with the frustrations she didn't have the opportunity to voice as she places a stray piece of hair behind her red ear.

"No problem! I met that kid two days ago and I think he's literally the most annoying, self-centered brat I've ever had the displeasure of meeting!" A tiny giggle issues from the girl's lips.

"I'm Sarah Lyon, by the way. Girl Prefect of Slytherin house," she introduces with a bright smile, stretching her hand out for my own.

"Dawson Parker, American Muggle Born," I reply, shaking her hand gratefully.

"I really appreciate you helping me... He won't show up for that detention, most likely,"

"Nope, that kid's bad through and through," Sarah looks at me strangely.

"You can tell how bad he is from one day's meeting...?" she questions, eyebrows raised in wonder. I cruse myself under my breath.

"Yeah, well... I'm pretty good at reading people. Like you, for example. You're nice, but you fake a smile because you're having trouble dealing with everything that's happening in your life," Sarah's grin drops, a defensive glare replacing the brightness in her eyes.

"Look, I didn't mean to be offensive-"

"Well, you were," she cuts me off, stuffing her detention slips into her satchel and marching away. With a sigh, I swiftly continue down the many flights of enchanted stairs, in a worse mood than I was before. The moist, moldy air greets me coolly as I reach the dungeons, softly rapping twice on Severus' office door.

"Enter," his voice sends my heart soaring, ready to explode at any moment.

"Severus?" I whisper as I push the door open, searching the room for my savior. His back towards me as I enter, the solemn man sits at his desk, gathering papers and organizing them into their separate piles.

"Oh, Severus!!" I exclaim, dropping my bag and running towards him, wrapping my arms around his shoulders. "I'm so glad you're okay!! I've been up for days hoping you would be... Severus, please say something-"

"You are to call me Professor or sir, Ms. Parker. This is school, not some silly gathering with a group of your friends," Severus says coolly, keeping his head down, greasy curtain of hair keeping me from seeing his face.

"But Severus... That night-"

"That night was a mistake and a moment of lost self-control," he interrupts shortly, turning toward me with an awful look of finality. I gasp as I notice the black and yellowing around his right eye. "I can assure you it won't happen again-"

"S-so," as pathetic as it is, I'm crying now, forcing the words through the thick lump in my throat. "All the times you s-said you c-cared about m-me... Th-that you loved me... It was a-all a l-lie?" Severus pauses a moment, staring up at me with a hard, yet emotionless expression.

"I am nothing more to you than your teacher, Ms. Parker, and you are nothing more to me than a student. I'm sorry for leading you to think otherwise," Without another word, just sobs tearing from my chest, I snatch my beg from the stone floor, running from Severus' office with tears streaming down my face.

How could he?

Every time he said he loved, me that he gave a fuck about me- it was all a lie. I'm sure he would have let Voldemort take me in an instant if he hadn't burst in at all the right times. It was all a coincidence, a misunderstanding, and I feel so stupid for feeling this way. Dropping into the corner behind a statue of a knight, I sob into my knees, wishing I could cry out every memory I have of Severus.

"Parker?" I look up with a start, staring up into the cold eyes of Draco.

"I don't need you to make me feel any worse than I already do, Malfoy," I hiccup, staring out at the vast grounds of the school.

"Well, tell me what's wrong, then," Draco snaps after a moment of loud sniffling, sliding down the wall opposite me. I stare at him again, wondering what he was up to.

"What're you getting at?" I ask, squinting in confusion.

"If you don't want to talk about it, fine," Draco hisses, beginning to stand.

"Wait," I call, causing him to pause. "Someone... Just, somebody told me they loved me and that they cared about me, but... Today, they threw me away like I was a piece of trash..."

"Who did that?" Draco questions, now back in his sitting position. I breathe deeply, knowing that I could never put Severus out like this.

"I can't say," I finally breathe, clutching my hair tightly in my hands.

"I won't tell anyone," Draco replies quietly, staring at me with a sympathetic expression- or, at least, as close to one as he could manage. I think a moment about how easily he could use this against me or Severus, and I shake my head.

"I can't," I repeat, letting another sob ring out as a tremor rolls through my body.

"Stop crying, for Merlin's sake," Draco mumbles, standing; for a minute I think he's going to storm off, but instead walks to me, sitting down and placing a stiff arm around me, pulling me into his warm body.

"What're you-?" I begin, but stop as he begins to rub my shoulder awkwardly, yet gently. "I wouldn't have expected you to do anything like this, Draco," I use his name for the first time since summer, daring to sneak a bit closer.

"Yeah, well. No one wants some girl just crying in the middle of the hallway. It's a bit awkward," Draco murmured, tightening his grip. "And if you tell anyone-"

"You really think I want someone knowing I speak to a jerk like you??" To my surprise, he laughs, a tight and amused laugh, laying his head lightly on my own as I lay mine on his shoulder.

"I don't hate you, you know, Dawson," he says quietly after a silent moment. Hearing my name in his voice for the first time makes my heart beat too fast, though I don't understand why.

"I'm glad," I reply simply, watching a bird fly past the window. "This has probably been the strangest day I've ever had," I say, absent-mindedly drawing circles onto the knee of his pants.

"And why is that?" Draco questions, watching my hand wearily.

"I realized that the people who say they care about me don't, and the people who treat me like they couldn't care less, actually care a lot," With only a single, soft laugh, Draco and I sit in silence, enjoying the strange and shocking company.

***

"-she has a date with Harry Potter-"
"-her and Draco are together-"
"-live in the same house though-"
"-I heard she was in love with Snape-"

Though they try to lower their whispers as I pass, I know that the entire Gryffindor table is talking about my life like it was on the front page of the Daily Prophet. How they had found out about any of this gossip was beyond me, but I could care less. After what had happened with Severus and Draco, I remembered that I was only here for one thing; not the define my magic, not to fall in love, but to do as the Dark Lord as ordered upon me: Get into Harry Potter's head.

"Hello, Dawson," Hermione greets cheerily, much to happy on a Saturday morning. I only groan in response, walking straight for my suitcase. She lays down her Hogwarts, A History book that I've seen her read about six times now, and looks at me, amused and curious.

"You'd think you'd be over the jet lag by now, wouldn't you?" Hermione questions, watching me throw all my clothes from my luggage.

"First Saturday since I've got here that I didn't get to sleep in until at least 10," I mumble, digging through my endless supply of jeans and t-shirts. Even at the Malfoy place they let me sleep in until 10:30 on Saturday's. Hermione let out a laugh, going back to her book like nothing ever happened. Rummaging through my trunk, I let out a small, angry huff. I've never been the type to wear dresses, and I sure as hell have never been on a date where I felt the need to wear one.

However, looking absolutely perfect for this was essential.

Through clumps of socks and band tees came the only dress I could remember owning: white and black with skulls all over, held around my neck with a single, white button. Not the most girly, but it made me look good enough, so I'll roll with it. I match it with a black beanie and black, silver-studded boats. I walk out in my outfit to show Hermione, deciding that taking even a single glance in the mirror would plunge me right back into my trunk.

"I think you look great, Dawson," she offers with an encouraging smile, glancing swiftly over my attire.

"Are you sure?" I question, evening out a wrinkle of my dresses fabric.

"Of course I'm sure," Hermione exclaims, standing and gliding over to me. "And I'm sure that even if you were in sweat pants and a t-shirt that Harry wouldn't care. He really does like you, Dawson," Hermione added the last part for more encouragement. Though I smile and give her an appreciative smile, I feel my stomach sink, knowing very well what would happen to Harry in the end.

"We're leaving for Hogsmeade in a moment," announces Hermione with a grin, walking out the door of the girl's dorm. I grab my black cardigan and take a deep breath before exiting the dorm and jogging down the steps. I see Harry chatting with Ron and Hermione by the lit fireplace, dressed in blue jeans and a t-shirt.

"Dawson!" Hermione calls, waving her hand at me over the head's of a small group our fellow Gryffindor's. Many look up gaping at my appearance and making room for me as I walk to the group of three. Harry gazes at me, smile stretching across his pink face.

"Hey Ron, Hermione- Harry. I hope I'm not to dressed-up..."

"You look stunning," complimented Harry, grin beaming wider with every inch of me he takes in.

"Oh, well... Thank you. You look very handsome yourself," Ron makes a gagging noise behind us. We all laugh as Hermione hits him over the head with her permission slip.

"Come on! Everyone's already left!" Harry holds out his arm for my, grinning encouragingly my way. I took it with an enthusiastic grin that only I could tell was fake.

I've never felt so guilty for anything in my life.