would be an understatement. His dusty-grey eyes glared daggers at the back of Margaret's head as he wordlessly shook his wand and the Lumos disappeared.

"Xenakis!"

Margaret didn't reply, keeping her back towards him but feeling her shoulders slump on their own accord. Was it too much to ask for some peace and quiet?

"You can't be out here- are you listening to me?" Draco barks.

"What do you want?" Margaret groans, peeking over her shoulder, wishing he'd just disappear.

For some reason, Draco felt a sense of déjà vu wash over him when Margaret said that; as if he had lived through this moment before or maybe he had seen it in a dream. Quickly as it had come, Draco got rid of the feeling.

"That's no way to talk to a Prefect, now is it?" he mocks, slowly starting to walk up the left passage. "I'm going to take away points from Gryffindor - even more, if you don't return to the castle this instant."

"Go ahead," she says, accidentally gesturing with her left hand and flinching. She continues anyway, "you take as many points as it takes to satisfy your heart's desire and then leave me alone."

"What? Not going to throw any of your illiterate sarcasm at me?" Draco says, a smirk dancing on his face. He twirled his wand between his fingers as he approached her, "Scared, Xenakis?"

Margaret scoffs, shooting him a side glance, "Scared? Of what, the boats?"

Instantly, Draco scowls, "Ten points from Gryffindor. Now, return to the castle - from the outside route - right this moment."

"Done?" Margaret questions flatly, blinking rapidly and taking a deep breath. "Now, skedaddle there, snake. Go back to your pit and leave me the hell alone."

"I am only doing my job as a Prefect - catching misbehaving students out of bed after curfew," he spits angrily, eyes narrowed. "You need to be careful now, with that sharp tongue of yours. Unless you're a bit politer, hanging out with scums like the Weasleys and Saint Potter, it'll rub off of you."

Margaret felt like she was fading in and out of reality.

She didn't know what was happening to her. The cuts on the back of her hand were shooting painful waves up her arm - her respect for Harry's abnormal pain tolerance increasing - whilst her powers were probably confused due to the strong emotions she was trying to sort through before Draco had interrupted her.

She had no desire to hurt him but she didn't have full control over herself.

Draco had reached the balcony by now and was glaring at her from a few feet to her left. He continues when she doesn't say anything, "Not so brave, are we? Now that you are all alone... without that litter of kittens-"

"Listen," she breathes sharply, "just give me a few minutes, I'll go back I promise."

Margaret was starting to feel the itch of her powers under her skin again. She didn't want to end up doing something stupid in front of Draco Malfoy and risk his father finding out about her abilities.

Draco looks taken aback for a split second before sneering in mock humour, "I'm the Prefect here, Xenakis. You don't tell me what I should do; quite the other way around. Ten more points-" He pauses abruptly, his eyes catching the sight of the blood-stained scarf tied around Margaret's hand and he squints at it. "Don't tell me you hurt yourself."

Margaret turned to look at him finally, noticing him staring at her hand. Promptly, she held it up to her abdomen and away from Draco's prying eyes.

"None of your business," she responds defensively.

He scoffs, "I don't care. You should really learn how to respect your superiors-"

"I will start respecting the so-called superiors when they have earned my respect," she interrupts, her voice an octave higher. She wished he'd just leave her be, for the sake of them both. "Why don't you just take points from my house and leave me the f-"

"I wouldn't finish that sentence if I were you," Draco jibes, his eyes alight with rage. "You had that detention with Umbridge today, didn't you? Seems like it wasn't enough. Another detention should do some good."

Margaret tensed up at this, struggling to submerge the powers that were tingling up her neck. She was not going back to those detentions, not if she had a choice. "Right, nevermind. You've ruined my mood, let's go back."

Draco raised his brows, mildly surprised. He was expecting a foolish retort, not this. A smirk appeared on his face as he came to realise something, "Scared of Umbridge, I see."

She knew she was hanging on a thin thread when her vision started tinting red like it had just that afternoon. Margaret took short breaths, feeling breathless all of a sudden, and kept her eyes on the still waters outside.

"I am not scared..." she presses, emphasising each word.

"Then a week's detention should be no problem," Draco continues, almost thoughtfully nodding to himself. "Umbridge wouldn't mind, I'm sure. She is the only competent teacher-"

But Margaret's mind had faded elsewhere, making her feel as though she was underwater; Draco's voice muffled and far away.

"...because deep down, you know disobedient children such as yourself need to be taught a tough lesson," Margaret recalled Umbridge's words.

"Pathetic. Children such as yourself deserve to be punished," her Uncle's voice echoed in her head, his round, chubby face dotted with old acne scars and twisted with a scowl.

"Our poor boy," her thin and frail Aunt had cried, her pale face streaked with tears. "Why did he... why not- why not her!"

"He deserved it, y' know?" one of her cousin sisters had shrieked. "All proud and privileged. He deserved what he got. You deserve what you got!"

Draco's voice broke through her trance, his present mocking cutting through the razor-like words of her family from the past.

"Aw, is little Margie frightened...?"

"I said I AM NOT scared!"

Margaret's eyes flashed a dangerous scarlet as she pronounced each syllable forcefully.

Draco stumbled back in shock of her glowing eyes and sudden anger.

In an instant, he had his shaking wand pointed straight at her, gasping in obvious fear. Draco stared with wide eyes as Margaret raised her hand and three glowing dark-red wisps coiled themselves over his outstretched arm, tickling the skin beneath the sleeve, making their presence tangibly known.

"P-please, I- I'll leave- I will leave you alone, j- just, please," Draco begs, looking paler than usual. "Margaret? I- I'm sorry... I'm sorry- please..."

Margaret heard him when he said her name, blinking her suddenly heavy eyelids, her jaw slacked. She withdrew her powers and her hand fell to her side limply. She watched as Draco tripped back a few steps and her eyes widened.

"Draco," she mumbles, her voice catching in her throat. "I'm sorry... really, I didn't-"

"Who are you?!" he says, voice laced with panic.

Margaret paused for a second, wondering if he wanted to continue his question, or worse, run away and wake up the whole school. When he only continued to point his wand at her and stood his ground, Margaret wondered where his sudden boldness had come from.

"Listen," she begins, raising her hands in surrender but he shakes his head.

"Keep your hands down, I- I saw what you just did."

Margaret brought her hands behind her back and held them there, nodding. "Okay. Alright. Uh... listen, please; I'm sorry, I didn't mean to shout or... to hurt you. In any way. I promise..."

She paused and watched as Draco took a long moment to think over her words, his chest rising and falling quickly with laboured breaths. He shifted away from her more when she so much as blinked.

"Your eyes..." he mutters, causing Margaret to blink them rapidly, wondering if they were still glowing without her knowledge. "They... that day, after that Grubbly-Plank's lecture..."

Margaret only feigned confusion.

Draco continues, "I knew they were glowing... They didn't believe me."

"What?" Margaret asks, starting to actually get confused.

"Nevermind that," he snaps but then his eyes widen. He continues in a softer tone as if worried he'd piss her off again, "Er... This morning... It was you who- who exploded that inkpot."

"I'm not going to attack you," she tells him earnestly, ignoring his words, but Draco looks reasonably sceptical and anxious. "No, really. I didn't mean for that to happen; any of it. My... magic, is, let's say, it's kind of spontaneous. Um, I just came here to clear my mind. And then you reminded me of some sour memories..."

She knew she couldn't ask him to not tell anyone about what had just happened; he would never agree. Margaret was starting to feel immensely guilty; she hadn't lost control so openly ever before. What was worse was that now he knew.

Margaret knew Draco Malfoy. She knew he'd never let her live this down. She remembered what had almost happened with poor Buckbeak when he had attacked Draco. Would his father have the Minister send Margaret to Azkaban for this?

She almost shuddered at the thought.

No. Dumbledore wouldn't let that happen... would he? Technically she was underage.

The damage was already done. She could erase his memories of the event, but she wasn't that skilled and she didn't want to hurt him even more.

However, before she could think of a proper sentence, Draco unexpectedly brought down his wand even though his shaking hand was still gripping it tightly.

Margaret frowned at him in confusion but he avoided her eyes.

"I'll leave you alone," he says, shooting her a glance but quickly looking away. He didn't move from his spot, as if not being able to decide if he was making the right choice.

Margaret tilts her head, "You're... what?"

Draco swallowed thickly. "I'll... let you be. Leave you alone."

"Why?"

"Do you always ask so many questions-"

"No. Yes. Doesn't matter. Why are you..." She pauses, perplexed because of Draco Malfoy's sudden found kindness. "I mean, why are you... being nice? Why aren't you... I dunno, making a big deal and- and, waking up the whole country and flooing off to your father?"

Draco looked offended at the last comment. "Would you like me to complain about your glowy eyes and wandless magic?"

"No," she replies instantly. "I'm just wondering why-"

"Then shut up," he interjects.

Margaret opened her mouth to say something but closed it quickly; realising that once again, Draco Malfoy had rendered her speechless, and it wasn't because he had told her to shut up.

Why was he being nice?

She could hear his thoughts if she wanted to, but she wasn't sure if she was stable enough to do that right now. Her head was starting to feel like something was pounding on the inside of it.

She also had a sneaking suspicion that Draco only wanted to get out of here as safely as possible. He was a Slytherin after all, he knew very well how to manipulate.

But Margaret was too tired to think about that.

"Okay, um," she says and Draco turns to her alertly. Without sparing him a glance, she removes her bag and takes a seat on the short wooden plank near the corner of the balcony, closing her eyes and resting her head behind her, "Good night."

Draco shifted on the spot awkwardly, his heart still hammering in his chest. He briefly wondered if Margaret was planning to stay here the whole night in the cold. When she pulled her school robe tighter around herself, he realised that she wasn't planning on leaving; at least, not in front of him.

So, gripping his wand tightly, having a jinx ready on the tip of his tongue, Draco back away slowly. When Margaret was out of sight in the corner of the balcony, he turned around and walked briskly towards the portrait, looking over his shoulder every other step as a precaution.

Margaret heard the footsteps fade away and then an obvious sound of a door closing that echoed faintly in the boathouse. Only then did she opened her eyes, unwillingly staring at the spot where Draco had stood just moments ago.

Exhausted from the day, she looked down at her blood-stained, impromptu scarf of a bandage and sighed. It took a lot to break her, and she did not consider losing control of her abilities as a part of breaking. They had always felt like an entity of their own that lived within her and caused a nuisance. She would want nothing more for them to go away, all they had always done was bother her.

Feeling the self-loathing rising in her chest, Margaret scowled and rubbed her eyes, feeling them dropping. Shifting into a comfortable position - which was sort of impossible - and not knowing what else to do, she fell into a dreamless slumber without realising it.

, Margaret woke up to the sweet chirping of birds and small pitter-patters of occasional raindrops. The cloudy was sky turning blue-grey, the weather starting to turn gloomy again as the sun started to rise in the early hours of September Tuesday.

Margaret stretched her back and groaned, cracking her neck and her elbows next. That was a highly uncomfortable sleep and it had not eased her headache whatsoever. She got up and adjusted her crinkled uniform then grabbed her bag and made her way towards the portrait door.

The trip through the secret passage seemed shorter this time and the gapless wall at the start had turned back to a door. By the time Margaret had reached back up to the castle, the first sunrays of the day had started to peak over the thick grey clouds. With nothing else to do, she decided to go see Dumbledore and inform him of the happenings of the previous night - not the detention, no, but what had happened in the boathouse with Draco Malfoy.

Just in case it was her last day at Hogwarts...

She sighed to herself, feeling exhausted and anxious due to her own actions landing her in such a situation. She was in a desperate need for some guidance and Dumbledore was the only reasonable person she could think of going to.

Margaret made a pit-stop in the girls' lavatories and splashed cold water on her face with her free hand to get rid of the remnants of sleep. She glanced up at the mirror and exhaled slowly.

With her hair tied back into the - now messy - fishtail, Margaret could see her brother in her features. The same dark hair, the same eyebrows, the same nose, the same lips... Granted, her features had delicate feminine curves, but she could see it. She could tilt her head and smile in a certain crooked way that would be just like his. She didn't do that though.

"I really hate mirrors," she mumbles to herself, scowling; an expression she had rarely seen on her brother. He had always been the one to laugh more...

She shook her head and freed her hair from the braid that Ginny had made over two days ago, and ran her uninjured hand through the new waves. She then untied the scarf, cringing when some woolly threads got stuck on the scratched skin. She held her hand under the running cold water, rubbing gently to remove the dried blood.

Ten minutes later, she had cleaned her hand and used the Scouring charm to clean her scarf. She left the bathroom, deciding that this was the most presentable she had the energy to look today. Even though her poise was held uptight, a blank look on her face that suggested nothing of her inner turmoil, Margaret felt as though she was having one of those bad weeks.

Margaret reached the Headmaster's office corridor and approached the infamous gargoyle statue.

"Dumbledore," she says, slightly suspicious about if it would actually work.

To her surprise, the gargoyle started spinning around, escalating upwards. Beneath it appeared a slowly ascending circular staircase that produced a rough, but not very loud sound of stone-against-stone. Margaret leapt upon the third stair watching with curious eyes at something that reminded her much of the Muggle world - a stone escalator. When it came to a stop with a final echo, the head of the statue was nearly touching the tip of the round roof.

Margaret looked around, seeing the oaken double-doors upfront. She walked up to them and raised her hand to knock but was suddenly interrupted by a muffled voice from the other side of the door.

"Come in."

Taking a deep breath, Margaret stepped inside.

It was a beautiful and spacious circular room. The door opened to reveal a spacious area that was interspersed with spindle-legged tables, upon which were delicate silver instruments that made funny little tinkering noises and occasionally whiffed out smoke.

The open area spread out sideways to the fireplace; above which on the walls hung portraits of previous Headmasters and Headmistresses, snoozing gently in their frames. There were stone steps that led upwards and past the three stone-arches to a higher level where there was an enormous, claw-footed desk.

On either side of the desk were wooden stairs - with railing on one side and an array of shelves filled to the brim with books on the other - that led up to an inside balcony near which, right above the desk, hung a simple chandelier.

Although Margaret had heard him, Dumbledore wasn't anywhere to be seen. That was until she turned to her right, and found the tall old wizard standing near the full-length window secured with a metal railing, overlooking the highlands of Scotland from a breathtaking view that was highest in the castle.

Dumbledore had his long hands clasped behind his back and he turned slightly to look at the girl then gestured her to join him.

"I was expecting to see you, Miss Xenakis," says the wise Headmaster.

"I'm sorry, Professor," she says, walking up the two stone steps to the window, "I should've come to see you as soon as I could..."

"Not to fret. How have you found the school in your first week?"

Margaret had a sneaking suspicion that Dumbledore had kept tabs on her. She could hear the underlying tone of hidden curiosity as if he wanted to hear her side of the story.

"It was all right, I suppose," she replies. "It was good because I thoroughly enjoy almost all classes. Charms most of all. Defence, the least."

"Ah, yes. Dolores Umbridge can be a handful," Dumbledore comments, looking out at the foggy view of the mountains opposite them. "I hear you had your first detention at Hogwarts last night."

"With Umbridge, yes," Margaret admits. "She's just so... awful. I couldn't let Harry get into trouble with her again... and I also kind of lost grip on my, er, abilities in her class."

Dumbledore said nothing and Margaret took that as a cue to keep explaining further.

"I ended up insulting her and the Ministry," she says, almost cringing at her stupidity, keeping her eyes on the distant train tracks on the west of the Forbidden Forest.

Dumbledore inclined his head to the side, "And what did you say, exactly?"

"I, uh, I said that she was Cornelius's eyes and ears as she had mentioned," Margaret recalls, "and told her that the Ministry, er, was too blind and... um, too deaf these days."