My mother yelled, bolting down the platform like a can of Campbell's Soup.

At least I think it was Campbell soup. I didn't remember the rolling can commercial very well, but I saw it on one of those muggle TVs a few weeks earlier. Maybe it was Chef Boyardee.

Now listen here, I am a generally responsible person, but I'm far too excited to be reunited with my friends to remember silly things like...my wand.

Actually, on second thought, i'm incredibly irresponsible.

"I swear I put it in my pocket," I mumbled, taking it out of my mother's hands gingerly, "it must have fallen out in the taxi."

My mother didn't bother to hear my excuses.

"Yes, well, be more responsible, Darling," she pressed, poking at my cheeks in suspicion, "you have dirt on your face."

"It's not that big of a deal," I urged, bending down to gather up some muggle contraband that had unfortunately fallen out of my cart (simple things, like a Teen Vogue catalog I found at a newspaper stand, which had some boy named Timothée Chalamet on the cover). Hermione would like to judge it thoroughly.

"You need to make a good first impression!" My mother scolded, eyeing the magazine suspiciously, "dirt on the face makes it seem like you roll around in the mud."

I actually....have done that.

"Mom, this is my fourth year," I sighed, pushing her hand away, "I already made an impression in the first."

"At least look presentable, then."

"I would, but I'm already late!"

Planting a kiss on her cheek, I grabbed my cart and began to run towards the brick wall in front of me. It was two minutes till Eleven, and I wasn't going to miss that train for the life of me. My three friends were already there!

My robes blazing behind me, I winced as I hit the wall, the tingling feeling of transparency rushing through my skin. Thankfully, I passed right through. I didn't want the same thing that happened to Harry in his second year to happen to me. At least I didn't have a house-elf stopping me from making the train. As I flung my suitcase off of the cart, I jumped onto the train and started to speed down the hallway.

Call me a Nimbus 2000, because I'm racing past these wizards, but not really fast.

To add onto that, I'm also not very reliable. In my haste to make it to my compartment, my foot got caught on a sliding door and I went flying onto my face. Slow motion falling, a small squeal escaping my lips, and the sound of my body thudding against the carpeted floor as I collided into the ground.

Letting out a groan, I propped myself onto my elbows and tried to stand back up. This was more embarrassing then when when I knocked Snape's cauldron out the window.

"Oh, well isn't she a clumsy Gryffindor," I heard someone say deviously, "she's landed on her face!"

Ew, I thought to myself, dusting off my robes in annoyance, sounds like a crab.

As I stood back onto my feet, I realized I was right. Crabbe and Goyle were staring at me with huge smirks on their faces, probably thinking of other ways to make fun off my fall.

Idiots.

"Shut up," I hissed, picking my wand up from the floor, "don't you two have anything better to do?"

Goyle rolled his eyes, "what do you think we're doing?"

"Taking up the hallway with your inflated egos?"

"No," Crabbe scoffed, his pudgy face blushing in frustration, "we're waiting for Malfoy."

Of course they were.

"Wait for him somewhere else, then," I huffed, searching around for my suitcase, "He's probably too busy following around his father to bother meeting you here."

Before either of the two idiots could say something back to me, I heard a sickly familiar voice echo out from behind me, which sounded exactly like a rich, pompous, idiot. Narrowing my eyes, I slid my wand into the pockets of my robes with a frown.

"Picking on Gryffindors already, boys?" The voice said, the sound of their footsteps echoing down the empty hall, "which first-year is trying to pick a fight?"

Spinning around, I came face to face with a blond-haired boy, who's sly smirk was already lined upon his lips.

Draco.

"I'm not a first year," I snapped, "and I doubt your little friends would want to mess with mine, so back off."

When Draco saw my face, his smirk immediately faded away, and he took a step back. I wasn't sure what intimidated him, but he seemed a little nervous now. Maybe it was because I threatened to bring Harry, Ron, and Hermione in if they continued their childish games.

Did he forget he got socked in the face last year?

"Don't tell Draco to back off, you slug," Goyle yelled, waving his hands in my face, "watch your mouth—"

"[y/n], right?" the blond said, cutting his friend off.

His eyes were fixed on mine, as if he was in utter disbelief of something. I didn't even know he knew my name. I rarely mingled with the other houses, much less got to know them, so I didn't understand why Draco knew who I was. Even when he was bothering my friends, I kept to the shadows and watched.

Bending down, he picked up my fallen suitcase gently, pushing it towards me with a total change in mannerisms.

Why was he acting so nice?

"You dropped this," he said, clearing his throat, "your suitcase, I mean."

Crabbe and Goyle looked just as confused as I was.

Draco Malfoy was a jerk, who would rather swallow his tongue than to give a compliment, thought he was the king of his house, and became obsessed with a classmate just because they didn't want to be his friend (I'm talking about Harry, obviously). He was the farthest thing from a Hufflepuff, so his whole 'kindness' thing was obviously a charade.

What was his sick trick? Picking up my suitcase and pretending to care who I was? He knew I was close with Harry, and he probably wanted to get to Potter through me, but I was surprised he'd stoop so low as to try and trick me into talking to him.

I knew better.

"Read the robe, Slytherin," I frowned, pointing at the lion crest on my clothes.

Our houses didn't get along and neither should we. Snatching up the handle of my suitcase, I brushed past him, ignoring the estranged look on his face. I didn't care anyways, because finding my friends was more important than a bunch of blithering fools.

Speaking of my friends, I heard their familiar voices echoing out from the furthest compartment down the hall, and I immediately rushed my way down there in excitement.

I pulled open the sliding door with a smile on my face.

"Fourth-year!" I grinned, pumping my fist in the air, "I've made it!"

Normally, Hermione would join in, Ron would start imitating a trumpet, and Harry would start to belt like an botched opera singer...but instead I was met with silence.

Complete, and utter silence.

Had something changed? The three of my friends were already in their seats, candy piled around their laps, but they were staring at me in shock. It was the dirt on my face, wasn't it?

"Someone grew up during the summer," Hermione noted, pushing her wavy hair out of her face, "I almost didn't recognize you."

I wrinkled my nose, stepping inside in haste, "what are you talking about?"

"You grew up," the girl said, pointing at my face, "you, quite literally, grew up."

"I'm confused."

"What Mione' means to say," Ron blurted out, his red hair already disheveled, "is that you look hot."

That earned him a smack on the knee from Hermione, who was now glaring daggers at his previous comment. I just stood there awkwardly, not sure what was going on (which was usually always, but more-so in this case).

"I'm not complaining," Harry teased, grabbing my hand and pulling me down next to him, "you look different this year."

"Am I in the right compartment?" I laughed, "you guys are honestly freaking me out."

"Well, have you seen yourself?" Ron gasped, "you look totally different since we saw you in third-year."

"I guess I do look slightly more mature..." I mumbled, bring my hands to my chin, "but I thought that was just because I spent all summer screwing up potions in my summer class."

Before anyone else could cut in after me, the sounds of muttering voices floated past our compartment, and we all turned our heads.

Crabbe, Goyle, and their bumbling leader Draco, all walked past the window in single file, earning a scoff from Harry. All three Slytherins glanced our way as they passed, narrowing their eyes.

This time Draco barely batted an eyelash at me, which was different from that weird stare he was giving me in the hallway earlier. Maybe it was because I did look slightly different.

Whatever, I thought to myself, swiping a chocolate frog off of Harry's lap.

I had better things to worry about than a blond Daddy's-boy.

_