"I can't believe we are at the very back," Bronwyn rolls her eyes. She steps on the tips of her shoes, trying to peer up. "I can't see anything."

"There's nothing to see anyway," Silas whispers in her ear. His hand is wrapped around hers, trying to keep her under control.

It's been a few weeks since the class on Amortentia, but it's still on my mind. I haven't really been able to think about anything since. So much so that I have put a pause on brewing Veritaserum for the time being while I've delved into my own research. Smells can change, but rarely, and not without prompting.

There is something different inside of me. I can't feel it, but it's lurking under the surface. Just waiting.

The stands are quiet. Most likely because nothing has happened since they shoved the champions in the lake. We were running late, because I had my nose buried in a book and because Bronwyn and Silas were off snogging, and Elora was nowhere to be found.

So, unfortunately, we are stuck at the back.

I can see Ander Ander standing with some of the other Durmstrang students. He looks at me (or maybe at Silas, it's hard to tell since he is so high up and far away). Hopefully, he doesn't want to talk to me.

I guess at this point, my silence speaks for itself, doesn't it? I'm not going to say anything, and I'm going to pray that Bronwyn never finds out that I knew.

"Want to place a bet?" a voice behind me asks.

I turn around to see Fred and George, holding on to boxes filled with sickles and galleons. Fred tosses his hair over his shoulder effortlessly.

My chest tightens. I look back and forth between my group of friends and the others. How am I supposed to acknowledge this?

"We're good, thanks," Bronwyn says.

Fred blinks. I watch as a smirk takes over his face. "You're good, sure."

"But we were talking to her," George nods at me.

My cheeks burn bright red. I feel my tongue struggling to form a sentence in my mouth.

Fred walks up next to me, and George takes the other side. They both loop their arms in mine. Bronwyn's face goes pale, and her eyes narrow in.

"Unhand her," she says. "Now."

"Why?" Fred asks, cocking a head to the side. "Sorry, are we not to your taste?"

"Our last name not impressive enough?" George adds, though his grip on me loosens. I watch as his head turns to Fred, offering the smallest of head shakes.

"I beg your pardon?" Bronwyn says. She takes a step forward and pulls out her wand.

Silas grabs hold of her and puts a hand on her wand, slowly lowering it. He shakes his head and bites his lip.

Really, it's better that I haven't told Bronwyn. Only Silas seems to have any control over her. Her lips part and she breathes out a gasp. Her hair, long and bleach blonde, slowly falls in her face.

"Relax," Silas instructs.

In the seconds that follow, Fred looks at me. "About that bet."

"I..." I look at Elora, who smirks and isn't looking at me. She twirls a strand of her brown hair between her fingers and then stares at her nails.

"Nobody's betting for Harry, so you're bound to get a good return on him," Fred says.

George winces, "those are trade secrets, Fred."

"Can't you see she's uncomfortable?" Silas asks, looking them up and down.

"I think it might be you that's making her uncomfortable," Fred counters, his grip on the box tightening in one hand until his knuckles begin to turn white.

"If she wants to make a bet, let her make a bet," George swallows. He looks from Fred to me, and raises an eyebrow at me.

"I'll just be gone for a minute," I say, shrugging out of their grips but addressing Bronwyn. "It shouldn't be a problem."

Bronwyn's eyes flash. She bites her bright red lip and scrunches her nose. I watch as her chest inflates and deflates. Silas puts a hand on her shoulder.

"See you soon," every syllable that passes through her lips is enunciated immaculately. I know I'm in trouble, and I really care, but I don't know how else to get myself out of this situation.

Finally, I turn to walk away from them. Once we are a good distance, standing in a field, I turn to the boys.

"Sorry about them," I manage.

"You're rich friends have had enough of us then?" Fred asks, an eyebrow cocked and a smile on his lips. He bites the inside of his cheek. His knuckles are still wrapped tightly around the box, turning white.

"It's not like that," I say, because I don't think it's the fact that the Weasley's don't have money that prevents their association with us, although it certainly doesn't help. "They just are, fraternal. Protective."

George raises an eyebrow. "And what exactly are they protecting you from?"

"Poverty by contagion, obviously," Fred rolls his eyes. He shakes his head back and forth. George puts a hand on his shoulder.

"It's not like that." I insist. It's a treachery that I would rather not admit. Rather than discuss it, I shrug. "They think you guys are going to get me in more trouble. After all, you got me in detention, remember?"

Of course, the others don't know about my little rendezvous with the Weasleys and a boggart. Instead, they think I'm just studying with Professor Snape. If they knew the truth, I don't know what I would do. Possibly lose my mind, and my friends. Become lonely, like Bade Shafiq.

At least neither of them are Muggle-borns.

I look behind me, to make sure the others aren't watching. Elora is, from the back of the crowd.

"We just like to have a little bit of fun," George smiles.

Fred takes a deep breath. "Nothing wrong with that, is there?"

"It was a boggart," I tell them.

"Like we said," Fred continues.

"Just a bit of fun," George says.

Rather than answer either of them, my eyes linger on Elora. It's hard to make out her face from here. The wind is picking up, and her dark brown hair is blowing in her pale face, obscuring her tiny features. What is she thinking? Does she know?

She could never know because I don't think I've even admitted it to myself.

Her head turns as a newcomer joins the group. A collared white shirt beneath a thick coat. Pleated brown khakis. She points me out, and the man begins to head over.

Of course, because things couldn't get any better.

"Larkin," Fred waves a hand in front of my face.

"I have to go," I swallow.

Before he can protest, I head off through the field. Ander Ander meets me halfway. The yellow grass is up to our thighs, and I feel like I am surrounded. It's itchy against my fingertips, so I pull them up above the grass.

I don't glance back at the twins. I don't dare.

"I'm sorry to have been avoiding you," he points out. "Silas told me to back away."

I blink a few times. "Why?"

"He seemed to be under the impression that I might have hurt your feelings, even though I reassured him you understood the nature of our relationship," he keeps talking, the most I've ever heard him speak. His voice, rough and gravelly, is steady. There is an edge of certainty to him, sharper than his jawline.

"I guess I didn't understand entirely," I tell him.

He exhales through his nose. "Really? I thought you shared my proclivities. You understand why they aren't tolerable to my family, correct? I assume your family also wants you to continue the bloodline."

"You're very direct," I tell him, letting my guard down for a second.

He nods. "I've been told. Anyways, are you interested in continuing the nature of our relationship?"

I look back to Fred. He's gone, and so is his twin brother. Looking in front of me, I spot Elora still staring at me.

There are people all around me. Forcing themselves in. I feel exposed, as if my every move is being watched. And it is. It's not paranoia if it's correct.

"Can I think about it?" I ask, leaning forward.

Ander Ander nods. Without a good-bye, he heads back towards the Durmstrang students.

Rather than head back to the others, I stand in the field. No more alone than before, I simply try my best to inhale and exhale, as if there isn't someone sitting on my chest.

Eventually, I make my way back to the others. They are still watching the black lake, which is empty. Elora's neutral expression sours when she sees me approaching, but she says nothing.

"What did they want?" Bronwyn asks.

I shrug. "Just help with potions."

~~~~~

I love this. It breaks my heart in a thousand ways. This story is just so much teen angst, and I'm here for it. I love it, a lot. Like, a lot a lot. I have no choice but to fall in love with it. It amazes me. It astounds me. It's perfect.