"Don't walk behind me; I may not lead. Don't walk in front of me; I may not follow. Just walk beside me and be my friend."-Albert Camus

Lila POV

As they 'strutted' back to the Slytherin table, a cloud of dark green robes descended upon Harry, Ron, Hermione and myself.

"Miss Riddle, I see you have settled in quite nicely." Came the brisk monologue I had come to associate with the transfiguration professor.

"That I have." I replied, admittedly a little curtly.

"Here is your timetable, you are expected to be in herbology in half an hour. Do not be late." And with that, she marched off in a manner not unlike that of a gentry. Confused and slightly overwhelmed, I excused myself from the table and headed off in the general direction of my dorm room. As I passed the long tables filled with students heads turned to face me and whispers increased. All of them melding together, but all about me. I speed-walked through the entrance door (well, it was more of an arch really) and into the main halls. Running through corridor after corridor, the walls a blur of brown with the occasional coloured blip. I headed outside and carried in jogging until I reached what appeared to be some form of bridge and sat down, staring at the wooden slats that comprised the rickety, old structure.

Thoughts flashed through my mind, barely staying there quick enough for me to see what they were. *Curled up in a ball, I cried. For what seemed like hours, just wanted to get the feelings out...A brown eye staring over a pale shoulder, filled with regret, and the silver one in front of it almost unreadable. But pain formed around its edges, showing just how guilty his conscience was...A young girl, no more than five. My fingers squeezed around her throat, choking the life out of her. Her big blue eyes pleading with me as she spluttered and gasped for breath. Her life almost over...Looking in the mirror to see myself, but I was someone else. My eyes clouded, I was just a tool. A tool designed for terror...*

"Hey...Lila? Isn't it?" A voice trickled through my consciousness. I opened my eyes to find myself face to face with Harry Potter. "I don't think we've been introduced. I'm Harry. Harry Potter." As he said that, I laughed. A cold, humourless laugh, that held none of the warmth contained in the ones you could faintly hear echoing from the great hall. This was me in panic mode. He had been so kind. Yet how could the hope of a nation be placed in his scrawny little arms? And anyway, I could not get close to him, he could not get close to me. He looked at me puzzlingly, cheeks filling with colour and glasses slipping down his nose, making him look even younger and more innocent. "You're Harry Potter?! From what I've heard, I imagined you'd be...bigger." A cruel look smeared across my face. I had heard...rumours from every nook and cranny I knew about this supposed 'boy who lived', someone with the power to defeat the Dark Lord and not be reduced to rubble. In all honesty the entire prospect of him filled me with hope and fear. But this? This was the person who was supposed to save us all? He was a mere boy. McGonagall had told me that this was he, but I was desperate for the possibility that we may have had misunderstanding. That I wasn't to place my fate in the hands of this...child. "Excuse me?" He asked, his question wavering as if he were unsure of the situation, which I was fairly positive was the truth of the matter. "God, are you truly that slow? He will crush you. And where will that leave the rest of us?" Turning on my heels, I stormed off. Thoughts flitting through my mind. If this was 'the chosen one' then, to put it bluntly, we were all in deep shit. I lost myself in my thoughts, and in the back of my consciousness I heard a shrill bell ring. First day of class, and I was already late. I ran to where I had been instructed the greenhouses were located. I darted through the door just before the second bell went and looked around for an open seat. I ended up next to a solidly built boy, with large dark eyes, sandy brown hair and skin the colour of milk.

"Hi, m..my name's Neville, n..nice to meet you." He stammered, extending his hand in greeting. I stared at him ponderingly. Wondering whether he didn't know, or simply didn't care.

"Lila." I said, accepting and returning his handshake. With this he blushed a bright, beet root red and mumbled something under his breath. "Excuse me?" As I said this he went redder still and voiced more clearly. "I know..." This statement intrigued me even more. Perhaps he wouldn't immediately judge me, seemingly unlike the rest of the population of Hogwarts. "So Neville, any insights on the genetic formula of a new born mandrake root?" Taking my question from the writing on the board at the front of the class. That got a smile. A large grin stretching from ear to ear, as I had apparently said the right thing...

Harry POV

That encounter was...unexpected. From the experiences I had already shared with her, few as they were, I was expecting someone meek. Someone scared to voice their thoughts and who would cower away from others. Her downright rudeness had been astounding, but at the time I assumed that it was a simple case of: the apple never fell far from the tree. And with a father like Voldemort, it would take an awful lot of distance for her to hold even the smallest modicum of decency. I stomped off to Divination, my mood notably dampened. I don't remember what happened on the way there, my recollection does not extend as far as walking to class, but I do remember reaching the ladder that led to the almost cosy classroom in which most of the people taking divination in my year were sat. The strong smell of sickly sweet floral perfume mingled with BO, deodorant and the smoke coming from the heavily scented fire in the other corner enveloped the room. On top of all this, it was blisteringly hot. In short, it felt like being stuck under Hagrid's armpit, after he'd just set a bonfire, in the middle of the Sahara desert, right next to a florists. "Hey mate, where'd you go? Trelawny's not shown up yet. We've been seeing who's the best at teacher-charades*****." Yelled Ron.

"Just forget it, who's winning?"

"Dean, you have just got to see his impression of Snape, it's priceless! Oy, Dean! Do Snape for Harry!" Ron realised his unfortunate wording a tad too late, causing most of the room to burst out in snickers.

"Not sure he's my type mate, but I'm sure if Harry's just up for watching Snape, you could always bugger for him." Ron blushed, his cheeks going crimson with embarrassment. I flushed a little too, but Ron's colour was darker than his hair, a fairly impressive feat. I never did get to see Dean's impression, as the trapdoor then opened and Professor Trelawny entered. The rest of the class passed in a blur. Apparently I was going to die (yet again), Seamus would have an interesting encounter with a squirrel and Ron was going to find true love with the man he least expected. As this comment was made, Ron reacted in an...interesting way. Proclaiming his utter 'straightness' and the fact that he was already in love Hermione. The Professor replied with a simple, disbelieving 'yes dear.' Then the bell rang, and that was that...

Lila POV

I couldn't believe my luck! Another decent human being in this place. So far, that made the count four. A number slightly depressing in its lowness. Neville was unlike anyone I'd ever encountered. He hid his fear deep down until in his eyes it no longer existed, fussing over silly things to give himself something to think about. But I was, I am, fairly...adept at reading people. It's an important skill that has served me well many times. And I could see it. The anger and fear. However it was different. He was afraid of his anger, not angry with his fear like most. Later I would find out why, but in that moment it was simply an anomaly, not a particularly intriguing one, but an anomaly none the less. So, I let it be. In spite of all of this, he was funny. Extremely so. And we got along well. He happened to be in most of my classes, so we went to Charms together as well, and we sat together at lunch. We were some of the first in the Hall, sitting down just as the food appeared on the plates in front of us. I was still in awe at the sheer amount of it. How much was wasted? Did it go to those who needed it? Or did it just rot away? "Hello? Anyone home." Neville asked, clicking his fingers in front of my face.

"Sorry, I just spaced out for a moment."

"S'okay." Then he turned round and yelled down the other end of the hall. "Hey, Harry! Come sit over here." I'm pretty sure I turned beet red. Shit. Awkward would probably not even begin to describe this. I grabbed my bag from the floor and buried my face in it, pretending to look for something. 'Coward', a voice in the back of my head whispered at me.

"Hey Neville." Came a familiar voice. I sighed in relief. Hermione. I looked up, finding myself face to face with her. "Hey Lila." I smiled at her, relaying my happiness to see her, as it wasn't really my strong suit. 'Breathe' said one part of my head, 'coward' muttered another. I heard the heavy thump of someone practically throwing themselves onto a chair, and the lighter, muffled scrape of someone sitting down. Tweedle-dum, and Tweedle-sorryIsnappedatyou,I'msureyou'renicereallyI'mjustnotgoodwithpeople. I could feel my cheeks flush. 'Weakness', murmured the voice, 'don't show them all'. My mind flashed back to the last time I openly showed weakness to a man.

*I curled up in a corner, crying. I couldn't do this. So many people, reduced to corpses. I was in so much pain, both physically and mentally. They say it gets easier after the first one. There were at least ten men, women and children in there. Most dead, some almost mad with pain and grief. I had killed, then made others kill. Watched as I forced child to kill mother and wife to kill husband. As I put curse after to curse onto their fragile muggle bodies. And why? Because I had to. Because I had layer after layer of that damn imperius curse piled onto me. They wanted me to be...like them. To want to kill and maim. But I just couldn't do it. I hadn't been fed in a while, I was so *weak*. I was cold, weak and injured. So once I was free of the spells, I curled up and cried. And then in came the one they called Dolohov. I knew him as Pain. Each of the men there, they all liked something different. Some wanted to be in control, others wanted to be controlled. There were the ones who liked to role play, and those who wanted the harsh reality. What Dolohov loved, more than anything else, was making me scream. Scream and beg, in agony. That was the last time I showed a man weakness, and I wasn't about to make it a habit again*

I schooled my features into a relatively clear mask. Happy enough with the situation, feeling no particularly strong emotions at all, and I looked up. Back up at the Boy Who I Had No Clue What To Make Of...

Draco POV

I watched her all day, just out of the corner of my eye. Making sure she was okay. What happened in the morning was...well I suppose it was a way of marking my territory. The other Slytherin's knew that she was mine. They wouldn't touch her. A good thing too, because Nott cannot keep it in his pants, and I hear that he has a buried penchant for fire. I told her I was sorry, but never to her face. Simply in whispers that echoed through the hallways like that of a ghost. I did what I could though, I tried to help. I was the one who...suggested that a higher education might be helpful to the cause. But I was so scared. In my mind, it was simple. Let her live her life, and make sure you and your family have one. But it never seemed to work out that way. I always felt guilty. Maybe because I was. I had touched her, and hurt her and done things to her that nobody should ever do to anyone, but I got nothing out of it. Ever. I would never let myself stoop that low. And somehow, I lived with the guilt. And then, she went and became best friends with the woman I love...

A/N I'm so sorry about such a late update. I'm setting myself a time limit of at least one chapter a month, how does that sound? So, I hadn't written anything in ages, when I decided to look at my fanfiction profile. And I scrolled down to my stories, and look at them. And then I was just fangirling and screaming going "WHEN DID WE GET TO 40 FOLLOWS? OH MY GOD, THAT AWESOME, I FREAKING LOVE YOU GUYS!" So, then I read your reviews. Seriously, I love all 40 of you! You may not be the biggest group of people, but you are sure as hell the best! And then I wrote this, you inspired me with your UNBELIEVABLY lovely comments. Really guys, freshly made chocolate chip cookies for all of you, along with huge hugs!

So, 40 follows, can we get to 40 reviews? Pretty please...

****teacher-charades is a game I used to play where people do impressions of teachers and everyone else has to guess who the teacher is.

P.S, just take a minute to appreciate the amazingness of the name Camus. Come on guys, it's deserves a bloody medal.

P.P.S We have almost three and a half thousand views! Party people!