"Miss Johnson?" Minerva called. I looked up from my doodle. The class was silent. I blinked. "Yes, Professor McGonagall?" I heard a few snickers from the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs around me. The room was dank and musty. It smelled cold. It felt cold. I shivered, but I don't know if it was from the cold or from McGonagall's stare, which seemed to burn through me.

As the professor frowned, the class snickered more. I swallowed the spit that had gathered in my mouth. I closed my notebook quietly. It was a muggle spiral notebook, bought at a Walmart. I had drawn hand with a pencil in it, writing my name in a shaded cursive. Sydney, it read. 

I felt a piece of paper being shoved into my hand by a warmer, firmer one. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Thomas looking at me. He was a Hufflepuff like me. I smiled slightly, and tried to open my hand. 

"Thomas," I said through gritted teeth. "Let. Go."

"I'm trying," he whispered back, and I could indeed see that he was pulling very hard. His muscles were buldging with strain. "Damn," he whispered as Minerva began to walk towards us. She held up her wand and muttered some spell that I didn't recognize. Our hands came apart, and the piece of paper cell to the floor. "No passing notes," she said in a stern voice. "I am very disappointed in you, Mister Dungblot. Detention for you." I quietly mimicked her. She spun around. "You as well, Miss Johnson." I rolled my eyes as she walked away. "Class dismissed," she said, and we all ran out. 

"I hate Transfiguration," I confined to Thomas. "It's the same as any of these stupid classes. Learning things that supposedly make life survivable, I am pretty sure that muggles survive just fine." I expressed my opinions on the magical world almost daily. I thought it was stupid that we needed magic to keep us alive. After six years of learning, I still didn't get it. Any other wizard would say, 'I love magic! I would be dead without it! Blahblahblah...' Me? I think it's all a load of bullshit.

"Muttering maggots!" I shouted at the painting. It opened up, and I was nearly deafened by the chatter in the black and yellow common room. Luther and Alice were snogging in the corner, his fingers running through her blond hair and up her shirt. The portrait of Harry, Ron, and Hermione (Every common room had one. So what? They fought in the war. So did thousands of other witches and wizards.) showed the Golden Trio laughing. They were in the Forbidden Forest. One student was playing wizard chess with Hermione. A group of boys, Peter, Marco, Fisher, and Lucas, were challenging Damian to aa chug contest. Damian held the spout of a bottle to his mouth, and it held butterbeer to an endless extent. I rolled my eyes and marched up the stairs to the dorm where Thomas slept. He entered behind me.

"I'm sorry I got us detention," he said. "I was trying to pass you the note with the answer to the question Professor McGonagall had asked. I didn't know I would get caught." He paused, and smirked playfully. "Although, you getting detention was all your fault." 

I playfully shoved him. He pretended to stagger and fall into the bed in which he slept in night after night. I sat down there. It smelled like him. I took the my drawing notebook out of my purse, which had an undetectable extension charm on it. I opened up to the page where I had been drawing. Thomas looked over my shoulder. I pulled out a pencil, and then saw Thomas's prying eyes. "Dammit! You weren't supposed to see that!" I teased.

"Why not? It's beautiful!" He held up the picture. It depicted a boy sitting in chains. The details were hauntingly realizing. It resembled Thomas in every way possible. Except for the eyes. There were planets for eyes. And there were stars in his hair. And the chains were made of the asteroid belt...

Coming out of my daze, I snatched the notebook from Thomas. "Hey! Confidential alert. You'll get him girls if you are snooping through all of their things."

He stuck his tongue out at me like a four year old who had become pissed for the first time. 

Except for the eyes. There were stars in his eyes, the way it was when he was feeling happy. The little bright specs of blue showed up in the ocean of his irises. I smiled. I reopened the sketchbook to a clean page. I took out my quil and dipped it in my special purple ink. I began to draw. First I drew a boy. Then I drew a girl. I drew a ring around them. I used their features to turn the boy and girl into some sort of circle, like Yin and Yang. Then I tore the page out of my notebook and gave it to Thomas. While he stared at it, I made my exit and went to my dorm. It was late. I quickly undressed down to my bra and panties and put myself under the covers. Tomorrow was Saturday. First thing in thee morning, Thomas and I would report for detention, do whatever for an hour, and then I would watch him practice Quidditch. I fell asleep and dreamed about the day too come, drawing it in my mind.