Clementine Goldstein knew the truth.

Isabelle Lockley had fully opened up to her: explaining who she was and the importance of keeping her identity a secret. At least for the time being.

Isabelle was not ready for Hogwarts that know that the Witch Supreme was among them.

Clementine and Isabelle then proceeded to have a snowball fight in that small area of the Forbidden Forest where it was snowing.

It looked very odd — for there to only be snow in that small patch while the rest of the world was coated in the colors of an early autumn.

And after the snowball fight, Isabelle made the snow stop and they under a large tree while plotting exactly how they were going to keep Draco Malfoy from finding out Isabelle wrote the letter.

That started with one hard truth: the fact that they had to tell Padma Patil exactly what that letter was.

Isabelle was not particularly close with Padma Patil, but they were still friends. While she was definitely not the first person that Isabelle would choose to tell her secret about crushing on Draco Malfoy to, it was the best option they have.

Should Draco Malfoy ask the first-year who had given him the letter, the first-year would then tell him it was the Ravenclaw Padma Patil. Draco would then corner Padma and Padma would tell him that she found the letter on her roommate's nightstand.

It would then lead back to Isabelle Lockley herself, and well, that just could not happen.

If they told Padma the truth, at least then she would hopefully be a decent person and cover for her. She could tell Draco that she had found the letter left in the common room or in a corridor on a window ledge.

Anywhere but on Isabelle's nightstand.

Worst comes to worst — if Padma chose to spread the rumor of Isabelle being the one to write the letter, that was practically the exact same outcome as if they did not tell her at all. At least telling her meant that Isabelle had a chance to make it so Draco Malfoy had no clue who the hell sent that letter.

That brings them to their current situation with both Isabelle and Clementine having pulled Padma Patil into the second-floor girls' bathroom. It was a place that they knew many did not venture in fear of Moaning Myrtle.

"What do you mean that letter was a love confession to Draco Malfoy?" Padma asked as though Isabelle was crazy, and the girl cringed.

"I know! I thought it would help me get over my stupid crush, okay! I was going to burn the letter later but then you sent it to him! I need you to cover for me, please! If Draco somehow manages to trace the letter's origins back to you being the one to give it to that first-year, I need you to tell him you just found it on the ground in the corridor or something! Please!"

Padma screamed as Isabelle literally dropped to her knees and grabbed her arm. "PLEASE!"

"Bloody hell — yes, I'll tell him that if he comes asking! I won't tell him it was you!" Padma yelled as Isabelle shook her head.

Despite the good news, Isabelle's mind whirled and she heard her mother's voice in her head.

"A Witch Supreme never bows to anyone! You are the ultimate power, you are a force of nature itself — the wizarding world bends to your will!"

If her mother could see her on her knees begging Padma she would surely be screaming at her about how she was disgracing herself. Then again, Isabelle disgraced herself by doing a lot of things.

"Oh, thank Morgana," Isabelle sighed in relief while standing up and wiping her forehead.

"I do need to ask though," Padma raised a brow, "What the bloody hell do you see in a prat like Malfoy?"

"I've been asking myself the same question since I saw him, girl," Isabelle sighed and shook her head.

And it was true — other than the fact that he was a loaded pretty boy, there was no reason to like the asshat.

"We should be getting to dinner, Anthony is no doubt wondering where we are," Clementine said while nodding at her two friends to follow.

At dinner, Draco Malfoy was not at the Slytherin table. In fact, many of the fourth-year student class was missing. Word has spread about the explosive anomaly that had happened in potions that day: Fred and George Weasley had taken a special interest in wanting to know what had caused it so that they may try and replicate that effect for their own pranking products.

Many students were still in the infirmary getting healed for any cuts and burns they acquired in potions class that day.

Headmaster Dumbledore and Professor Snape were noticeably missing from dinner. Apparently, they were in the Headmaster's office discussing what could have possibly caused the disaster in potions.

It was only as everyone began to leave and make their way to the dorms for the night that Isabelle was stopped by Professor McGonagall hurrying toward her. Anthony and Clementine stopped with her — the head of Gryffindor's house explaining that Dumbledore required her in his office immediately.

Anthony was confused while Clementine watched her unsurely, but Isabelle nodded at them to leave without her.

"I'll see you guys in the common room in just a bit!" Isabelle encouraged and Clementine still looked at her unsurely (seeing as she had just been told the secret of the century and her best friend was at the center of it) but she continued with Anthony down the corridors while McGonagall escorted Isabelle toward the Headmaster's office.

The last time Isabelle had been in the Headmaster's office was at the end of last year when Dumbledore was checking up on her as to how her school year had gone.

Yeah — the girl may or may not have revealed her crush on Malfoy to the Headmaster who simply ate up her words of her love for the boy. He had played a great therapist at the time.

The Headmaster's reaction had been an eyebrow raised and a comment of, "Oh to be young and to feel love's strong pull..."

Whatever that meant.

"This is where I leave you, Ms. Lockley," McGonagall nodded to her student before walking down the corridors briskly.

Isabelle was left standing amid some giant statue of a bird.

"Sometimes I really hate this school," she murmured under her breath while standing at the circular entrance of the statute. "Lemon drop," she said the password to the office.

Dumbledore really was a grandpa through and through — the dude had a favorite hard candy of lemon drops for Merlin's sake.

The statue began twirling upward toward where the actual office was. It did not take a genius to figure that Dumbledore was calling her in because of the incident in potions earlier. He probably knew that she was the cause of it and wanted to give her a "stern talking to".

As soon as the statue turned into the office, Isabelle walked out and was speaking a mile a minute.

"Okay, Professor — I promise it was a COMPLETE accident! I really didn't mean to make all the potions explode, but Padma literally dropped the biggest bomb possible on me! Remember my crush on Malfoy? So, I basically wrote this letter to him—" she stopped her talking seeing that Dumbledore was not alone in his office, Professor Snape stood next to the Headmaster, both men turning to look at her upon her rather chaotic entrance, "Oh shit — hey Professor Snape..." she ended with a weak laugh.

Well fuck, she just dug her own grave.

"I was just making a joke... as if I could ever be the one to cause that crazy thing in potions today ahaha..."

Dumbledore held up a hand, "he knows everything, I just informed him—"

"What!"

Isabelle's mouth had fallen open and she was staring at the Headmaster in shock. So two people found out her secret in one day! Wow, you slip up one time...!

"Ms. Lockley, if you would please..."

"What the—Professor!"

"Professor Snape is a very trusted individual, I trust him with my life, Isabelle. I promise you may extend that same trust to him, he will not tell anyone about this, and it will be helpful to have another teacher apart from myself knowing!" Dumbledore told her happily. "I have told Professor Snape how talented you are in the art of hoodoo magic as well!"

"Well, just tell him all of my business then why don't you?" Isabelle pouted angrily while Dumbledore sighed and Snape pinched the bridge of his nose in irritation.

"You mean to tell me that this is the newest Witch Supreme?" Snape asked rhetorically while staring at Isabelle as though she was the most unimpressive thing he had ever seen.

"Hey, rude!" Isabelle said indignantly.

The sad part was that this type of behavior was still considered kind in terms of Professor Snape.

——————

Draco Malfoy was sitting in the Slytherin common room rather pompously with his head stuck in some story titled "The Great Potioneer".

The attitude-ridden teenage boy was an avid reader, and seeing as he had long since finished his homework and was also rather bored of pointless conversation between Zabini, Goyle, Crabbe, Nott, and Parkinson — this was how he chose to spend his time.

Zabini and Nott were deep in a game of wizarding chess. Parkinson was on the other side of the common room giggling with the Greengrass sisters and Bulstrode. Crabbe was off somewhere with some girl whom he harbored rather soft feelings for and Goyle was messing around with some fifth-year boys.

"Dracooo..."

Think of the devil and she may appear.

The Malfoy heir shivered in annoyance as Pansy cooed his name before he slowly looked at her from over the top of his book.

Parkinson liked-liked him — that much was obvious. Draco (albeit a generally mean boy) liked Pansy Parkinson as a friend, which is why he was trying to let her down gently.

He thought he had made it abundantly clear that he did not return her feelings, but she was stubborn and continued to flirt with him every chance she got.

He was guilty of sometimes eating up her attention for the simple fact that she pumped his ego, but those times were rare and few between. Especially in recent weeks when he realized she was taking it too personally.

Draco truly hoped that she would get the hint soon, otherwise he would need to start being downright cruel to make her understand. He was fine being cruel to most people in Hogwarts, but Parkinson was still a friend no matter how awkward it currently was.

Pansy was standing over his lounging form, a coy smile playing on her lips. She batted her lashes at him cutely but the boy only sighed in response.

It was not that Pansy was unattractive or poor or not a pureblood, and to add icing on the cake, she was a Slytherin. Logically, she was perfect for him.

However, in Draco's mind, she simply was not the one for him. As odd as it sounded, Pansy Parkinson was almost too perfect for him and that bothered Draco—it bored him.

His parents would have a fit if they learned that Draco's 'type' was not a girl who checked all the typical boxes of perfection.

Knowing his parents' expectations, he really was trying to change that—he would find another perfect elite pureblooded girl who wasn't Parkinson.

"Yes, what is it, Parkinson?" Draco drawled while waving his hand to tell her to get on with it.

And in that moment the Malfoy boy could not look more like his father if he tried.

Now, if the fact that he was calling Pansy by her last name was not hint enough for her then this girl was either daft or hopeless.

He was finally given a moment of peace to simply read and of course, she was ruining it. Draco was still sour about the fact that he had spent the majority of his night in the infirmary with Madam Pomfrey healing his hand — his hand that Pansy had burnt when she pushed him into an exploding cauldron!

She was still trying to make it up to him but he just wanted to be left alone. She'd done enough damage — his body was still sore from the incident.

He raised a brow when Pansy suddenly pulled out a midnight-colored envelope from behind her back. His name was written in beautiful swirling letters, and it was handwriting that he did not recognize.

It was certainly not Parkinson's as she could not write so beautifully if she tried. And his mother's handwriting was not so swirly and unique, Narcissa Malfoy chose to stay with a simple and neat style of writing.

"What the bloody hell is that?" Draco demanded harshly, his eyebrows scrunching.

"I don't know," Pansy shrugged, "it was left by the fireplace — I assume it's misplaced mail."

Draco scowled and snapped his book closed. The riveting tale of the talented potioneer would need to wait.

"Well give it here." Draco snapped, holding his hand out expectantly. "I don't have all night, Parkinson!"

Pansy's shoulders slumped at his harsh tone and Draco felt slightly bad, but not enough to wipe the scowl off his face or to apologize. The fourth-year girl silently handed Draco the letter before spinning on her heel and walking back over to her friends quietly.

Draco ignored her sulking and chose to spin the letter around.

It only had his name on it, nothing else signifying who had sent it nor from where it came. His lips turned down in confusion before he shrugged, his eyebrows shooting upward with the motion. He proceeded to open the letter, choosing to open it neatly as the envelope and the calligraphy that his name was written in was far too pretty to destroy.

Malfoy may have been a git most of the time but he certainly held an appreciation for the fine things in life. Including simple scriptures such as this.

As he opened the letter, his nostrils flared at the smell of coconut and rose. Just a small hint, but it was there.

What the hell is this?

He unfolded the letter, his eyes nearly falling out of his skull at the opening statement.

𝚃𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚘𝚢 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚛𝚎𝚏𝚞𝚜𝚎𝚜
𝚝𝚘 𝚐𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚖𝚎 𝚖𝚢 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔,
𝙳𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚘 𝙼𝚊𝚕𝚏𝚘𝚢,

Now, what the bloody fucking hell was this?

Draco's eyebrows shot up in shock, his mouth literally falling agape as he read through the letter.

Go to war for him? Dreams about him every night? Notices how he stares out the window longingly in class?

Did he do that?

This was definitely not from Parkinson, Draco knew that promptly. Parkinson did not have this curly of handwriting and Parkinson certainly would never notice any of those little things about him. Not to mention she did not have the guts to call him a rude, arrogant, and entitled boy in the same letter that was confessing love to him.

He read it twice... he read it three times... he read it four times... he eventually had read it a whopping total of seven times and was still in disbelief.

Now, who had written this?

Draco was not stupid and based on the ending of the letter he knew that he most likely was not supposed to ever see this. And yet, the boy could not help but be glad that he did.

He scoffed happily upon examining the letter, shaking his head as he read through it.

"Someone has it for me bad..." he whistled toward the end, slowly folding the letter back up, his eyes glinting mischievously.

What should he do about this now? He certainly wanted to figure out who wrote this — perhaps it was a beautiful upperclassman? Or a cutesy girl in the grade below him?

A teacher? No, that would just be weird and if it was the case then Draco would need to do everything in his power to ensure such a professor was fired and never hired to teach students again.

Nevertheless, he wanted to find the girl who had written this for him. His shallow side hoped she was pretty. Merlin knows if it was Moaning Myrtle who did it he'd Avada Kedavra himself on the spot.

With zero hesitation, the boy stood on the couch holding the letter up in a giddy manner as though it were a prize.

"Who wrote me this letter?!" He called loudly.

The smile on his face was large and spoke of all things egoistical. This by far stroked his ego the most.

Everyone went silent, turning and looking at the richest boy in the room.

"So who wants to confess their undying love for me, but be brave enough to do it to my face this time!?" He asked loudly praying that Pansy did not put her hand up.

Thankfully, she did not, the girl choosing to only look down with a blush.

"Malfoy, what in Merlin's name—?" Zabini asked in between harsh snickers, Nott was also laughing uncontrollably. The two were officially distracted from their chess match.

Draco Malfoy only smirked at the two, hopping down from the couch and waving the letter tauntingly at them.

"It's a love letter for me — but the person did not say who it's from..." Malfoy trailed off eagerly, his mind turning at the thought of a mysterious secret admirer.

Even this letter from a stranger was much better than Parkinson.

Nott scoffed and shook his head dismissively. "It's probably just from Pansy," he said meanly and Draco was scowling.

"I will have you know—!" Draco started furiously only for Pansy to come running over as she had overheard Draco's words.

"What?! You got a love letter from someone?" She practically cried sounding absolutely heartbroken and Draco pinched the bridge of his nose as she ran until she was uncomfortably close to him. "Can I read it?"

"No!" Draco snapped, shoving the letter into the large inside pocket of his robes. "Absolutely not!"

Theodore Nott and Blaise Zabini shared a look — apparently, the letter was not from Pansy Parkinson if her reaction was anything to go by.

"Well..." Pansy trailed off desperately, "You might as well just burn the thing if whoever wrote it did not even have the gull to sign their name!"

Draco sighed and picked up his book from the couch, "I am not burning it, Pansy, I am going to try and find whoever the hell wrote this thing in the first place. I think myself and this person have quite a bit to discuss..." he said carelessly while making his way toward the stairs which led downward toward the boy's dorm rooms.

There was no way Pansy was going to leave him alone for the rest of the night now that she knew about this letter. If Draco wanted peace then his only option was to hide away in a place where she physically could not get to him.

The boy's dorm rooms.

Unless someone carried her over the wards then she was not getting anywhere near his bedroom.

"Draco, wait—!"

"Goodnight, Pansy!" Draco yelled right back, ending the conversation as he made his way down the stairs with a confident swagger in his step.

Tomorrow he had some investigating to do.

"Great!" Theodore sighed. "Now he is going to be absolutely unbearable — whoever the fuck wrote that letter just signed our death sentences!"