Lineage||Draco Malfoy|

6|walk a mile in someone elses shoes

THE OPPOSITE OF HATE IS NOT indifference. Quinn had heard the argument that love and hate can't be each other's contrast when it still implies the existence of a strong emotion. As someone who feels things so deeply, Quinn was well acquainted with love and hate and knew very well the fine line between them. Both can drive you nuts, make you crazy, but the same reaction is triggered by such different things made it hard for the two to coexist in her mind.

She actively sought out those she loved and ignored those she didn't. Sharing her favorite songs or sacrificing the last slice of pizza are both things done frequently for Adam or Charolette, the only way she'd give Malfoy the last slice of pizza was if it was poisoned. Both in their simplest forms, you treat those you love very different from those you hate.

If someone can argue that the opposite of one emotion is apathy, wouldn't that be true for all emotions? Would depression and happiness still be on opposite ends of the spectrum? Would the absence of anxiety be its own antithetical or would that imply peace?

But, somehow, while the opposite of hate is love the opposite of love has proven to be apathy. That always made more sense to Quinn, oddly enough. Going from loathing someone to caring for them so deeply is a leap. However, the transformation from of that deep attachment to nothing is somehow even more incredulous.

All this said, she was never sure where her brother landed. Of course she loved him in that sort of familial way that only a few things could negate; the difference in their treatment and his lack of awareness for it always made it so hard for her to love him as a person.

She supposed there was no better way to get to know someone than to spend an hour (exactly) in their shoes.

The three Ravenclaws stood crammed at the end of the secret passageway. Adam leaned against the wall with his wand illuminated, held just beneath his chin to give his already sharp features a sharper glow that made him look as though he was carved from stone. Charolette sprinkled Harley's hair into the cauldron and Quinn watched in horror as it turned a goopy shade of dark green.

"Do I have to drink all of that?" she asked.

Charolette shrugged. "You have to drink enough."

"And how much is that?"

"One way to find out."

Quinn bumped the cauldron with her shoe. "Is it hot?"

"Don't pretend to care about your safety now."

"It's a valid question!"

"If you don't drink it, I will," Adam groaned. No doubt growing irritated with the lack of progression in their escapades of stupidity.

"Fine." Quinn grabbed the cauldron, which was shockingly cool against her fingertips, and pressed it to her lips. She gulped down a few swallows, trying to not focus on the thick texture or the fact it tasted how dirty socks smelt.

When she couldn't stomach anymore, she pushed it away, ignoring the remnants that now dripped off the edge.

"That was nasty," she gagged.

Her friends didn't answer, and if they did she doubted she would've heard them. Her fingers popped and she felt her bones shifting in the most painful manner. Her very being morphed, defying any and all laws of muggle physics as matter was most definitely created from nothing.

When the movement of her body stopped, she realized she was now almost eye level with Charolette and her body was considerably more muscular.

"Do I sound like him?" Even in the reverberations of her own voice, she could hear the arrogant drawl of his tone. But it was coming from her.