'We were doomed from the start. A lost cause. A losing battle. And yet, in that narrow instant, I didn't give a single fuck.' -Julie Johnson, Erasing Faith

If you ask anyone about certain smells, they'll all know exactly what you're talking about. For instance, the smell of fresh cut grass or shit on the bottom of your shoe. Well, to any and every student at Hogwarts, if you ask about breakfast, the first thing that enters their mind is the Wizarding School's special hotcakes. They are so addictive that some are convinced the house elves lace them with drugs to make you eat more. What do I think? I think that if people talk about something enough, everyone will believe what they hear and have a preconceived notion about said topic.

Take for instance a standard Hogwart's breakfast. You have your eggs, bacon, perhaps some warm toast? But on the weekends the students are rewarded with hotcakes. Hotcakes that have a reputation. Hotcakes that have been eaten and gossiped about by Hogwarts students ever since a house-elf made a mistake with what Muggles would call a waffle iron (except for the fact that it looked like an actual muggle iron) back in the late 1800's. They only survived because of our illustrious Headmaster watched it happen and took a bite. Or at least that's what I'm told.

I'm a fourth year who just moved to Surrey. My parents thought Hogwarts would be good for me after the past few years I've had. Let's just say I'm not down for this whole boy thing. I guess I took things a little too far with this wizard back in America. It was not pretty. The Salem Witch's Institute kicked me out and now here we are in England. I can't say I'm upset about it. I hated America. In fact, I'm actually excited about Hogwarts. It's reputation precedents it as well. So after a grueling port-key ride and a quick trip to this place called Diagon Alley. I said goodbye to dear old Mum and Dad and set off for Bumfuck Nowhere, Scotland.

I hoped off of the Hogwarts express last night, I was sorted into the most hated house in this damn school, and now here I am. Sitting at breakfast with this chick I share a room with. Her name is Charlotte or something, but everyone calls her Pendragon. That seems to be a common occurrence in Slytherin. The boys in here seem to have large egos and small dicks. Or at least that's what Charlotte told me last night. I could care less about that though. I'm here for one reason and one reason only. To become the best witch I can be.

My Mum tells me I should make friends, but she's what, sixty years old? What does she know about friends? I'm pretty sure she's never had any friends in her life. Not any that come around now, at least. No. School is about intellect and having enough cunning to know when and how to sneak out of your room at night to get some more studying in before everyone wakes up and goes tolling through the library as if it were the forbidden forest.

Look at these hotcakes. It's Monday. I thought this was a weekend thing. Whatever I have classes to go to. There was a schedule on my nightstand and some kind of inquiry. Who knows what the fuck that was about, but I guess I should get a move on with it.

'Hey, Jordan! Where are you going?'

Merlin's ball sack, is this chick my keeper or something? 'Yes?'

'Wait up for us! We have the same schedule.'

If my eyes could roll back in my head anymore, I'm afraid they'd be pulled out of their sockets. I know what my mother said, but do I have to become friendly with the one girl who is friends with the rest of the house? Some shit luck…

She brought this blonde haired guy with her. He had other friends with him too. Some black guy who has a pretty nice jawline and a pale black-haired girl who looks like a pig. Whatever. It's not like I have to talk to them.

Shit. He's approaching me. What have I possibly done to deserve this kind of torture? I haven't been here twenty-four hours and this guy is already walking up with a grin that has 'suck my cock in the next broom closet' all over it.

'So you're this Brooks girl I keep hearing all about? Are you part Veela? Because damn, you're preventing me from seeing straight.'

Good grief. 'Was that some ill attempt at a pick-up line?'

Look at that fucking head cock. I'd rather sacrifice my first-born child than talk to this guy.

'It can be what you want it to be, baby. I'm Draco. Draco Malfoy.'

I wish I was granted the ability to conjure objects out of thin air with extreme ease. This guy is such a toerag. 'Is that supposed to mean something to me?'

Finally an expression change. What a miracle, I thought something was wrong with his face. 'Oh, I forgot. You're from America. Well, you're new here, so I'm going to save you the burden of asking Charlotte who I am later. My father is one of the richest Pureblood wizards in England. It's a bit of a encumbrance really, but it helps win people over. If you know what's good for you, you'd stick with me. Pendragon could care less. Her Mummy is my aunt.'

'In other words I have no choice but to hang around him. Even if he's being a total toerag…'

Ok. Maybe I was wrong. This Charlotte girl has a pretty good mouth on her. I could use that. Plus, she's saving me from gaining a new enemy, and in my house no less. Yes, I think I'll keep her around.

'Get off of her back, Draco. She could care less about your money. Don't you have class to get to with your cronies?'

'We're not cronies. Draco and I are together again.'

Fucking Christ. He's with the pig-nose girl? Have I walked into one of those high school sitcoms? Where am I even walking? Ok. Potions with Gryffindors. Lovely. I can't wait.

'Plus, we have Potions with you, you dolt.'

'Oh yay. I can't wait…'

Was Charlotte made for me? From me? Is she the blood of my blood? Oh wait. Isn't that from a book? No matter.

'What, you're not ready to see Snape give Potter his first verbal beating of the year yet? Lord, knows I am.'

'Of course you are, Draco. You practically have a hard on for him all the time.'

'Me? And… and Potter? You're full of shit, Pendragon! I hate that worthless, muggle-loving piece of shit! He's almost gotten me killed more times than I can count!'

'Yes and you wank to the thought of him putting you in mortal danger don't you, Draco?'

Shit. I've never seen a boy's face get so red before. Well, not while he wasn't hanging from the tree I shot him into. This Draco kid seems to be trying a little too hard to convince everybody he's not in love with this Potter kid. And pig-nose doesn't seem to like it or Charlotte's comments either. This is honestly like a television show. I should have brought some popcorn.

'Calm the fuck down, Draco. You know we only jest. Zambini agrees with me too though. Just look at his face.'

This so-called Zambini only has a passive face, but there might be a bit of a smirk on it? I can't be sure though. He's a bit quiet. He's my favorite so far.

I wish I could say I liked the dungeons. Granted, the common room is comfortable and the beds are extra padded, but why in the Hell does it have to be so cold everywhere you go?

Well, I take that back, this Potions classroom is fucking hotter than Hades. Should I have worn so many clothes? Everyone else seems to be wearing their full uniforms, but they're not sweating bullets. Jesus. Am I nervous? My chest feels like its bursting open. God I hope I don't throw up. Potions was always my best subject and I can't have this Professor hating me like the other one did. Granted, it was only because I changed ingredients, but it was just in the scheme of perfecting the potion.

'Jordan! Come sit with me!'

I guess that would be better than standing in the middle of the room looking as though I've just shat myself. And I was just in time too. Pig-nose was about to sit beside her. Looks like Draco only likes her company sometimes. I wonder why he likes her at all with a face like that. Maybe she's really good at giving head because her nose isn't in the way.

'Thank Merlin. I thought Pansy was going to sit beside me. She's fine at Potions, but you never really know what to expect in here with Snape. We're just lucky we're in his house and we have class with Gryffindors. He'll run them into the ground. It's always a fun class when the circumstances are this way. Well, fun for us.'

Looking over at these red and golden clad kids, I can see why Slytherin's hate them. They are looking over at us and talking to each other like we have leprosy. It would do them some good to get a chunk bit out of their ass. Especially that ginger haired one. He looks like a complete idiot. 'Who's the one Draco has a boner for?'

'Ha! Oh, that's Potter. He's the one next to the Ginger-haired twerp a row up from us. Snape absolutely hates him so keep an eye out for them. I usually try to get a seat near them, but I wouldn't dare sit next to the chubby brown headed one in front of him.'

'Why? What's so bad about him?'

'His name's Neville Longbottom. He's rubbish at Potions. If Snape hates anyone more than Potter, it's Longbottom. He's actually Neville's Boggart. It was quite the scene last year. You should have seen it. We should be in for a show with him today. Longbottom's in the front.'

'Why should that matter?'

'You never sit in the front if you can help it. Unless you are fully prepared to have Snape's questioning. He's a stickler for you being prepared.'

'Maybe we should move up front then. I read through our book last night and I can't afford to give anything but a good first impression.'

Something must have been drastically wrong with what I had said because, Charlotte's eyes are now proceeding to bug out of her head. 'What?'

'Look at the one next to Neville. That's Hermione Granger. She's a Mud Blood, but that's not the point. She's a Know-it-all. Snape hates Know-it-all's.'

'Jesus. Is there anything he doesn't hate?'

'Not much. I would test the waters with him if I were you. You may be a Slytherin, but he wont hesitate to tear you a new one if you give him a reason to.'

'Silence! Just because you're back from holiday doesn't mean you should act any differently when it comes to Potions. Now…'

Oh good lord. What the hell have I gotten myself into? How could people hate this man? He's so… so fucking sexy. All black? Jesus have mercy, how has he not been fired for too many girls going wild for him? Just look at those eyes. Are they black too? What else of his is black?

Fuck. He's looking at me. I hope he didn't just ask me a question. Ouch. Fuck! What was that. Oh, that was Charlotte's elbow in my ribs. Shit. He is talking to me. I haven't heard a word he's said. Only that lacy, deep voice of his. Am I blushing? Oh yes. I'm blushing. Everyone's looking at me. Do they see me blushing? Jesus fuck, Jordan! Focus! He's only a Professor. Calm the fuck down!

'I'm sorry, Professor. I didn't catch that?'

Silence. Oh fuck, he hates me. He hates me; I'm dead to him and in the first five seconds of class. I should just drop out of school now. Become a beggar on the streets or one of those community college dropouts who lives with their parents at thirty.

Anything but this, gods please like me. I need you to like me! Right here right now. On that desk. Hell, on this desk. All over the floor. On your kitchen counter. Everywhere.

And now he's looking at me as if I've told him he had a nice ass in front of the whole class. Does he have a nice ass? I suspect he does. Everything else looks so delectable why wouldn't his ass look the same?

A deep breath. His chest, filling up with oxygen as his lungs inflate. God inflate for me, Snape! Yea just like that! They stop. His throat clears. And the eyes are back on me. There is a god. And his name is… whatever his first name is, Snape.

'I said, how far along are you in your studies? Obviously it would be impertinent to start you on fourth year Potions if you should be in third or, as much as I doubt it, fifth. But would you care to enlighten the class on what condition you have which forbids you to hear me on the first go, Ms. Brooks?'

Well, your ass had something to do with it, if that helps. 'I was just thinking about bezoars, sir.'

Bezoars? What the fuck, Jordan? Now you're going to be the girl who was thinking about goat stones in the middle of Snape's class. This is what you get for thinking on your feet. A fucking reputation that is worse than hotcakes on a Monday.

Holy shit. Was that a smirk? His face is harder to read than the Zambini kid's. But holy hell it's much more appealing to look at. That nose. Its… so big. I bet it could do things to me that Draco's cock never could. If only he'd put his face down near my…

'Ms. Brooks? I hardly have enough time for your stalling. See me after class. Perhaps you can clear your mind of bezoars by then to tell me about your prior studies.'

After class? That didn't sound good. 'Yes, sir.'

'As much as I would like to waste even more time by calling out role, I can see everyone is here. We have a full class now. Marvelous. I'm so thrilled to have one more parchment to mark.'

The level of sarcasm this man is pouring out could be compared to the amount of water that falls down Niagara Falls. It is practically pouring from his mouth. How could this be possible? Hell, I'm not arguing. Sarcasm only makes him that much hotter. At least he knows what he wants. At the moment, I get the vibe that's for me to get lost, but who's really counting that?

Well, I was right. He does have a nice ass. Very round and pert. Does he do squats? He must to squats. You don't get an ass like that without doing squats. Did he just turn around and glare at me? What did I do? I'm just sitting here taking notes while admiring his ass.

Which, when you think about it, is quite a talent. Can any of these other squares do that? Potter? I don't think so. Ginger-haired twit? Not a fucking chance. Fuzzy haired Know-it-all? Let's be honest, she can barely take notes without raising her hand to answer a question. No wonder he hates her. I hate her. I don't even know her, but I hate her. God. How self-centered do you have to be to want to take away opportunities from others in the class who could potentially learn from being wrong?

What the hell? Why is Charlotte holding my hand? She's pointing. Why is She pointing. OH wait. Sexy-ass is talking to Potter. God is that a sneer? What could this kid have possibly done to be hated by such a beautiful creature? Did he kill his mother or something? Jesus. Potter doesn't seem to like him either. Could it be that Snape killed his mother? Nah. Too small of a time frame. It could be because he yells at him like this. Apparently this is a daily occurrence. Ginger-newt over here looks like he's going to hex Snape's balls off. God. Please don't do that. I bet they're worth dying for. I will hate you even more than I already do if you do that, Ginger-newt.

Now he's yelling at the fat one, Long John or whatever his name was. This kid looks like he's shitting himself. And for good reason I guess. Look at that snarl. I'd want him to look at me like that, but only if he's pounding into me. God's I bet he's brilliant at fucking.

Shit. He's looking at me again. Why does he keep doing that? At least that sneer's gone now. Naturally, I'm too beautiful to sneer at… well at least right now. He thinks I'm thinking about bezoars still. OH I'm thinking about something rock hard, Sexy-ass, but it's not a fucking bezoar.

What was that? Was that the bell? We didn't even brew anything! I wanted to brew dammit! What kind of school is this? Charlotte is looking at me like she's going to wait for me. Can't you just fucking run along? Don't you see I want all the alone time I can get with Sexy-ass Snape, here?

'You can run along, Ms. Pendragon.'

Oh thank god! He doesn't want her around either. He's perfect. Truly perfect. Marry me right here, Sexy-ass. I now present to you Mr. and Mrs. Sexy-ass Snape. Hella.

'I'll catch up with you later, eh, Jordan?'

Would you just leave already! I want to pull my ears out of my scull! 'Ah, yea. Sure.'

Gods, I like her and all, but does she have to be up my ass constantly? She should get an award for ass climbing, because she's at the Mount Everest of my ass right now. Go away Charlotte! I want to be alone with Sexy-ass Snape right now.

Why is he looking at me like that? Have I done something wrong? He looks like I've killed his first-born son or something.

'Care to explain to me why you've been thinking about my arse for the majority of the class, Ms. Brooks?'

Oh fuck. What? Was I looking at it too much? Shit. That must be it. 'I… uh… I took good notes, Professor. You can look at them if you want.'

He seems uninterested in my parchment in front of him. At least for a moment. Now he's perusing them. Is that an impressed look on his face? I must have taken good notes. I was just living on a prayer when I slid them over to him, to be honest.

'These are sufficient. But what exactly do you know about Potions, Ms. Brooks? No one passes my classes without extremely hard work and why should you be any different?'

Because I'm a sexy temptress and you want to bend me over this desk of yours. It's rather sturdy. It could take it. Elm I think.

'Well, sir, Potions has always been my favorite subject. At my previous school, I was often limited to my Professor's interpretations of what ingredients should and should not be substituted for each other. Some method's just aren't practical though, sir. I mean for example, sometimes the instructions say to stir clockwise ten times and wait for thirty minutes to simmer. What if you stirred thirteen times and only had to wait for half the time? Can you imagine how much more potion you could brew if you made a discovery like that?'

What is he thinking? I'm just standing here in front of his desk now as he looking at me with a rather plain looking face. How am I supposed to gage that?

'You may leave, Ms. Brooks.'

Leave? What? I only just got here? What do you have to say about my passionate rant? Was it just a waste of my breath or did you actually think I was worth something?

'I think that if I move you anywhere, you'll get too big for your own head. Maybe you can rub off on your fellow classmates. They are dunderheads, the lot of them. Now, go.'

Did he just? No. He couldn't have. But how would he have known anything about my astonishment concerning his misplaced attention?

'You have other classes, Ms. Brooks. I suggest you get to them.'

Oh and now I'm less than a piece of parchment. Yea. You mark on Sexy-ass I'll be back for you. You've escaped my luscious seventeen-year-old body for now, but you just wait. You'll be begging me to fuck you soon…