So hey. This is a purely probationary story, and at the time of posting this, I've written five and a half chapters so far. I like the story, but I have genuinely no idea where it's heading. If it seems a bit samey with what I've done already, I promise it won't be, because I do love my twists. However, if it gets to chapter 5/6 and I haven't written any more, then chances of slow updates are inevitable, because I'm year 11 right now, and it's exam season. But, five chapters should be enough to get me out of the exams unscathed, I think? So anyway, be kind, rewind (review) – and any ideas, do tell :') xoxo

I thought being a prefect was such a privilege when I got the post last year. Turns out, it's actually kind of a drag. All the third and fourth years give you all that sass because they think now they're officially teenagers, and they've been at the school long enough to practically never get lost, they think they own it. They do not. The first years are innocent, I know, but it's gets so annoying when there's some snotty eleven year old wandering up to you asking how you get to transfiguration. I'd happily transfigure a lot of them, if I'm honest. If someone asks me the same thing this year, I might just reply by saying 'with a wand' and transfigure them into a statue, never to be seen again. But hopefully I'll get a different duty this year, one that involves doing the evening patrols. All that involves is asking people why they're up so late, and telling others to snog each other back in their common rooms – or send them onto the prefect duty of someone you don't like. Some of the lads in the year above did that last year, and kept sending lost first years up after hours into the dungeons, because it really pissed off the Slytherin prefects. I'd have killed to see that.

There's a distinct lack of Slytherin prefects in my year, actually. It's strange. But then again, not a lot of them would be up to scratch anyway. There's Draco Malfoy, because let's face it, he has to be involved in everything otherwise he'll go moody. Not that he's not moody anyway, because he is. But at least he can't use his usual threat anymore; 'wait until my father hears about this!' because then the reply would be; 'good luck sending an owl to Azkaban.' How I would love to be able to say that to his smug face now. Then there's Pansy Parkinson, who seems to spend every waking moment tagging along after Malfoy, even though it's blatantly obvious that he couldn't care less. Blaise Zabini never says anything, and no one seems to know much about him in general. But I dislike him on principal, he's a Slytherin. And that's it. The only sixth year Slytherin prefects. What a group.

And that's who I'm partly sharing a room with now. Them and the rest of the sixth year prefects. We've got the usual batch of Gryffindors, generally nice people, I think. The Ravenclaws are okay, not very chatty, but okay. They've not done anything wrong. And my house, Hufflepuff.

'I don't like the way they're looking at us.' Ashleigh leans over and quietly mutters to me. I follow her gaze over to the Slytherins. I agree. They look at us like we're dinner, or something. Malfoy and Zabini are leant back in their chairs, exchanging comments and grinning, while Parkinson simply glares at us. I don't want to know the words the boys are saying right now, because they're eyes are scanning over somewhere I don't like. I cross my arms across my chest, and try to look casual. Malfoy rolls his eyes and they start talking about something else.

'Bliss,' Ashleigh says my name, and whispers to me again. 'I think you've pissed them off.'

'Not my fault all their girls are whores, Ash.' I say simply with a shrug. It's true.

'That's fair,' Ash sighs. 'it's like lifestyles of the rich and famous in Slytherin, isn't it?' She's right. They all just sleep with each other – no strings – and do all the drugs they can get. Purely because they're the rich kids.

'Yeah,' I agree. 'except that none of them are famous.'

Ash looks at me. 'Some of their parents are… a bit. They have highly paid Ministry jobs.'

Now it's my turn to look at her like she's crazy. 'All the famous kids get sent away to Beauxbatons, because they've all been taught to speak French since they were toddlers.'

Ash nods and has to agree with me. She flicks her hair out of her face and sits up straight again, just as Professor McGonagall, self elected head of prefects, starts to hand out our new prefect timetables. They all fly out from the pile in the centre of the round table, and to their respective places. Ash gets hers before me, she scans it carefully, then sits back and smiles.

'Got the kitchens, with Charlie.' She says with a satisfied sigh, as Charlie grins at her, sitting on my other side. Charlie's one of our best friends, and he has been since first year. My timetable flies into my palms before I can say anything else on the matter. I read the page quickly, then re-read it because I can scarcely believe what's written on the page. I said I wanted an evening duty, but I'd happily trade it in for guiding around first years.

'Oh, bad luck.' Charlie chimes in, reading it over my shoulder, and exchanging an amused glance with Ash. I look up across the table as Draco Malfoy gets his timetable. His eyes meet mine pretty quickly, and we're both wearing the same disgusted look. Well, I tell a lie. His expression is probably a lot sourer than mine, because unlike him, I have an open mind. I have the decency to believe that maybe Slytherin isn't what everyone assumes it is. But he doesn't have that good grace. He thinks I'm thick, you can see it in his eyes. Once they stop being disgusted at the fact I'm a Hufflepuff, they change to a more predator like gaze. He's seeing me as prey in whatever sexual acts he does in his spare time. I just glare at him, and he looks away.

'Why have they put me in the dungeons?' I moan to myself, but Charlie seems to think it requires an answer.

'They haven't got enough Slytherins, have they? Someone had to be put there. Probably better one of us than a Gryffindor, they'd never survive the whole term. One of them would kill the other.' Charlie says with a smirk. He's right, but I'd rather it was someone else. I know it's selfish, and I shouldn't think that way, but I do.

'Maybe he's not that bad,' Ash tries to cheer me up. 'I mean, he's probably not going to hit on you, because you're not a Slytherin, so that's probably a bonus, right?'

'Sure.' I say, but I don't mean it, and my voice is empty. She could be correct about that, but it still means I've got to spend weeknights with him in the darkened corridors of the dungeons. I can't help feeling like a mouse creeping into the lion's den. Maybe lion is a bad analogy, it probably should be the snake's pit.

'I mean, if it's completely unbearable, you can always swap with someone. They always do it, no one seems to be that bothered.' Ash tells me. I nod back slowly, because she's right, after all. But I see that as admitting defeat, like telling him he's won.

'I guess,' I say with a sigh, then put on a bright expression, as we're finally dismissed to leave. Duties start after dinner, which is where we're headed right now. I'm dreading it already. Here was me, thinking I'd have a casual, cool duty where I can do nothing all night, and now this. I'm stuck in the dungeons with the self elected Prince of Slytherin. Perfect. Well, he'd certainly think it is. I could give him a mirror and he'd never notice if I left.

I hardly touch my food because my head's so tied up worrying about my duty. Charlie cleared his plate at least ten minutes ago, and Ash has only just finished.

'Not hungry?' She asks me, slightly concerned, but trying not to let it show.

I look up at her, and give her a smile that I hope is convincing. 'Not as if I can't just eat later, is it?' She shrugs and grins back. We're right next to the kitchens in our common room, so we're always slipping down there to pick up food in the night. The elves don't mind, and we know how to get it, so it's all good. We have to be stealthy, though, because we'd be done for if we got caught – it's strictly forbidden to go into the kitchens without permission. But it's also forbidden to go into the Forbidden Forest, hence the name, and so many people have been in there since we started. And the kitchens are hardly called the Forbidden Kitchens, are they? Exactly.

The plates all clear from the tables and I know that time's just ticking away before I have to go and meet my fate in the dungeons. I shouldn't be scared! Why should I be scared? I'm a Hufflepuff, and maybe we're cowardly, but we're not stupid. We run away from fights we know we can't win, because it's pointless if it's futile. This, is a fight I may be able to win, so I'm going to bring true Hufflepuff spirit with me. Put on a brave face, taper my voice in sarcasm, and wear a smile so bright it could cure the killing curse.

'Right,' I say, throwing a happy smile onto my face, and rising from my seat. 'I'll see you later, once I've endured Malfoy for a good few hours.'

'You've changed your tune,' Charlie beams at me. 'change of heart on that heartless bastard?'

'No,' I reply breezily. 'I'm just not going to let it get to me. It's happened, and so now, I'm going to deal with the consequences.'

I walk steadily down the steps into the dungeons, and I'm actually feeling pretty confident now. What's the worst that could happen? He could talk to me, or he could ignore me. Either way I'm not that fussed. It'll be fine. I'm smiling as I turn down the dungeon corridor and casually brush my hair off my face. My hair annoys me, but by the same token, I wouldn't change it. It's dark, probably too dark for my eyes, because it makes the blue look unnatural. It's straight, too, and I've got one of those swept across fringes, but I like it because it gives me something to mess with when I'm bored. I do it subconsciously a lot of the time.

I stand at the end of the darkened corridor, not really certain what I'm meant to do. I know where the prefects usually sit on this duty, there's a bench by the window. But it's empty, and I'm not certain if they even use it anymore for duties. I'm a little curious as to if Draco Malfoy is always late. Maybe he's 'fashionably late'. How would I know, right? I try and get a better look down the corridor, just out of interest really, because I'm wondering if Malfoy is even going to bother coming to do his duty. Perhaps Slytherins are too good for prefect duties. But then I see movement in the corridor, and I kind of want to turn around and leg it back to my common room. But no, I'm going to stick this out. It's a little difficult to know what to do right now, though, when you can see your prefect duty counterpart being sucked off at the opposite end of the corridor. I simply turn my back on the scene and just pace around by the stair well. He'll find me eventually. It's difficult to ignore something once you know it's going on, though, and especially when the moans and noises start to echo around the otherwise empty dungeon. It's times like these when I wish I was deaf. Not that I've ever been in a situation like this, because I haven't. We're not like this in Hufflepuff. We're not slags and players.

'Bliss, isn't it?' I hear his cool voice and finally turn around. Oh, how dignified, he's literally just zipping up the fly of his trousers. I raise my eyebrows at him.

'Yeah,' I reply slowly.

'Interesting name.' He comments, sitting down on the stone bench. Evidently they do still use it. A little gingerly, I sit down at the very opposite end, safely away from Draco Malfoy. 'Something I should imagine comes in handy.' He smirks at me. The ironic thing is, I honestly don't know what he's talking about.

'I genuinely have no idea what you mean.' I tell him honestly. He just stares at me disbelievingly, before finally answering.

'Oh, Merlin, you really don't, do you?' He says with a small laugh. I feel like he's looking down on me because I don't understand. He really thinks I'm thick now. 'Just seems like a name that's perfect to say during sex.' He explains casually. I'm staring at him.

'I've never thought about it that way,' I say, trying to keep my voice calm, and not show the obvious shock I know it's tainted with.

He grins at me, evidently amused by this. 'Never tried it out, have you?'

I don't grace him with an answer. No, I haven't 'tried it out'. Because I'm not a whore! Thank you very much. But I don't say anything.

'We don't shag each other for no reason in my house.' I tell him calmly.

'Really?' He asks, actually conveying surprise at this notion. 'What do you do for fun?'

I just stare at him for a moment. As if he really can't comprehend us not having sex when we're bored! It's so… conceited. 'Play sports, talk… normal stuff…' I say slowly, because I really don't know how to answer that.

'Didn't know that,' he says. 'Hufflepuffs, you're such pussies.'

I can't help but scoff slightly at that. 'Is that so? Because we don't give in to sexual peer pressure?' I shoot back, maybe a little too callously. But those who dish it out, should be able to take it back.

'Because you're not willing to try it.' He corrects me.

'Sorry for thinking I'm worth more than whoever it was you were with earlier. Or was that actually your girlfriend?' I ask him, knowing full well the answer.

'Don't have girlfriends,' he says quickly, like the very idea even sickens him. 'too many obligations. Too much effort involved.'

'You're despicable.' I say without even thinking. I can feel him glaring at me now, and it's one of those famous Slytherin stares, the kind that sends shivers down your spine. I refuse to let him intimidate me.

'Personally, I think it's despicable that you Hufflepuffs waste your time in petty relationships about love and feelings, and sexual desires don't even play a part.' He tells me in a snarl. I swallow and finally turn back to look at him.

'Because we're not whores, thanks.' I tell him what was in my mind previously. If he's going to be so condescending about it, I might as well speak my mind. He clearly is.

'There's a difference between knowing how to have fun, and being a whore. But then again, a virgin like you wouldn't know.' He says icily.

'I have my morals, Malfoy,' I tell him heatedly. 'something you evidently do not.'

'Morals,' he says with a mocking laugh. 'waste of time. What are they even good for? They just stop you having fun.'

'They stop you going too far.' Now it's my turn to do the correcting.

He observes me for a moment, like he's trying to check if I really mean what I'm saying. As if I'm naive enough to believe it. He leans a little closer to me.

'There's no such thing as too far.' He says quietly, a strange smile curving onto his lips. It's menacing, and I don't like it.

'Let's agree to disagree.' I say diplomatically, though I find myself at a loss for words when he's leaning that close to me. I'm not a fan of closeness, I haven't had much of it.

He smirks at me and returns to his original position, and by his expression, he can tell he's made me uncomfortable.

'Aren't you curious?' He says to me, clearly not ready to drop this conversation yet. I wish he would, I dislike it strongly. It makes me nervous.

'About what?' I say with a sigh, knowing there's no talking him round.

'Sex,' he says with a shrug, like it's nothing. Maybe to him it is. 'don't you ever wonder what it's like? Let curiosity get the better of you?'

'As tempting as it is when you put it like that,' I say sarcastically. 'no.'

'No need for that, Hufflepuff,' he says bitterly. 'just asking. Don't get all sarcastic.'

'Don't get all condescending, then,' I tell him in the same tone. 'like you're better than me just because your friends are all your fuck buddies.' I spit back sourly.

He shakes his head in either frustration, or dare I say it, offense.

'You know it's true.' I continue, because I can tell he's about to deny it. He watches me for a fraction of a second, then just looks away.

'You say it like it's a bad thing.' He replies eventually, then looks back at me with a smirk. 'Trust me, it's a great thing.'

I roll my eyes at him. Yeah, bet he thinks it's a great thing.

'Doesn't it make it awkward?' I ask suddenly, the thought only just dawning on me. I mean, if I did that sort of thing with Charlie, or even just kissed him, it'd be so terribly awkward the next time we saw each other, and probably every time after that.

'No,' he says, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. 'why should it?'

'Why do you think?' I retort quickly. Can he really be this shallow? It's horrifying.

He laughs then, coldly, and I don't like it. 'Of course it's not awkward. We know the score with each other, we know what happens. They want something, I give it. I want something, they give it. Simple as.'

If I could have spat at his shoes, I would have. But I'm better than that. I'll imagine doing it, that's one step closer to it being reality.

'I'd hate that.' I say simply.

'Not with me, you wouldn't.' He says, that infamous smirk making another appearance. He's too cocky. Someone ought to put him in his place. Harry Potter hasn't been doing much of that lately. He's due a prat fall sometime soon. 'It'd be… bliss?' He says with a grin.

'Don't ever say my name like that.' I tell him harshly. I don't like it said that way.

'Bet you love it, really.' He tells me, leaning a little closer, but I know it's because he knows it intimidates me.

'I really don't.' I assure him, not letting myself show my real feelings, like how very nervous it makes me.

He smirks, but doesn't move back this time. 'Sure?'

'Positive.' I say flatly.

He shrugs and leans backwards against the wall. 'Suit yourself.' He glances at his watch. 'Well, it's late, think we're about done. It's quiet here anyway. Don't mind if I go and find Crystal, do you?'

'Was that the girl you were with before?' I ask stupidly.

'No.' He says with a small shake of his head, and again, he says it like it shouldn't even be questioned. 'She's just another… friend, as you put it.'

'Despicable.' I repeat, and I genuinely feel like I want to throw up. It's disgusts me.

'Why, thank you,' he says, getting up from the bench. 'just because Slytherin girls know how to let loose once in a while.'

'You mean once a day, more like.' I tell him with a stony stare.

'Does it matter?' He tells me hotly, and I can tell I've wound him up now. 'Go back to your little world where everything's lovely. Go chat up a house elf.'

'Go fuck yourself.' I retort, shouting after him down the corridor.

'No need!' He turns back around to call back to me, 'I've got someone else to do it!' And with that, he takes off back down the corridor. What an arsehole. But, I can't wait to get back to duty tomorrow, because arguing with him is actually making me feel quite good. It's giving me a bit of a… fire? Maybe I'm learning the art of cultivated sarcasm.