I tapped my foot impatiently as everyone else around me was called, one by one, to the ancient looking Sorting Hat. I already knew which House I was, so we might as well have gotten me over with. I smiled secretively to myself as I climbed the few stairs and sat down on the stool, knowing that I would end up in Gryffindor, and meet Harry Potter, and become his wi-

"Slytherin!"

I blanched. That couldn't be right; I wasn't evil, or conniving, or sneaky. And i certainly wasn't a Pureblood. My Muggle parents had endowed me with plain (E/C) eyes and dull (H/C) hair, certainly not the illustrious, well-groomed blond or black nor the sharp, mistrusting glare of a typical Slytherin.

I slowly got up and trudged over to the very end of the Slytherin table, wishing more than anything that I was two tables over, celebrating, with Harry Potter, the Weasley's, and the famous Hermione Granger.

Instead, I was stuck with sullen-faced Malfoy and his raven-haired, green eyed henchman, who was certainly looking more joyous by the moment; no doubt he was planning on ways to trick and prank the new students. I saw his green eyes flicker to me, he smirked coyly, and then looked away again, leaving me wondering as to what was so funny.

I soon found out when the student two seats to my right began eagerly eating a raspberry tart come dessert. The unfortunate soul bit into the pastry, nearly taking half of it into his ravenous cavern, when a hidden capsule within the dish burst into his mouth, and he gagged, coughing on the fumes that were previously contained within the small pill.

Safe to say, I was careful to avoid any of the dishes the green-eyed boy also didn't eat.

Pranks continued to riddle and annoy the first year Slytherins, clearly perpetrated by the green-eyed boy, who I found out was named Loki Laufeyson, the adoptive brother of the famous Gryffindor Chaser, and who was always present at the scenes of the crimes. None of the other first years seemed to make the connection, however, as they had never been pranked before, growing up as either only children or otherwise privileged children.

Of course, as these things always seemed to work out, Snape, who was technically in charge of making sure the Slytherins behaved, didn't say a word, as Loki was one of his favorite students.

And so the endless, hidden abuse continued.

I eventually became accustomed to the majority of his pranks, at least how he executed them, and became able to swiftly move out of the way of a prank meant for another, or avoid one meant for me. One of the key methods I used was, if Loki is in the same room, be weary. Of course this didn't protect me from all of his pranks, as I soon found out.

One day in January, I noticed my hands were extraordinarily itchy, even after reapplying my moisturizer.

I immediately realized that, unfortunately, Loki had somehow managed to switch out my hand cream with an itching potion, clearly aggravated at my nonchalance over all of his pranks.

Of course, being the eldest sibling to three younger brothers, I immediately started plotting my revenge, as well as a cunning way to let him know exactly how I felt about all of this.

Come February 14th, I had enlisted the help of nearly the entire Slytherin House, who were also tired of his outdated and repeated immature actions, along with the House Elves and the various ghosts around our Common Room under the lake.

When Loki walked into the dungeon-esque Common Room, therefore, he was surprised to see everyone in Slytherin House he had pranked over the past two years he was at Hogwarts waiting for him, and proceeded to smirk at us all. "What's the matter?" he taunted us. "Wasn't one mishap enough for all of you?"

At this point, simply to avoid conflict, I tapped on his shoulder, and he looked down at me, since I was a good three inches shorter than him. "(L/N), is it?" He smirked. "The Mudblood~?"

I nodded. "I may be Muggle-born, but my blood is just as pure as yours, Laufeyson." I snapped. Maybe you should understand your situation before making jokes about others. I pointed upwards in mock anger, playing the part of a scorned schoolgirl.

He glanced up, green eyes flickering in slight doubt and resignation, until he spotted the branch of mistletoe I'd carefully hung an hour earlier, and then rolled his eyes. "How childish~" he cooed to me, emerald orbs dancing in amusement. "Mistletoe is for Christmas, little girl~"

"Not necessarily, Silver Tongue," I shot back. "The tradition never says anything about a specified season." With that, I grabbed his lapels and yanked him down before mashing my lips to his cold ones.

Those in the room with us cheered at the astonished look that morphed into brief shock and disgust, that slowly faded as his eyes closed. I nipped at his bottom lip, not too gently, and he responded by wrapping an arm around me and pulling me closer to him, at which I gasped. He eagerly slipped his cool tongue into my mouth, and I quickly pulled away from him, blushing lightly.

"Next time don't direct your pranks at me, Trickster."