Author's Note: Everything you recognize belongs to JK Rowling. Everything you don't is either based on her world/creations, a creation of my own, or temporarily borrowed with permission from a friend (like dear Grey, for example).

By all appearances, this was the closest thing to a Professor-sanctioned party as Hogwarts ever got. Caroline Winters had dressed up, and she'd even shown up on time thinking that there might be some fun to be had. And why not? She had everything – the perfect dress, a gorgeous date, and a stash hidden in her room so that by the time she'd arrived she was already well on her way to being tipsy. And why not? She was seventeen, there was no reason she shouldn't.

After her arrival, however, she'd discovered that it was hardly the spectacular event she'd built it up to be in her mind. Was this really the best Hogwarts had to offer? She'd been to quite a few parties in her relatively short lifetime, but she could say with some certainty that the current affair had to be the most boring of them all. She'd heard so many good things about Slughorn's Christmas parties, and she'd believed it. If she hadn't, she wouldn't have shown up at all. This was even worse than her own family's Christmas parties, and those were uncomfortable for her for more reasons than she could count. Lately her parents had taken to parading her around like a prize poodle, trying to interest the son of some rich pureblood friend or another. It was too bad for them, really, that Carrie's reputation preceded her.

She sighed, taking another sip of spiked punch. The only remedy for the depressing feelings brought on by Christmas and the associated parties was to drink more, and she planned on doing exactly that. The Professor wouldn't likely approve, but what did she care? Most of the things she'd done had been things that nobody approved of, but that had never stopped her. She raised her punch glass for another sip, pausing halfway there when something – or rather, someone – caught her eye.

Well, hello there.

Suddenly the fact that Caroline had brought a date meant very little to her. After all, it hardly meant that she couldn't look at other boys, after all. It wasn't as though Walden Macnair was innocent, anyway – he was too busy staring at some other girl to notice what Carrie was up to. She had to wonder, for a moment, what the other girl had that she didn't. She was pretty, certainly, but she was some boring little Hufflepuff who likely wouldn't give Walden the time of day even if he did bother to approach her. Why should she? Walden wasn't a nice boy, but that was the reason Caroline liked him. Nice boys were boring, the same as nice girls.

If Walden couldn't manage to keep his eyes in his head for five minutes around a girl who clearly had no interest, then he wasn't worthy of being Carrie's date in the first place. She'd intended to come alone, at first, but he'd asked her and he was attractive, so why not? It wasn't as though they didn't have fun when they were together, just ... not in ways that could be shared in public. He'd promised her a long night full of entertainment, and he had yet to deliver.

At the moment, however, Walden Macnair was forgotten. Caroline's grip on her punch glass tightened ever-so-slightly as she focused on the blond boy, who seemed content to chat with his own small group of friends. Some of them she knew – Dai, for one. It would have been hard to miss him, with his head of outrageously red hair. Carrie was more interested in the blond boy, however – one of the few good things left at Hogwarts that she had yet to sample.

She elbowed the only person near enough to reach, a housemate who would no doubt be irritated by the rough treatment. The action elicited an indignant huff, but Carrie silenced it by gesturing at the boy. She was too interested and a little too tipsy to feign politeness at that point, and it was just as well. There were more pressing matters at hand, like identifying the person in question. "Who is that, Seph?"

As though it mattered, honestly. Carrie had already made up her mind that she was going to have the boy, though it didn't hurt to get the lay of the land before charging right on in. Persephone just shook her head and smirked at Carrie, as though amused by some private joke.

"Don't even bother, Caroline. That boy's practically a monk. That's Grey Abbott."

Practically a monk? That sounded perfectly workable to Carrie. A smirk crept across her face, blue eyes alight with mischief. If Persephone thought that she'd let a little thing like that stop her, then clearly she had yet to prove herself to these people. "Practically a monk is not the same as actually a monk."

Persephone just smiled and refilled her punch glass. "Trust me. That's one even you can't crack. Every girl here has tried." She sounded almost affronted that Caroline would assume she'd succeed where so many others had failed. And so, Carrie set this as a challenge for herself, giggling into her punch glass. Her eyes wandered over him again, and she came to the conclusion that she must have been blind not to notice him sooner. Where had he been hiding since September? She'd made her way through more than half of the school's eligible population by now, and yet she'd somehow missed this boy.

That would most certainly have to be remedied now. The next morning she'd start laying her trap. She'd find out everything there was to know, everything that had failed before, and she'd fine a way to make it work. She'd find a way to make him play her game. She had no doubt that other girls had tried, but she had something that they didn't have.

She was the Caroline Winters, and they'd better not forget it.