I got bitten by the plot bunnies when I was drawing a picture of Debbie in a holiday sweater and was struck by how much she reminded me of Molly Weasly. So I give you Qaf at Hogwarts. It may or may not remain a oneshot, we'll see how it goes.

At first, the other Slytherins had mocked him for sitting at the Hufflepuff table. They had jeered and sneered in that scathing way that their house had so honed to perfection, as if that would actually affect him, hurt him, make him feel ashamed. Brian sneered right back, far more scornfully even as a first-year than any of them ever could, and slung his arm confidently across Michael's shoulders.

In the years since, Brian had earned the grudging respect of his house-mates. He was still an oddity, an outcast, a filthy dirty mudblood, but he was their filthy dirty mudblood. Despite his lack of a shining pedigree, Brian Kinney out-Slytherined the purest of the purebloods in every other category: he was clever, he was proud, he served himself first and foremost and he never, ever backed down from a fight. Brian Kinney was cold and ruthless and in Slytherin that made you good and Brian wouldn't settle for being anything but the best.

So they still scoffed at the fact that his best friend was a Hufflepuff, the lowest of the low. They still turned up their noses at the company he kept, the ragtag mix of characters collected from each house, fags, pussies and nerds the lot of them. Brian still had to fend off a fair amount of dagger-like glares every time he strolled through the common-room, but at least the attacks had stopped half way through first year when he had sent a sixth year twice his size to Saint Mungos for attempting to hex him.

Brian had even formed...not exactly friendships, more like alliances within his house. There were a few in his year who he got along with, he would almost consider Cynthia Moore a friend, there was Gardner Vance in sixth, and James Stockwell. The older boy repulsed Brian in all honesty, he embodied every pure-supremest stereotype there was, but he was a powerful guy to have on his side, a probable candidate for head boy in the next year.

More often than not, he still chose to sit at the Hufflepuff table than his own house's. Michael and Emmett were much better company than his conniving peers any day. Most days they'd be joined by Ted and the girls too, completing their little band of half-bloods and blood-traitors. So Brian ignored the cold glares at his back and sat proud and straight between Michael and Lindsey as they tucked into the feast. Their fifth year at Hogwarts had officially begun.

The stool was still warm from the previous students when Justin sat down. The sea of black that made up the student body of Hogwarts, school of witchcraft and wizardry stared up at him underneath the dim glow of the stars that scattered the ceiling. Justin barely had time to gawk at the cavernous room and the wonders it held (those were ghosts there, and the roof and floating candles and he could swear the suit of armour just moved) before the hat was placed on his head, slipping a little over his eyes.

He clutched at the edge of the stool tightly, the low buzz of conversation in the background seemed to fade into the background, an unnatural muffled sensation settling around his head. He had heard on the train that that hat would talk to him, but it was still a shock when it actually did, the voice gruff, speaking, it seemed, directly into his mind. "A kind soul we have here, of rare quality!" it crooned, and Justin squirmed in the stool. "You have a glow about you boy, like a ray of sun puncturing the stormiest of clouds, yet untainted by the darkness of the world."

"T-thank you...sir." Justin stuttered, unsure if he was even supposed to reply. It felt a little silly talking to a hat but it was saying some very nice things and Justin felt rude not to.

"Polite too!" the hat cackled, "How refreshing from the usual brats. Yes you are a good one, gentle and caring, patient and loving. They'll tear you to pieces out there my boy, you can count on that."

A jolt of alarm shot through him and he reached to grip the ragged brim of the hat between his fingers, "What do you mean? Is, is it really that bad? I don't want, mom said-"

"Do not fear bright one." he hat interrupted, "I will put you in the house that will best nurture your meek spirit. You will meet friends there, loyal and steadfast who will help you grow strong and achieve the greatness you are destined for." the muffled sensation rushed away and that hat crowed so that it echoed around the hall "Hufflepuff!"

One of the four giant tables erupted into cheers. Justin removed the hat and placed it gently on the stool, whispering another soft "Thank you." before stumbling off the platform to take a seat sight the other newly-sorted students, beside a pretty girl with wild hair.

"Hi!" the girl exclaimed, beaming a very toothy grin, "My name's Daphne, what's yours?"

Justin smiled back shyly, and took her proffered hand in his own. "I'm Justin." he said above the racket of his fellow Hufflepuffs, "Nice to meet you."

When the gold and grey badge had arrived in the mail, shiny and new, Michael's first instinct had been to hide it as quickly as possible. He'd tried, tucking the emblazoned triangle of metal between his book list and schedule, but it was no use. Brian had spotted it and swiped it easily, holding it up to the light and cackling like mad.

As he had feared, his mother had been ecstatic. She'd grabbed him up and nearly burst into tears, pinching his cheeks viciously with pride and smothering kisses all over his face. Worse had been Brian's merciless teasing. For the rest of the summer his friend had taken to calling him Princess P, Mr Prefect, and all variations of such in that Slytherin manner of his that tends to make you feel as small as a gnome.

Now Michael watched dismally as Brian snuck away after the feast with Emmett and Ted, no doubt to go hang out in their usual spot in the old disused clock-tower. Brian had been whispering over dinner about some muggle booze that he'd swiped from his dad over the summer and smuggled in, something that, as a prefect Michael probably should be reporting, but all he could think was how much fun they were going to have without him. He groaned despairingly and buried his face in his hands: why oh why did they had to make him a prefect?

"Hey." A deep voice spoke from behind him and a warm hand landed on his shoulder, "You okay?"

Michael spun and came face to face with another prefect, "C-Cameron!" he spluttered, feeling himself flush, "I-I'm fine, totally fine, so /completely/ fine!"

"Please, it's David." The older boy laughed, eyes crinkling attractively a the corners, making Michael's heart flutter alarmingly, "Now that we'll be working together, am I right? Can I call you Michael?"

Michael nodded numbly, helplessly. He'd had a crush on the sixth-year since the middle of last term when David had dragged him out of the lake after one of Brian's brilliant escapades had gone downhill. He'd never worked up the courage to actually talk to him since that night, but now it appeared that he had an excuse to. He swallowed nervously and tried to will the blood away from his face, unconsciously straightening his robes.

David's hand was still on his arm. "It's completely natural to be nervous," he was saying, steering Michael around the table to where the first-years were milling uncertainly, the other frazzled prefects organizing them as best they could. "It's a lot of responsibility. But there are up sides too, we can give out points, oh and the bathroom is awesome! There's this huge tub that's just great, I'll show you later if you'd like." And that made Michael's blush return with a vengeance, as he tried to banish the very inappropriate images that 'David' and 'bath-tub' conjured up.

They reached he others and hurried introductions were made. Michael already knew the other five Hufflepuff prefects, and most of the other houses too as a matter of fact, from Brian's many mishaps, but now he was introduced as one of them and received distracted nods and handshakes. Lindsey grinned at him giddily over the heads of her Gryffindors; she had been much happier about her appointment than he had.

"Well," David said cheerfully, departing to join up with his fellow Ravenclaws, which included an open-mouthed Melanie, "I'll see you tomorrow for that tour , see you around Michael."

"Yeah," Michael replied hoarsely, "See you."

They managed to shepherd the first-years out of the hall and to the basement with minimal difficulties. One of the senior prefects explained the code to the group, patiently repeating it four times when the kids burst into panicked chatter at the news of what would happen should they get it wrong. Finally, finally they made their way, en-masse through the round door into the familiar common room. Michael was about to close the hatch behind him when a high-pitched voice cried "Wait, don't close it!"

He turned to look at the girl who'd called out, staring at her blankly. "What?" he asked, "Why?"

The girl, a skinny little thing with becomingly dark skin and an untamed mess of curls piled on her head, looked at the floor nervously, pointed chin quivering slightly. "It's just...there's a boy missing." She said haltingly, "Justin, I sat with him at dinner, but he's not here. If you close it now he won't know how to get in."

Michael groaned and rubbed his hands over his eyes, just great, exactly what he needed. All he wanted to do was unpack, get in his pajamas and climb into bed where he could dream about hunky older prefects all he liked, but of course that was too much to ask. Now some little brat had to go and get himself lost and it fell on him to find the kid. Scowling darkly, Michael took one last wistful glance at the cozy armchairs and crackling fire before heading back into the dim hallway to go locate the little shit-disturber.

Brian tipped his head back to take a long drag from the flask, smacking his lips in satisfaction. Magicless drunk though he may be, his father sure knew how to choose the best booze.

"Poor Michael." Emmett sighed for what felt like the thousandth time that night, "he looked so sad after dinner, I bet he feels really left out."

Brian scoffed and shoved the flask at Ted, leaning back against the cold stone pillar. "Whatever." he said, picking nonchalantly at his nails, working to get a speck of dirt out from under his index finger, "It's all his fault, always acting so goody-goody, it's no wonder he got saddled with the job."

"Come on Brian show a little sympathy, he's your best friend." Ted chided, passing the booze to Emmett who choked, wincing after one mouthful.

"Ugh I think I like butterbeer much better." Emmett coughed, face contorted in disgust, "This is nasty."

"Pussies." Brian muttered, snatching he flask up and screwing the lid back on, slipping it into the deep pocket of his robe. "This is lame, I'm outta here." he got up, only swaying slightly, and slouched down the staircase, not caring when the other two failed to follow.

The tightly curling staircase was pitch black at this time, all of the torches extinguished for the night, but Brian didn't bother getting his wand out to light the path. They'd been coming to this place since first year, their little hideaway from the noise and bustle of the rest of the castle, a sanctuary where the six of them - outcasts from each of the four houses- could be together without judgement. Brian had descended these stairs more times over the passed five years than he could count, in every level of sobriety that you could think of. He knew that the third landing had a crooked tile on the left side, that the forth step from the bottom was spelled to squeal loudly enough to reach the ears of the patrols in the main corridor, announcing that someone was trying to get into the closed off area. Brian knew every inch of the tower, and he would not do something so pathetic as trip in the dark.

Except that he did. He nearly reached the bottom when his foot landed on something large and solid, laying on the very last step and he was sent sprawling over the stonework of the hallway, landing hard on his elbows and knees. He staggered immediately up, whirling around wand drawn on whatever it was that had unbalanced him. He had a stunning spell on the tip of his tongue when the light of his wand fell across a small boy, flinchingly curling away from him, eyes wide in terror.

Brian remembered him, vaguely, from the sorting ceremony. Most of the students had gone across the stage without his notice, too absorbed in the food and the festivities to pay attention to the shrimpy new students at the front of the room, looking up only when one was assigned to their house to appraise them cooly. It had only been Cynthia's thoughtful musing beside him, "Ooh that one looks like a Malfoy, do you reckon he's a relation? Taylor, Taylor, have they married any Taylors recently?" and Brian had glanced up at the kid on the stool.

He really was a dead ringer for a Malfoy, even in fits of terror huddled in the cobwebs. Lumos cast a sickly pallor to his fair skin, glimmering off the disheveled blond hair that had earlier been carefully gelled and styled into spikes. "What the hell," Brian snapped, drawing back slightly from the combat-ready stance that he'd slid instinct fully into, but keeping his wand pointed directly at the kid, "Do you think you're doing here?"

The kid blinked rapidly, eying Brian's wand wearily and sitting up slowly, "I- I got lost." he squeaked, voice thin and nervous, "I just stopped for a moment, to look at a painting - it was moving! - and then the stairs moved too and I tried to find a different way but I lost my group and I wound up here and now I'm out passed curfew-!"

Brian rolled his eyes in exasperation "Of course the paintings move you twat, they all do that. The stairs too. Now you've got yourself into the disused wing, brilliant. And I'll bet you have no bloody clue what the pass-code is do you?"

"P-pass-code?" the kid - Taylor- stuttered anxiously.

"I thought not." Brian sighed and grabbed ahold of the kid's sleeve, tugging him to his feet. "And the door has a nasty habit of spitting charmed vinegar on you when you get it wrong, so that's not going to work."

"Charmed vinegar?"

"Now now." Brian grinned down at the boy, "No reason to wet yourself, I'll just escort you to the main hall and you can flag down the first prefect or professor you see to show you your way to the commons." he yanked the boy down the corridor, dimming the light of his wand to the minimum as not to attract unwanted notice.

But "No!" the other boy exclaimed, voice echoing shrilly against marble, "Please!" he said more softly, eyes turned pleadingly up and very blue, "I can't, I'll get in trouble, not on the first day."

"Well what do you expect me to do about it Taylor?" Brian ran a hand through his hair, the beginning of a headache blooming behind his eyes; he wasn't nearly sober enough to handle this situation properly.

"I don't...I don't know." the boy said miserably, "I was just going to sleep there and rejoin the others at breakfast."

"Well that's a bloody stupid idea." Brian snapped irritably, "Don't you know, you'll likely be set upon by Peeves or one of the ghosts, and I've heard that the giant rats have managed to come back over the summer. You don't want to be alone in the halls at night, helpless shrimp like you."

The boy shuddered, huddling close to Brian's side in order to clutch at his sleeve, much to his annoyance. "Would you...could I come with you then?" he asked, face drawn tragically, eyes very wide and pleading, "Just for the night I won't tell anyone I promise-"

"You want to come with me, to the dungeons?" Brian asked incredulously, looking the younger student up and down. From the lopsided yellow and black scarf to his tucked in sweater-vest, this clueless little kid would not last ten seconds in with the Slytherins. "You've got to be kidding me."

"I just...I can't get in trouble before term even begins." the boy insisted, appearing to gather confidence with each word, his hands reaching to grip Brian's robes imploringly, "My parents would throw a fit! My Dad didn't even want me to come to begin with, Mum and he fought every day for him to be convinced. If they wrote home about this-"

"Jeez alright!" Brian groaned, yanking his arm out of reach, "Just shut up already. I don't have the energy to deal with your whining so come on and for Merlin's sake be quiet."

Justin woke slowly, groggily registering the dull green light that filled the unfamiliar room. The air was freezing against his back where the covers had slid off, but warmth radiated from the other side of the bed so he snuggled closer. It smelled good, this bed, of fresh laundry and the damp earth scent that permeated the entire dungeon. There was also a faint odor of sweat, of that healthy sort that came from a good nights sleep. He sighed contentedly and pressed himself up against the body beside him, more than ready to drift back to sleep.

His bed-mate shifted, rolling over to face Justin and draped an arm over him with a sleepy grumble, blanketing him in wonderful warmth and more good smells. Half-awake, Justin felt the jitters and nerves that had been plaguing him for the past week leading up to the start of the school year dissipate. This was nice, he was warm, content and oh so comfortable.

But then the body opened his eyes, which were a pleasant hazel colour, pupils contracting and dilating as they adjusted to the dim morning, sliding over Justin unconcerned until his brain appeared to catch up and his face contorted in surprise, "Bloody hell who the fuck are you?" he yelped, shoving Justin away to the frigid edge of the bed, "What do you think you're doing here?"

Justin's heart sank as the peace he'd felt moments before fled. "I...but you said I could stay." he whispered, clutching the blanket up like a shield.

The older boy froze, propped up on one elbow to lean as far away from Justin as made possible by the narrow bed. "I said...I did say that didn't I."

Justin nodded vigorously and the other guy collapsed back against the pillows with a drawn-out moan. "Perfect, just what I need. Starting off with a scrawny Hufflepuff in my bed, I can already tell that this is going to be a great year."

***
Michael was exhausted. He'd searched the corridors for hours the nigh before, all by himself looking for the Taylor kid. He'd thought that he was onto something when a portrait of an unnaturally helpful, chubby female centaur had said that she'd seen the boy wandering the fifth floor, but that he'd gotten mixed up in the west staircases, which meant that he could have gone off in any direction, be in any wing on any floor by now. Asking the other paintings was basically useless, as half of them were incensed upon being woken up, and the others were prone to lying, downright crazy, or antiques who were rather mixed up about what exactly they'd seen.

Eventually he'd admitted failure and called in backup in the form of the other Hufflepuff prefects, who'd debated hurriedly over the merits of waking Professor Tate, decided that it would be best, and went to fetch their head of house from the late night drinks he was partaking in the staff-room.

They had split into teams to comb the castle, Michael had been paired with one of the seventh year prefects and assigned the fourth floor. It was cold and dark and empty, no sign of the missing student anywhere. Being up at the strange hour always did strange things to his digestive system so a little passed midnight Michael started feeling hungry, and an hour later he was famished. When they finally disbanded, Professor Tate going to find the other heads to preform an emergency magical scan of the grounds. Back in the common room Michael devoured half a box of the lemon squares his mother had packed for the train, which proceeded to wreck havoc on his system while he lay in bed.

By dawn the heartburn had worn off, and he managed to grab a couple hours before the morning bell-sprouts chimed. He climbed from bed wincing, the summer weeks of lazing around indoors playing Brian's muggle video games (which were disturbingly addictive for something created by a race whose paintings stood still.) had made him soft, and the night of running around had been more exercise than he'd had in ages. His legs burned, his head throbbed and he stumbled down to breakfast, half dead.

"Honey what happened?" Emmett exclaimed when he arrived at the table. "You look terrible - and you didn't even have any of Brian's godawful swampwater."

"Hey now don't diss the brew." Brian's familiar voice rang right in Michael's ear and a pair of hands descended on his shoulders. "But he's right," he stage-whispered, massaging gently, "You look like hell Mikey."

"Well I'm not surprised, you would look like shit too if you were running around all night instead of sleeping off your hangover." Michael speared a sausage moodily and took an angry bite. The grease flooded his mouth, coating his tastebuds and sliding down his throat, making his abused stomach gurgle ominously. He put the fork down with a little more force than necessary and it clattered loudly against his plate.

"Oh princess." Brian cooed, snatching the abandoned morsel up and popping it in his own mouth with a satisfied smack. As if Michael had been the one consuming smothered alcohol and not him. "What, your new prefectly duties not agreeing with you already?"

Michael snorted and tried out a piece of plain toast, finding that more agreeable. "Yeah, when there are freaking first-year twits running off and leading us on midnight search parties. This kid got himself lost, he'll I don't even know if they've found him yet, he could be anywhere."

"Yeah. Anywhere." Brian chirped, "Mikey buddy-pal, I think you really ought to meet my new friend here." his hand tugged insistently at the back of Michael's robe, forcing him to twist in his seat and look up at Brian, and the cringing, sheet-white student at his side.