AN: I wrote some of this in the bath and some of this just in my room, randomly. Clearly, she's a Jeffree Star fan, even though I know it's in bad taste to reference Muggle stuff, but hey, what kind of Suethor would I be if I didn't break the rules once in awhile? I wrote it hastily due to the fact that I have surgery in about twelve hours from the time of writing this and need to get to sleep, so since I'll be recovering, I won't be able to update for at least a week...

"You taste like Heaven, baby. I'll let you crave me lately..." sang Cinnamon softly as she debated when to get out of bed. Hmm. There was something strange about the way that Professor Snape had looked at the mop-headed shrimp kid during orientation dinner. Like he knew him from somewhere. Like Harry Potter reminded Snape of someone he used to know and despise. Or maybe even know and love, somebody who'd broken his heart. Cinnamon smiled softly at the possibilities.

But if Harry had known Snape, he did a very good job of hiding it. He'd seemed surprised when the man had looked at him, accusing, as though he thought Snape had been the cause of his sudden headache.

Drifting off as she sometimes did, Cinnamon let her mind flash back to the orientation dinner. There'd been no specific rule forbidding the students to sit at another House's table, so she'd gone to the Gryffindor table to socialise. She learned that the Irish boy, Seamus something, had parents like Darrin and Samantha on the popular Muggle show Bewitched. Neville, who had a bit of a special-needs look about him, confessed that his magical ability had been latent for so long that his family had been surprised when he'd been accepted to Hogwarts. Hermione Granger and an older boy with hair almost as red as Lucy's were discussing the actual schoolwork. Hermione seemed a bit anxious, and Cinnamon felt a brief bout of smugness: She always did well in school, without even trying. As she came from a more magical bacground than anyone else at the school besides her twin, the classes were sure to be a snap.

Then came The Look between Snape and the Potter boy. The gorgeous, if underhygienated, Professor Snape had been talking to a teacheri n a ridiculously purple turban, which Cinnamon could only assume was a symbol of both gay and Arab pride. She nudged Brassi, and pointed at the turban.

"So he's got a demon on his head," whispered Brassi knowingly. "Most people keep theirs inside, but his must have physically manifested. Why else would he choose such awful-looking headwear?"

"I thought he might be a gay Arab," confessed Cinnamon. Neither twin had yet seen his face.

"Possibly a blind one whose demon acts as his eyes," riffed Brassi. Cinnamon laughed.

"I've never heard of sharing your body with a seeing-eye demon," she whispered.

"Look how bored the Potions teacher is," observed Brassi. "He's looking not at the person speaking to him--"

"Ouch!" complained Harry Potter, clapping a hand to his forehead.

"--but at the Potter boy," finished the blonde twin.

Cinnamon had already noticed the look passing between them. SHe doubted a simple dirty look could make Harry's head suddenly hurt. He'd most likely been raised in seclusion from other wizards and was accustomed to getting dirty looks from people who didn't understand him. If Brassi was right and the gay Arab had a demon on his head who must be concealed with attention-getting headwear, it was probably the demon who had made Harry's head hurt. Built-in evil radar, mroe effective than most. Cinnamon felt a pang of envy, then a surge of pride: She hadn't made his head hurt, and she was daughter of a notorious vampire.

Professor Snape, a potions teacher. A man after her own heart. She smiled gently in his direction, thinking it tacky to try to get his attention by waving.

Soon the food cleared up and the headmaster gave his announcements. The mention of Quidditch piqued Cinnamon's attention: She'd have to try out for the Slytherin team. She knew she'd be good at it. She was a natural athlete. The mention of the third-floor corridor also interested her. "Out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death." Curiouser and curiouser. For the tune of the school song, she'd chosen Gaudiamos Hodie. Her bright, sweet soprano soared above all the other voices in the room, so though she wasn't last to finish-- that would be the redheaded twins, singing to the tune of a funeral dirge-- she certainly caught everyone's attention. She and the Gryffindors were forced to part ways at the end of the feast. Draco Malfoy didn't seem to be happy about her associations.

"What were you doing, talking to them?" he asked. Cinnamon quirked an eyebrow. "They're people, Draco, just like you and-- well, not you and me, because I'm a different sort than you are." WIth that, she scurried ahead, hiding a superior smile on her face. When they got inside the Slytherin common room, Cinnamon stopped briefly to admire the shimmering green walls before intercepting Draco on his way to the boys' dormitory.

"You seem like a gorgeous, sweet, talented boy," she said. "For a human anyway," she amended, "but let's get something straight. I like to try to be friends with everybody, and if you don't like it, I know a fine place for that wand of yours. To outside creatures, you're all alike, so what difference does it make?"

She didn't give the boy a chance to respond as she flounced off toward the girls' dorm and crawled into bed. She'd have to do something about these sheets when she had the energy, but for now they'd do just fine.