I'm tired but I also have consumed about two liters worth of caffeine (a metric fuckton, if we're going off of reasonable measurements).

This chapter, BTW, gets its title from a song on the Homestuck album 'Alterniabound'. If you haven't read Homestuck, please don't, because it will consume your very existence. Anyway, the song is worth a listen! Good shit, right there.

Anywho, let the games begin.

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…

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"This is incredibly depressing, and I hope you have the human decency to know why."

Gemma shrugged, took another sip of fire whiskey, and flipped off her cousin.

She and Draco were standing outside in the garden, and she was already somewhere between slightly drunk and completely inebriated. Ever since the ichor incident, she had been feeling rather off when it came to anything non-alcohol related. It was probably stupid and definitely the early sign of addiction, but she didn't really care. Some things are just out of our control, after all, and Gemma's descent into the depths of psychological terror was just one of them.

Draco sighed and slumped over on one of the extensive chairs littering the garden. "God, Gemma, you're fifteen. Don't become some wino already."

"Why not?" smirked Gemma, grinning. "It's not like it'll change the world."

"Yeah, it's going to change you," said Draco, rolling his eyes. "You're just…don't ruin yourself."

"Whatever," said Gemma. She wanted to dance or do something really stupid with tons of consequences, and nothing really seemed to be reasonable until a certain beautiful idea exploded somewhere in her prefrontal cortex. "Oh my God!"

"What?"

"We should go to Hogwarts," said Gemma with a massive, unprecedented grin stretching her violet painted lips. She had recently taken to smearing makeup on her face, a mask that she could wash off at night. "I mean, I've never been, and it sounds utterly amazing, and-"

"That's stupid, Gemma."

"Draco. Hogwarts."

"Gemma. You don't know anything about that place."

"Well, come one! It's not like we'll die or anything!"

"It's different then what it used to be," he said, but he already had extended an arm. "We'll go to Hogsmeade. Do not tell anyone who you are."

"Whatever," said Gemma, linking hands.

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…

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Hogsmeade was nothing like what she expected. For one, it was completely dark, and signs were broken and she just felt cold walking down the empty streets. A lone Death Eater was on patrol-he nodded when he saw Draco and cocked his head at Gemma. "Who's that?" he asked, a low growl emitting from behind his silver mask. "You found another slut, Malfoy?"

"Piss off," said Draco, tugging Gemma along before she could release a slew of insults. "Just ignore him."

They walked along a path for several minutes leading out of town and down to the docks. "I dunno if the boats are running still, but the protective shields over the school won't let us Apparate in," said Draco, frowning at the moon. "Gah. I wonder how Crabbe's doing…"

"Crabbe?" asked Gemma, jiggling the locks on the door of the boathouse. "How-"

"Alohomora," said Draco, rolling his eyes. "He's a friend."

"Like, a friend, or a friend?"

"I'm not a faggot, Gemma."

The words stung, but Gemma carried on. "Hey, I knew to some extent that you wouldn't necessarily be accepting of anything out of the norm, but really? That was slightly uncalled for."

"Whatever," said Draco, wincing. "They're almost as bad as Mudbloods."

Note to self: never be gay in the presence of the family. Gemma swallowed and sat down in a rowboat. "Can you detect whether or not the charm thing is working?"

"It is," said Draco in a voice barely above a whisper, biting his lower lip in anticipation. "Just be quiet and don't do anything stupid."

"No guarantees on the last one," smirked Gemma, looking up at the star-studded stratosphere. "Huh. It's really…clear."

"Magic," said Draco simply, and the boat began to swiftly make progress towards the shore of the island. "Just as a forewarning, we're either going to be greeted with fear or loyalty depending on who we see."

"Why fear?"

Draco rolled his eyes.

"Oh. Right."

"Anyway, watch out for the renegades," he continued, staring at the depths of the water. "There's rumor that another DA is starting up. Do not, under any circumstances, tell our parents about them."

"Why?"

Draco sighed again, this time with slightly more exasperation. "Because. As known by any slightly sane person, your mother will immediately report the advancement of the rebellion to her one victim of bedroom eyes, and then the whole operation will be taken down before it's barely started."

"Wait," said Gemma, leaning forward, "are you telling me that you actually want there to be progress with the rebellion?"

Draco didn't answer.

"Oh my God," said Gemma, grinning. "This. This is the plot twist that I've been waiting for in my shitty life."

"I'm sure it is," said Draco, steadying himself. "Don't freak out, but we're here."

They pulled the boat up onto the shore, securing it about ten feet away from the waves before Draco continued yet another diatribe about the good and the bad of Hogwarts. "Don't go to the Hufflepuff house," he said plainly. "Just avoid it and its occupants at all costs. And please, please, please don't try anything in our house. Please. I really can't stress how I feel."

"Our house?" asked Gemma, raising a single eyebrow. "I didn't know that I was a Slytherin."

"I'm just going off of assumption," said Draco, but the question had officially stirred something inside of her.

"How can we be sure that I'm a Slytherin?"

"I mean, there's the Sorting Hat, but-"

"The what?"

"The Sorting Hat. It's like…I don't know, a magical hat that figures out your personality and then proceeds to sort you into one of four houses."

"Can I try it on?"

"Um…no."

"How sure are you? Because, Draco? You sound really unsure."

"It's in the headmaster's office, and besides, the whole point of this trip is to not be caught by authorities, and Snape would report us immediately."

"Man up, Malfoy!" exclaimed Gemma. "Let's steal the hat."

"What?"

"Come on! I want to know what house I'm in!"

"Gemma, that's so stupid! We could get caught and then the Dark Lord will absolutely flip his shit!"

"Well, screw him!"

Gemma began to storm, predictably due to the amount of whiskey and teenage angst in her system. Draco followed, quipping nervously about how she really needed to calm the fuck down. However, in her drunken rage, Gemma had decided that there was no going back from this extremely important moment in her existence. If anything, it was a sign that she really, really needed to steal that hat, if only for a moment.

The Great Hall was empty, which was honestly slightly anticlimactic in the grand scheme of things. Gemma had almost expected there to be several throes of cliques just working their way around the social banter of life, but instead, the hall was cold and grey, a sense of foreboding foreshadowing tainting the dusty air. "Well, this is…something," said Gemma, balancing uneasily on a table. "Hey, do you think I can run on this thing?"

"Please don't," said Draco, and for once in her life, Gemma decided to obey his wishes. "If you're really serious about stealing this hat, it's upstairs. I'm going to the Slytherin common room."

"You're just leaving me?" asked Gemma, stepping down from the table. "What the hell, Draco? That is incredibly irresponsible!"

"This whole damned thing is irresponsible," said Draco, frowning. "I have absolutely no desire to deal with your immaturity, so have fun getting lost yourself."

Gemma grumbled and watched as he left the hall. She waited a moment before dashing out into the hallway, running her fingers through her thick hair and grinning before she ran down the length of one hallway before turning down another. It almost felt mazelike, she thought briefly before coming across a large, ornate set of doors. "What…"

She stepped closer, and she could hear laughter from the other side. Someone was most definitely engaging in some sort of frivolous activities, and she was far too interested to not come in.

She knocked three times in rapid succession before anyone answered. The boy who finally did was tall and lanky with an assortment of bruises covering his face. "Who are you?" he asked, narrowing his eyebrows and taking her in. "You don't look familiar."

"Um," said Gemma, but someone behind him called out.

"Neville, if she could find the door, she obviously needs some kind of assistance!"

Neville rolled his eyes and smiled hugely. "Fine, you're probably good!" he said, letting her in and quickly slamming the door behind her. "I'm Neville Longbottom."

Gemma swallowed. This was surreal-mainly due to the fact that there were several dozens of students, or at least people who she assumed to be students, standing around and eating food and practicing spells while dingy alternative music played from a stereo. And, you know, the fact that the child of the people her mother had permanently disabled on multiple levels was standing in front of her. "Gemma," she said, sticking out her hand. "Gemma Wulfric."

"Wulfric?" asked a girl with honey red hair and large brown eyes. There was certain hardness to her expression, but Gemma felt the need to gasp and maybe even lean out brush her hand against hers. "I've never heard that surname at sortings."

"I'm not from here," said Gemma, quickly trying to find any way possible to cover up. "Um…I studied at Castelobruxo."

"You did?" asked Neville, eyes widening. "Holy shit. That's…enviable."

"Um, my dad wanted me to go," said Gemma. "For science."

"Legitimate reason," said Neville, who leaned back. "Ginny, can you prepare another hammock? Might as well."

Ginny sighed and squinted. "Anything for you, Neville."

Gemma cleared her throat. "Look. I don't really want to stay here, due to…um…circumstances, but it would be excellent if you could just show me where the sorting hat is?"

Neville raised a single eyebrow. "You…don't know how the Room of Requirement works, do you?"

Gemma shrugged.

"Well, you need the sorting hat," said Neville, putting his hands up in defense. "Not going to judge, we all have our vices. But…you just kind of ask, and it appears."

"What?"

"Just try it," sighed Neville, walking towards a large painting on the wall. "Talk to me if anything weird happens."

Gemma stared at her hands. "I need the Sorting Hat," she said, and suddenly, she was holding an ugly, mottled looking hat that had definitely seen far better days. "Sweet."

She glanced over her shoulder and slipped out of the room. The doors seemingly turned into stone behind her, and she grinned hugely before running off into an abandoned classroom. "Okay," she said, staring at the hat. "Let's do this."

Carefully, she placed it on her head.

Nothing.

"C'mon. Please?" she asked, trembling with the anticipation of potentially being a Slytherin. She didn't necessarily want to be, but it would certainly make things easier in the long run. "I mean if you don't want to-"

"You're a bit old for this, don't you think?" asked something directly above her in a leathery, over used voice. "I completely sympathize with your apparent desire to understand more about yourself, yadda-yadda, sentimental material ahead, but do you really want to know what you are?"

"No duh," said Gemma, closing her eyes. "Just tell me!"

"You're impatient," said the hat. "Irritated with your life. Brave, though. You have guts, kid."

Gemma was silent, and the hat continued.

"You're a tricky one…normally I'd just go for the obvious, what you want, but you need a struggle. You desire it, I think. A little bit of a masochist, eh?" the hat chuckled. "But you evidently want some kind of validation. Typical, among kids, but still. Why can't the lot of you be slightly more original?"

"Whatever," said Gemma, rolling her eyes under the hat. "Can you just damn me with a title so I don't have to freak out and have an existential crisis?"

"Sure, you little brat," grumbled the hat. "GRYFFINDOR!"

The Sorting Hat was completely silent after that, and Gemma swallowed before realizing that she could never tell anyone. "Huh," she said, taking off the hat and placing it next to her. When it wasn't talking, it was almost ridiculous in appearance, a piece of baggy fabric. "How…lovely…"

She was shaking, having a not so internal freak out. "Oh my God."

.

…

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The sun was just starting to peek past the horizon when she decided to tell him. Always with a flair for the theatrical, Bellatrix rose that morning and decided to wear white for the second time in her life, as if the virginal fabric could wash away everything wrong with the situation at hand.

His bedroom was located on the lower level of the house, hidden away from the rest of the activity and, as always, rather quiet. Bellatrix never really knew how to feel about the dark sort of aura that emulated from behind his door, but on that day, she didn't hesitate to knock, swallowing as the door swung open by itself. "My Lord?"

A melodramatic sigh was heard, and Nagini shifted closer by her feet. "What do you want, Bellatrix?"

"I have news concerning our latest engagement," said Bellatrix, trying to not come off as completely smug. If this was anything, it was victory: four months of secretive growth, her abdomen protruding slightly underneath her robes, breasts stinging with every movement. "If I am not mistaken, I am pregnant."

She couldn't see his features in the shade, but something (motherly intuition, perhaps) told her that he was approaching the aforementioned issue with relative ease. "I am going to assume that it is mine."

"Yes, my Lord."

"Interesting."

He stood up, now completely visible in the eerie lighting, and stared pointedly at her belly. "An heir."

"Yes."

"A boy," he said, relishing in the statement, and Bellatrix's subconscious worry began in that exact moment. "He will be excellent."

Bellatrix nodded stiffly, her pale hand running against the taut fabric of her front, and tried to imagine a future where he would be loving and good and not completely bent on destruction. Alas, the fantastic can only last for seconds, because she quickly realized that her only hope of raising this child was to have a son-an heir of prodigal skill and nothing less. Of course, due to certain guesses and intuitive thinking, she could tell the difference between elusive fantasy and complete derangement, and for the first time since her thirties, Bellatrix Lestrange realized that she had to find a way to save her baby if it wasn't born with male genitalia. Nagini sensed her unease and stared at her before hissing something in Parseltongue. "Interesting," said Voldemort, smirking. "That's almost fascinating, but let's hope that your assumption is merely speculation."

Bellatrix's shoulders sunk in posture and she hurried out of the room, slamming the door behind her and trying not to obsess.

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…

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Draco Malfoy was vomiting into a waste bin when his cousin entered the Slytherin common room, hair disheveled and acting as the embodiment of pissed off. "Draco, we're leaving," she said, crossing her arms against her chest and sniffing the air with some kind of newfound arrogance. "What are you even doing?"

He tried to blink and come up with a slightly okay response but puked again. Crabbe and Goyle had an oddly large amount of access to fire whiskey, and he had overestimated his actual resistance to poisoning. They were currently passed out on the couches, drool bubbling from Crabbe's mouth, Goyle curled into a fetal position as he snored on the minute. "Gemma, please," he said, wiping the back of his mouth with his sleeve. "We've barely been here for an hour-"

"You idiot, it's daybreak," hissed Gemma, pulling him up by the collar with strength unusual for her stature. "And honestly, you of all people to get wasted…God."

"Oh, shit," muttered Draco, standing up uneasily, grasping onto Gemma's shoulder for support. "Oh, God, Mum is going to freak…"

"Huh, I had no idea!" exclaimed Gemma, eyes widened in the height of being freaked out. "Let's just get out of here."

"Shit," repeated Draco listlessly, staring at his hands while his head spun. "Ugh, this is so stupid…I don't think I can Apparate like this."

Gemma turned around, her face flushed. "What."

"Seriously, Gemma, I feel terrible."

"That is so…fucking…stupid."

"I know," gulped Draco, leaning back down towards the bin. "Oh, God…"

Gemma waited impatiently as he emptied the final contents of his stomach, rolling her eyes and wishing for some form of salvation. "Finished?"

"Barely."

"Great. How can we get out of here?"

Draco blinked a little fuzzily. "Well, we could get Snape to do it."

"Snape."

"Yeah?"

"The headmaster, who we've been avoiding all night, is the one who is going to help us."

"Sure," said Draco, almost blindly as he stood up yet again. "Snape's cool."

Gemma, at this point, was quivering with rage. "Are you meaning to tell me," she said in a voice barely above a whisper, "that you think we'll actually get out of this situation unscathed?"

"I dunno," said Draco, and Gemma's fist connected with his face at light speed. "Fuck!"

Gemma began to storm out of the room, and he had no choice but to follow, holding his nose where it had been inevitably broken. "What was that for?"

She didn't answer, only brushed past the students emerging from classrooms, eyes burning with pure, unadulterated fury. Draco shoved past a first year. "Gemma, come on!"

"Hey, it's Malfoy!" shouted someone from across the hall, and he blinked before ignoring him and rushing after his cousin. "Draco, where are you headed?"

At this point, Gemma was just another girl shoving through the crowd, and Draco tried to run towards her before he slammed into a teacher. "Oh," he said, nose still dripping blood. "Hello, Professor Snape."

"Draco," said Snape, glaring at him with an expression set on 'annihilate'. "You aren't supposed to be here."

"It's kind of a funny story," admitted Draco, glancing over his shoulder. "Um. I really have to get going."

"One moment," said Snape, narrowing his eyebrows. "I believe you were looking for someone?"

"Uh, yeah," said Draco with false cheer. "You know. My cousin? The one that my aunt was searching for like a crazy person?"

"That is debatable," said Snape. "Given Bellatrix's temperament, anything remotely out of the box is possible. Then again, I'm not really sure I want to be informed of-Draco Malfoy. You utterly reek of fire whiskey."

Draco shrugged. "Yeah."

"To my office. Now."

"But, Professor-"

"We'll handle the issue of Lestrange later," he growled, signaling him to follow. "If you were still a student here, you would be expelled, even with the issue of your servitude to the Dark Lord."

.

…

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Gemma stared at her fingernails and did not speak.

They found her approximately an hour after her disappearance into the hallways, a depressed little wreck of a drunk, trying desperately to overcome her now confirmed house. She sat next to Draco and across from Snape, who stared her down with complete authority. "So," he continued, sipping his tea nonchalantly as if nothing of a serious matter had occurred. "You are, I take it, not remorseful?"

Gemma sighed and looked Snape in the eyes. "Unlike my mother, Professor, I am capable of some sense of empathy."

"Hmm," he said simply, looking at her with an interested expression. "That's interesting."

"Definitely."

They continued to stare at each other. Draco finally cleared his throat and the tension was broken, if not completely alleviated. "You may Apparate home from this location," said Snape, glaring at Draco, "however, your parents will be informed of your discrepancies and general disregard for school property. Do not expect any sort of special treatment, Lestrange."

Gemma rolled her eyes.

Draco stood up and grasped Gemma's forearms, biting his lower lip in frustration. "Bye, Professor," he said, gulping. "Thanks for the antidote for the whiskey."

Snape nodded, and Gemma felt the sucking sensation once more. When they arrived, back in the garden, stumbling slightly, she couldn't help but laugh at the obscurity of it all.

It just wasn't fair.

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