We~ell. Next chapter. Yeah. It was originally going to be longer, but then I cut it in two, because I found a place I really wanted to stop at. The next chapter will be, at most, a few days, because it's mostly written. And I'm pretty sure I declared Mrs Norris to be in this chapter... but she's in the second half. Yes. It was, technically, a lie. I'm very sorry.

Enjoy, please, it was a pain in the butt to write.

Oh, and this chapter is deicated to GatsbyRose, who left me a huge long review that made me really happy~

Three days had now passed since the Howler. Three days. Three whole days. Seventy-two hours. Four thousand, three hundred and twenty minutes. Two hundred and fifty-nine thousand, two hundred seconds- all of which Draco had been terrified.

That single Howler was the first time he'd ever heard his Great Aunt Walburga shout, and he never wanted to hear it again.

How Corvus was still in one piece Draco didn't know. If Draco had received that Howler, he would have- but no, he reminded himself, he would never have done anything to deserve it in the first place. It was all because Corvus had been being stupid. Though he wasn't sure if his cousin had deserved for the entire school to know about it, Corvus had been lucky that only Draco had been close enough to hear what it was shouting.

Stabbing his potatoes moodily, Draco was so lost in thought that he almost didn't notice their approach until too late. Luckily for him, Daphne glanced behind him and immediately dissolved into fits of laughter, such was her now relatively common reaction to their childhood companion. Draco himself hadn't seen nor spoken to Corvus for the entire weekend, though he knew that Blaise had spent a few minutes with him down at the lake on Saturday evening skimming stones and Daphne had been thrown out of the library for laughing too loudly as she, Theo, Corvus and Harry Potter did their homework together Sunday afternoon. The Weasley boy had been Merlin knows where, and Draco didn't really care, to be honest.

"Afternoon, Cousin," Corvus chirped, leaning over Draco's shoulder and stealing half a potato from his plate. "I was looking for you at breakfast, but there were too many people. How goes life?"

After a few moments of stony silence from Draco, Theo sighed and took up the torch. "Very dull indeed. We have flying lessons together on Thursday, don't we?"

"Why, yes, yes we do," agreed Corvus, setting off another peal of giggles from Daphne. He shot her an odd look before continuing. "Harry here has never ridden a broom, but we have been regaled with tales of Seamus Finnegan's encounters with large flocks of birds and Ron's harrowing experience concerning his brother's broom and a muggle hang glider. Have you any tales to tell? Apart from the woeful yarn that is Theodore's balance?"

Draco's head snapped up at exactly the same time as Theo coloured and ducked his head. "A hang glider! I've seen better than that, Harry- I was almost knocked out of the air by a huge muggle metal thing- one of those alley-foppers!"

Harry blinked. "Come again?"

"Draco, I told you it's called a helicopter," Theo admonished, forgetting his embarrassment in favour of correcting Draco's dire inaccuracy. There was a moment of shocked silence. "What? I was there! I saw it! I looked it up! I'm not like you lot, I don't wish to remain completely ignorant for my entire life…"

He trailed off, flushed, and went back to his salad. Another few minutes of casual banter passed, punctuated by Corvus' light teasing, Harry's confusion, Theo's indignation and Daphne's uncontrollable mirth, until one of the other Weasleys- Merlin's beard, there were just so many of them Draco could not keep track- dragged both Corvus and Harry back to their own table. And just in time, too, because Severus- no, Professor Snape- was walking past. Draco knew that, after that conversation, he felt undeniably better about the Howler situation.

If any of the first year Slytherins noticed the glare Draco's godfather levelled at the younger Potter-Black duo's backs, they didn't mention it.

"Put your hand over your broom and say UP!"

Harry's ancient school broom shot up into his hand the first time he tried. And, really, it was ancient. He could even see on the handle where someone had, not very recently, carved a love heart with 'JPLE 4EVA' inside it. He hoped that, wherever they were, 'JP' and 'LE' were not regretting their decision to vandalise school property. He glanced to the left just in time to see Ron's broom smack him in the face, and Corvus dissolve into laughter, almost dropping the broom that had leapt at the second try. Harry laughed a little as well, but stopped when Ron looked like he was about to throttle someone.

"It's not funny!"

"Sorry, sorry," Harry tried to stop himself smiling. He really did. He shouldn't mock his friend's misfortune, but, really, there was a big red splotch on Ron's forehead where the broom had hit, and it really was funny. Corvus managed to mutter as much through his laughter, and Ron's ears went red.

Luckily, Madam Hooch, the windswept flying instructor, called for silence at this point. The three Gryffindor boys immediately desisted from what had promised to be a rather lengthy argument. After she had shown them how to mount their brooms, Harry distinctly heard her tell Draco that he'd been doing it wrong for years while she corrected his grip. He imagined that Draco was probably doing the Malfoy equivalent to Ron's ear-reddening right about now, and Ron snickered.

"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard," Madam Hooch announced, returning to the front of the class. "Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle -- three -- two --"

Daphne Greengrass was a very observant witch. Despite being a relatively spoilt child, adored by all, she was well aware that her parents had wished for a male heir, and that when she married it would probably be for status not love, if her parents got their say. She could easily tell that her sister, whose engagement to Draco Malfoy would soon be finalised, was going to be an incredibly talented witch, eternal naivety notwithstanding. The reason for her current never-ending amusement was that, out of everyone in the Potions classroom at the time of the incident, she was the only one who realised that the substance that Corvus had poured on Professor Snape's desk was highly flammable, and she fully intended to inform him of this at the end of the flying lesson.

But even with her great powers of observation, she had to admit that anyone who didn't see this coming was a complete idiot.

Longbottom kicked off from the ground too hard, too fast, too soon. His broom was an old one, an ancient one, in fact, she'd bet her entire fortune that it was as old as Dumbledore, who had to be about two hundred by now, or something. The older Hogwarts brooms did seem to develop minds of their own, as her father had told her one evening when she asked whether she would be allowed to skip flying lesson. She supposed he'd meant to reassure her, but, then, Daddy was never very good at that.

Anyway. Longbottom shot up into the air, zipped around a bit, and fell off the broom. She'd suspected as much. Madam Hooch quietly told the class that if they didn't want to be expelled, they would stay on the ground while she took Longbottom to the Hospital Wing.

Nobody moved until she was well out of sight and earshot.

The first thing that happened was Draco picking something up from the ground. A Remembrall. Harry stepped forward, hand held out, and Draco reluctantly gave it to him. Good. Anything that kept the two groups on good terms was fine with her.

Being, possibly, the most observant witch of her year group, Daphne could tell that this fragile peace would not last long. Sooner or later, there would be an incident. An incident that would drive the Gryffindors and the Slytherins apart, quite possibly engineered by older students. After a period of hostility, she predicted, the younger students would realise what was going on. Chaos would ensue.

And when the shit did hit the fan, Daphne wanted to be there, because it would probably be the funniest thing she'd ever seen in her life.

"So, that was a pointless waste of my time," Draco complained loudly. Madam Hooch had returned from the Hospital Wing, given Crabbe and Goyle detention for fist-fighting (which they'd only been doing because they were bored) and then sent the students off to dinner. All-in-all, the first flying lesson had given Neville a broken wrist, and nothing else.

Not that anybody really wanted a broken wrist, but still.

Corvus sent his cousin a glare. "It was a pointless waste of everyone's time, Draco, not just yours."

Harry walked with Ron a few steps behind, silently bemoaning his loss- or, rather, bemoaning the fact that he still hadn't flown, while all his friends had. Suddenly, Draco stopped, face lit up as though he'd just had a brilliant idea.

"You know what we should do," he whispered conspiratorially, beckoning his walking companions closer. Corvus rolled his eyes at what promised to be another of Draco's daft schemes, but stepped up anyway, followed by Harry, Daphne, Blaise, Pansy, Tracey Davis and, as reluctantly as usual, the odd one out, Ron. "We should go flying by ourselves. Tonight. We can pick the lock on the broom shed down by the Pitch."

"Oh, we should, should we?" Pansy frowned, clearly opposed to the idea, but Corvus was nodding slowly, thoughtfully.

"We'll meet on the Quidditch Pitch?"

"At midnight," Draco confirmed, nodding back.

For once, Draco's stupid scheme had been relatively worthwhile, Corvus thought later as he, Harry and Ron crept out of the dormitory and into the common room. Harry had said at dinner that he couldn't wait to fly by himself. Even Ron was excited.

That is, until they saw that the common room wasn't as empty as they thought; Hermione Granger, still in her school uniform, was sat in the chair closest to the portrait hole, glaring at them.

Next time: Neville, Midnight Quidditch, Mrs Norris, and Fluffy. Oh dear.

Review please? It makes me happy and less likely to do horrible things to the characters... except Lockhart. There will never be a time when I am nice to Lockhart. Thanks to Astro and Twonk, actually. Hobos.