A/N: Big thanks to bluepseudonym, Shan84, prith, aDeathlyHallow, UltimateLoveStorys, footballer96, Nelli-5 and Lignala for reviewing! Bluepseudonym, I'm glad that you liked the contrast. =) I wanted each of the girls to have a different approach, because after all our favourite Slytherins boys are all different, and because it's more realistic that way. =) Shan84, here's some Flint action for you in this chapter, but I'm afraid the Katie and Bletchley action will only resume next chapter! XD aDeathlyHallow, the signs were in Melbourne city. =) But it's so cool that they're in America too, Slytherins are really all over the world aren't they? XD Nelli-5, thanks for being such an awesome reviewer, you're here every chapter! Yes, Alicia has done it! Sorry that you guys had to wait 11 chapters before one of them finally succeeded, but it probably wouldn't be very realistic if they could do it too quickly. Anyway, on to the next chapter. =) And thanks to anyone else reading! =)
"No. No way."
"Yes way." Alicia fired back gleefully. "Believe it or not, I've done it!"
Angelina slumped against the wall. "I don't believe this." she whispered hoarsely.
"And it's only been – what – a week?" Alicia continued happily. "Boy, I'm better at this than I thought!"
"I don't believe this!" Angelina wailed again, louder this time.
"Oh c'mon, Ange, be happy for Alicia, won't you?" Cho said, grinning. Because she had helped to contribute to Alicia's success, she was in high spirits as well. "See I told you, my little trick with the love potion didn't compromise your chances at all."
"It did for me!" Angelina snapped. "Montague is avoiding me like the plague!"
"You just need the right angle." Elle said wisely. "Warrington was avoiding Alicia too, but now he's her date for the ball."
"Oh, don't rub it in." Angelina moaned, burying her face in her hands.
"Ange, c'mon." Cho said. "None of us have succeeded yet either."
"But – but – this was my idea!"
"Doesn't make you the only one entitled to succeed." Alicia said gaily. She couldn't stop grinning. This had to be one of the best days ever. She'd done it, she'd beaten Angelina in her own game, she had gotten herself a date in the form of Cassius Warrington, and when they appeared together at the Yule Ball, oh, revenge would be sweet. She smiled as she imagined the look on George Weasley's face.
"I can't believe it!"
"Yes, Ange, you've said that before."
"But I really can't believe it!"
"You've said that too."
"You went playing with unicorns while I almost got myself half-killed by grindylows, and it's you who succeeded? Where's the fairness in all that?"
"Hey, it wasn't easy." Alicia said defensively. "I had to try so hard to stop myself from laughing the whole time! I had to plan the whole thing so carefully. I made sure it was sunset. I made sure we were alone – well, almost alone. I made sure the unicorns were released at the right moments-"
"Hey, I think we took care of that." Cho protested.
"Oops, sorry. Well, yes, I guess you and Elle can take credit for that. And I even selected the newborns because they were so beautiful and were sure to make Warrington's heart melt. Wouldn't you call that effort?"
"But it sounds like such a stupid plan! I can't believe Warrington really fell for that!" Angelina protested.
"You'd have to be there to appreciate it, Ange." Elle said. "It sounds stupid, yes, but I can tell you things were getting really good between Alicia and Warrington there. It was very beautiful, and very romantic. Alicia was saying all the right things, and we were releasing the little unicorns to her at the right moments. I can't believe we actually did it, but we made the whole thing look so natural and spontaneous!"
"We sure did." Cho said, giggling.
"Oh don't be so upset, Angelina." Alicia sighed. "I thought this was what you wanted?"
"Yes, but I'd feel a lot better if I had gotten my man too." Angelina said sulkily.
"You will." Cho said. "It just needs one more shot. Just – just – kidnap him or something and force him to admit his feelings for you."
"Don't give her any crazy ideas." Alicia pleaded.
"You're one to talk about crazy ideas!" Angelina shot back.
"Girls, girls." Elle said in alarm. "Maybe we should just go to bed."
"Good idea." Cho said quickly.
Sighing, Angelina crawled into bed and pulled the covers over herself. Shrugging, Alicia walked the two girls to the door. "See you guys tomorrow."
"Where's Katie?" Cho asked, looking around.
"Oh, she's been getting back real late every night these days." Alicia said. "I think it's something about Bletchley, though she refuses to tell me a word."
"These Slytherins are taking up our whole lives." Cho said, laughing.
Elle bolted upright. "Shit!"
"What is it?" Cho asked sleepily, stirring in her bed.
"I forgot to do my Potions homework!"
"What?" Cho cracked open an eye. "Since when do you forget to do homework?"
"I know, right?" Elle said frantically. "And it's due tomorrow!"
Cho bolted upright too. "Elle, you're doomed! Snape will kill you!"
"What am I going to do?" Elle asked frantically. "Now I remember, I was planning to do it today but I was so busy helping Alicia that I forgot all about it."
"Well, what's the homework?" Cho asked.
"Summarize the chapter on the uses of Swelling Solutions." Elle recited immediately.
"Funny how you can remember the question but forget to do it." Cho said with a wry grin.
"Oh, Cho, don't laugh at me!" Elle said desperately. "What am I going to do now?"
"The homework, of course." Cho said matter-of-factly. "It isn't a very difficult task, really. Not Snape's usual. There are only about five uses, and it's a summary. It shouldn't take you too long."
"I don't have the book." Elle hissed.
"Oh." Cho said, looking rather alarmed. "Then you're in trouble."
"I guess I'll have to get it now." Elle said, resigned.
"Now?" Cho asked, surprised. "The library's closed! It's after hours, you'll get caught!"
"I'd rather risk getting caught by Filch than get murdered by Snape tomorrow." Elle said, getting out of bed. "Don't wait up, Cho."
Slowly, and as silently as she could, Elle crept up the spiral stairs, the book tucked under her arm. Her trip down to the library had been surprisingly smooth, with no sign of Filch or Mrs Norris anywhere. Still, she found she could barely breathe as she made her way back to Ravenclaw tower. Not only was she out of bed in restricted hours, she had also just stolen a book from the library. Well, not exactly stolen, but it was the first time she had taken a book without officially borrowing it. Silently, she cursed the stairs. Why did her dormitory have to be at the topmost tower in Hogwarts?
Suddenly, a soft meow above her caught her attention, and she froze on the step. Her eyes darted upwards immediately, and her heart almost stopped as she saw, two levels above her, a light from a candle illuminating the form of Filch and Mrs Norris at his feet. Shit!
Quickly, she darted off the stairs and into the nearest corridor. Heart beating wildly, she ran down the corridor as fast as she could, then turned a corner, and then another. Seeing a classroom door ahead, she pulled it open, entered the room without further delay and then shut the door.
"WHOZAT?"
Elle jumped violently and she almost screamed, but managed to hold back at the last moment. She turned around and scanned the classroom wildly, her back leaning against the door she had just closed. "Who's there?" she gasped.
"Com-com-come to-t- laugh at me have you?" A loud clang, followed by the sound of someone struggling to his feet.
"Marcus Flint?" Elle asked incredulously into the darkness.
"Ah, I know that voice. Little Ravenclaw isn't it?" There was a loud crash and as her eyes got used to the darkness, Elle could make out a large silhouette tumbling to the floor.
Slowly, she moved forward. Yes, it was Marcus Flint, lying on the ground in a heap and reeking of – was that – Firewhiskey? She stared in amazement.
"Go on, say something!" A large fist began pounding the ground. "Haven't you- haven't you always been the smart one, huh, always having – something – to – say?"
"You're drunk." Elle said loudly. She had just arrived at that conclusion herself.
"Like – like hell I am!" His fist began groping around the air.
Elle glanced around uncertainly. Instinct told her to leave the room at once, and get back to Ravenclaw tower. A drunk Marcus Flint was bound to make a great deal of noise – he already had – and would only attract attention to them both. Let the idiot get caught drunk and out of bed if he wanted to, but she wasn't going to get dragged down with him. But as she turned to leave, his hand shot out and grabbed the hem of her robes.
"Lemme ask you a question."
"Flint, let go!" she hissed, trying to tug her robes out of his grip.
"I said – I want to ask you – a questioooooon." With a strong tug, he pulled her down to the ground beside him.
She yelped out in surprise as she landed next to him. "Marcus Flint, are you crazy? Let go, come on-"
"Tell me." he slurred, cutting across her. "What is it like to be so smart? Hmm?"
"Feels great." Elle said, barely listening to him. She was busy searching her robes for her wand. He had dragged her into empty classrooms before, yes, but never when he was drunk. She had a feeling that he would be quite a force to reckon with in an inebriated state.
"Look at me." His rough hand grabbed her left cheek and forcibly turned her face towards him.
"Flint, stop that." she said desperately, although she knew nothing she said now would get through to him. Her hand was still groping around for her wand.
"Give me more, now!"
"Give you what?" she asked in exasperation. Her wand was nowhere to be found. Did she even take it with her out of Ravenclaw tower? Apparently not.
"More of- of this stuff. You know this stuff?" he reached around and grabbed the bottle of Firewhiskey he had been drinking and shoved it in her face.
"I don't have that." she said, wrinkling her nose in disgust at the sight of the bottle and at the smell it produced.
"No, no you don't." Flint began shaking his head violently and started to laugh.
"No, please don't laugh." Elle pleaded. At this rate they would be caught and she would get into trouble thanks to him.
He did not seem to have heard her. "You'd be too busy – studying – to buy any of this stuff, wouldn't you?"
"Marcus Flint." she said, as forcefully as possible while trying to keep her voice down at the same time. "You are drunk. I'm going to take you back to your dormitory." She realized that was the best thing she could do. He would not let her leave. If they continued to stay here, they would be caught for sure. If she could talk some sense in him, perhaps he would let her lead him back to his dormitory, and then she could get back to her own to get some sleep.
"My – my dormitory?" Flint asked, leaning a heavy hand on her shoulder. She almost buckled with the weight. "Oh, I always knew you thought of me that way, little Ravenclaw, my dormitory, hmm?" His other hand grabbed hers suddenly. "Come on then, my dormitory it is, I'll show you something those library books of yours have never shown you before-"
"Flint, please!" she tried to shove him away, but he was far too strong. Goodness, it was useless trying to talk sense into him. She tried to remember if she had ever read anything about dealing with drunk people. Yes, there was a potion for people who were hung over, but he wasn't hung over. He was still in the drunken stage.
Think, Elle, think. People who were drunk were not in the right frame of mind. How should one talk to someone who wasn't in the right frame of mind? She had a feeling that it should be like talking to an infant or someone who was mentally retarded. She remained lost in those thoughts until a shout from Flint startled her.
"I'M GOING TO DIE!"
She almost jumped out of her skin. "What was that for?" she hissed, clutching at her heart.
"BUT NO, YOU WON'T UNDERSTAND, WILL YOU, ALWAYS GETTING 'OUTSTANDING' HERE AND THERE-"
"Can you please don't shout!" She grabbed him by the front of his robes without thinking. "Look at me!"
To her surprise, he actually stopped. He looked straight at her, and for the first time she could see his face clearly. His eyes were unfocused and bleary, but she could see anguish in them. He leant closer to her, and instinctually she drew back, but his hand shifted from her shoulder to the small of her back, holding her in place.
"I'm going to fail." he whispered.
"Fail what?" she whispered back. Her heart was beating so fast now. She had never been so close to Marcus Flint, never, not even when he had been threatening her all those other times. Her eyes darted from side to side, taking in his full size in amazement. He was literally twice of her in breadth.
"Fail." he whispered again. "I'm going to fail."
She was so unused to him whispering that she felt confused and disoriented for a while. When had Marcus Flint ever whispered? He was always shouting, or roaring in fury, or snarling. And he sounded so – so upset. Usually there was only anger or exasperation in his voice. Suddenly her mind flickered back to the scene in the library that day – when she had ran into him beside the bookshelves. She had asked him about his NEWTS, and he had stormed off after snapping at her. He had looked so angry then, but vulnerable at the same time.
"Fail your NEWTS?" she whispered.
He looked straight into her eyes, and this time he did not snap at her. "Yes." he said directly.
Elle felt her heart wrench with pain. "You're not going to fail." she said. Slowly, tentatively, she laid a trembling hand on his huge, muscled shoulder.
"I – will!" His hand moved from her back to grip her waist tightly – so tightly that she almost gasped in pain. "I'm going to fail, I can't do it-"
"Marcus, you can!" she gripped his shoulder too, but found it very hard to do so. It was at least twice the size of her palm.
Then suddenly he let go of her completely, and rose unsteadily to his feet. She looked up as he towered over her. "Where – where's the Firewhiskey?" he slurred.
She realized that this was not the time to talk to him about his troubles. He probably wouldn't even remember a thing come morning. But then – she now knew the truth. He was stressed, simple as that. He had never been before, because although he had been failing his subjects every year since he entered Hogwarts, he had still managed to attain the minimal mark to keep his place in school. It was only when he had taken his NEWTS that the difficulty level of the course had finally been too much for him, and he had been forced to stay back a year. And now, he was faced with the prospect of repeating it all over again. She remembered how he looked in the library that day, bursting with anger and frustration, forced to stay locked up in a place which he hated and did not belong in. Now she realized he had looked like a caged animal that day, his size and his muscles belonging on the Quidditch pitch, not in a small library. He reeked of sheer maleness – he would always be restless if he was not moving, not actively doing something. She could only imagine how tortuous it was for him to study for hours at a desk.
She stood up. Okay, so he wasn't holding on to her now. That was good. She decided that the best thing to do would be to run to the Slytherin dormitory, and get either Higgs or Bole or Derrick to come and get him. There was no way she could drag a huge specimen of a man like that out of the classroom if he did not want to go.
He did not seem to notice her leaving.
"Salazar?"
No response.
"Umm…You-know-who?"
No response.
"Oh come on…muggles suck?"
Silence.
Could it be? "Mu-mudbloods suck?"
Silence. Great. She had just said a bad word for nothing.
"Purebloods for the win?"
Nothing.
"Purebloods are the best? Purebloods rule?"
The snake on the door slithered aside at once to reveal a doorknob.
"Who'd have thought it!" Elle muttered. She hadn't expected it to be so easy to break into the Slytherin common room. Then again, Slytherins had a one-track mind. Just throw in a few words about purity of blood and you'd be bound to get the password. Shaking her head, she pushed open the door cautiously and stepped in.
Once in, she looked around. So this was it. The Slytherin common room had rough stone walls, and greenish lamps hung in chains from the ceiling. The furniture looked extremely expensive – she couldn't believe how comfortable those armchairs looked, and there was an elaborately carved mantelpiece just ahead. Honestly, Slytherins could be so predictable.
She was about to start searching for the boys' dormitories when a door to her right opened with a creak. Elle almost jumped in shock, but then she had received so many shocks in the past hour that she was getting quite used to the sensation.
"Elle Gringoirre?" Lucian Bole asked incredulously as he stared at her. "What the hell are you doing in the Slytherin common room?"
"Marcus Flint is in a classroom on the fifth floor, and is extremely drunk. I came to tell you to fetch him." With time running out, she cut to the chase. She didn't even bother asking him what he was doing coming down to the common room at three in the morning.
Bole stared at her as if she had grown a second head. "But how did you get in here?" he demanded.
What, was Marcus Flint getting drunk in random classrooms such a common occurrence that Bole was more concerned about how she came to be in the common room than fetching Flint? "I guessed the password." she said impatiently. "Now are you going to go get him or what?"
"What were you doing with him then? At this hour?" Bole demanded.
"Nothing." said Elle. "I just happened to run into him. Will you please just go get him?"
"Are you being funny or something? How could you just run into him at this hour?"
"Well then perhaps you can explain why he isn't in the dormitory with you? Why the hell would I get out here at three in the morning just to pull such a stupid prank on you? I'm telling you he's there. If you don't want to get him, fine, go ahead. When he comes to in the morning don't blame me if he murders you all."
Obviously she knew that this was an empty threat, because Flint would have no way of knowing that Bole could have chosen to retrieve him and did not do so. Still, Bole wasn't exactly the brightest crayon in the box, and a look of fear passed his face. Apparently he had faced his captain's wrath enough times to not be eager for more.
"Fine, I'll go get him." Bole said stiffly. "But you – get out at once."
"Oh I wouldn't want to trespass on your hospitality any longer." Elle said sarcastically. As if she wanted to stay in this gloomy place – those green lights were really starting to freak her out.
Without another word, she walked out of the common room, Bole following behind. They walked in silence down the corridor, and up the stairs to where Flint was.
"He's in that classroom." Elle said, pointing. "Now good night."
She waited till Bole had disappeared inside the classroom before slipping away.
It was four in the morning by the time Elle laid down her quill in exhaustion. Still, sleepy as she was, she did not fall asleep right away when at last she crawled into bed. Her mind was filled with thoughts of Marcus Flint.
The next morning, similar scenes were playing out in the Ravenclaw girls' dormitory and the Slytherin boys' dormitory.
"Elle, if you don't get up we're going to be really late!"
"Mmmph."
"Goodness, how late did you stay up last night? Get up now!"
"Five more minutes…"
"No, you have to get up now!" Cho yanked her friend's arm, causing her to shriek as she jolted awake.
"All right, all right, I'm up!"
In the Slytherin dormitory, a nervous Bole was doing everything he could to wake Marcus up without simultaneously incurring his wrath. An almost equally nervous Derrick was trying to assist him.
"Oh, just poke him in the eye or something." Terence Higgs said impatiently as he did his school tie up in front of his mirror.
"You do it then, if you're so smart." Bole snarled.
"No way, boys, he's your problem." Terence said smoothly as he glanced into the mirror one last time. Sniggering, he slung his schoolbag over his shoulder and headed out. After all, it wasn't the first time that Flint had to be woken up from a hangover. Bole and Derrick always managed to find a way around it eventually.
Bole sighed. "I guess we'll have to shove him off the bed again."
Derrick shuddered. "No way! Don't you remember what happened the last time we did that?"
Bole shifted uncomfortably. "Well, Madam Pomfrey managed to fix our ears back on in the end."
"Tell you what, let's get Montague." Derrick said. Montague was much less frightened of Flint than the two of them were, and he was also smarter than both combined. He probably had a better idea on how to wake Flint up.
Before they could head out, though, Montague appeared through the door, right on cue. "Aren't you guys going yet? We'll be late for breakfast!"
"Marcus is hung over." Bole said at once. "Can you please get him up?"
"Again?" Montague asked incredulously. "Why didn't you stop him from drinking last night? It was a freaking school night!"
"We weren't there when he was drinking." Bole protested. "By the time I got to him he was stone drunk. I had to drag him all the way up here."
"Where was he?" Montague asked curiously.
"In some classroom on the fifth floor. That Ravenclaw beater came to tell me to get him."
"You mean Elle Gringoirre?" Montague asked in shock.
"Oh yeah, that's the one." Bole said, scratching his head.
"What was she doing with him?" Montague demanded.
"That's what I asked her." Bole said. "Said she just ran into him."
Montague found this very strange indeed, yet there was no time to pursue it. Breakfast had started ten minutes ago and Marcus was still fast asleep in bed. If he missed breakfast, he was sure to pound them all into the ground. Still, as he approached Marcus, he felt uneasy. He still remembered that detention with Johnson on Tuesday, and how he had felt about it. Were those girls up to something after all? Surely it was no coincidence that they kept "running" into them here, there and everywhere. Perhaps he should be paying more attention to what Higgs said after all. So thinking, he resolved to avoid Angelina Johnson at all costs from now on.
Pushing those thoughts aside, he pointed his wand at Marcus's huge form. "Ennervate."
A loud groan issued from Flint's mouth, as he slowly began to turn over.
"Marcus, we're going to be late." Montague said loudly.
Flint began to growl as he threw his arm over his eyes, shielding them from the sunlight.
Sighing in frustration, Montague drew his wand again. "Aguamenti!" A jet of water shot out of his wand and hit Marcus square in the face.
That did it. Spluttering furiously, Marcus Flint shot out of bed and stumbled to the ground, before drawing himself to his full height. He was still a little unsteady on his feet, but he nevertheless cut an imposing figure as he glared around at them.
"WHAT THE RUDDY HELL WAS THAT FOR?" he roared.
"Marcus, you were drunk." Montague said loudly, though much less bravely than before.
"SO? Did you have to go splashing water on me?"
"We'd be late for breakfast!" Bole protested. Marcus turned on him and at once he shut up, retreating back a little.
"Come on, Marcus." Montague said quickly. "This can be cleared up." He waved his wand over Marcus, and the water dried up instantly. "Now let's go down for breakfast."
Flint continued to fume as he grabbed his school bag. He had fallen asleep in his uniform and shoes the night before, so he was already fully dressed. Since he had never paid much attention to hygiene or personal grooming anyway, he was ready to go without washing up or combing his hair. The other Slytherins wisely chose not to comment.
"How did I get drunk anyway?" he growled.
Montague and Derrick both looked at Bole, who looked away at once. Flint turned to look at them. "Well?" he snarled. "Don't just all stand there looking at each other."
Derrick cleared his throat. "Umm…Bole?"
Flint rounded on him. "What about Bole?"
Bole began muttering something feebly.
"Speak up!" Flint roared. "What the hell happened last night?"
"Well, Marcus, I really don't know." Bole said weakly. "All I know is that, well, see I was heading down to the common room last night, I wanted a bit of a drink myself, and you know I keep my Firewhiskey in that cabinet in the corner. Then, well, I saw – someone – in the common room."
"And who was that?" Flint demanded.
All three Slytherins looked at each other, neither daring to say anything.
"Who?" Flint roared.
"Marcus, please don't get mad." Bole pleaded.
"I swear, Bole, if you don't tell me at once I'll hex your ears off again. And yours." he added threateningly to Derrick.
"Alright, alright!" Bole said hastily. "It was – Elle Gringoirre."
"WHAT?" Flint looked around at them all as if he was going to throttle them any moment. "What the hell was she doing in the common room?"
"To tell me – that – you were drunk, and to ask me to go get you." Bole gasped.
Flint advanced on Bole, shoving him against the wall. "I'm telling you, Bole," he snarled. "If that's your idea of a joke I don't think it's very funny at all."
"Marcus, I swear I'm not joking!" Bole protested. "It really was her! And she led me to this classroom on the fifth floor, and there you were, drunk, so I dragged you back here and you fell asleep immediately. I threw away the empty Firewhiskey bottle too. That's all I know, Marcus, I swear."
Flint was breathing very deeply. "And do you – do any of you-" he turned around to face Montague and Derrick. "-have any idea what I was doing with her?"
Montague and Derrick looked at each other. "Well, I can think of something." offered Montague, grinning slightly.
"Shut up." Flint roared. "I want to know how come she was there when I was getting drunk!"
"We really have no idea, Marcus." Derrick protested.
Flint turned away from them, fuming. What the hell happened? He closed his eyes, trying his best to recall the night before. What was the last thing he remembered? He was in the library, yes, and he had been reading…something. What was it? Oh to hell with it, it was just some dumb textbook. And he had been getting frustrated, he remembered that as well. What next? He had gone up to the common room, gotten the Firewhiskey, and then…
Yes, he was slowly starting to remember. He hadn't really been aware of where he was going, he was just stumbling blindly in fury, he had entered a room, and then he had started drinking. That was really all he could remember. Growling, he punched the wall in frustration. How had the darned girl come into the picture? How had she found him? And what was worse, what had she heard? He had been so frustrated with thoughts of failing his NEWTS and repeating another year. It was very likely that he was babbling nonsense about it while he was drunk. If she had heard any of that…
"Umm…Marcus?" Bole asked timidly. "We're…really late for breakfast. It's almost over."
Growling, Marcus nodded and pushed past them, stomping out of the dormitory. The other three followed wordlessly.
