A/N: Here's another chapter! Hope you enjoy!

Guest101: Thanks for the review, it always means a lot to me. And, as to your concerns, no I was not planning on there being a big reveal ever. Voldemort certainly wouldn't want him finding out about him, and Lucius and Narcissa have taken him in as their own, and love him just as much as they love Draco. I agree that it would basically negate everything that I've been slaving over, which is why I won't be writing such a scene. Perhaps I will in a one-shot spinoff series about the "what-ifs", sort of like Kurinoone (is that how you spell it?) did with the Darkness Within Trilogy.

And, once again, I apologize for the Harry/Jamie mix up. I do my best to catch all of the little things, but after staring at a screen for several hours, my eyes tend to miss things. I will continue to try and do better, which is as much as I can say right now. As long as everyone understands that they're little mistakes that I missed, then we're all good.

On a completely different note, if you like YouTube, go check out Sir Yizzle (my YouTube). Oh, and PewDiePie, the most awesome YouTuber ever who just reached 30 million subs. Go check it out, and join the Bro Army today!

Chapter Thirteen: Hogsmeade, Break-ins, and Quidditch Oh My!

Though the Slytherins loathed to admit it, Lupin was the best Defense Professor they'd had so far, but, in usual Slytherin style, they made sure to degrade and mock him at every chance they got, as, he was a werewolf, a half-blood, and a blood-traitor. Not a very good combination if one wanted to befriend the Slytherins. However, no one else seemed to share their view on why Lupin shouldn't be allowed to teach, so, not for the first time in Hogwarts history, the Slytherins were ignored.

"And people wonder why we've got it out for them," Nott had muttered darkly during the evening feast one night, and Harry found himself agreeing rather easily.

However, the mood was brightened considerably when the first Hogsmeade weekend rolled around. Everyone was gathered cheerfully in the courtyard, each babbling happily to another about the excitement of Hogsmeade. Though Harry and Draco, as well as the majority of the other Slytherins, had already seen Hogsmeade, the experience was still as magical as it would have been had they not seen it previously.

"Where to first, m'lady?" asked Harry cheerfully as he escorted Daphne around, her arm linked around his in old-fashioned pureblood style. Draco rolled his eyes at his brothers antics, and Daphne kicked his shin for ruining the moment, to which he protested greatly.

"I was thinking Honeydukes," said Daphne thoughtfully. "I've got a bit of a sweet tooth."

"And I think I know why," muttered Draco under his breath, and Daphne responded with a sweet smile and another sharp blow to the knee, to which Draco muttered obscenities under his breath about 'bloody women' and 'hormonal banshees', to which Harry laughed. Daphne raised an eyebrow and Harry quickly sobered.

"I was laughing at my brother's misfortune, not your current predicament," said Harry.

"Oh?" asked Daphne. "What predicament?" And Harry, in smooth pureblood style, responded.

"It's a shame to be cursed with such incredible beauty," he replied in earnest. "Don't worry about Draco, he's just jealous."

"Oh, smooth, Malfoy," giggled Daphne, kissing him lightly on the cheek.

"I try," Harry shot back easily, and Draco, just now recovering, shot him a scathing look.

"Never again," he swore, and Harry rolled his eyes.

"You'll be doing this with Anastasia next year, you can have your revenge then." Draco's grey eyes glinted happily at that prospect, and he made idle conversation with Zabini and Nott as the five made their way to Honeydukes.

Honeydukes in of itself was a rather magical, childish place filled with confections of all sorts. The bright assortments littered the walls, and candies that crawled, flew, scampered, and croaked were on display brightly by students already occupying the building, trying to purchase as many sweets as they could afford, which, in Harry and Draco's case, as well as most Slytherins, was quite a lot.

The first area of the shop they went to was the chocolates, in which there were over fifty flavours of fudge, including the line of Honeyduke's Best Fudge, which was the expensive selection that the Slytherins favored, if only to show off their considerate wealth. Each had procured a basket from the front in which they would gather their sweets with, and they eagerly began sifting through the candies to choose their favorites.

Harry selected a wide variety of different kinds of fudge, including original milk chocolate, chocolate mint, caramel, salted fudge, and several others. Draco, however, favored fudge that had nuts of different sorts mixed in them in one way or another, and Daphne just grabbed all of the chocolate she could reach, which was most likely as a result of the hormonal cycle that all females eventually had to suffer through.

They then moved on to the funnier, most alive confections. Harry scooped handfuls of peppermint toads and ice mice into his basket, as well as chocolate frogs, pepper imps, glacial snowflakes, jelly slugs, exploding bonbons, chocolate cauldrons, sugared skeletons, sugared butterfly wings, and other sweets that moved. Acid pops and blood pops were bought for a laugh to place among the other wide variety of flavoured lollies, as well as boxes of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans and Bott's Noise-Making Beans.

The Slytherins then made their way to the front, where the owner and cashier, Mr. Dukes, welcomed them warmly, as they'd been regulars over the years. The elderly pureblood had been a Slytherin, and had been crippled in the last war, fighting on the front lines for Grindelwald. He had earned their respect as a veteran and as a person, and they knew that Honeydukes would be safe when Voldemort returned, if only out of respect for one of the few remaining purebloods who had fought to purge the world of muggles so many years ago.

"Stocking up for a while, eh?" Mr. Dukes asked kindly, his eyes alight with unseen laughter, the bright blue irises looking upon each Slytherin fondly. "Ah, and Mr. Malfoy, Miss Greengrass, I must congratulate you on your marriage contract. You're a lucky one, Mr. Malfoy."

"I know," Harry replied earnestly, earning him another fond gaze from Daphne.

"Well, then, since I like you lot so much, I think that this one'll be on the house, but don't go around telling all the other lads that I can afford such favors." He winked at them conspiratorially. "Now, off you trot. Have a wonderful rest of your day."

"You as well, Mr. Dukes," said Draco happily. "Tell Honey we said 'hello'!" Honey was Mr. Dukes' old crup, who had a flair for sweets and was always able to sniff out the good quality produce from the cheaply made confections.

"I will, Mr. Malfoy, I will."

With freshly wrapped packages of sweets, the Slytherins happily made their way over to the Three Broomsticks where they would have lunch. Draco, Nott, and Zabini all got a little starry-eyed when Madame Rosmerta came to bring them their meal, and Daphne looked rather pleased with herself when Harry didn't bat an eye at the rather curvaceous woman's appearance.

"Honestly, you lot looked like a gaggle of bumbling baboons," scoffed Harry rolling his eyes in a rather over dramatized, but very endearing, manner. It was, of course, natural for three teenaged boys to stumble over themselves when in the company of any female with developed assets, as they were just discovering the wonders of the female 'species', and many things –– such as breasts, to name one of many –– were becoming the centre of their universe. Not that Harry didn't appreciate such things, he just didn't bother with drooling, as he already had a beautiful young lady of his own to dote over.

Warm glasses of butterbeer were served, golden brown and bubbling, foaming and frothing at the top in a rather luxurious velvety blanket, creating a rather pleasing experience for whoever was drinking at the time. Harry expected no less from a finely brewed wizarding drink.

The meal at the Three Broomsticks was a more intimate experience than the meals at Hogwarts, which were loud, rowdy, and utterly chaotic 90% of the time. Not to say that it wasn't loud at the Three Broomsticks, but it was more of a pleasant, tavern-y sort of loud, as opposed to the sheer volume of hungry Gryffindors, and the other students had to speak at the top of their voices to even be heard over the noise coming from the table filled with obnoxious shades of in-your-face red and gold.

Harry had ordered a Cornish Pastie, filled with different types of slow-roasted meats, sauteed vegetables, mashed potatoes, and a smooth, succulent gravy blanketing the flaky pie crust. It was delicious, and one of the classics on the menu. Daphne ordered a Cottage Pie, Draco Bubble and Squeak, and Nott and Zabini shared a Cumberland Sausage.

"It's not our fault," Draco protested weakly in-between bites of his Bubble and Squeak. "Unlike yourself, the three of us aren't betrothed, officially, so, therefore, we don't only have to focus on one person."

"I don't have to," said Harry exasperatedly. "I want to. There's a difference, Draco." The older of the two blonds pouted slightly, which was a rather comical sight, and the rest of the occupants at the table quickly dissolved into fits of barely contained laughter, their shoulders heaving and arms doubled over at their sides, trying their hardest to remain composed, as they'd been taught. It was hard, though, to look composed when you were in a sitting fetal position, fist shoved up your mouth, trying not to laugh.

"Never," wheezed Harry. "Do…..that….again."

"...you were so….funny," giggled Daphne, swallowing the piece of meat that she'd almost choked on when Draco pouted.

"Oh come on," whined Draco. "You lot are having me on. It's not like it was that funny. Round the bend, all of you." Instead of pouting, Draco settled for glaring at them rather scathingly, though they all knew that it was in good fun. As they'd put several privacy charms around their booth, the strongest reactions they got were a few odd glances from some of the customers sitting in the booths next to them, but, other than that, no one really noticed the entire ordeal, for which Draco was grateful.

After a few moments of more insane cackling, the others calmed down, breathing deeply to regain composure, and to not suffocate from lack of air, which was a possibility considering just how much they'd been laughing. Draco, Nott, and Zabini took a long time to eat, so while Harry and Daphne waited, Harry scooted until he was sitting against the wall, and Daphne leaned back luxuriously and rested her head on his chest, causing Harry to smile and Draco to mime gagging, and then he yelped as, somehow, Daphne's foot rammed into his knee.

"Toes of steel," he muttered, and the others present laughed at his misfortune. Draco, being a pureblood heir, usually wouldn't accept that, but he was among friends and family, so it was alright.

"Oh look," sneered Harry, peering over Daphne's head. "The Gryffindork wanna-be crew has arrived." And in true Gryffindork fashion as well. Jamie Potter, as usual, was leading the bunch, and had a rather flustered looking Lavender Brown hanging off of his arm as he dazzled her charmingly and she swooned. The apple didn't seem to fall far from the tree, or so it seemed.

Trailing closely behind him were Lardbottom and Weasel-bee, whose heads were stuck together in conversation, most likely about the upcoming Quidditch match, chess –– which was the only thing Weasel-bee was actually good at ––, or Herbology –– Lardbottom's strong suit. And trailing behind them was the mudblood Granger, her nose buried in a book as she walked, and Harry wondered how she hadn't yet fallen among the chaos of the pub and Hogsmeade in general.

"Let's go to Tomes and Scrolls," Daphne suggested. "My little cousin Davie has been dying to get his hands on the new series of 'Westley the Nobel Warlock', so I figured I could purchase it now to send to him for Christmas." Westley the Nobel Warlock was a wizarding comic series, with interactive drawings that actually flew, cast spells, and spoke through the pages of smooth parchment.

"Could we go to Zonko's afterwards?" asked Nott as they exited the building, trying to fix his hair as they walked, as the wind kept messing it up. Zabini, who kept his head clean-shaven, was rolling his obsidian eyes at his friend, and looked at his dark skinned hand boredly.

"I don't see why not," Daphne offered, shrugging, as they entered the colorful bookshop, and Daphne made her way through the gaggle of excited children who lived in Hogsmeade gathered around the shelves filled with the new set of comics, eager to coerce their parents into purchasing a set.

Daphne plucked a box filled with comics off of the shelves, placed it on the counter, and bought the entire thing, much to the awe of the small children gathered, who then seemed even more excited about the comics, and Harry had to stifle laughter as some parents shot Daphne rather annoyed looks, as if blaming her for the predicament they'd been caught in.

"Will there be another Hogsmeade weekend before the hols?" asked Harry.

"Yeah," said Zabini, nodding. "Two weeks before break. That way we'll actually have time to purchase our gifts before hand instead of having to owl-order them, which is always inconvenient."

"It's great to be third years," Nott agreed, biting the head off of a chocolate frog that he'd pulled out of his package full of sweets, tucked neatly into his satchel, which was bigger on the inside than it was the outside, and also had a feather-light charm on it, as had been Harry's idea before the Slytherins had left for the day.

"I think that we should work on a project together," said Harry, out of the blue, and the others turned to look at him warily as they strolled through Hogsmeade, as Harry had had some pretty diabolical ideas in the past.

"Don't give me those looks," Harry chided. "This is actually a good idea. I propose that we make a map of Hogwarts. All of its secret entrances and exits, and spell it so that we can tell where everyone is at any given time."

"The ultimate snooping device," said Draco with a grin. "I like it."

"But how would we get it to work?" asked Zabini, brows furrowed.

"There's a spell that Auntie Bella taught us over the summer, for map creation," Harry explained. "Cohaerent. You cast it on the piece of parchment and the areas you want mapped, and they show up, connected."

"We'd need to password protect the parchment, though," Daphne added. "And make it indestructible."

"And undetectable," offered Zabini.

"With multiple copies, too, one for each of us, so that we don't have to keep passing it around," said Draco.

"It'd need a name, though," asked Nott as they trudged back up to Hogwarts.

"The Pureblood's Guide to Hogwarts," exclaimed Harry, and four pairs of incredulous eyes looked at him quizzically.

"What?" he asked, rather defensively. "It's a good idea. And besides, I was the one who came up with the idea. I should get to name it."

"Alright," Daphne conceded. "Now, how would we start about the creation of this map."

"A very large piece of parchment," offered Harry, procuring one from his bag with a smile. "And a whole lot of exploring…"

(linebreak)

The Slytherins were in the middle of working on their masterpiece when they heard the news.

"So far, we know of seven secret passageways altogether," said Harry, as they'd gone and spelled the secret passageways first. "Behind the statue of the one-eyed witch, behind the mirror on the fourth floor, beneath the Whomping Willow, behind the statue of Gregory the Smarmy, through the passageway behind the lopsided barrel by the Hufflepuff entrance, Myrtle's sink, and the portrait of Barnabas the Barney. But what's to say there aren't more?"

"We'll have to do a more thorough search of the castle," said Draco. "Leave no stone unturned...theoretically, of course. I don't think Dumbles would appreciate if we broke his castle."

"It isn't even his," said Daphne sourly. "The Dumbledores are a half-blood family. Only the purebloods can trace their bloodlines back to the Founders. So, technically, we should be running this place."

"We do run this place," Harry deadpanned drily. "The others just haven't got their heads out of their arses to see that."

They were walking through the halls back to the Slytherin Common Room when they heard the commotion, a loud clammering of students rushing down the stairs back to the Great Hall, where sleeping bags were being relocated to.

"Oh great," groaned Draco. "What've the Gryffindorks done this time?"

"Peter Pettigrew," said Terry Boot breathlessly, as he'd almost gotten trampled on his way down from the Ravenclaw Tower. He was one of the few reasonable, pureblood elitists in Ravenclaw, and a close acquaintance of the Slytherins. "He tried to break into the Gryffindor Common Room. We've all been ordered by the Headmaster to remain in the Great Hall until the castle's been thoroughly searched." Draco rolled his eyes slightly at the irony, but otherwise didn't comment.

"I'll be putting cushioning charms everywhere," Harry muttered, rubbing his back absentmindedly. "It won't be comfortable to sleep on stone floors, so I might as well try my best to have some semblance of comfort."

"Spongify, right?" asked Daphne, refreshing her memory.

"Yeah," Harry replied absentmindedly. "First year spell, really simple. Most people probably won't think of it, though. Boot, tell all of our...friends… in Ravenclaw. We wouldn't want them to suffer, now, would we?"

Terry grinned a rather devious grin and nodded.

"Whatever you say, Malfoy." And then he was off, and Harry looked rather pleased with himself.

"I do love having influence over people, I wonder how the Gryffindorks live with themselves, not having such skills in manipulation."

"What are you going on about?" laughed Draco, and Harry shoved him lightly in the shoulder.

"You tend to favor in-your-face intimidation, as does Father. I, on the other hand, rather like the idea of subtle intimidation and manipulation, in true sly Slytherin style. Makes sense, don't you think?" Draco nodded, as he understood Harry more than the others, but even they agreed with his reasoning.

"Doesn't mean I'll change my approach," said Draco light-heartedly, elbowing Harry in the stomach. "Now, come on, let's find a less crowded area to settle ourselves into, and get away from the insane chitter of the blood-traitors and mudbloods."

(linebreak)

For days after the breakin, people could speak of little more than Peter Pettigrew, and the non-Slytherins were always looking over their shoulders in the corridors fearfully, walking in large groups, similar to the tactics they'd used during the whole Chamber of Secrets fiasco. Not like that would actually help, as, though Pettigrew still had little more power than a squib, he was a fully trained wizard, and could easily take down a group of scared, undertrained students.

But, the rat was much too cowardly to make an outward appearance, and Harry and Draco wondered why he was causing such a ruckus in the first place.

"Maybe he's a distraction," Boot had said over a hushed conversation in the library during their study group. "Think about it. Usually, when a power-play of sorts is about to take place, there's a distraction. In Quidditch, its the bludgers. Maybe the Dark Lord is planning something…maybe Pettigrew is his bludger." It was useful to have a Ravenclaw within their little circle of friends, very useful. Not that Harry and the others weren't smart, it was just that they tended to think in different ways than the Ravenclaws.

Tensions between Gryffindor and Slytherin once more began to increase as the upcoming match between the two approached. Potter had tried to weasel his way out of having to participate in the match, apparently, though, as he'd gone to McGonagall pleading the fact that his arm still wasn't fully healed. Madame Pomfrey had quickly put a stop to that, though, and had said in a rather no-nonsense tone that his arm was fine, and that he was clear to participate in the match. Needless to say, Potter had been furious.

For good reason, too, as the weather seemed to be taking a turn for the worst. The winds raged constantly, and the rain downpoured on and off, and the ceiling in the Great Hall almost always portrayed a dark grey storm with wars brewing overhead, a clash of brilliant streaks of lightning and loud booms of thunder, a rather ominous way to set the mood.

On Wednesday, Harry and the rest of his Slytherin comrades made their way to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, and were delighted to see that, instead of the mangy mutt, Professor Snape was at the front desk, already looking threatening and annoyed, bust his obsidian gaze softened from steel to stormy when he saw his beloved godsons.

"You'll be teaching our Defense lesson today?" asked Draco excitedly, and Severus pursed his lips slightly, hidden laughter deep in his obsidian eyes, and, in usual sarcastic style, he replied:

"Obviously, Draco, don't waste your words on pointing out the painfully obvious." Smiling, the Slytherins situated themselves at the front of the classroom, and Daphne saved a seat next to her for her best female friend, Tracey Davis.

Students soon began to file into the class, and Potter was noticably absent, and Harry could see his godfather's eyes begin to narrow ever so slightly, his posture becoming stiffer, and then a cruel look passed through his obsidian eyes, and Harry knew that he was thinking of cursing Scarhead into the next century. The time for the lesson to begin quickly was upon them, and Potter was still not present. Severus began the class without him, quickly saying that he would be teaching the lesson, not to ask stupid questions, and that the rules now were just like the rules in the Potions classroom.

Ten minutes into the lesson, Scarhead strutted into the room confidently.

"Sorry I'm late, Professor Lup––" he began, but trailed off as he saw that it was not his werewolf honorary uncle that was seated at the head of the class, but his least favorite teacher, Professor Snape.

"This lesson began ten minutes ago, Potter, so I think it'll better be ten points from Gryffindor. Sit down." But Scarhead didn't move.

"Where's Professor Lupin?" he said.

"He says that he is feeling too ill to teach today," said Snape with a twisted smile. "I believe I told you to sit down." But Scarhead stayed stubbornly where he was, and the Slytherins began to snigger softly, wondering if Potter had a death wish or something.

"Nothing life-threatening," he said, black eyes glittering, looking as though he wished it were. "Twenty more points from Gryffindor, and if I have to ask you to sit down again, it will be fifty." Jamie walked slowly to his seat and sat down. Snape looked around at the class.

"As I was saying before Potter interrupted, Professor Lupin has not left any record of the topics you have covered so far––"

"Please, sir, we've done boggarts, Red Caps, kappas, and grindylows," said mudblood Granger quickly, "and we're just about to start––"

"Be quiet," said Snape coldly. "I did not ask for information, I was merely commenting on Professor Lupin's lack of organization."

"He's the best Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher we've ever had," said mudblood Thomas boldly, and there was a murmur of agreement from the rest of the Gryffindors. Snape looked more menacing than ever.

"You are easily satisfied. Lupin is hardly overtaxing –– I would expect first years to be able to deal with Red Caps and grindylows. Today we shall discuss––" he filled to the back of the textbook, at the very last chapter, where he must've known they hadn't covered.

"––werewolves," said Snape.

"But sir," said mudblood Granger, seemingly unable to restrain herself, "we're not supposed to do werewolves yet, we're due to start hinkypunks––"

"Miss Granger," said Snape in a voice of deadly calm. "I was under the impression that I am teaching this lesson, not you. And I am telling you all to turn to page 394." He glanced around again. "All of you! Now!"

Harry happily opened his textbook to page three-hundred and ninety-four, smirking into the pages of the textbook as he heard the grumbles of the Gryffindors, and a small sniffle from mudblood Granger, who seemed to have taken offense to what Snape had said to her, even though it was justly deserved.

"Which of you can tell me how we distinguish between the werewolf and the true wolf?" asked Snape. The Slytherins wisely kept silent, as they knew that this was a test for the Gryffindors, and Snape had warned them beforehand, of course. Mudblood Granger's hand, as it so often did, had shot straight into the air.

"anyone?" Snape said, ignoring the mudblood. His twisted smile was back. "Are you telling me that Professor Lupin hasn't even taught you the basic distinction between––"

"We told you," said Parvati suddenly, "we haven't got as far as werewolves yet, we're still on––"

"Silence!" snarled Snape. "Well, well, well, I never thought I'd meet a third-year class who wouldn't even recognize a werewolf when they saw one. I shall make a point of informing Professor Dumbledore how very behind you all are…"

"Please, sir," said mudblood Granger, whose hand was still in the air, "the werewolf differs from the true wolf in several small ways. The snout of the werewolf––"

"That is the second time you have spoken out of turn, Miss Granger," said Snape cooly. "Fifteen more points from Gryffindor for being an insufferable know-it-all." Mudblood Granger finally put her hand down, and stared at the floor, her eyes filled with tears that threatened to spill over at any given moment.

"You asked us a question and she knows the answer! Why ask if you don't want to be told?" the angry words left Weasel-bee's mouth before he even had the chance to consider the repercussions, and the Slytherins smiled darkly, instantly knowing that he'd gone too far.

"Detention, Weasley," said snape silkily, his face very close to Weasel-bee's. "And if I ever hear you criticize the way I teach this class again, you will be very sorry indeed." He turned to the class and smiled darkly. "Now, Harry, would you mind telling me all of the differences between a werewolf and a true-wolf?"

Harry happily listed off facts, revelling in the loathing looks shot his way by the Gryffindors, especially the Gryffindorks. The favoritism was so blatant, so unfair… it was wonderful. However, they dutifully took notes from both what Harry was saying, and from the pages from the textbook. Snape prowled up and down the rows of desks after awarding Harry thirty points, examining the work they had been doing with Professor Lupin.

"Very poorly explained… That is incorrect, the kappa is more commonly found in Mongolia… Professor Lupin gave this eight out of ten? I wouldn't have given it a three…"

When the bell finally rang, Snape held them back.

"You will each write an essay, to be handed in to me, on the ways you recognize and kill werewolves. Except for all the Slytherins who added to Mr. Malfoy's stunning explanation, of course ––" that was all the Slytherins in the class, "I want two rolls of parchment on the subject, and I want them by Monday morning. It is time somebody took this class in hand. Weasley, stay behind, we need to arrange your detention."

The Slytherins left the Defense classroom thoroughly pleased, and chatted amiably all the way to their next class, Herbology. The week passed quickly, and the much anticipated Quidditch match was soon upon them. The weather was horrible, raining, cloudy and gloomy. The Slytherins had to charm their goggles to repel water so that they could see.

Higgs kept a firm eye on Potter, trailing behind him, ready at a moments notice to peel after him with his much faster broomstick. Harry and Draco, as always, found much amusement in pelting bludgers at the unsuspecting Gryffindors, who could barely see in all of the heavy rainfall. As Harry and Draco were busy trying to knock the Gryffindors off of their brooms, Higgs and Potter finally shot up, high into the sky, in furious pursuit of the snitch, climbing up and up until they were out of sight.

Moments later, a figure came falling out of the sky. It was Potter. Apparently, the dementors had travelled too close to the school, and he'd fainted on his broom. It was a shame he didn't fall to his death, but the blasted old coot had to save him. The Slytherins cheered loudly when Higgs touched down, snitch firmly clasped in his hands. They'd won the match, 150 - 0, as both Wood and Bletchley had been on the top of their game that day.

When the team, freshly showered and cleaned, entered the Common Room, there was a loud uproar, and they were immediately swept up into the celebration, one of the largest they'd had in a long, long time, all joyous in crushing the Gryffindors. Harry and Draco, in particular, were being cheered on, as they'd managed to knock all three Gryffindors off of their brooms on several different occasions, and none of the bludgers shot by the twin terrors had even grazed the Slytherins. Everyone agreed that it had been an amazing match.

Daphne accosted Harry as soon as he entered, latching onto him in a tight embrace and kissing him briefly on the lips, arousing hoots and hollers from their friends, to which both flushed slightly.

"Hey, you," he said, smiling down at her, for she was a good five inches shorter than him. Daphne's pale cheeks were still flushed slightly, and her emerald green eyes were peering up at Harry. Harry chuckled, and wrapped his arms around Daphne's middle, pulling her closer to him as they swayed in their position, lost in the moment. "How'd I get so lucky?"

"Sometimes I think I'm the lucky one," murmured Daphne, and Harry smiled and kissed her forehead.

"I think the others are getting impatient," chuckled Harry, and he and Daphne reluctantly parted and rejoined the celebration. The upper years had taken the liberty of obtaining butterbeers and other snacks and beverages from the house elves, and the seventh years were enjoying a couple of glasses of firewhiskey.

The party continued on late into the night, and there was plenty of dancing and merriment in general. It was a chance for all of the purebloods to just let loose for a little while, as they were used to social gatherings and parties in which it seemed like they were stuck in the Victorian era, with ball gowns and dress robes, elegant hairstyles and posh aristocratic company, in which everyone was trying to impress the others with their wealth. This, of course, was the polar opposite. And Harry found that, while such an event was fun, he didn't think he could enjoy them every other week, like Gryffindors did. He preferred to live luxuriously, and parties such as Quidditch celebrations were a bit… much.

Although, it was alright to relax, just for now.

A/N: Sorry for my overdue update. Summer got a little crazy, what with myself doing additional advanced coursework to prepare myself for... *drumroll*...

My first year at High School!

Anyways, hopefully none of you think less of me for not updating, or due to the fact that I'm younger (though I've tested to be further progressed intellectually then some of my peers, not that there's anything wrong with that of course - which is why I'm in the IB Program) and I hope you enjoyed the chapter! I'm working on a few more as I type...

Anyways, as always, feel free to slap that like button and leave a comment! And, if you want to see me, check out my YouTube, Sir Yizzle (or SirYizzle, I can't remember if there was a space between the two words).

Thanks for stopping by!