Author's note: My plan to end C&B in 15 chapters has failed utterly. I'm going for less than thirty.
SophieB: Sirius is... ecky. Dragonhide-leather prat. When I hear the words '3 1/2 floppy' and 'chilly willy' I think of him. And Blaise is really cool. And Terry might or might not murder Padma.
Do: Evil and... random? - oh, bytheway, you satisfied with my uploading speed?
SoulSister: Yep, by the leash.. Mwahahahaha.
* * *
"Mhmm. Draco, geroff, I need air."
"But this is the next chapter. There's supposed to be smut here."
"... who says?"
"The author, you prat. Duh."
"...oh."
"A lot of people want 'action' so she's got to write some. Popular demand."
"I see."
"She has no choice."
"...."
"Although if the whole thing will be in dialogue with no description, how will the readers know what we're doing?"
"Touche."
"..."
"..."
"I don't think she got the hint."
"Yes, I did."
"Are you eavesdropping?"
"No, I'm writing this. Shut up."
"Make me."
"Fine, I will."
And so the out-of-patience author ended the conversation with a trio of asterisks.
* * *
Parvati, in the library, had spotted Terry Boot and had walked over to him. Apparently enthralled by the book he was readng (101 Ways to Cook House-Elf Testicles) he had not noticed her, but she soon took care of that.
"Hi!" she said brightly.
"H-hi," he answered. At first he looked surprised at her intrusion, then, as he noticed she so closely resembled Padma, he frowned darkly at her, and grit his teeth.
"Sorry to disturb you," Parvati said sweetly, "but I'm having trouble with the essay that Professor Binns set us for next Tuesday." This, of course, was a lie; she couldn't care less about the essay and planned to blackmail Padma into doing it for her - but it was a good pretext and had been rehearsed so often it sounded perfectly sincere.
"Oh?"
"I was wondering if you could help me - if it's not too much of a bother, of course." She laughed. "I think History of Magic is everyone's worst subject - I mean, is there anyone who listens to Binns' Hoover-like voice?"
"I think he's a brilliant historian," said Terry dryly.
"... oh. Well, can you help me?" She tossed her long hair over her shoulder for emphasis.
"Of course," sighed Terry.
Mwahaha. Parvati smiled beguilingly at him, and sat down next to him. "Excellent. I've got my quill and parchment right here -" and she pulled a roll of yellowed parchment and a eagle-owl quill from her robe pocket.
"You want to start now?"
"Why not?"
"All right then." He sighed again, deeply, and added, "Do you have your History of Magic book?"
"Oh.... no, I forgot it." She cursed mentally, then got up, smoothing the front of her robe with her hands. "I'll go get it, shall I? I'll be right back, don't move an inch..." And she was off.
On her way out she bumped into Blaise, who had been lurking by the library door for God knows what reason, and who ignored Parvati's hurried "I'm sorry" and grabbed her by the elbow, ramming her into the wall.
"Ow!" Parvati cried out. "Let me go, Zabini, you sick freak."
"Just what do you think you're doing, Patil?" she snarled, looking particularly werewolf-ish at that moment.
"What do you mean?" demanded Parvati, trying to pry Blaise's fingers off her. "Let go - you're bruising my skin."
"To hell with your skin." Blaise glared at her, cheeks reddening with anger. "Terry Boot is mine. Mine. So you keep your manicured little hands off him. Understand?"
"What?..." Suddenly Parvati began to laugh. Blaise, who abhorred being laughed at, glared even more. "He doesn't belong to anyone and if I want a go at him, you can't stop me, Zabini." The laughter stopped and she turned on her heels and headed towards her dormitory, to fetch the History of Magic book.
As soon as she was gone, Blaise rushed into the library, and sat down next to Terry, who seemed very surprised at this turn in events. Oh, fuck, he's still expecting Patil to come back. Her long fingers gripped the wand in her pocket. Well, there's no other way... Quick as lightning, she pulled her wand out, pointed it at him, and cast a memory charm. His eyes immediately glazed over, and she snapped her fingers in his face; startled, he stared in a puzzled way at her.
"What happened?" He sounded groggy, as though he had just woken up.
"You dozed off. Must have been a boring book." Shrugging, she picked it up. "Ah. House-elf testicles." A pause, then: "Do house-elves even have testicles?"
"I never stopped to make sure," he quipped, and she smiled darkly at him. "But wasn't Parvati here a few minutes ago?" he added.
"Parvati? Oh... no, of course not - I haven't seen her all day." Blaise crossed her fingers behind her back.
Another pause.
"So, do you still plan to murder Padma?"
"Well, I don't know," he admitted. "I mean, Azkaban is not exactly an island resort."
"Chickened out?"
He didn't answer.
"Well, there are hit men in the Ministry you could hire," Blaise said nonchalantly, "if you knew what Department to go to."
"Really?"
"Yeah."
"Well, that sounds... interesting."
"It sure is. Of course, I wouldn't rely on hit men... they're extremely expensive and the cheapest ones threaten you with blackmail after the deed is done. If you're going to kill someone it's best that not too many people know about it. So you don't want to go dragging a third party in this."
"Might as well not kill her at all," said Terry, sighing at all the complications.
"I think you should wait. At least until a few months after graduation." Blaise smiled, her foot grazing his knee. "Because if you kill her right away - why, you'll be the prime suspect, since she's the reason your girlfriend dumped you. No, you don't want people knowing you did it. This time next year you might be able to do it without anyone thinking it was you."
"You seem to know an awful lot about murder," remarked Terry.
"Oh, I've never killed anybody," said Blaise. Under her breath she added, "Not yet."
* * *
Meanwhile, the author decided to forgive Draco's rudeness and let him snog Harry to his heart's content.
Which he did, judging by the high-pitched yelps and moans coming from his dormitory.
* * *
"Why's it always your dormitory?" asked Harry poutingly, his hand bathed in a puddle of the sunlight that poured through the open window and onto the pillows.
"Because mine's nicer," Draco answered.
"Is not," giggled Harry, his left hand trailing up and down Draco's chest. Draco leaned down to kiss his ear, nibbling on it delicately, his tongue tickling Harry's earlobe, and Harry giggled again. He pulled Draco closer.
"Mmh," went Draco, moving from his ear to his neck, head cocked at a forty-five degree angle, lightly biting Harry's neck as though he were a vampire.
"That tickles," whispered Harry, making a feverish grab for Draco's crotch.
"Eeep!" yelped Draco.
".... sorry."
"Usually I wouldn't mind. But you squeeze too hard."
"There's such a thing as too hard?" giggled Harry, making up for his squeezing by petting the blonde.
"Of course there is, you scarred git." Smirking malevolently, Draco suddenly kneed Harry in the balls.
"OW!"
"See? That was too hard."
"You bastard," whined Harry, inspecting the damage.
"Well, you started it."
There was a pause, during which both young men looked away from each other and Harry rubbed his sore balls, pouting. He pouts more than me, Draco said to himself bemusedly, and it does look ridiculous on him. I wonder why I got a reputation of a pouty little slut? I don't pout nearly as much as him.
"Sorry," he finally said, gruffly, kissing Harry's neck again for forgivance.
"I forgive you," came Harry's soft voice.
* * *
"He's really going to kill me," whimpered Padma.
"He is not," laughed Hermione, running a small hand through the Ravenclaw's coal-black hair. "He's not the homicidal type, I told you. Anyway, I'll protect you." She smiled, feeling very maternal with Padma leaning against her, head on her chest - Padma hadn't noticed the closeness between herself and Hermione's breasts, and was behaving very much like a woeful child in need of comforting.
"Yeah, but he's half a foot taller than you, Hermi, and much stronger."
"You're making mountains out of molehills," Hermione told her. "Relax."
"Easy for you to say. You don't have the Head Boy of Hogwarts after your blood."
"Ye bad ho," said Hermione, trying not to giggle. "By the way, is my closet comfortable?"
"Not really," grumbled Padma, annoyed because she wasn't being taken seriously. "It's not big enough."
"Your problem. I told you to sleep in your own dormitory."
"On the other hand, your bed..."
"You are not sleeping in my bed," said Hermione severely, sounding very much like McGonagall.
"But why not? It's very roomy. It's too much space for one person. Pleeease, Hermi? A person can't sleep in a closet." She pouted in a very fetching way and Hermione felt her legs gradually turn to jelly.
"Harry slept in a cupboard for eleven years," she told Padma, "and I'd like to point out that your bed, in your dormitory, in your House, is exactly the same size!"
"But if I go back to my bed, to my dormitory, to my House," cried Padma shrilly, "they'll find me in a bloodstained heap the next morning, you alarmingly heartless sexy person you!"
Hermione blushed at the 'sexy'. "Fine, I'll magick up a cot for you. Happy?"
"No," grumbled Padma again, "that's not the point."
"The point is," smiled the Head Girl, "that if I slept in that closet as well you wouldn't be complaining so bloody much, now would you?" She raised an eyebrow.
"You begin to catch on," laughed Padma.
"Incidentally, I think your sister is trying to seduce Bootboy," announced Hermione.
Padma shrugged.
"It must run in the family judging by the way you tried to seduce me," added Hermione.
"She chases everything in pants. I chased everything in skirts."
"Chased, past tense?"
"Well, duh, I wouldn't flirt with every hot girl since I got - the desire of my heart." She stretched on the red-and-gold eiderdown, yawning fit to make her head roll off.
"Go to sleep," Hermione told her.
"Where?" asked Padma, looking at her pleadingly, batting her eyelashes in a ridiculous but cute way.
"Fine, you can sleep here." Hermione bit her lip to keep herself from smiling at Padma's look of sheer joy. "But if you touch me I will shove you into that closet and lock you in there. Understood?"
* * *