One Week Later

Everyone eagerly dives into our evening feast. I glare at the vacant plate staring back at me while my stomach rumbles. Sharp pains extend across my abdomen, yet I can't bring myself to eat.

"Go on, Harry," Ron encourages. He gapes at me across from the Gryffindor table while holding a half-eaten turkey leg. "You'll need your strength for the game."

"Don't remind me," I grumble.

Tomorrow was our first quidditch match of the year against Gryffindor. Flint had been working us into the ground in preparation for the big game. We had practice every single day for the last seven days straight. Practice generally consisted of a series of drills; each specific to a different set of skills. We endured a brutal compilation of agility, control, and reaction time exercises.

Training as a seeker was admittedly harder than expected. There was greater depth to the position than simply finding and catching a shiny floating ball.

Ginny and I found time around classes to practice on the pitch, and we competed in several impromptu races for the snitch. I had an approximate 75% success rate and that seemed to impress the Gryffindor team captain. However, the strategy and intensity of quidditch was drastically different from the game of lacrosse. This brought upon a high level of anxiety that I pray will magically vanish once I'm in the air tomorrow.

"Oi, Potter!" George joins the conversation from a few seats down. "You're bumming me out, mate. I think you could use a night out with the lads. What do you lot say?" Neville and Dean delightedly nod their heads in elated anticipation from across the table.

A 'night out with the lads' usually consisted of getting pissed in an inconspicuous area, followed by some drunken competition, and ultimately resulted in someone getting hurt.

"I'm not in the mood."

"You are so bloody depressing, you know that?" The other Weasley twin plops on the bench beside me squeezing my right shoulder. "So you have an all-important quidditch game tomorrow against a bunch of lads who have years of experience in comparison.." He shrugs his shoulders. "Big deal; nothing to be anxious over."

After a few moments of banter, I finally cave in and decide to go out. When it came to an army of incessant, stubborn, relentless Weasleys.. I didn't stand a bloody chance.

The Gryffindors allow 10 minutes for myself to grab a jacket and feed my owl before we head out.

I enter my room, greeted by Hedwig with a series of excited shrill chirps. I unlock her cage so she can prep for her nightly flight. As I push the window up, the door kicks open.

I turn to find Malfoy in the doorway. He firmly grips two peculiarly beautiful broomsticks in each hand. The compact contraptions are sleek black with a composition that's straight as a board. He mutely hands one over as I shift the weight of the heavy wooden broomstick into both hands. My eyes curiously flicker to my roommate as I admire the polished finish.

"The Nimbus 2020," he outwardly admires. "Not even in stores yet."

"Christmas isn't for another couple weeks, but thanks." I joke, ogling over the unexpected gift.

"Don't thank me. They're from Snape." Malfoy gently spins his on its tail end before adding, "He gifted us for the match tomorrow."

"Wait- Snape?" My attention diverts from the ebony beauty in hand. "Our potions teacher? Head of Slytherin?.. Bane of my existence?"

Draco rolls his eyes. "Your pride makes this irritatingly burdensome, Potter. Snape's merely a proud Slytherin; as it should be."

I couldn't believe it.

A ritual banter had been indefinitely formed between myself and the Potions professor. He would bark at me at the Gryffindor table, or in Potions class, and I'd be defiant in return. And ever since the dodgy lindworm incident, my tolerance for his behavior had come to an all-time low.

Needless to say, we didn't get along very well.

And yet, he decided to gift me a magnificent broom?

I raise both eyebrows in apprehensive agreement and cradle my newfound possession in deep thought. As crazy as it sounded, maybe my roommate was right. Maybe Snape was just a misunderstood, crabby Slytherin. There tended to be loads of us, after all.

I leave Hedwig's dinner for upon her return and throw on my jacket. Once I reach the door, my hand wavers nearing the knob. "Hey, Malfoy." I pull in a sharp breath turning to him. He's reclined on his bed, rigidly spinning the Nimbus 2020 above his body. "We're uh.. A few of the guys are headed to the Forbidden Forrest for a few drinks. You should come."

"Who's 'we', Potter?" he drawls with a smug expression while setting the prized possession to his side. "The Weasleys? Your best mates from Gryffindor?"

I had neglected the merciless rivalry between the two dignified wizarding families. It also didn't help that a 'proud Slytherin' such as himself would never be caught dead befriending a Gryffindor.

With the exception of an incredibly witty Gryffindor named Hermione Granger, of course.


We sit in a circle around a roaring fire just on the outskirts of the Forbidden Forrest. The bone chilling breeze blasts our hair in the wind and whirls tiny cyclones of leaves across campus. I'm accompanied by the Weasleys, Dean, Neville and Hagrid. We're bundled in layers of blankets sipping on warm, vodka infused butter beer.

Fred positions himself before the fire commanding our attention. "Alright you lot." His shoulders are firmly held back with fists planted on his hips. "Seeing as we have someone in attendance from the Muggle world- attendee.. please raise your hand."

The prolonged silence elevates the noise of thousands of crickets surrounding us. Fred loudly clears his throat tilting his head toward me. "Attendee, please raise your hand," he repeats. I cover my face with one hand while sluggishly raising the other. "Thank you attendee. Now who's in for a round of Muggle's Truth or Dare?"

"We are!" Dean giddily replies gesturing between himself and Neville.

"You forced me out here.. the night before our first game.. in this arctic weather.. to play bloody Truth or Dare?" I complain drawing the blankets closer to my neck.

"Truth er dare always leads to nothin' good," Hagrid adds lifting his drink in agreement. "Didn' gettin' caught by Filch in yer skivvies teach ya nothin'?"

"Pipe down Hagrid." Fred uses a hand to hush him while keeping his focus on me. "Truth or dare, Harry?"

"Dare."

"I dare you to turn yourself into a bat."

Everyone excitedly slants their chairs forward waiting for my reaction. I whip my head back with a melodramatic groan as I sink lower in my seat. "Sorry, Fred.. Haven't learned that charm yet."

"No need to apologize mate," George interjects. "That's what we're here for." He fluidly fetches the concealed wand from beneath his blanket.

My eyes pop wide open as I grasp the arms of my chair. I'm positioned to make a run for it, but there simply was no such thing as out running magic. George readily directs his wand at me wildly snickering.

"Levicorpus."

A hidden force aggressively grips my ankles and yanks me from my seat above the ground. I hang upside down in mid-air just inches above the grass. An invisible piece of sturdy rope ties my feet together, and I'm completely immobile.

"Alright, you win." I swish my arms from side to side mirroring the nocturnal creature. The blokes beneath me cackle maniacally at my expense as the blood rushes to my head.

I should have known better than to get mouthy with the notorious pranksters..

"Okay, Hagrid. Your turn," Ron announces. He finishes his beer holding up a finger before completing his statement. "Truth or dare?"

"Err, I'm not too sher.." Hagrid scratches his fluffy beard in deep thought. "Err.."

"Truth," Ron decides for him. "Brilliant!" He confidently strides back and forth, mentally preparing the pending interrogation on the groundskeeper. "Tell me Hagrid.." Our colossal friend takes a pull from his flask keeping an uneasy eye on the prosecutor. "What exactly was the point of Professor Snape unleashing a lindworm into the castle? Aside from trying to kill us, of course."

"Err.. Snape didn't let out no lindworm." Hagrid chuckles followed by a bellowing burp. "An' that isn't a yes 'er no question now, is it?"

"He's right," Neville agrees.

"Guys," I interject from above feeling faint. "Let me down." Well aware that I won't be spared off sheer mercy, I quickly come up with a 'reasonable' excuse. "I can't drink upside down."

"Fair enough." Fred keeps his back turned to me, his wand directed behind him. "Liberacorpus."

I come crashing to the ground, lucky to of not snapped my neck in half. I let out an embarrassed chuckle while bringing myself to my knees.

Making sure to keep the interrogation on course, I sneak back to my seat before saying, "So even if Snape had nothing to do with the lindworm.. How about the other unsightly, three-headed, mutated creature on the third floor?"

"Now watch who yer callin' ugly there, Harry," Hagrid reprimands pointing a chubby finger my way. "Fluffy's mine. I bought 'em off an Irish fellar down at the pub last year."

"Of course you have a hand in that monster's existence, Hagrid," Ron protests handing me a freshly conjured batch of butter beer.

"Well o'course! Then I lent 'em to Dumbledore to guard the-" Hagrid's eyes widen before drawing the bottle of whiskey to his lips.

"To guard the...?" I revolve my hands encouraging him to continue.

"I shouldn't have said that." He preoccupies his throat with alcohol incapacitating his ability to speak.

"Does this have to do with.." I rack my brain searching for the name tied to vault 713. ".. Nicolai Flannel?"

"Yeh mean Nicholas Flamel," Hagrid corrects with a raised finger. Ron and I shoot each other a glance before our giant friend booms, "No more questions! Don't ask no more questions! I'm drunk an' you lot are takin' advantage o' me!"

"But Hagrid," I adamantly insist. "Snape wants to get his hands on whatever Fluffy's hiding. It's obvious he used the lindworm as a diversion. Why else would he demand our secrecy?"

"Now yeh listen to me." Hagrid rises to his feet with a hand spread across his belly. "All five of yeh," he adds pointing at us separately. "Professor Snape is a Hogwarts teacher. I'll hear no more of it."

"Is that Filch?" George interrupts peering over my shoulder. "Looks as though he's cutting us off early tonight, lads."

We tensely watch the stiff, obscure figure make its way toward us. It doesn't take long to recognize the easily identifiable blonde. I can't tell if I'm in more shock over the fact that he actually came, or the fact that he's wearing a casual zip up and jeans.

"Blimey, is that Malfoy?!" Dean exclaims leaning forward in his seat.

Ron is quick to his feet in full preparation to fend off his territory. He habitually puffs out his chest in the presence of his enemy. "I don't believe you were invited."

Malfoy ignores him and silently takes a seat on the tree stump beside me.

"I invited him." I glance to my roommate. "I think a fresh start is in order. Between all of us."

Ron scowls at me as if I'd just stomped his pet rat to death. "A truce? With Malfoy?! That's not possible," he insists. "Our families have been at war for.. well.. for a bloody long time!"

Malfoy blankly stares back at him unphased. "Well I'm here, aren't I?" His arms cross as he calmly sways his shoulders from side to side. "It's a start."

I'm impressed with the severe sense of control over his temper. I could learn a thing or two from him.

"Welp.. I best be goin'." Hagrid timidly reports from the sidelines. "Err.. yeh won't be tellin' yer father about this now, will yeh Malfoy?" He shoves the fifth of whiskey under his armpit for safe keeping. "Or, err.. Professor Snape?"

"What's the good in doing that, you buffoon?" he shoots back. "Do you really think either would be pleased to know that I snuck out to be around a group of Weasleys?"

Hagrid quickly tilts his head to the side in agreement before stealthily creeping away.

"Finally run out of friends then, have you?" Fred taunts walking toward us. "Can't say I'm surprised.."

I kneel toward the cauldron adjacent to us and pour Malfoy a butter beer. "He hasn't run out of friends; I'm his friend," I defend. "And if you guys pulled your head out of your arses, maybe you'd realize he's a valuable one to have around."

I peer at my roommate from my peripheral. The corners of his lips are risen, and it's the first time I've seen anything brighter than a smirk on his face.

"I am valuable. For starters.." Malfoy grimaces, holding the donated butter beer at arm's length. He swings the backpack from around his shoulder. "I fancy beer that doesn't taste of laundry water." The contents of his backpack clatter as he individually plants each IPA on the dirt before him.

"Bloody hell. Are those the limited edition, pumpkin juice, toad wart, cinnamon spice, nutmeg infused brews?!" The twins gravitate toward the anomalies like moths to a flame. "Those are easily 30 sickles apiece," George adds.

"That's right." Malfoy effortlessly taps his wand against the beer cap before it launches out of sight. He then places the bottle in my hand before opening his own. I smirk, peering at the see-through vial containing a thick green carbonated liquid. The black label has a detailed drawing of a lime-green snake wrapped around what appears to be a severed human head.

It reads Mugglehead IPA with the crest of Slytherin beneath it.

Fred and George hastily grab a few beers with his silent permission. Ron subsequently inches near his arch nemesis.

"W-wait Ron," Neville stutters throwing a rigid arm in front of him. He wrings his hands looking to his housemates. "Are you really going to drink a Slytherin based beer? Who knows what could happen.."

"Quit being a pansy, Neville. They're not going to turn us into snakes on the spot," Fred scoffs before squeamishly looking to Malfoy. "... Right?"

Malfoy kicks up his feet, perching them against the Gryffindor's chair. "It's impossible to recall which ones have been tampered with. Guess you'll have to find out for yourself," he replies clinking his beer against mine.