Better Be Slytherin
XX
Birthday Girl

The next day, the second of September, was the first day of school. That morning at breakfast they all received their personal class schedules handed out to them. Later that day they had their first lesson in Defence with Snape. In Draco's opinion, Snape went on about the Dark Arts with a sort of admiration and almost tenderness in his voice – telling them about Inferi, Dementor's Kiss, Crucio, non-verbal spells, and the likes. Draco grinned when Snape made a snide comment to Granger. Stupid Mudblood, he thought, amused.

A little while later they were to split up in pairs and practice non-verbal spells and counter-spells on each other. Crabe and Goyle paired up – it did not go very well for them, causing them both to become very irritated with each other. Draco himself was with Nott, and Pansy and Zabini worked together.

"Patethic, Weasley. Here, let me show you..." they suddenly heard Snape's silky voice, and then he hexed Potter, who reacted quickly, roaring protego against Snape who tumbled backwards, against a desk. Draco gasped. Snape straightened up and brushed his robes.

"Do you remember that I told you to practice non-verbal spells, Potter?"

"Yes," Potter replied, his jaw clenched in anger.

"Yes, sir," Snape reprimanded him.

"You don't need to call me sir, professor."

Several students gasped, and Potter's friends grinned. Ugh, the cheek, Draco thought irritatedly, almost disliking Potter even more.

After that lesson, they did not have more classes until late that afternoon – this time they were supposed to use for studying but the Slytherins preferred hanging out in the common room, both before and after a large lunch. They already had quite a bit of homework, but the lot did not really take initiative to study.

Late that afternoon they had Potions with their new professor, Slughorn. When Draco and the other Slytherins arrived to the corridor in the dungeon outside the classroom, they were the first there. Only himself, Nott, Zabini and Pansy had qualified to move on for sixth-year Potions (Draco found it odd considering he and Pansy hadn't been very good at it. Nott and Zabini on the other hand were a given). It was probably because Pansy's silly girlfriends were only interested in beauty potions, Draco thought and rolled his eyes. After a while, four Ravenclaw students arrived, along with one Hufflepuff. Then came the Gryffindors – and naturally it was Potter, King Weasley and the Mudblood. Draco rolled his eyes.

Slughorn came out of the classroom, belly first, and welcomed them all (especially enthusiastically to Zabini). While they all followed him inside, Pansy whispered a teasing comment to Zabini about being a teacher's pet. Zabini only snorted. Draco went in first, and Nott last. The dungeon was already filled with steam and odd scents, it was indeed rather dark, and large bubbling cauldrons were stood on the different tables. The four Slytherins quickly occupied one of the tables. On their table there was a cauulron filled with a colourless, scentless liquid that looked just like water, Draco noticed when he peeked inside before sitting down. On Slughorn's orders, they all got their books and quills out.

"...Can anyone tell me what brew this is?" said Slughorn, pointing at the cauldron by the Slytherin table. Naturally, Granger's hand shot up into the air at once. Bloody know-it-all.

"It's Veritaserum – a colourless, scentless potion that makes anyone who drinks it tell the truth."

"Very good, very good!" said Slughorn contently.

"It's Veritaserum," Draco mocked Granger with a silent, girly voice. Pansy and Zabini grinned.

Slughorn asked for her name and after hearing it, he exclaimed: "Granger? Granger? Are you possibly related to the Hector Dagworth-Granger, who founded the Society of great Potions Masters?"

"No, I don't think so. I'm from a family of Muggles, sir."

Draco leaned towards Nott and whispered: "You don't say… filth…" Nott smirked.

Their task for the lesson was to create a replica of Living Death, an extremely dangerous potion, using the book. Draco felt his mood drain. The price would be a tiny vial standing on Slughorn's desk, a golden liquid that captivated everyone in the room at the same time. Liquid luck – Felix Felicis. At once, the lesson had turned more intresting for Draco, and his eyes fixed on the tiny flask. He needed that potion.

As soon as Slughorn had finished speaking, everyone began working. Draco feverishly browsed through his copy of Advanced Potions, to find the instructions. He felt stressed, thinking about how much he wanted that happy day, not having to worry about his parents and The Dark Lord, and possibly it would help him find a way to mend the cabinet? The problem was what an advanced potion this was to be making...

Throughout the entire lesson, he worked adamantly and in extreme focus, cutting up valeria nuts as fast as he could, following every single tiny instruction from the book, not listening to a word Pansy or Crabbe was muttering and complaining about.

Towards the end of the lesson, when Slughorn walked past their table, Draco took his chance. "Sir, I think you knew my grandfather, Abraxas Malfoy?"

Yet Slughorn hardly even looked at him when he answered. "Yes. Shame to hear about his passing, although it was hardly unexpected, Dragon Pox at his age..." And by that, he kept on walking. Draco groaned out loud, resulting in a frown from Nott.

"Time's up! Stop stirring, please!" Slughorn called out a while later. Almost everyone stopped – Draco kept on stirring his cauldron behind his professor's back, while the latter began checking his student's potions. It was not going well for Draco. When Slughorn looked down into Potter's cauldron, an surprised and impressed expression spread on his face. "An obvious winner!" he called out to everyone in the dungeon. Draco's heart sank. "Excellent, Harry, excellent! Yes, oh Merlin, it's clear you've inherited your mother's skills – Lily was a brilliant potionmaker, she really was! Well, here you go then, a vial of Felix Felicis, as promised, and use it well!"

As Potter accepted the small bottle from Slughorn, Draco sent his arch-enemy a murderous glare. On the way to dinner Draco mutteringly mocked their professor to his Slytherin friends. "Good, Harry, well done, Harry, I love you, Harry, you're the best, Harry..."

Pansy gave a laugh and said nothing. Zabini wrongly decided to mock him back. "Aw, jealous, Malfoy?" And with a sceptical look he added: "So you won't be able to lick Slughorn's arse like you do Snape's, so what?"

Draco quickly gave him a murderous look, his anger deepening rapidly. "Sod off Zabini," was all he mustered up. Zabini merely gave a chilly sneer and passed them.

"He really thinks he's something, doesn't he," muttered Crabbe. Draco rolled his eyes, irritated and they continued to the great hall for dinner.


He started touching her, up her arm, up her back, began finding his way into her layer of clothes.

"You're well buttoned-up," he mumbled, making Pansy snigger. Draco smiled smugly. He started unbuttoning her blouse, she helped him eagerly, but as she did it quicker he removed his hands and pulled off his robe, crawled out of it, so that it slumped down around him. Pansy had her blouse open now, strong pink lace-bra right in his face.

"Pansy…" he sniggered scornfully, mocking her bra. Pansy felt the urge to make him abashed as well, so she intesely started unbottoning his shirt, revealing his pale and rather skinny chest, his shirt hanging around his shoulders, his arms still in.

Pansy boldly reached for the zipper in his trousers.

"Eager?" Draco asked with an amused smirk. Pansy replied by gripping his erection through the fabric, and he pressed himself against her hand.

Pansy pushed him away and with a mischievous look, got down on her knees. She continued to look straight into his eyes as he reached into his boxers, got his dick out and took it in her mouth. It turned him on massively. Afraid he would come too soon however, he pulled her face away, and grabbed her arms, so that she stood up. He then pushed her against one of the desks in the dormitory and made her sit on it, him standing between her legs. He pushed her legs apart and came closer, licked one of his fingers and slid it inside her. Pansy writhed against his finger and gave the sexiest moan he had ever heard.

He added one more and began pushing them in and out of her. Her appreciative sounds reassured him. He took his fingers out, moved closer, grabbed his throbbing erection and pushed it into her tight pussy. It slid in right away, and they groaned in unison. He began moving in and out of her, first slowly, and then hastily picking up pace. She was dripping wet and pushed herself to meet his thrusts, making him come deeper and deeper inside her with every thrust. He loved that she loved this, it turned him on further. Her breasts were bouncing at his every push – possibly the most attractive sight he'd seen in all of his sixteen years.

He was holding on to her hips and began banging into her as fast as she could. It's so tight... was all he could think. Her nails were digging into his back. He moved one of his hands from her hip to her pussy and began stroking her clit while fucking her. Her face was screwed up in pleasure and it excited him. He was becoming more and more sweaty. She brought her hand to his lower back and pushed him deeper into her.

"Fuck yeah," he groaned. Her face relaxed for a second and she opened her eyes to look up at him and she smiled. She wrapped her legs around his body and dragged him along so that she now lay on her back on the table and he was on top of her. He continued slamming his dick into her at alarmingly quick pace – he would definitely come soon. He wanted to fill her entire pussy up with his juices.

It had only lasted for about ten minutes, but now that they had finally tried it, sex was definitely his new favourite hobby. If possible, however, Pansy seemed to enjoy it even more than he did. She seemed fixated with it, which only pleased him of course. He was lying sweaty in bed in his dormitory and her head with its messy hair was on his right arm.

"Loved that," Pansy grinned teasingly, playing with his finger in a non-romantic way. Draco only grinned and yawned.

"Have you told your friends yet?" he then asked. Pansy gave a mischievous smile and confessed.

"Yeah."

He hastily wondered what she had said, but decided not to ask. Anyway, he had practically told his mates as well, at least teased Goyle about it. He frowned, deciding he had to tell the rest of his friends too, seeing as Pansy had told all those silly girls.

He reached up to drag a hand through his hair, and doing so, his shirt that he still had around his back, on his arm, but unbuttoned at the front, revealed his left underarm slightly – the hem falling down when he lifted his hand. His heart began beating quickly at once, and he stiffened, hoping Pansy hadn't caught on. In vain.

She did not miss one second to grab his arm. "What is..."

He quickly moved his left arm away and lay it back down on the bed, trying to ignore her attempts to look more closely at it. Pansy frowned at him, and put her hand on his chest, sat up on the bed. He hastily pulled his arm away, and sat up too. He tried turning away from her, to go and get dressed, but she grabbed his other arm forcefully. "Draco, wait—"

"Fuck," he mumbled, as she managed to pry his hand firmly and grabbed his left underarm. And then she saw it. The black skull staring back at her from his pale arm. Caught off guard, Draco pulled away hastily, putting his hand over the mark. She gaped and looked up at him.

She gasped, a small smile creeping up on her features. "You've got… you've really got…"

"Not a word, all right?" Draco snarled, interrupting her. "Not to anyone, Pans!"

She slowly looked up at him, giving a snort-laugh and rolling her eyes. "How dumb do you think I am?"

"I know how you're like with gossip," he muttered.

She rolled her eyes again. She looked down and touched his arm. "Bloody hell," she mumbled then. "Are you the only one who's taken it?" she asked, looking up.

"I suppose."

"Not Theodore, I mean? Or Vince or Greg?"

Draco shook his head.

"Did it hurt?" Pansy asked, still fixed on his left arm. Draco shrugged. Pansy looked up and gave him a taunting smile, "I'll take that as a yes," she said. "Is that what all that on the train was about then?"

"Yeah I suppose." He looked away, not wanting his expression to give anything away.

"Is it... is it because of your father?"

"I suppose."

Pansy was silent for a moment. Draco was suddenly aware of his heart beating slightly faster than normal. It felt good to let someone know about his secret, it had been hard to keep it all secret and inside.

"Has he asked you to do anything? Is that why you were practicing spells with your aunt?" she then asked. "I thought that was just for preparation in case there would be something happening in a few years...!"

Draco pulled away, turned away and sat with his legs dangling from the side of the bed, looking at Vincent's pillow in the bed next to his.

Pansy raised her eyebrows expectantly. "What? You don't want to tell me?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "It's not that simple."

She came closer, looking up at him from behind his shoulder. "What's he asked you to do?"

Draco knew he could not tell her. He did trust her, sort of, but he knew she could easily slip up; she did that all the time.

"You told me about your aunt," she said, almost accusingly.

"Yes, because otherwise you wouldn't have been able to come to the Manor all summer," he sighed.

"But you told me about the Unforgivables," she reminded him. "Why can't you tell me about this?"

"It's..." he began. He frowned. "It's complicated."

"Just tell me!"

He turned to look at her in a split second, fixing her with an irritated look as he said: "Will you calm down? You honestly think I can tell you everything he's told me? Without him killing us both after?"

Pansy snorted haughtily. "Yeah, fat chance. You think he'd spill Pure blood? He'd never do that."

"Dunno, really. You're underestimating him."

She fell silent again. He did not say anything, he decided to let her ask, but he knew where to draw the line. He knew he could not say too much.

"So he has asked you to do something," said Pansy then slowly.

"Well figured," Draco cleared sarcastically.

"Is it dangerous?" she asked. He turned to her. She still didn't look particularly scared, only frowning slightly.

He looked away, thinking of what to answer. "Err... I dunno... could be... could be not..."

Pansy frowned. "Does it have something to do with Potter?"

Draco gave a snort-laugh. "Actually, it doesn't."

Pansy only looked more confused.

"Well, whatever it is you're doing for Him... aren't you afraid they'll know it was you? That they'll come after you?"

Draco snorted. "They will know it was me, and let them come after me – I've got more than a few people protecting me. I'm one of them now, Pansy."

"I didn't think you'd actually do it," Pansy breathed, sounding almost impressed.

He shrugged. "With my father in prison, I sort of have to. I've got to protect my family now."

Pansy nodded slowly.

"You cannot tell anyone, do you understand that?"


The next two weeks, Draco started realising he had to begin his work on his task for the Dark Lord. Knowing that the other cabinet was safe at Borgin & Burkes', he had to find out if it was true that the first one actually was in that room. And he had to get access to the room.

The first step was to find the Come-and-Go-Room. He knew where to look because he had had that episode with "Dumbledore's Army" or whatever they called themselves, that spring, and had helped Umbridge catch Potter and the lot.

The only problem was getting in.

He made his way up to the seventh floor one Tuesday evening in mid-September, checked behind his back before he entered one of the deserted corridors. He supposed he was lucky that the seventh floor was rarely used, especially after school-hours. Finally he found the place – between a large urn and an old armour, and of course, no door visible. Yet, luckily enough, he knew it was there. He just had to find the way to get in, whatever that was.

The first hour his mood and patience did not falter. After that, it did get harder.

"Alohomora," he muttered for the fifteenth time, pointing his wand at the empty space between the urn and the armour. Nothing happened.

He pierced his eyes into the stone wall as if having a staring-contest. Open yourself, he thought, repeatedly. Open yourself.

Show me what you showed Potter.

Show me what Potter and his friends did inside.

I need to get inside...

"Reveal yourself," he demanded, pointing his wand at the stone wall.

He groaned loudly and punched into the hard material, and bit his lip by the impact. Nothing worked. He turned his back to the wall, waited a few seconds, and then quickly turned back again, as if to catch it off guard. Perhaps the door would only show itself when you weren't looking directly at it? Ransacking his mind, he headed for the nearest classroom, deserted and echoing, and searched through all drawers to find something reflective. He found an old piece of broken glass, and headed back to the dreaded wall.

He held up the piece of glass, reflected by the moon that came in from the window in the classroom on the other side of the corridor, stood with his back to the wall and looked into the glass trying to see something happening in the reflection.

Nothing appeared on the wall.

After firing another ten or so spells, curses and hexes at the door, including Bombarda, Incendio and even Imperius, he felt like he had to give up.

He sunk down against the wall and his head fell. He closed his eyes and sighed deeply. It had been two hours and nothing had happened. How in Merlin's name was he supposed to save his family if he couldn't even open a ruddy door? He couldn't open doors, he couldn't master any of the Unforgivables, he hadn't find a way to mend the cabinet – he hadn't even found the cabinet!

I need to find that sodding cabinet so I can save my family... He thought desperately, still sunk down against the wall, his head against his knees. I need to save my family...

When he looked up and rose, prepared to leave and go down to the dungeons to get some sleep and try again tomorrow, the door showed itself.

His mood had definitely shifted for the better when he had managed to get inside the Come-and-Go-Room and found the wooden cabinet inside, and now he realised he had come to step two which was mending it. And with a sinking feeling he realised step two would be the longest and most difficult one.

Trying not to let this realisation falter his good mood, the next night he went to the library, something he rarely did. And he went without Crabbe and Goyle – something he even more rarely did. Ignoring the librarian's offer of help, he began searching the shelves for books on how to fix something that Reparo did not work on. It was, more difficult than he had thought. He sat down by one of the tables, annoyed and unfocused with all the other students around, studying in groups. A few of them looked at him strangely, as if wondering what he was doing there.

He decided to come back after curfew, when there was less curious eyes. He went back to the common room, where the other's were hanging out by the fireplace. Daphne Greengrass was painting Pansy's nails, and Crabbe and Goyle were discussing something. Nott was hidden by a large book and Zabini was rolling his eyes at the girls and looking at his watch. Draco slumped down into one of the armchairs, picked up his shoulder-bag and pulled out his History of Magic book and began reading. He might as well do his homework until the others went to bed and then he could sneak off. Balancing school and the cabinet would be exhausting, he realised.

When Pansy kissed him good-night and the boys began leaving for the dormitory, he wished he could just go to bed. But he knew he couldn't put himself first anymore. So he made an excuse about a shower, watched them all leave, and then bolted up and left the common room.

He drew his fingers over dark-backed books in the Restricted sections, fifteen minutes later. He saw titles such as The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts, Complexed Spellwork, Legends of Pureblood Perpetuation...

It sounded quite interesting, all of it, yet sadly nothing seemed to really fit his problem.

He rummaged through his Spells book for school, feverishly looking for spells to fix the cabinet with. Something trivial – he might've missed it.

He even pondered visiting Snape (even at that late hour), but pushed the thought away. He would do this on his own.

Finally he had gathered an assortment of books on the table that seemed mildly suitable. Beginning to look through the first heavy book, he realised he hadn't received a letter from Borgin either, which annoyed him deeply. He had known Borgin wouldn't take it seriously. He would have to send a letter to Borgin to remind him.

Well, there was nothing he could do but start reading his way through the pile, he supposed.


Draco tried to go to every lesson and every Quidditch practice the closest two weeks. He tried to balance everything and have everything under control. Yet he was beginning to feel the pressure. He spent his entire days in classes, then having dinner, then studying in the common room with the others, and then going to the library to continute reading through the pile of books he had found, trying to find anything remotely linked to what he was trying to achieve with the cabinet. So far he had found nothing. And his dorm-mates was beginning to wonder, he could sense it. Not to mention Pansy.

He would just have to deal with them later, he decided. His task was what he had to prioritise this year. And after that – his studies.

The most important matter was to send a letter to Borgin, but not showing how desperate he felt.

"Mr Borgin.

Please explain why I have yet to hear anything from you since my visit.

I assure you that my problem is just as pressing as it was then. Should I take it you have not found anything yet? In that case, keep working, and realise that this is of highest priority.

Need I remind you of my friend? He will visit whenever I say.

Be careful, Borgin. I expect your owl as soon as possible.

Draco Malfoy"

He desperately needed Borgin's help.

He admitted that this task was more difficult than he had forseen. It made him feel ashamed, and he was taken back to a conversation he had overheard that summer between his mother and Bellatrix...

"He's only sixteen!" Narcissa shouted desperately. "He's a child!"

"He wants to do his father proud, his name proud! Let the boy do as he pleases."

"It's not him who's chosen this!" Narcissa went on, "You know this Bellatrix. He has practically been forced."

The air in the room went chillier as Bellatrix snapped at her sister. "Don't!"

Draco remembered how fast his heart was beating, realising what a tensed moment it was behind those thick mahogany doors. Bellatrix loved and stood up for her family – in her own way – but she would always love and stand up for the Dark Lord more.

"He was given an opportunity," hissed Bellatrix. "A chance of a lifetime. A fairly easy job, practically no pressure of time, with all the assistance he could ask for. Why wouldn't he succeed? Or perhaps you doubt him...?"

Draco had narrowed his eyes and heard his mother snort, which he was thankful for.

"I do not wish to speak to you about this anymore, Bella," Narcissa said coldly. "After all, you wouldn't understand a mother's worry and love for her son. It was silly of me to think so."

Draco had felt like the room went chilly. Bellatrix left the room.

The memory irritated him – how they spoke behind his back and often over his head, as if he were still a child. He remembered Bellatrix's words. "A fairly easy job…" the comment now had him feeling ashamed, a month or so later. What was the matter with him? If any idiot could do this, how the hell had he not found a way yet?

The anxiety beginning to creep up and the frustration of being treated as a child made him prove to himself later that night how adult he was, when he fucked Pansy like a real man.


"Oi, Malfoy, professor Snape wants to see you in his office right now!"

Draco sighed. He had just loaded his plate with eggs, bacon and sausages, obviously in the need of some nutrition.

"Right," he muttered to Millicent Bulstrode and put down his fork, "thanks."

When he didn't move, she shrugged and sat down and began filling her plate with unhealthy amounts of sausages, and then pouring beans on top of it all. Draco shuddered and lost his appetite.

After his mother had turned to Snape, he had felt a certain animosity towards his Head of House. Who did he think he was? Taking Draco's father's place with the Dark Lord and trying to weasel his way into Draco's mind? No, Snape would not have his little meeting. He could forget about that. He would not find out anything about Draco's plan, and he would not be able to steal any of the glory or be in on it all. Draco would not come to him or follow his orders, not anymore. He was sure Snape could figure out why.

Instead of going to see Snape he finished his breakfast slowly and enjoyed every piece of it, realising he had rushed every single meal for the past week or so. When he was finished he walked out of the Great Hall and made his way to the Owlery to order every handbook on repairing things from Flourish and Blotts, by his owl Hades.

Books could hardly be suspicious items, could they? He would surely get them all in one piece, they would not have to be examined by Filch.

However on the way to the Owlery, he was stopped by McGonagall, feisty as ever, who threateningly told him that he would get a sever amount of detetions if he did not study more in her subject.

Draco sighed inwardly. Nothing was going his way so far.

As they had all been privy to on the first night back at Hogwarts, this chap Urquhart was their new Quidditch captain, which the rest of the team were all quite sceptical about. Yet, Urquhart introduced himself (fairly shortly) and then held auditions for the positions in the team that were not filled, as a few of the lads in the team had finished school in the summer. Draco, Crabbe, Goyle and the rest who were still there did not have to try out again, luckily. Draco had too many other things on his mind.

He clapped a little, along with the rest of the team, while a few younger boys tried out. Then he was quick to make his way up to the castle again, and down to the dungeons – the entire common room was decorated in pink, which differed quite heavily to how it usually looked.

The common room was noisy; the music hit him on the way in. The room was filled with a dim greenish light from the lamps that hung from the low stone ceiling, but other than that it looked nothing like normal. It was usually dark and detailed in green – dim lights and scattered with books and quills. Not today. Daphne Greengrass, Tracey Davis, Queenie Wilkes and a handful more girls Draco hardly knew by name, had spent the entire afternoon decorating the common room and sneaking off to Hogsmeade to illegally buy alcohol. Everything was pink and sparkly.

Needless to say, it was Pansy Parkinson's birthday.

Pansy was sat in the middle of the sofa around the fireplace, the one she always occupied, surrounded by countless of girlfriends, when he arrived, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle, who had baked an ugly cake for her which they presented proudly. The table in front of her were filled with a load of bottles of Properly Bewitching – a low-alcoholic beverage tasting mostly like a sweet fruity fizzy drink, a very girly alcoholic beverage that Draco and his friends wouldn't go near; a large pile of mostly pink and red wrapped birthday gifts and plates of pink frosted cupcakes with sprinkles all over them.

Pansy squealed happily at the sight of the cake, and allowed everyone, including Nott and Zabini to give her birthday hugs. Draco grinned at her while Bletchley, Pucey and Warrington all wished her a happy birthday.

She was the center of attention and she basked in it, clearly enjoying it. When the ruckus settled and everyone had wished her a happy birthday, grabbed themselves a drink and sat down, beginning to chat with each other, Draco made his move.

"Happy birthday, Pans," he whispered into her ear. She laughed happily and she threw her arms around his neck. He handed over a small, soft parcel and kissed her cheek.

"Open it later."

Pansy pouted. "No, I want to open now!"

Draco grinned. "Fine, but don't show anyone."

Pansy ripped the paper open and found a pair of tiny pink and red knickers, decorated with something that glittered. She looked up at him with a mischievous look in her eyes. He wiggled his eyebrows. Then she giggled and grabbed him by his neck and pulled him down towards her for a wet kiss.

"What are you doing for Christmas, baby?" he asked then, silently so nobody else would hear.

"Oh, I dunno. Christmas? That's, what, three months away!" laughed Pansy and played with the hem on his shirt by his neck.

"Yes. Why don't you come over to the Manor?"

Pansy narrowed her eyes at him, but started smiling. "Why would I do that?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "Because I'd be there, naturally..."

Pansy laughed. "Oh, that makes me want to stay quite clear..."

"Stop being silly," said Draco, giving her a kiss and smirking at her. "Mother adores you, as you unfortunately are aware of. We'll have a roast, our House-Elf does cook quite well as a matter of fact... and we'll open presents, and we'll play chess... And think of what we'll do... in every single room..."


Pansy laughed her high-pitched laugh and threw her arms around his neck again. He attacked her with kisses all over her face, making her giggle. For the first time she was beginning to think that perhaps she was in love with him, after all.


When Malfoy told them all about how he and his girlfriend had had sex, Blaise was not as impressed as the other blokes. He supposed Malfoy made it out to sound very experienced, but Blaise guessed that it was basically some snogging and the same position for ten minutes until he was finished. Why wouldn't they have bad beginner's sex, going at it like rabbits, awkward fingering – just basically two horny teenagers. Blaise was certainly not believing everything Malfoy bragged about.

"So how's it like then, now after you've done it? Does she still want it?" Adrian Pucey asked surprisingly enthusiastically. Blaise had a sip of Butterbeer.

Malfoy smirked. "Oh, yeah, she's practically begging for it... all the time."

Blaise rolled his eyes. He doubted that, but he said nothing. It was not worth the time or energy.

Bletchley and the other lads grinned. "Yeah?"

"Made her come three times last night," Draco boasted smugly. Blaise highly doubted that, but please, carry on. "We probably did about fifteen different positions last night," Malfoy went on proudly.

"Does she, y'know," Miles asked, "Suck you off?"

Blaise sighed and cringed inwardly. He did not want to think about Malfoy getting sucked off so he tuned out.

Malfoy really was a tosser.