A/N: Sorry to take so long. I was working on the other ones. Here you go.

Chapter Sixty-Seven: Wolfy Thoughts

Mitchie was not happy. Far from it. In fact, if Happy had been located slightly to the left of Hogwarts, she would be lounging on a beach in Siam somewhere.

Did Siam have beaches? And didn't the Muggles call it Taiwan now?

"Let's play Quidditch!" Sweets had announced, a little too cheerfully to suit Mitchie's present mood, which was, to say the least, vile.

'You can be the Bludger,' the werewolf thought quietly.

"Alright! You play Keeper?" Donaghan had asked.

'Traitor.'

"Yeah! How did you know?" Sweets gushed.

"It's after bein' printed on yeh're shirt."

'Dumb blonde.'

"Oh! We can be captains. You want to pick first?"

"After you," Donaghan offered politely.

"Okay!" Sweets looked around at the gathered young witches and wizards. "I pick..."

'Draw it out a little longer and our brooms'll go out of date.'

"Mitchie!"

'No fucking surprises, this New Yorker.' Mitchie drew herself up to her full height, which was, thank Merlin, an inch or so more than Sweets'.

"Er, I play Keeper."

"I know. Would you mind being my Beater?" Sweets offered Mitchie a battle-scarred Bludger-bat.

'America's crawling with bondage freaks.'

"If I must." Mitchie accepted the heavy bat. 'I still think you'd make a great Bludger, Sweetsie,' she thought.

'Why, Mitchie, such nasty thoughts!'

'Up yours, Theodoric. Get out of here.'

'I think it's fascinatin' we can still do this. What's it been, three years?'

'And it should be brilliant fun when one of us wants to shag.' Mitchie thought sarcastically.

'Why is it that you hate Sweets Conlon so?'

'Why the- (most inappropriate Scottish word) -not, Theo?'

'I don't even know what that word means.'

'Ask Jen. She'll tell you in flawless detail.'

'Witch.'

'Redneck.'

'Shrew.'

'Yankee.'

'What in the name of Jefferson Davis did you call me?'

'Stow it. She's picked you.'

'What?'

'Slutsie MacBrooklyn. You're Chasing. Head out of arse.'

"What the hell are you two doing?" Chloe asked, looking at Mitchie and Theodoric in confusion. "Your eyebrows were about to jump off and attack."

We were having an argument," the Americans explained simultaneously.

"Er- pardon my ignorance, but you two haven't said a word," Sweets remarked -well, sweetly.

"It's our favorite argument."

"We don't need to talk anymore."

"Youse are just strange sometimes," Sweets observed.

'Don't even think it!' Theodoric warned.

"Kids! Dinner!" a voice called from the hotel door.

"Aw," Chloe stopped herself just short of a pout. Donaghan had chosen her over Julie as Seeker.

'Theo?'

'Yeah?'

'Remind me to kill something large and tasty for Uncle Ron next full moon.'

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"Chloe?" Julie opened the door of the suite she was sharing with the other girls.

They had left the hospital and been offered a rather opulent complimentary stay in one of America's most luxurious wizarding hotels. Her dad had been more interested in heading back to Hogwarts' dungeons and baby A.J., as had her mum, but Uncle Ron convinced everyone to stay by suggesting he and Judy 'elope while they were in town.' Uncle Harry and Aunt Ginny had simply flown A.J. over with Lily and small Hermione.

"What is it?"

"You seemed sort of out of it at dinnertime."

"My arm hurt," Chloe held up her recently broken and even more recently mended arm.

"Oh. Well, if that's all..."

It was one of the most obvious tricks on earth, personally lifted from Judy Parkington when she was a Broughton kid. Sure enough, it worked on Chloe like a charm.

"I broke up with Aldous."

"Oh... -You what?"

"Broke up. You know, tell him he's being a git and can't kiss you anymore?"

"Chloe...why?"

"He was being a git and I didn't want him kissing me anymore."

Julie sank into a chair, positively floored.

"I suppose asking for details would be superfluous."

"No, he still thinks I'm a twelve-year-old."

Given the rampant and almost assuredly illegal record of Time-Turner use in her family, Julie had to raise an eyebrow.

"Aren't you?"

"I'm part veela. We age acceleratedly."

This had honestly never occured to poor, ignorant Julie Starcatcher. A twelve-year-old acting like a sixteen-year-old had simply never really been all that odd. Why didn't they tell her about all these weird wizardy things when she showed up?

"How acceleratedly?"

"From puberty it's three years in every year, then it stops when I'm chronologically nineteen or so."

"Chloe..." Julie was suffering from a severe case of shocked-to-hell. "I know this seems stupid, but I really have to ask."

"Go on."

"Why the hell didn't you mention this earlier?"

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A/N: Short chapter this time. Next should be done in a few days. I finally got my spell check to not automatically change 'Conlon' to 'Conlan,' which is apparently a rarely-used word that means something the stupid computer thesaurus has no matches for. Maybe it's the name of a Microsoft Office programmer.

Sorry to keep you-all waiting so long. I really didn't mean to and was very bad. I also found my Harry Nilsson CD and started a fic because the freakin' Coconut song inspired me. I also wrote an aside to this story which will shortly be explained, called Purebloods In The Closet. It isn't slash.

And by the way, my kitten's hip has healed perfectly without the surgery. I have, needless to say, changed veterinarians. I also got two extra cats for Christmas, making a grand total of eight. Anyone have that weird dream about leopards too?

-Jan McNeville