A/N: Sorry it's been so long. I took Lilli to the vet and it turns out she's not pregnant at all, just allergic to fish and suffering from cat-bloat. I've had to feed her specially and keep her in my room, and considering she won't use a litter box, I've been pretty busy. Here you go.

Chapter Fifteen: Drag Racing

"Why, Lucy Malfoy!"

Harry, Ron and Hermione all straightened in their chairs. Ron, who was facing the door, looked at the newcomer in surprise. Lucius Malfoy had indeed entered, and so had a bearded, longhaired man wearing a fedora and pinstriped robes. "Lucy, you dumb bastard!"

The blond man spun around.

"Are you addressing I?" His tone seemed to drip with spite.

"Unabashed hatred of Muggleborns, carte blanche for your pricky little son to hurt other kids, not to mention all those suspicious sales to Borgin and Burkes' lately..." The bearded man grinned and thumped Lucius on the shoulders like a Mafiosi. His accent seemed taken directly from pulp gangster movies and judging by Lucius' reaction, this fellow was clearly not someone he wanted to talk to.

"Tyler, eh? Married to the Yank Mudblood Albus has teaching?"

"My name's Flynn, you prejudiced cocksucker, and if you don't want your son kidnapped to Chicago and deprogrammed, you'll stay the hell out of Hogsmeade." Flynn gave Malfoy another shove.

"You arrogant little American-" Lucius spat, clearly about to draw his wand. "How dare you-"

"How dare I? There's six reporters in here, all on my payroll and all American. Do you want every wizard in Britain to know you're a Death Eater?"

Lucius pulled his wand on Flynn, his eyes almost glowing with rage. Just as suddenly, almost every one of the Three Broomsticks' patrons burst into laughter. In Lucius' hand was a bright yellow banana, still with a blue Chiquita sticker on it. Flynn grinned.

"Out, damned spot!" Flynn kicked Malfoy quickly and sharply, and just as the aristocrat doubled over, the American hauled him out by the collar of his robes. Considering Flynn was at least a head shorter than Lucius, the gangster had to be very strong. There was a silence as Flynn walked back in with a slight swagger, and then it was shattered by thunderous applause.

"Drinks on me!" Flynn announced, shaking hands with everyone who offered. Hagrid pumped the short gangster's arm up and down, almost lifting him off his feet, and Ron handed Flynn a big mug of butterbeer. Solemnly, the American raised it. "To Albus Dumbledore! Long live the force of right!"

"Albus Dumbledore!" the entire pub chorused. Hagrid thumped Flynn on the back and offered him a chair with the three sixth-year Gryffindors.

"So, what are yeh doin' in Hogsmeade, Mr-?"

"Flynn. Billy Flynn. You must be Rubeus Hagrid. I read 'bout your Blast-Ended Skrewts a couple years ago."

"Aw, tha' wasn' quite as bad as-" Hagrid stammered.

"Not Rita Skeeter, I never read her trash. It was in a journal of magical veterinary advances –did you know the American military wants to test skrewts as defense creatures? Hello, I'm Billy Flynn." The gangster put his hand out to Hermione, kissing hers almost unnervingly.

"I'm Hermione Granger and this is Harry Potter and Ron Weasley."

"Oh, I did read what Skeeter wrote about you...judging from that I bet you're the Hogwarts convent girl. Weasley...aren't you in School Quidditch for February?" Flynn pulled a rather crumply magazine article from his pocket and showed it to Ron. Sure enough, he was a centerfold. "'Bill and Charles' best points on one broom, Ronald promises to shine up the Gryffindor Quidditch team.' I think that sounds kinda good."

Ron's eyes were starting from his head as he looked over the article. He kept giving the American shocked looks, even as Flynn started talking dragons with Hagrid.

"Those Concord Grapes in Massachusetts, they've just about domesticated 'em. Gorgeous beasts, blue fire and purple skin."

"Naw! Yeh can pet 'em?"

"You can ride 'em if you aren't too scared of heights. Weasley and Potter here could handle it."

"Domesticated dragons?" Hermione asked skeptically. "How did they do it?"

"Muggle-born scientists and genetic splicing stuff," Flynn explained idly. "I don't know all the technical crud, but it seems to be working. You guys seen Severus Snape lately?"

"Professor Snape?" Ron asked, finally coming out of his reverie. "We had his class just the other day, and saw him at breakfast, too."

"Damn potioner. I need a word with him." Flynn put his fedora back on, covering the gray-streaked dark ponytail. "Well, I'll see you lot later."

"Wait, you forgot your-" Ron held out the article.

"Keep it, I've got it memorized. Just give me an autograph later on." Flynn gave Ron's shoulder a friendly punch and shook Harry's hand. "I'll dance with you at the Valentine's Ball, maybe," he promised Hermione with a wink. "Can't have too many cute convent girls."

With the same weird swagger, Billy Flynn left the Three Broomsticks. Hermione had long since gone scarlet.

"I don't believe him," Harry observed. "Was it just me or did he just hit on you?"

"Brass balls if ever I saw 'em," Ron remarked, folding the article carefully as if meaning to send it to his mum. "Fancy throwing Lucius Malfoy out by the scruff like that! Won't Ferret-boy shit a brick!"

"I've heard that name before, Billy Flynn," Hermione mused. "I wonder what his deal is."

"Are you going to the library now, or will you finish your butterbeer?" Ron asked. "Probably just some Yank Malfoy pissed off."

"He mentioned Snape. I bet he's hunting down Death Eaters," Harry said. "I should talk to him later."

"Sounded like a gamekeeper of some kind ter' me," Hagrid announced, clearly eager to defend a fellow Skrewt-lover. "Likely workin' for the American Aurory or summat."

"I think I'm going to look into it. Do you want the rest of this?" Hermione slid Ron her butterbeer.

"Sure, but don't you think-?" Ron tried to suggest she not go alone, but she was gone. "Harry?"

"What, Ron?"

"Are we ever going to understand that girl?"

"Yeh answered yehr own question. She's a girl." Hagrid took another gulp of his mead. "They're not meant ter be understood."

"I get it."

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Maria Catesby hated her life. More specifically, she hated her idiot boyfriend, her conniving family, and the fact that she was a Slytherin. She had honestly considered leaping off the Astronomy Tower, or perhaps snapping her wand in half and going to become a Muggle stewardess. That sounded like fun. Milton Blodgett, the object of her eventual arranged marriage, was a rather snivelly fellow with a small wand, and not the kind you got from Ollivander's. What her parents were thinking, Maria would never know.

Milton was sitting a little down the table from her on the other side. He gave her a smile that showed terribly neglected and rather crooked teeth. Maria faked a polite smile and tried not to shiver from her skin crawling. The headmaster tapped his glass for attention, and she was relieved to be able to look away.

"As you have doubtless heard, our Professor Moody has been summoned to an assignment overseas. I'm sure that you all share regret at his departure."

The Slytherins didn't. Mad-Eye Moody was harder on them than any other class, and usually his sidelong glares were worse than Professor Tyler's slightly acid joking. Maria personally found his eye gave her the creeps.

"Professor Moody has personally chosen his temporary replacement, whose family most of you have classes with. Students, I am proud to introduce the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher for the remaining months, Mr. Bill Weasley!"

Blushing as red as his brother did, the ponytailed, red-haired man came up and shook Dumbledore's hand, accepting a grandfatherly hug and nervously waving. His robes were worn corduroy and he had a green Weasley sweater underneath, above some very well cut, handsomely dusty Egyptian leather pants.

Maria had never seen a hotter man in her life.

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"Professor?" Hermione looked around to make sure there was nobody around. "Severus?"

"Hermione? What's wrong?"

"There's a man after all the old Death Eaters, he mentioned you, his name's Billy Flynn! I think he might try to-"

"Kill me? Darling, do you think anybody could-"

"He threw Malfoy out of the Three Broomsticks by the collar and he's only about my height!"

"Draco's a featherweight-"

"Not that Malfoy, Lucius! I think he might be an American gangster-"

"Hermione!" Snape kissed her suddenly and she went silent. "If there were any Americans coming to get me, Cassandra would know. She specializes in that kind of thing."

"I haven't seen her all day! What if Billy Flynn –oh, no!"

Billy Flynn was indeed opening the door of the Potions room. His beard was scruffier and he appeared to be having some trouble breathing.

"For gods' sake, Sevvy, cut it off!" he gasped, throwing the fedora on the floor.

"Oh, calm down, Cassandra!" Snape drew a dagger from his belt and threw Flynn's robes upward, exposing his back. With the dagger he cut the Ace bandage that was about the gangster's ribcage, and suddenly Hermione heard a loud intake of breath.

"Damn those Weasley brothers anyway!" Cass stood up and began to pull off the pinstriped robes. "Bloody shrinking bandages could kill someone!"

"What did I tell you? If you have to bind your chest, use Muggle masking tape!" Snape threw up his hands in exasperation and piked up the mistreated fedora. "Always liked this hat."

"You mean to tell me that Billy Flynn is you?"

"Billy Flynn is a character in a musical. I couldn't think of anything else at the time. What did you think of the act?"

"Did you hit on her like I suggested?" Snape asked.

"Severus!" Hermione was appalled. "You helped her!"

"Helped me? Hell, everything but the thong and the bra are his."

"Cassandra, I do believe that was an overshare."

"Those are yours?" Hermione stared at the pinstriped robes, which on closer inspection were sparkly and had sequined suspenders.

"Left over from the eighties, dear. Are you angry?"

"No, I'm appalled! Cass, how could you –ugh!" Hermione cringed at the idea that it had been a female hitting on her.

"What? Sevvy wrote it down for me so it would be accurate." Cass handed Hermione a bit of paper covered in Snape's handwriting. "Look at it."

"She won't take kindly to rudeness or crudity and if she smacks you the beard's liable to come off. Try kissing her hand, it's polite and suits the character. For Merlin's sake, don't slobber or let some of the beard come off. It's gross. Lucius Malfoy should be kicked in the balls a little to the left –old Quidditch injury. That should make him quite immobile for at least long enough to haul him out. John will cast the illusion on his wand from the second booth by the door, so don't get in his way or you'll look like a fruit literally."

"Merciful peace, you even had John in on it!" Hermione was finally impressed.

"Did the charm work well?" the werewolf asked, closing the Potions room door behind him. "I was going to have it be a dildo, but some third-years were there."

"Didn't feel it'd be appropriate?"

"Didn't think they'd get the joke." John kissed Cass, then pulled out a washcloth and something that looked like makeup remover. "Here's the moisturizing kind you like."

"Thank you. Your beard didn't itch at all."

"His beard?" Hermione asked.

"Cass trimmed my hair and I put the beard on her with nail glue and corn syrup," John explained, shaking his head like a wet dog. "Took care of my split ends."

"Sevvy was all for giving me a potion to actually grow the beard, but for some weird reason John said no."

"All those purebloods need is you teaching with a five o'clock shadow." John kissed Cass on the forehead and gave her a hug, her head leaning nicely on his shoulder. They would have been picturesque except for the beard and male attire on Cass.

"This is perfectly heartwarming for gay bars, but I think the beard's got to come off now." Cass went over to a cauldron and started to scrub off the sticky beard. "So, Hermione, was I convincing or not?"

"Hagrid thinks you're a gamekeeper and Ron doesn't care either way. He says that you have brass balls, though."

"Really?" Cass looked up from the cauldron with the beard half off and foam coming off her cheek. "What a lovely compliment –I think. By the way, do you and Sevvy want to come see a play with us?"

"Please do. We'd love to have the both of you along."

"Wait a moment!" Snape looked at the two Americans. "What gives you the impression that my student and I are a couple all of a sudden?"

John and Cass exchanged a knowing look.

"Because we've been trying to get you two to realize you go well together from the first day we arrived on this continent," Cass remarked a bit unintelligebly through the suds.

"Why, you naughty Yanks!" Hermione chastised, crossing her arms in abject dismay. "We're your hobby?"

"Yep," John and Cass said in unison.

"Hey, at least they picked you for me, instead of say, Trelawney?" Severus asked, pulling out a chair next to where she stood. He sat down and Hermione climbed onto his lap to hug him.

"Or worse, me with...Neville. Not that he's not likeable, but that'd be strange."

"I guess we'll just have to punish them."

"Punish us?" John asked, raising an eyebrow as if he didn't think they could do it. "How?"

"I have two words for you, werewolf," Snape explained. "Jingle ball."

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