Disclaimer: same old same old, I don't own Harry Potter.

Author's Note: Thank you so much for all the support guys! I am starting out this chapter with a much higher moral.

Chapter Nine: Merry Christmas, Mr. Potter

December 15th-Saturday-After Dinner

"So . . . that's a no?"

"Yeah, that's a no, Draco." I was sitting comfortably with my legs crossed confidently in the most regal chair in the entire bloody common room.

"As in a refusal?" the blonde looked as though I had just asked him a NEWTS question in Bulgarian.

"Yes. It is. Ta da!"

"But . . . why?" he didn't sound disappointed as much as offended.

"Because I don't need you to protect me, Draco. I don't need your pity marriage proposal in order to save me from the wrath of Big Bad Lucius Malfoy."

"I don't know where the fuck you come up with these theories," he leaned back into his chair and slapped his hands on his knees. "It's official, you're bloody nutters. Should have left you in that forest with Potter."

"Excuse me?" my memory of feeling so safe on that broom came back to me and I scrunched up my nose. "You flew me out?"

"You? Us! Naturally, Potter stayed behind to take all the glory—prick but better than us staying in there."

I shook my head. "Should have known."

"Have I not stated out the reasons why you are fucking bonkers for not taking my offer. I am being bloody generous here, Marlow! It's not because I love you or anything but—"

"I appreciate you taking care of your own, but I am fucking bonkers, get used to it."

December 16th-Sunday-10 in the morning

I walked out of Snape's office with a smirk. Oh, I hadn't smirked like that in so long. That pleased, controlling, ooey-gooey slytherin smirk. I had a stack of papers in my hand and a meeting at midnight with my lawyer.

I was nearly bouncing up the stairs and through the corridors as my conversation with Blaise last night rippled in my mind. "You're going to die anorexic and alone with a great deal of cats, Xan. I can smell it."

"No, that's you're shirt your smelling. When was the last time you bathed?" he didn't reply. "Exactly. Well, I think that you, Mr. Zabini are never going to get laid after school is over and have to suffer alone."

"Oh ho, well I can do one better. You are going to get married Miss Marlow and then fall into a vicious love triangle and eventually stop smoking."

"You are going to have a wooden leg!"

"You are going to gain muscle mass!"

"You will commit bestiality at least once before you die!"

"Disgusting! You are going to die poor."

"Never!"

It went something like that but it was the most fun I've had pissed since . . . I have no idea how long. I do think it's a bit unorthodox to get drunk right after getting running away from the hospital wing and then turning down a marriage proposal but hey, seemed good idea at the time.

I came across Neville and Dean in the hallway. They were on their way to meet Seamus out on the pitch. I decided to join them, no big hurry to put these papers in a safe place, I would rather have them on my person anyway.

"So what are your plans for the Christmas holidays?" I posed the question while lighting up a cigarette.

"Just going back to see the family," Seamus replied, polishing up his broom.

Dean was answering but I noticed Neville seemed transfixed by my cigarette. This amused me. "Would you like to try?"

"Huh?" he seemed surprised to be caught so blatantly redhanded. "I-uh, I--"

I shook my head and past him my relatively untouched cigarette. Tobacco virginity is like all other virginities, looks like some sort of Trojan wall and then you touch it and it becomes a picket fence, just another one of those things. Everyone stared at Nevile as he gingerly took the cigarette with more fingers than necessary and put it in between his lips.

"Now breath in halfway—cigarette out—finish the other half of the breathe and—" he ended up coughing up smoke like a chimney despite my instructions.

"Tastes like…like," he smoke was trailing his words, "lead."

"Everyone has a different opinion. Want another hit or are you going to just let it burn down to the filter?"

Neville fumbled and tried again. Somehow, he managed to look even more ridiculous. It reduced the two other boys to giggles and with good reason—it was bloody hilarious. Eventually the cigarette fell filter up into the wet grass. Probably the best for the both of them in this relationship.

"Hey, it's Harry!" Dean's day certainly seemed to brighten up upon seeing his quidditch captain. Mine however plummeted because I realized that I hadn't seen him since I was in half delirious in that cave. My first instinct was to run but I had already been spotted. I know this because he greeted his mates while staring directly at me.

Somewhere in casual conversation, wonderboy's lips got right by my ear. "Would you like to a walk?" You can't refuse that husky whisper of reluctant masculinity, I'm sorry. So we bid the boys adieu and set off around the lake like a couple out of Jane Austen.

"Glad to see you up and out of the hospital wing."

"You never came to see me," oh dear god where did that bitterness come from? I hadn't meant it, honest!

"It was a little difficult seeing as after the Forbidden Forest I was greeted with notes for Malfoy."

"Hey! One, I didn't ask you to come after me and two, you don't smoke and thus I couldn't very well leave you a note. Not like you tried the messaging system anyway."

"Yeah I did," he said, choosing to ignore my immature blame-game comment.

"What! I never—that bloody tosser!" I shouted as I realized some little ferret had meddle with my mail while I was unconscious. I quickly turned to Harry because apparently he found it more amusing than infuriating.

"Glad to see you aren't cooing over him."
"That's disgusting to think about," my expression twisted. "Where'd you get the horrid idea?"

"He is the strangest bloke; one minute he is complaining about you nearly getting killed because he has to thus risk his neck and then he is willing laboring over your wounds."

"I didn't know he was capable of that verb."

"Exactly why I was shocked."

We continued our little walk and talk keeping everything as innocent as could be. "What are your plans for the Christmas holidays?" he asked me. Such a lame conversation starter but I used it twenty minutes ago so there you have it.

"Staying here actually. I would go back but I lack people to go back to."

"What did you do last year? I thought you always stayed here—or went with Malfoy or something . . ." he trailed off as he noticed how bad he sounded.

"I usually spent the holidays with my father figure but uncle figures just don't cut the cake like original y chromosome holder." I had purposefully tired to make it sound all technical and distant. It's hard when you're a kid and you're dad's a horrible guy but you love him anyway because he's your dad and he isn't a horrible guy to you. Then of course it gets harder when you grow up and you know just to what extent your father figure's fallibility goes and you still love him anyway. That type of love that despite all reason refuses to die. Is that true love or just a pain in the ass? You tell me.

"Oh," was all Harry could muster in response. I don't blame him, it wasn't exactly a conversation conducive sentence.

"Fuck, it's cold," I said suddenly. What a way to change the subject! Oh man but only if it weren't true. How did I end up in the snow with just a flimsy jumper?

"Here," Harry pulled of his jumper and handed it too me. It was emerald green with an H on it and oh god, that smell, I recognized it from somewhere.

"Did Weasley make this?" I held it at arm's length. Weasley is Our King making a sweater. I shiver at the thought.

"No, his mother did." I looked at Harry and hastily put on the sweater because I was freezing. At least that is what I told myself but in truth we had just even the score with parental jabs.

"Did you happen to notice that Theodore Nott grew a mustache? It's bloody hideous. How can someone mutilate themselves like that in only what . . . four weeks?"

"Five," Harry corrected.

"Still it should be illegal or something. He should have to get a license."

"Interesting thought," his voice sounded distant and I cursed myself for nothing thinking of a better conversation jerker.

But just when I was in the middle of a very colorful mental sentence, Harry shouted, "Will you go to the Yule ball with me?"

"Are you asking me or that third year boy over there?" he wasn't even looking at me you know. "Having a mental argument with yourself?"

He looked at with wide eyes. "You do it too?"

I lied like a communist. "Only insecure dolts would let their own subconscious start an argument with them."

"So will you go with me?"

"Go where?"

"To the Yule ball?" Harry was hanging onto his nerve with the all that he could.

"Why me and not the Weasley girl?"

"Don't be like that," he had a point. I was totally shitting his proposal. "It's like me asking you why you aren't running off to elope with Malfoy right now." For just a moment, I blanched, scared to death of what he could have heard. It turned out to be an off the collar comment but Harry saw my expression.

"What?" I asked when he proceeded to stare at me.

"What's going on with you two?" he turned his head interrogatively.

"Nothing," I said hastily. My papers feel from my hand and landed with a crunch in the snow. Aha! So I have good timing after all!

"Did you just get that today?" Harry asked horrified as I picked up the stack.

"As a matter of fact, I did," I said running my finger through them quickly. "I missed a lot of work you know."

"That's . . . scary."

"Isn't it just," I said. I was so cold. I think my teeth were chattering because Harry suggested we go inside.

"You haven't answered my question. I haven't forgotten," he folded his arms across his chest as I brushed snow off of my borrowed sweater. I was going to lose it. I swear on my father's grave this was too much pressure. This was all too much but I had to hang on.

"Why do you want to take me?" I directed my question at him harshly.

"Because I like you and I want to spend time with you . . ." he enunciated his words like I was a child.

"Sure it's not because you want to show off how you saved my life and the poor failing CEO of Marlow Enterprises is just another notch on the Boy Who Lived's belt?"

"Do you want it to be like that?" he retorted.

Fuck, it certainly would make my life a hell of a lot simpler. My last inch of restraint was failing and it was so bizarre because, as I stared into his eyes, I could remember a time when I denied myself nothing.

This thinking of course got me into a rather rough situation. I shoved Harry up against the doors and kissed him with enough passion you would think I was trying to win a contest. Harry responded the second he caught up and this only caused me to ravage his lips and mouth even further.

Suddenly, with a loud clang we toppled into the snow. Harry gasped as the wind was knocked out of him by well, my body weight. I stared down at him as he sucked in air and it finally occurred to me to climb off of him. As this occurred to him, I realized what I had just done and I bolted.

"Is that a yes?" he called half-dazed.

I was in too much of a hurry to think of something wittier than, "Yes!"

December 16th—Just After Dinner

"You know I can't decide whether I find it cute or disgusting that Potter asked you to the Yule Ball," Blaise threw one of the two empty suitcases he was carrying onto my bed.

"Do elaborate," I said sarcastically through the filter of a cigarette. I balanced on one foot to grab a sweater from the top shelf of the closet where I had stashed all my stuff.

"Do you remember that last ball you went to him with? Do you remember how it all came about? Bloody fuck, how can you even look at him now? Much less practice quidditch with him back in September but honestly—hey, pass me a fag."

I did so and shoved a pair of pants along with the sweater (better looking than the Weasley one) into the suitcase. "Because I look at him, Blaise and don't see at that. I see—"

"Gryffindor prat?"

"I was going to say a bloke with good lips."

"I don't get it! You say one thing and do another. You are a smoking oxymoron right now!"

"And you aren't?"

"I'm being honest because it's simpler. I think—" he stopped handling his clothes and looked at me. "You like it. It just hit me. You like lying. You like living in two worlds at the same time. You bloody enjoy it you sodding masochist!"

I plucked my cigarette out of my mouth and shrugged my shoulders at him. "Fine, you've caught me. I'm a masochist, self-destructive and I love it. Whoopdedoo, it's analyze Marlow Day!"

"And your still going through with this? I thought you were the rational one."

"I wouldn't have agreed if I wasn't. I am quite rational, Blaise and I know this is it. This is the one window of opportunity I have, that we have."

"You make it sound like we're eloping."

"Well we are, aren't we . . . in a way?"

"That's disgusting, Marlow."

December 18th—Tuesday--After classes

"You are such a dull shopper for someone with heaps of galleons," Moon said as she lead us into another dress shop. It was the week before you and everything was open. Of course, the reason for this theoretically being it would help students prepare for exams by having access to all the materials they could possibly need. This had to have been a hufflepuff idea because it was just so naïve.

"I thought you had enough dresses, why do you need another just for Teddy."

"It's not for Nott it's for myself!"

Alright so Morgan Moon was in denial about having the hots for Theodore Nott but what do you expect? I am surprised they even got within two meters of one another before their blazing testosterone sent up a red flag. But no, somehow the two quidditch beasts and self consumed slytherins ended up going to the Yule ball together. I dare say they might have even kissed once. It's fascinating sociology.

I was lagging behind moon and eyes some cobalt blue robes until she shouted for my opinion on something. She was holding up gold vs. maroon. Our best chaser really must be getting sick if she is trying to pick between Gryffindor colors. I noticed a very nice looking set of emerald robes to the side but with my skin it wouldn't look very flattering. Hey, those crimson ones do look nice.

"Do you know what color robes Nott's wearing?" Moon called over to me from another aisle.

"Black, like he always wears."

"Well, you know it would be just like him to change his habit at the last minute!"

This was getting gross but gave me just enough time to check to see if a set of ice blue robes were in my size.

December 22nd—Saturday—Before the Ball

I had expected this past week to be ridiculously awkward after my not-so-smooth acceptance kiss. In fact, I haven't much had the chance to talk to him accept when he jumped me in the corridor asking what color dress I was wearing of all things. Honestly, I was expecting something like throwing me up against the wall and kissing me senseless. But colors? So feminine.

But then again, who am I to be talking? I have my face pressed up against the mirror as I try to put my makeup on. It's a disaster in my opinion.

"You know some people get into their dress robes before applying their face," Draco drawled, leaning against the doorway.

"And how can I be of service, your highness?"

"Who are you dolling yourself up for?"

"Take a guess."

"Zabini?"

"Ew."

"You two have been awfully cozy all week."

"Ew."

"If you turned me down for him that's a tragedy."

"Can you get anymore disgusting?"

"Then seriously who?"

"Harry Potter."

"Now you're the disgusting one."

I looked over at him directly. His calmness was impressive. "That's alright with this, prince of darkness?"

"What do you expect me to do? Confess my undying love for you and demand you go to the ball with me?" I was silent. It would have been a nice compliment . . . "Besides, my date is much better looking than you and there are oh so many opportunities to twist Potter's nipples with this."

I shook my head and turned back to the mirror. What did I expect? Perhaps I take myself too seriously. I shooed Draco out of the room and got into my dress robes. I then accompanied Moon to the Great Hall who seemed too eager to wring Teddy's neck for being three minutes late, rather than bother with who I could possibly be waiting for.

I was just standing there at the base of the staircase waiting for Harry and I couldn't have been more humiliated when Draco and his date passed. She was a gorgeous sixth year and wasn't easy.

Draco left her side for a moment. "He stood you up," he whispered in my ear a bit too happily.

"You wish. Run along now, enjoy your godliness before you have to get an actually earn your fortune."

"Your insults really are getting sloppy when you start comparing me to yourself."

"Sod off," I snarled but he was already gone.

Blaise passed, looking particularly dark and handsome, with Daphne. I sneered at her back. I was a bit jealous because here I was, waiting like an idiot. Stupid cow. I hope she gets syphilis—not from Blaise though because that would be depressing. I often forget how good looking he actually is. Such is the curse of knowing a boy well.

I turned back to the stairs, waiting for wonderboy to make his arrival. I was even more irritated when I saw Granger and Weasley come down. I haven't talked to either of them in so long. Not that I want to talk to those Gryffindor prats but when Granger came over to me, I kind of had to.

"Good to see you finally in good health."

"You're a bad liar, Granger."

"If Harry likes you well enough to ask you to the Yule ball then I won't patronize you but then again, you would be dead if it wasn't for him."

"If I recall correctly, Draco was there as well."

She obviously had a snappy retort to that but held her tongue. "There's no arguing with you. I just am the messenger. Harry can't come down. You have to go up to Gryffindor tower. Have a nice night." Then she just left me standing there. Stupid mudblood.

After the first flight of stairs, I received hard evidence that my shoes were not conducive to this much walking. So I took them off and proceeded at a much faster pace. I was getting irritated with every flight and wanted to wring Harry's neck for standing me up.

Suddenly, just as I was turning to go up yet another staircase, someone whistled. I stopped and looked around. "Over here," someone said. I whipped around and saw wonderboy leaning against the wall. An amused expression played across his features.

I folded my arms across my chest. "The Yule Ball is downstairs, you know."

"You look lovely," he said with surprising smoothness.

I looked him up and down, my anger subsiding. "If you were going to wear black then why bother asking the color of my dress robes?"

"For this," he pulled out from his pocket a white corsage. I was silenced. It was gorgeous. He had a bit of trouble pinning it on but I didn't notice.

"It's . . . beautiful," I murmured.

"I went to a florist," Harry's voice perked up.

"All by yourself? Big accomplishment," I teased.

"Well if you are going to be like that," he plucked me with the pin. I jerked and smacked him. Not hard, mind you.

"But seriously Harry," I continued once he took a step back. "Why the stairs?"

"I thought it would give us a little privacy before you know . . ."

"Why do you make it sound so serious?" I asked looking from side to side.

"I'm being sensitive to your feminine nature," Harry said in a textbook tone. I looked at him sharply and he wore an amused grin.

"Is that sarcasm?" I questioned.

"Maybe . . ." he teased.

"Oh because I'll show you feminine nature," I snatched him by the collar and kissed him passionately. Great, I was being spontaneous but then, just as he starts to give something back to the kiss, the staircase started to move. This was a severe problem for me because I had one heel on that staircase and balance wasn't on my side.

Long story short, I went down the staircase in the most ungraceful, pitiful tumble ever to be seen by portraits or Harry Potter for that matter. I flopped at the bottom of the staircase with limbs scattered and my head bent awkwardly. I felt like a bloody rag doll. Though shocked at my own humiliation, I began to pull myself up.

Harry was standing and the top of where the staircase had connected, mouth ajar and eyes wide. We were separated now and I tried to dust myself off.

However, my task of putting myself back together was quickly annulled when I realized that it was pointless. "Go ahead and laugh," I surrendered. My generous offer only received a few hiccups of hidden amusement.

"So . . ." Harry said. "What do you propose we do?"

"You're stuck on the third floor. I am going to go find a date on my own floor."

"Not with your hair looking like that you aren't."

"I'll find an unconditional love."

"People will run in fear."

"You're still talking to me."

"I am special."

"Obviously."

"Come up here," Harry said.

"The ball is this way. Technically, I am closer. It would be counterproductive for me to go to you and then just come back."

"Ah but the room of requirement is this way."

A smile crept onto my lips try as I might to keep it away. "Why, Mister Potter, isn't it a bit early in the evening for that?"

"Get your mind out of the gutter, Xandra, I just have a surprise." The staircase started to move back to connect us.

"In your pants," I muttered.

"Heard that!" his voice could be heard just barely above the stone. Once the staircase had finished moving, I had a clear view of Harry with his hand outstretched to me. "Come on."

Why fight it? I gave in completely.

I was shocked to discover that the room of requirement was indeed available on such a, how should I say, desired eve? Music was playing, there were candles and everything felt just so warm. I took his hands and started to glide across the marble floor in our own personal ballroom.

"I'd forgotten you could dance so well," I murmured. Actually, later I was to recall that I had thought he couldn't dance the last time we were engaged but at the moment his lead felt so perfect.

"Yeah, it's been a while."

"When did you learn?"

"Back during the triwizard's tournament, I was under pressure. I guess it stuck."

"That was an odd year."

"Where were you that year?"

"Plotting your demise like every other sane person," I said nonchalantly. "No, actually I was just around."

"Evil ways and all that?"

"Why not?"

My head was leaning on his shoulder but my mind was far and gone. Well, gone is a debatable word. Perhaps this was a state of being without pride, preconceptions, or logic. Was that love?

How we started kissing I don't remember but animal instincts reside in all of us. If you want to follow that line of thought anyway. Please keep in mind though, my line of thought I present to you now is just a reconstruction after many a sleepless night.

I have never thought of myself as a sensitive person, even to this day. But the way Harry raked his finger across my skin touched a nerve in my mind that had never before been awaken. The way I kissed him, bloody hell the way I went savage on him was unthinkable prior. I was expressing my needs without guilt or entitlement and I was giving too. We were both giving.

Even with all my thinking and analyzing and educated guesses, so many details are left without that time and space we shared together. Those details are purely ours and thus I can't tell you what they are, even if I wanted to. The problem with moments like that, is because since they belong only to that moment in time, the memory of them is never clear.

But he was good to me, dear reader and I tried to be good to him. Because you see, this was love. Not the type of love that grows over time, comes at first sight or is wooed with modern dating; but it was love like a lottery—either random or fated. It's not planned, it doesn't hit you over the head when you wake up in the morning, it's about certain things out of the big bag of everything matching up with others. The problem with this kind of love (and there are always problems) is that it is a bit of an accident (fated or not) and as with all accidents, there were other things in place.

It was these other things that woke me from my peaceful sleep in Harry's arms. These other things that had me finish my suitcase, release my owl and rip the slytherin badge off my robes for good.

Sunday afternoon the train was leaving Hogwarts for Christmas vacation. I hadn't any desire to see Harry after Yule. I wanted that to be the last image of him I held onto. But it didn't exactly work out that way. I ended up on searching my dorm room for a ribbon and going down to the platform, careful to hide in the crowd naturally.

I found my Harry easily—wait, did I just say my Harry? Well, whatever. I found the Harry quite easily. He was standing with Weasley and Granger along with Weaslyette and the usual suspects. This was going to take courage, I thought. But this was it so as you can see I had little choice.

I approached him confidently, focusing solely on Harry. I soaked up his awkward greeting, reminding myself to enjoy it later and presenting him with a small (but not too small) box which was wrapped carefully with a lopsided bow.

"Merry Christmas, Potter." I tried to sound indifferent because inside that box was in fact the most personal thing I owned. I didn't have to have eyes in the back of my head to see the dumbfounded Gryffindor expression on their faces, or Harry tucking the box nervously into his stuff.

A while later, Harry Potter ducked into the baggage car, finally having a minute to himself. He finally felt confident enough, and truly focused enough, to open the intimate gift. He had no idea what it could be.

He pulled the ribbon off and opened the box. A piece of paper was staring up at him. It read:

Merry Christmas, Mr. Potter

I hope you are alone when you see this or else I would feel foolish

But I don't take you for dense, at least not in this realm.

You truly are the boy wonder, even if you would like to think otherwise

You deserve it too; after all you have done for a slytherin like me

This isn't going to be sappy, because I am not like that and I am sure you aren't surprised

But think of this as the closest thing to a goodbye I could muster

Sincerely,

Alexandra H. Marlow

Harry wasn't sure what to think from that note, written out in the best of handwriting. He flipped it over, in case he missed something. Then he looked down into the bottom of the box and there it was.

Glaring up at him, timeworn and honest was her slytherin badge.

December 25th—Very, very late

"Good Christ, hurry up, Blaise!" I hissed from under my cloak. It was the dead of night and slytherin was deserted. Blaise was busy checking everything twice and I was in a hurry to just get out of the castle and down to hogsmeade.

Theo and Draco came down into the common room carrying one suitcase each and Blaise eventually followed. With his dark skin you could hardly see anything except for the shimmer of his eyes whereas I wore a cloak two sizes large so as to hide my fulgent white skin. The two others however, were in their normal clothes. They weren't coming.

"You both are bloody nutters," Theo said in a sing song voice.

"I love you too, Teddy," I said sarcastically, taking my suitcase and carefully exiting the portal. The three others followed and we all tiptoed down the corridor, not saying a word.

Outside it was snowing and our feet were enveloped in white up to our ankles. Surprisingly, no one complained. In fact, the first word was spoken 50 meters later. "So where are you planning to go?"

"It's a secret," I replied in a monotone.

"We actually don't know yet," Blaise replied more honestly. I suppose he was right, this wasn't a time for lies.

"You're bloody bonkers," Theo muttered.

"You've already made yourself clear, Teddy." I snapped.

"Well when your bodies are found floating in a pond all blue and discolored, half eaten by Japanese carp, I will say I told you so."

"Charming image," Draco said.

We stopped when we reached the edge of Hogwarts grounds, the ridge just before the descent into Hogsmeade. Turning to each other, a rough tension tugged at our chests. "Why?" Teddy asked. His harsh features and leather skin were softer than I ever remembered.

"Because," Blaise replied. "We want to."

"Could you stop saying 'we'," Draco asked in a snooty tone. "You sound like you're married. Please don't make that a reality, by the way."

"Wouldn't that just twist your knickers," I smirked.

"You know my offer still stands Marlow, if you ever come to your senses." He turned to Blaise and shook his hand in a male way that I can't really describe. "What on earth are you planning to do with your inheritance? You're only sixteen."

Blaise smirked. "I am seventeen, Malfoy. My parents aren't like yours."

He was surprised and it showed. When he realized this, Draco's turned nasty. "Just get out of here you two bloody traitors." He sneered, the opposite of the serenity between us all just minutes before. "What's that?" he snapped, pointing at the fatty envelope in my hand.

I brought it up from my side. "My inheritance has been condensed to traveling size." My ownership of Marlow Enterprises was entirely in my right hand and no one but these blokes, a lawyer and a potions professor knew about it.

"Sure you don't want to come, Theo?" Blaise proposed once again.

"No," he said with a snort. "I am perfectly happy being rich, not working and living in the lap of luxury. Oh and let's not forget getting laid."

I shrugged. "Have it your way then." Blaise and I descended down the snowy slope and into the cold night of Yule.

Once the snow had engulfed us, Draco drew in a deep breathe through the nose. "I want some cake."

"I want a cigarette, firewhiskey and some arse."

Draco smacked him hard. "Not on my Quidditch team! Gryffindor will not win the cup this year."

Theo rolled his eyes, "Merry fucking Christmas to you too."

THE END

Author's Note: Don't fret, I have an epilogue on the way!