Part 3: Hufflepuff

Hannah Abbot sat at the beginning of the first row of Hufflepuffs, trying not to look at Blaise. Hannah hadn't been the same for quite some time--quieter, less likely to ever smile. "We have advanced Herbology together," Blaise said, still unhappy with the results of his/her dare, and ready to cause some damage. "I see you with your sleeves rolled up all the time, and I know for a fact that you don't have a cat." Blaise got up, moving over to Hannah to pull her to her feet. "So I want to know what these are from." Blaise lifted one of Hannah's arms high over her head, her sleeve falling back to reveal the bright red cuts and the older white and pink scars. There were a few gasps in the audience, and Blaise seemed satisfied enough not to need an answer from the blond.

"This is a cruel game," Hermione muttered, overheard only by those around her.

"That's the point," Draco whispered to her, leaning over both Harry and Ron. Harry resisted the urge to 'accidentally' knee him in the groin, but he was in the perfect position to do so. "Secrets and pain. Everyone's got them. I wonder what yours is."

"Don't be so bloody melodramatic."

"Again. That's the point."

Once free from Blaise's grip, Hannah fell back into her chair, choking back tears. She turned to Ernie Macmillan, who was holding her hand in comfort. "If--if you had to spend the rest of your life with only one other person in this room, who would it be?"

He looked at her with a small smile and let loose a little laugh. "You don't already know?" She shook her head. "It's you."

There were catcalls and noises of disgust coming from the rows that had already gone, but most of the room started a slow clap, until Ernie, face red from the unexpected confession, leaned over to kiss away Hannah's tears. She smiled for what seemed like the first time in months.

Hermione continued to clap while smiling happily.

Eventually Justin Finch-Fletchley, after admitting to using an illegal time-turner to correctly predict the winner of every quid ditch game for six years past, turned his attention of Susan Bones. Susan was such a quiet girl, modest and shy. It was time to shake things up. "Who is the real author of 'As the Broomstick Turns?' " he asked, citing a popular serialized story from Witch Weeklyprone to sarcasm and laugher in the halls of Hogwarts on a regular basis.

Susan blushed bright red. "I am," she whispered. "How did you know?"

"Your mother told my mother."

"Louder," Draco ordered from the back of the room. "We can't hear you, Bones."

"I am! I wrote it!" The room erupted in fits of laughter.

"Even the episode where Zelda Higgins and Healer Brock Bennigan do it in the Spell Damage ward of St. Mungo's?" someone asked.

"Yes!" She buried her face in her hands.

"I loved that episode," Hermione said so quietly that no one heard her.

"How'd you know how to write about that?"

"Hey!" Susan said, standing up to shout over the crowd with sudden courage. "I get fifty galleons an episode for those things, so you can all just shut up!" Once the crowd was quiet again she asked the next girl her question, and then it was Eloise Midgeon's turn.

"How many people have you had sex with. Besides yourself of course. That doesn't count."

Eloise sat up straight in her chair, and answered calmly. "Twenty-seven, including Gideon Crumb of the Weird Sisters."

"She's lying," Nott protested. "Who'd sleep with her?"

"I'm a girl, Theodore. I'm no going to lie about a number like that. I just have a very healthy sexual appetite, and older men happen to find me attractive. I've had more than my share of ministry officials too you know."

"If she is lying," Draco assured, "She'll be dead by midnight tomorrow."

"I'm not lying," Eloise said calmly, and the questioning of the Hufflepuffs continued.