Author Note: You don't have to have read "Mudbloods of the Death Eaters" for this to make sense, but I do kind of think of this Montague and Katie as the AU versions of the Katie and Montague in "Mudbloods."

Fair warning this story time skips constantly, I've tried to make that clear with lines. :)


Chapter One: Flower Explosions

If he had even the slightest shred of decency, he would pretend that last night had never happened. But since this was Graham Montague, decency, if it had ever been part of him, had been obliterated long ago.

Katie stared at the roses in dismay. They were ostentatious. They were cliched. They were rainbow, and there were perhaps hundreds of them.

"He's going to tell everyone," she mumbled aloud in her flat. "Constantly. Until the day he dies."

Alicia's bedroom door opened and Katie crushed the card in her hand reflexively. Why had she not just incinerated the roses at first sight? She'd lost her touch.

"Good mor—whoa, what are those?" Alicia asked, mid yawn. "That must've cost a fortune!"

"Not his fortune," Katie muttered, even softer. After all, Montague was just like the rest of them, spending Daddy's money.

"What?" Alicia said, coming closer, bending to sniff the flowers.

"Nothing," Katie said, just grateful that Angelina had spent the night somewhere else as well. She wondered if Alicia had noticed she'd been here alone.

"Who sent them?" Alicia asked, "your birthday's ages away."

"True," Katie said, relieved she'd changed clothing as soon as she had arrived home, before the incriminating flowers had arrived by twelve owl post.

Her knickers were gone. She'd tried to look for them for a solid three seconds, become sure Montague was going to wake up, and fled, giving them up for a lost cause. And now, because she was an idiot, Montague had evidence. Iron clad, Wizenagmot level evidence. Inspiration struck.

"They're for Ange," she lied.

"Ange?" Alicia said, straightening up from admiring the flowers with a raised left eyebrow. "Isn't she over at George's now?"

"Yes," Katie said.

"So who're these from? George's got competition?"

"I-" a night of drinking, and dancing, and alcohol, and—other things—had left Katie with a distinct lack of sleep. And lack of ability to think coherently.

Alicia's eyes narrowed, and quick as a hex, she'd lunged and grabbed the card out of Katie's hand, tearing it in half.

Katie, who had never been as fast as Alicia but was significantly taller and stronger, lunged back, trying to yank the torn parchment out of her friend's hand.

Alicia danced away.

"Give that back, Alicia!"

"Katie," Alicia read out loud, dodging her frantic blonde roommate and leaping atop the sofa, "thank you for the good time last night."

Katie's insides shriveled with mortification. If there had been any doubt about Montague's intentions when she'd opened the card, the way he'd worded the note like she was a prostitute had driven any wild thoughts of him being chivalrous about it all out of her head.
"I wouldn't mind another round. If you want to meet up again, just send an owl to-" Alicia stopped as Katie lunged again, jumping off the sofa and darting towards the kitchen. She turned the parchment over.

Katie sprang and Alicia shrieked, kicking the bar stool into her path, and Katie went down with a crash, knocking Alicia over in the process. Like she needed more sore muscles right now.

"Oh bollocks, where's the rest of it!" Alicia wailed. She spotted the scrap of parchment still in Katie's fist, made a motion towards her, and Katie, in the deepest throes of desperation, stuffed it in her mouth, chewed frantically while Alicia's jaw dropped, and swallowed the incriminating rest.

The two girls stared at each other for a while, acknowledging that Katie had just eaten paper.

"Holy kneazle droppings," Alicia said faintly, "I'm guessing that wasn't Wood."

"Wood?" Katie said. Even twenty hours ago the insinuation that she'd sleep with Oliver Wood, great captain, good friend, cute (but perhaps mentally deranged Quidditch fanatic) would've insulted her deeply.

As it was, she'd take out a ten page spread in the Prophet with graphic details of a one-night stand with Oliver Wood to erase her activities of the previous night from the universe. Even if it most likely would've involved Quidditch props and role play wherein he won the Quidditch World Cup, knowing Oliver. Perhaps he'd make Katie dress up like a human Snitch.

"I mean," Alicia said, still looking at Katie in a sort of awed terror, "I know one night stands aren't your thing, Katie, but you can't be this embarrassed by someone normal. Not with the amount of times I've fucked up my dating life. And Ange has-" There was a pause.

No one liked to mention that Angelina had dated one twin who had been murdered and somehow ended up dating the other a few years after. No one decent brought it up, anyway.

"Is it Ron Weasley?"

"Ron Weasley?" Katie said, wondering why on Earth that was Alicia's second guess of all people. "You think I'm having an affair with the guy who's dating Hermione Granger, war heroine?'

On second thought, that still sounded better then Montague.

"Is it Harry?" Alicia demanded, "It's Harry, isn't it? I think he always had a crush on you."
"Harry Potter?" Katie said, even more surprised.

She paused. Well, perhaps that would be worse then Montague. The Boy Hero, cheating on his beloved girlfriend (who happened to have many older brothers) with his girlfriend's Holyhead Harpies teammate. Then she pictured Montague smirking at her at some pure-blood ball that Alicia had dragged her to, Flint and Warrington and all the rest giggling like buffoons, while he pulled her knickers out of a pocket. They'd be bright pink, a thong covered in lace, exactly the type of knickers a pure-blood girl wouldn't be caught dead wearing. In fact, a proper pure-blood witch probably wouldn't even recognize them as knickers. Montague had even commented on them, when he'd-

"I wish," Katie muttered out loud. "But Harry never had a crush on me," she said, clinging to the only part of this that was rational.

"Well it's got to be a Quidditch guy," Alicia said, and Katie schooled her expression into neutrality, "I know you too well."

"Maybe it's a Quidditch girl," Katie said.

Angelina chose this moment to open the front door, calling out greetings, a box of donuts in her hand.

She dropped her satchel onto the floor, taking in the knocked over stools, Katie and Alicia both on the floor, the sofa pillows and cushions askew, the bouquet of flowers taking up the entirety of the kitchen table.

"Who are the flowers from?" Angelina asked, putting down the donuts and righting the stools. "Have you two been brawling?"

"Katie's having a torrid affair with Ginny Weasley apparently," Alicia said, standing up and brushing off her pajama pants.

"Impossible," Ange said in a deadpan, "not unless we both are."

Katie giggled. It was kind of an unhinged sound. She needed a shower. She needed to burn her clothing from the night before. She needed someone to Obliviate her. And then Montague, before he could tell everyone.

"Haven't you heard?" Angelina said, "I'm collecting all of the Weasley's. Everyone says so." This was a little too close to the truth, and Katie stopped giggling. Angelina pulled out a copy of the prophet from her coat, and threw it on the counter. It was folded to a Rita Skeeter special, and the headline screamed "Weasley's Floozy?" with a picture of George and Angelina juxtaposed with a picture of Angelina and Fred from the Yule Ball.

Katie and Alicia cried out together in dismay, and Angelina's face folded for a microsecond, before it straightened again.

"OK," Alicia said, "that's it. We're going full Muggle and getting branch."

"Brunch?" Katie corrected, feeling a stab of shame that she wondered if this meant that she was getting away with the flowers since Angelina's situation was so much more dire.

"Is that where we can get drunk in a socially acceptable way at eleven in the morning?" Angelina asked grimly, crumpling the newspaper article into a ball. Katie caught a glimpse of the words "social climbing mediocre Quidditch player" and "a clear fetish for brothers" before Alicia snatched it from Ange and binned it with some violence.

"Yes," Alicia said, "that's right. Samosas."

"Mimosas," Katie corrected absently. By now it was second nature for her to correct her friends without Muggle parents. Although with this thought, came a second, more intrusive thought about Montague not caring about fucking a Mudblood when his family was one of those inbred, moneyed pure-blood dynasties that lived in more than one family mansion, employed house-elves, and married a twenty-year-old virgin pure-blood witch.

She supposed she, like Rita Skeeter had accused Ange, was a fetish for Montague. It was an ugly thought.

"Great," Angelina said, "I would like to get drunk. Now. Alicia, get dressed."

"Yay!" Alicia said, throwing her arms in the air, "and then we can talk about painful revenge on Rita Skeeter and Katie's new mystery man. Whoever he is is so bad I think it should cheer us all up."

Well. There went her relief.


The second pitcher of bottomless mimosas was on the table between them, crepes mostly eaten, omelets getting devoured, scones covered in cream and jam, Angelina venting in a steady stream about her plans to get revenge on Rita Skeeter. It was more than a nasty article everyone could ignore. It was the mob Rita Skeeter still commanded, the way she could mobilize an army of angry people (mostly witches) against a person she so desired. Angelina had already been spat at by a wizard in the street and the article had just come out.

"Look," Alicia said, "it doesn't matter what anyone else says. We all know Fred would've been happy that you two are together. That's what's important."

"Do we know that?" Angelina asked, pouring herself another glass.

"Of course," Katie lied. Truth be told, she wasn't so sure. Fred had loved his brother a lot, but Fred had never been big on sharing.

"I just," Angelina said, toying with her hands, "I just wish I knew that Fred wouldn't mind."

"He wouldn't," Alicia said immediately.

"That's right," Katie echoed. Not that she had any right to judge. Fred would be much madder at Katie for sleeping with the enemy. Everyone would be, when they found out.

The war had been over for four years, it was true. The guilty all imprisoned, allegedly. The dead buried. The "heroes," like Katie, had been awarded. But the hurt hadn't healed. The divisions remained. It was one of the many reasons she'd been so shocked to see Montague at that Muggle club in the first place, dressed like a rich Muggle boy, without his usual entourage of Slytherins sprinkled with a few ambitious, pure-blooded Ravenclaws.

"George feels weird about it sometimes," Angelina said, knocking back her drink. It was clear this was a painful confession.

"How so?" Katie asked.

"Has he said something?" Alicia said.

"No," Angelina admitted, "It's just...if we go somewhere I went with Fred, or-" she paused, frowning.

"Or?" Alicia prompted.

"That's a lot of flowers," Angelina said, as she looked over their shoulders.

"What?" Alicia said, confused, and they spun around, Katie's heart sinking when she saw their waitress making her way over, an enormous bouquet of red flowers of all kinds in her hands.

"Who's sending you all of these flowers, Katie?" Ange asked in a neutral tone.

"You don't know they are for me," Katie said, but it was a feeble deflection, they all knew it, and when their waitress stopped next to them, none of the girls were surprised.

"Which one of you is Miss Katie Bell?" she asked cheerfully.

"Me!" Alicia said, and when she made to snatch the card Katie stood up, yanked the card away, and made to run until she saw the look on her waitress's face.

"She's joking," Katie said shortly, "I'm Katie."

"Well you've just got these delivered," the waitress said, "lucky girl."

Her friends looked at her expectantly, at the ridiculous bouquet that had probably cost Montague thirty galleons, and Katie wondered if she was going to have to eat another card in public. How had he even found her here? And known not to use owl post?

"Oh come on," Alicia said, and Katie turned to her. "it can't be as bad as me and Ernie Macmillan."

Katie's jaw dropped.

"Ernie Macmillan?"

It was her fatal error. Angelina pounced, grabbed the card, ripped it open, and started to read aloud.

"Katie-"

"No, Angelina!"

"-it was a distinct pleasure to have your attention last night. I know it was your pleasure to have mine. Obviously."

"What an arsehole," the waitress said conversationally.

"Stop it, Ange!"

"Don't you dare stop reading that, Angelina Johnson!"

"Once your legs are working normally—god this guy is gross, Katie—why don't you let me know, and I can make sure they start shaking again?"

"This is disgusting," Alicia said, sounding delighted.

Katie had dropped her head into her arms on the table.

"Nice flowers though," the waitress said.

"I knew those Gryff—um-" Angelina darted a look at their Muggle waitress, "-those boys in your house at school didn't do it for you right. If you want a real man from Sly-" Ange cut herself off again, but it was too late and Alicia shrieked at the beginning of the word Slytherin. "Um, my house from school, send me your bra to match those knickers you left and I'll come find you."

"He wrote 'bra'?" Alicia asked with interest, knowing this to be a Muggle word and device.

"Er," Angelina said, eyes darting to the waitress again, as the note really said 'wired contraption breast thing,' "...yes. Until then, you'll have to content yourself with fantasizing about me and the best night of your life every ten seconds."

"The rich ones are always wankers," the waitress said regretfully, admiring the flower explosion again.

"Signed," Angelina said meaningfully, and Katie gave a piteous moan into her arms the same time Alicia squealed with excitement. "G.M."

"G.M?" Alicia said blankly.

"Katie," Angelina said severely, folding the paper up, and Katie groaned again. It was even worse then the first note. "Is this from Graham Montague?"

"WHAT?" Alicia screamed.

Katie raised her head from her arms. Alicia was clutching at her own face like she was the first victim in a horror movie. Angelina was looking at her like a disappointed parent.

"We'll need another pitcher of mimosas," Katie told the waitress grimly.


Thirteen Hours Previously

"Well I'll be damned," a man drawled over her left shoulder, "it's little Katie Bell."

Katie turned from the bar, irritated, wondering how it was she couldn't even escape to a Muggle club once every six months with her childhood friends without someone recognizing her. There were some distinct downsides to being a war heroine and friend of the great Harry Potter.

Katie opened her mouth to say she was hardly little, she was taller then most women she knew, and put some heels on her and she was taller than most men as well, when the words died in her throat.

Graham Montague stood in front of her. He was wearing a blue expensive looking Muggle jumper that almost matched his eyes, but certainly didn't match his usual pure-blood Slytherin act. She hadn't been this close to him since her sixth year, when he'd been Slytherin's Quidditch captain until Fred and George had shoved him into a Vanishing Cabinet and he'd come back with severe memory problems, spending the rest of his last year at Hogwarts in the hospital wing. It had seemed funny at the time.

"Oh, fuck me," Katie hissed through her teeth. How she was going to explain this to her Muggle friends who were curiously watching this exchange…

Montague shrugged.

"If you insist," he said, lifting up his drink and taking a sip. He flashed a smile at her for a half second that was more than a touch evil.

Sandra, her oldest friend from childhood, made a weird whimpering sound next to Katie, and Julia on her other side giggled like Montague was a master wit.

"Pass, thanks," Katie snapped, putting down her own drink with a thunk and crossing her arms. "Now piss off, Montague."

"Katie, don't be rude," Ruby said, "who's your friend?"

"We're not friends," Katie said, wondering who told Montague he was ever allowed to smile at her. Why would he think she'd want to talk to him, of all people? He had never been caught in Death Eater activities it was true, nor had his father, but that didn't mean he hadn't done anything. That didn't mean he didn't fund anything. That didn't mean he didn't agree with what they believed.

"That's true," Montague told her friends, "we're not friends. We've never been friends."

"What a shame," Julia said flirtatiously, taking in Montague's height, his muscular frame, his expensive clothes, his attractive face, if you cared about such superficial things. Sandra made another weird whimpering noise.

"No it's not," Katie said bluntly.

Montague grinned at her again. His eyes went over her quickly, and Katie fought the urge to cross her arms tighter. What she was wearing was not scandalous for a young Muggle girl, not in the slightest. But for witches, particularly pure-blood witches…Montague finished his perusal of her and her flesh on display and took another sip of his drink.

"So who are you, then?" Ruby asked with interest.

"Mortal enemies," Katie said through her teeth.

"Star crossed lovers," Montague drawled, "old school chums who were kept apart by silly childhood prejudices."

Judging by his deadpan tone and the evil light in his eyes and also by, oh yes, this was Graham Montague, Slytherin asshole who'd once grabbed her head and flipped her over her broom in a cartwheel mid-match to make her drop the Quaffle, Katie knew he was full of shit.

"How wonderful," Julia said, looking between them.

Montague was eyeing her bare legs again and it was making Katie wish for the appearance of the baggiest of robes.

"Katie," Ruby said, "is this the boy you had a crush on in school?"

"Absolutely not," Katie snarled, as Montague had met her eyes and smirked at that, and then looked down at the strip of her stomach showing between skirt and shirt.

"Are you sure?" Sandra said, finally finding her voice, looking Montague over in an even more lascivious way then he was looking at Katie.

"Yeah Katie, are you sure?" he taunted her.

"You're thinking of Roger Davies," Katie lied brutally, the first person she could think of.

Really, Ruby had probably been thinking of Terence Higgs, much older Slytherin she'd had a crush on her first two years before he'd left school. Her Muggle friends were the only ones she'd felt safe confiding that in, knowing even at the time that Higgs was a Slytherin and that her harmless crush would disturb her Hogwarts friends.

Montague's smile dropped, and his nostrils flared like he was smelling a poor person or a Muggle. Which, he was currently smelling both.

"Roger Davies?" he said to her, "I thought you had taste."

"No, that wasn't it," Ruby said, frowning in thought.

Montague looked arrogant again. "Stop lying, Katie," he said to her, "you know it was me all along that you wanted."

"Terence, was that it?" Ruby said, and Katie felt herself die a little on the inside.

"Terence Higgs?" Montague practically shouted, "really, Bell?"

"Yes, that's who it was!" Ruby said triumphantly, before she caught wind of Montague's put out expression.

"Why not him?" Julia muttered, looking Montague over as well.

Katie sucked on her teeth, annoyed her that her friends were forcing her to repeatedly notice that Graham Montague was a conventionally attractive guy. He always had been, really, but since he'd been a Slytherin, and not a remote older Slytherin like Higgs, who'd played Seeker in a way that didn't involve cheating and graduated school when she was only thirteen, Katie hadn't ever let herself notice. Montague was a stupid asshole from Slytherin, and that's all he'd ever been.

"Because he's an arrogant wanker," Katie said coldly.

"You wound me," Montague drawled. "More drinks, ladies?" he initiated another round to the bartender, and Katie knew she was doomed. If there was one way that he could get her Muggle friends on his side it was free alcohol.


"Terence Higgs?" Ange murmured under her breath, clearly trying not to laugh.

"Wait wait wait," Alicia said, waving her hands, "you started out so well, Katie!"

The waitress, who'd pulled up a chair and whose name was apparently Edith, nodded sagely at this, while Angelina poured them all another mimosa. They were all now more orange juice and champagne then women.

"What went wrong?" Alicia wailed.

"Well," Katie said grimly.


She'd never been particularly great at holding her alcohol, and Montague had seemed determined to get her drunk. On the upside, her trio of Muggle friends had insisted on Montague matching them drink for drink, and they drank quite a bit more than Katie. That had ended with Montague flailing around on the dance floor with all of them, his blue jumper abandoned somewhere, a black t-shirt sweaty and gross on him as they all writhed around.

"God he's terrible," Katie said out loud, as Montague did a particularly unflattering move.

"He's lucky he's cute," Sandra agreed, and then she smiled slyly at Katie, "you're lucky he's cute."

"Hardly," Katie said, as Montague did some weird kick move in Ruby's direction and then brayed with laughter as Ruby giggled and pointed in his face.

"He sounds like a donkey," Katie said, her head swimming a little bit.

"True," Sandra agreed, "he's got a good smile though."

Katie looked at the Slytherin boy in question who was laughing madly with her Muggle mates, and she tried to disagree, but Graham Montague, when he wasn't smirking or leering or being an arse, had a fantastic smile.

He executed an odd little pirouette move while holding hands with Julia, and Katie couldn't help it, perhaps it was the rum and cokes, but she smiled at his sheer, joyously awful dancing. Montague looked at her at this precise moment, and somehow they were smiling at each other, and the world hadn't imploded, a fissure opening up in the ground and releasing her friends and his friends crawling on hands and knees, hissing how a Gryffindor and Slytherin smiling at each other had brought upon the apocalypse.


"What, are we demons now?" Alicia asked caustically.

"Shh!" Edith the waitress said, flapping her hands. "This is getting good!"

Angelina had added a Bloody Mary to their collection of alcoholic drinks and was still frowning at Katie with the exact same expression her father had had when she had told her cousin Wendy that the Easter Bunny wasn't real when they were eight.

Alicia rolled her eyes. "So we Gryff-" (she darted another glance at Edith) "—uh, house rivals in school are demons crawling up from hell to judge your smiling, got it. So then what? Montague won you over with his flailing? You thought, dear god, I've got to get a piece of that hot arse?"

Katie scowled. Alicia hadn't been there. She'd never seen Montague smile. Not truly. It wasn't something the pure-blood Slytherins did at them, Gryffindor Quidditch players.

"It wasn't just his smile," Katie said stiffly.


His disarmingly nice smile had thrown her quite a bit, Katie wouldn't lie. It had made weird things happen in her stomach, although she could definitely (and would) blame the amount of alcohol she'd consumed for that one. But worse then that, was the way Montague was willingly touching Julia while they twirled around each other, bumping elbows in each other's faces with their uncoordination, the way he was giggling like a schoolgirl with Ruby, the fact that he was in a Muggle club wearing Muggle clothes having fun with Muggles like this was a perfectly normal Saturday night for him.

"Why, exactly, have you not dated him before?" Sandra asked.

"That's not enough of a reason?" Katie said, gesturing at Montague doing the running man with Julia as a streak of sweat rolled down his forehead. God. What had she been thinking about him having a nice smile? He probably smelled like gym socks.

"What, a guy who's willing to look silly in order to have fun with your mates? After he's bought us a small fortune in drinks?" Sandra shot back. "A guy who looks like he's been modeling in magazines on his days off?"

"Days off from what?" Katie snorted, "spending his daddy's money?"

"So he's rich, too?" Sandra exclaimed. "Katie, love, what is the problem here?"

Montague was now doing some sort of weird three way dance move with Ruby and Julia that involved them holding hands and dancing in a moving circle.

"Graham clearly thinks you two have some sort of star crossed-"

"Montague," Katie corrected stubbornly, "was being sarcastic, I assure you. He made my life and my friend's life hell at school. Our group of friends were enemies. I was being serious about that part."

"Well people grow up," Sandra said reasonably. "School was five years ago, Katie."

"He hasn't changed," Katie insisted, taking a sip of her drink. Montague brayed with laughter again, his whole face lit up like the sun when Julia attempted some sort of sexy move that ended with her falling over in a heap, snapping her dress strap off. "See?" Katie said as Montague pointed and laughed at Julia. "he hasn't-"

Montague helped Julia up, still laughing, then dragged her over to the bar, attempting to fix her strap.

"Another drink!" he shouted, "another drink, as your reward!" he found his discarded jumper that had probably cost him a hundred pounds in a Muggle shop (but what had he'd been doing in a Muggle shop at all) and then presented it to Julia, who pulled it on, laughing and red faced, to cover her ample cleavage that was threatening to escape from the half broken dress.

"You were saying?" Sandra said with a grin.

"Trying to cop a feel," Katie tried gamely.

"Considering how he was giving you the eye earlier I'd say he's more of a leg man," Sandra said.

"Sandra! Bell!" Montague shouted, "you need a refresher!" he held up two more drinks in their direction.

"Bloody excellent," Sandra said, making her way over.

"Traitor," Katie said halfheartedly, following reluctantly. It just wasn't fair. Montague had stolen all of her friend's affections. It hadn't even been difficult for him.


"Look," Edith said, "if you have a handsome guy who's buying me unlimited drinks, dancing with me without sticking his bone in my arse, and giving me expensive jumpers, I'm in too."

Alicia was yanking her own hair, it was now in wild tufts like she was pretending to be Hermione Granger for a Halloween party. "Are you telling me," she said, as Angelina chugged her Bloody Mary, "that Graham Montague, notorious snob, raging arrogant arsehole extraordinaire, willingly touched Mug-er, poor people, danced like a fool in public, owns jumpers, and acted like a gentleman to your Mug-er, poor friends?"

"Yes," Katie said, her own glass of mimosa now being slammed down her throat.

"Well alright," Alicia said, "It makes sense now. Poor girl. He tricked you. He does have a nice smile."

"Alicia!" Ange said loudly.

"I noticed seventh year," Alicia said regretfully, "he was helping some third year in his house with her book she'd dropped. He stopped smiling as soon as he saw me, of course. Told me to shove my broomstick up my arse but-"

"Your broomstick?" Edith asked blankly.

"Er...ahh...common insult at our school," Alicia said, "weird teenage thing."

Edith nodded thoughtfully. "We used to say pour a bucket of fish guts on your head," she said. "When I was sixteen. Don't ask me why."

"Graham Montague doesn't have a nice smile," Angelina said darkly, "is that really all it took, Katie, for you to forget those million times he was an arse?"

"You're leaving out the jumper story, that was cute," Alicia said.

"The horrible dancing," Edith added, "that's adorable."

"He was being nice to her friends! For ages!" Alicia piled on.

"And he spent a lot of money," Edith nodded. "Plus, you said he's handsome?"

"No," Katie and Angelina said as Alicia said "to be fair, yes."

"Alicia, stop making it worse!" Ange said, pointing her finger.

"Hey she could've hooked up with Bole," Alicia said, "it could've been a lot worse."

All three girls shuddered.

"So OK, Montague's dubious charm and money won you over," Ange said, and Katie could tell she was trying very hard not to sound judgmental, which she appreciated greatly. Even if Ange was failing.

"No, now hang on," Katie said indignantly, "that wasn't all it took."


Somehow they'd all ended up on the dance floor, Katie included, as much as she'd tried to avoid Montague and her writhing anywhere withing twelve feet of each other. She blamed it on that last rum and coke. It had clearly tipped her over the edge.

Katie had kept her wits enough to be the furthest of the four girls away from Montague. It shouldn't have been difficult, her friends were enjoying dancing with him a little too much. The odd dichotomy between her Muggle friends willingly touching Montague while giggling and the faces her Gryffindor girls would make in the same situation was breaking her brain. Angelina would have probably stabbed him with a cocktail stick by now.


"I would've done it hours ago," Ange said, "at first sight, in fact."

"And what about me?" Alicia said indignantly, "I wouldn't have stabbed him?"

"You're the one who says he has a good smile, if you recall," Angelina retorted

"That doesn't mean I want to shag the guy," Alicia said.

They both smirked at Katie.

"I would have shagged him," Edith shrugged.

"Thanks," Katie said.

"You've never met him," Angelina said darkly, "you don't know the depths of his arrogance."

A middle aged man in an apron was making his way over to them, scowling.

"Bollocks," Edith hissed, leaping up, "that's my manager."

"Tell him to stick a bucket of fish guts on his head," Alicia said unhelpfully, "we need you here."

"Gotta go," Edith said, "but I want to hear the rest of this later!" She made her way to another table with haste.

"So enough descriptions of the dancing," Angelina said.

"That's the best part," Alicia disagreed, "imagine Graham Montague, smug rich boy, flailing around with Muggles!"

"Enough of the dancing," Angelina repeated, "you're stalling. Get to the rest. We need to know if he used a spell or a potion on you."

"Get to the shagging," Alicia agreed.

"That's not what I meant," Angelina snapped, "we might have to tell Ron and Harry about this, make a statement to the Aurors..."

"Ange," Katie said, holding up her hand, "as much as I hate what happened, he didn't force me into anything. Stop that train of thought right now."

"You were drunk," Angelina persisted, "he was handing you drinks, yes? Maybe he-"

"No," Katie said, and god, why were her friends making this so much harder? Why were they making her spell it out in such excruciating detail? "I got the drinks from the bartender directly. I'm not stupid, Ange."

"Well maybe he-"

"NO," Katie said louder, "just listen, okay?"


"Dance with him Katie," Sandra whispered, trying to shove her at Montague, who chose that very unfortunate moment to finally pull out a dance move that was somewhat appealing. Okay fine, It had been sexy.

"No," Katie hissed back, pulling away. Sandra just laughed like Katie was the most ridiculous person she knew and went over to Montague instead, who grasped her left hand and spun her around.

"See Katie," she muttered sarcastically to herself, fully aware she looked like a loon, "see what you're missing out on."

Julia, ever the boldest of the girls, grabbed Montague around the waist, trailing her fingers up his abdomen with a laugh, while Montague's eyebrows flew up into his hairline. It had barely been a touch at all, and Julia had already moved away, but Katie knew that Montague had spent all of his recreational time around pure-blood witches, who priced their virginal status, faux or real, beyond all public displays of fun.

Montague made eye contact with her right when her mouth was twisting, thinking of pure-blood snobbery, and right when Sandra had taken her turn pawing at him. The smirk he leveled in her direction was the biggest Katie had ever seen grace his face. Great. Absolutely fabulous. Now Montague was going to think she was jealous. Ruby was now grasping at Montague and he wrapped his arm around her, looked back at Katie, and blew her a kiss with a wink.

"Ugh," Katie said out loud again, turning away sharply, bringing the remnants of her rum and coke to her mouth. She didn't know what was worse. Montague thinking she was actually jealous of her friends feeling up his body, or her friends groping Montague, snobby Slytherin arsehole wretch like they were in heat. What had gotten into them? Had Montague doused them with love potions?


"Aha!" Angelina said triumphantly," "I knew it!"

Alicia looked skeptical. "Ange they were just drunk and they didn't know what he's really like."

"Exactly," Katie agreed. She took the last bite of crepe to soak up all of the alcohol.

"Fine," Ange sighed, "allegedly he has a nice smile. Not that I've seen it."

"He does," Katie and Alicia chorused, both sounding so dismal about it it was if Montague was dying of dragon pox, not that he was in possession of a nice smile.

"So...were you jealous?" Ange asked.

"Of what?" Katie said, astonished. "Of my friends getting bamboozled by Montague's fake personality and money? Hardly."

They had tried to be subtle about it, but Katie still saw her friends exchange a glance.

"I wasn't!" Katie said indignantly. "I'll remind you he was making one of those obnoxious faces he used to make mid match at us all the time. How could I possibly be attracted to that?"

"You just said he was smirking and blowing you kisses?" Alicia pointed out.

"Yeah?" Katie said, "like I said. It was giving me awful Quidditch flashbacks. I felt like he was about to elbow me off my broom."

"Hold on just a minute," Ange said, raising her hands up, palms vertical at Katie. "Are you telling me Montague used to blow you kisses during matches?"

Alicia had put her champagne flute down and was staring at Katie with wide eyes.

"Yeah," Katie said, entirely confused, "it was what made him so obnoxious. That and the sexual come-ons."

"What!" Alicia shrieked, so loudly the couple next to them jumped and Edith looked over, clearly longing to rejoin their gossip instead of delivering Bloody Mary's and bacon.

"Katie," Angelina said, severe again, "why didn't you tell the rest of us that Montague's been hitting on you for years?"

"What?" Katie said, her mind blank. "Because...I mean, I thought that was his thing? Flint cheats and tries to push you off your broom, Warrington cheats and tells you your mother fucked a donkey, Pucey cheats and tells you to go fuck a Hufflepuff, usually Smith, and Montague cheats and tells you your legs would look good wrapped around him instead of your broom—What?!"

For Alicia and Ange were staring at her like she was Dolores Umbridge mating with a centaur.

"Wait," Alicia said, "you're remembering wrong. Montague's the one who tells you to fuck Hagrid, Pucey's the one who tells you to suck his-"

"No, no no," Ange interrupted, "Pucey definitely tells you to fuck a Hufflepuff, like Katie said, and Montague tells you to fuck Hagrid, like Alicia said. It's Warrington that tells you to ride his broom as hard as you ride yours."

The three women started at each other with identical expressions of disgust and dawning comprehension.

"Well," Katie said finally, "guess you two should avoid running into Pucey and Warrington in Muggle clubs and letting them ply you with alcohol."

Angelina whimpered.


Katie plunked the empty glass down on the bar.

"Another round," she said to the bartender.

"On me, luv," a man said over her left shoulder.

Katie turned and there were three Muggle men grinning at her. She opened her mouth, fully intending to politely decline, when "thanks" came out of her mouth instead. If Katie had eyes in the back of her head, she would've seen Montague looking their way, scowling.

"So what's a nice girl like yourself doing here alone?" the guy asked Katie, and normally, she would've rolled her eyes at such a cheesy line but she kept seeing Montague's obnoxious kiss-smirk and the way his eyes had roamed over her body.

"I'm not alone," Katie said, "I'm here with my friends." She gestured vaguely behind her without looking. "I needed another drink."

Her new companions followed her gesture, and all three of their cheesy grins dropped.

"Is that your bloke over there?" the man in the middle demanded.

Katie reluctantly followed the pointing finger although she didn't know why when it was obviously Montague at the receiving end. Sweat was dripping down his face and he was still surrounded by her friends who had suspiciously gone back to dancing like goof balls and not groping him now that Katie wasn't looking. Sweat was also making his shirt stick to his body and while Katie was mostly repulsed, parts of her tingled. Montague had the blackest of facial expressions. It was worse then the time they'd beat Slytherin in her sixth year, before Harry and the twins had pummeled Malfoy. Their banning had made Montague smirk again.

"No," Katie said, more than a little drunk, turning away from Montague's dark glare, "he's my mortal enemy. He's dancing with my friends though." She knocked back half her drink heedlessly.

"Oh yeah?" the first guy who'd bought her drink said. "What did he do to you, luv?"

"Well," Katie said with the animation of a drunk about to confess, when she saw that the second man's fists were balled, the man on the left was cracking his knuckles. In a rush, Katie realized the reckless mistake she'd made.


"Katie Bell," Alicia said, and the look on her face was just a little too delighted, "did you convince a bunch of Muggles to punch Graham Montague in the face?"

Angelina cackled, drinking her second Bloody Mary. Katie grimaced.

"Such is the power of those," Alicia said, gesturing at Katie's long legs beneath the table.

"Hardly," Katie grumbled.

"So your drunken sex appeal didn't get Montague beaten?" Alicia laughed.

"Well, I didn't say that," Katie admitted.


"Oh, nothing," Katie backtracked, as amusing as it would be to see Montague brawling with a trio of Muggles when he was posh and rich and stuck up, it would probably end with Montague in Azkaban for hexing Muggles. And as much as that would seem like karmic retribution she really didn't need it on her conscience. "I was joking," Katie said, "he's my...friend. Not my boyfriend."

"Yeah?" the second man said, his eyes still on Montague. He didn't look appeased. "You sure, luv? He's looking at you like he's your fella."

"Definitely not," Katie said. It would be safer to tell these guys that Montague was her fella, the tiny sober part of her brain screamed at her. But even in this world where her Muggle friends loved rich happy doofy Montague, she couldn't bring herself to pretend that she, Katie Bell, Gryffindor, was attached to a jerk from Slytherin.

"Soooo," Katie said, slurring her words more than she realized, "what are your names, then?"

"Mitch," the first guy said, grinning at Katie, "this here's Tim, and that's Davey," he gestured to the second man, who was still glaring over at Montague with his chest puffed out. "And what's your name, luv?"

"Katie," she said, "and those are my friends Jul-"

"Bell," Montague said from over her shoulder, her name snapping like a wet towel in the Quidditch locker room, "what are you doing? We've been waiting for you."

Katie turned around to look at Montague, missing the way Tim and Mitch had now puffed up their broad chests as well at Montague's appearance.

"I'm getting another drink, obviously," Katie drew out the "obviously" until it was about twelve syllables, the tones of a sarcastic drunk.

In the background, Ruby and Julia hadn't noticed what was occurring over near the bar, but Sandra was looking their way with trepidation.

"Well, why didn't you just ask me to get you one?" Montague said imperiously.

"We've got it covered, mate," Tim said aggressively, "she doesn't need to ask you."

Montague didn't even look at the Muggle men.

"I've been buying you drinks for the past two hours," he said to Katie, and the tone Montague was using was the Slytherin arrogant spoiled rich boy Katie knew and loathed, not this knew happy-go-lucky Muggle loving act he'd put on for her friends. "You should've asked me to-"

"Listen here, bruv," Davey said loudly, "she's not your bird, she said it herself, so clear off, yeah?"

Montague looked up from Katie's face slowly, and Katie felt a stab of alarm.

"I wasn't speaking to you," Montague said, and the cold dismissive condescension roiled off of him in waves.

The Muggle trio squared their shoulders, and Montague looked over them briefly before sneering in the exact way that Katie had expected him to sneer at her friends since she'd clapped eyes on him.

"Katie here wasn't speaking to you," Mitch said, "so feel free to piss off. Leave the lady alone."

"Lady?" Montague scoffed, and he looked over Katie, deliberately pausing at her tiny strip of stomach skin, her long legs on display. "This is what you call a lady?"

Katie wasn't surprised. This was what she'd been waiting for since she'd first seen Montague's odious face. However, her new Muggle men were not so generous, and Katie distinctly heard another cracking sound from knuckles behind her.


"Hold on just a minute," Ange said, "I thought we were progressing to you being completely drunk-"

"I mean she clearly was at that point," Alicia said.

"-and Montague growing more charming with his lies, and that's why you banged him like a beater's bat hitting a bludger-"

"Oh god, Ange," Katie yelped, shuddering with embarrassment.

"-but Montague's reverted to form, Katie! He's acting like a complete wanker!"

"She's still drunk," Alicia said unhelpfully. "Also-"

"If you say Graham Montague has a nice smile one more time, Alicia-" Angelina said threateningly.

"I wasn't going to!" Alicia said, "Actually, I was going to tell you to stop interrupting, Ange. We were getting to a good part and I want to hear how Katie's legs got Montague's face smashed in!"

"Who said his face got smashed in?" Katie said weakly.

Angelina and Alicia both turned to her from where they'd been arguing, making identical expressions of scorn at her. It was a bit like Hermione Granger finding out you'd gotten a T on an assignment after you spent a week hiding it from her.

"There is zero chance this story is not leading to Montague getting pulverized," Angelina said.

"Well..." Katie trailed away, then coughed. She grabbed her empty champagne flute to buy herself time.

"Keep going," Alicia said, "this is the most entertaining story I've heard in months."

"Didn't Percy Weasley just call Rita Skeeter an emotional vampire in front of half the Ministry?" Ange said, "while doing a mocking chicken dance?"

"Didn't Blaise Zabini ask Ginny on a date in front of Harry?" Katie added. "While Harry was holding Ginny's hand, in fact?"

"I said what I said," Alicia said, mouth full of scone.

"Well I'm glad I could be your entertainment," Katie said, because now that they were getting to it, she couldn't quite bring herself to tell the incriminating rest.

"Stop stalling," Ange said. Dammit. Her friends knew her far too well.

"Yeah," Alicia agreed, swallowing her scone and washing it down with mimosa, "and Angelina Johnson don't you dare interrupt her at a good part again."

"Fine," Katie said in the tones of one who'd just agreed to cut the toenails of a manticore. Or a Malfoy.


"I think you should walk away," Mitch said in a low tone, "my friends aren't as forgiving as I am."

Katie saw what was happening, comprehended it on some level, but she couldn't seem to respond correctly. Really, this was Montague's own fault for making sure she was intoxicated.

"Why?" Montague drawled, and he moved closer to Katie while she wondered what in the flying fuck was happening.

Why had Montague spent all night buttering up her friends only to revert to this raging arsehole at the last moment, right when she'd been starting to get tricked into believing his act? Right when she'd been noticing how sexy he could occasionally be?

"Back off, mate," Tim barked.

There was more squaring of chests. Montague was looking over the Muggles again with a look on his face reminiscent of Lucius Malfoy.

"Graham?" Sandra said anxiously. "Everything alright here?"

Katie saw the second Montague made a decision, and his facial expression relaxed a bit as he turned to her friends.

"Just trying to help Katie out," he said lightly, "some unwanted attention."

If Katie had been sober, as much as she hated to make it look like she was here with Montague she would've agreed he was her fella and scurried away with him and her friends to de-escalate a dangerous and ugly situation. Alas, Katie's brain was instead about half a drink away from making her dance on the bar and snog a random cute boy.

"Not unwanted," she snapped, moving closer to the Muggle guys, "you're unwanted, Montague."

The Muggle men laughed, and Montague's blue eyes flashed dangerously, and his hand twitched toward his side, like he was about to reach for a wand.

"Let's go," Ruby said now, grabbing Montague by his left arm, "leave Katie here and let's dance some more."

"Yeah, go on," Katie said, waving her hand at Montague, getting some sort of sick satisfaction out of it. She'd not been surprised at Montague saying she wasn't a lady and looking at her like she was a cheap hooker, but it had hurt, just a little. Or maybe it had hurt a lot.

Montague's jawline, which some women might describe as delicious, was clenched tight.


"No one would describe it as delicious," Ange muttered.

"Angelina!" Alicia bit out, waving her fork like a sword.

"Sorry!"


Montague took a step back, closer to her friends and the dance floor, and the moment might have been saved, except Davey, the angriest looking of the men, grabbed Katie about the waist.

"Yeah, go on and we'll take care of your bird," he said loudly to Montague's back, as he'd already turned away, "we'll take turns while you occupy the ugly ones."

Katie only had time to raise her hands an inch to shove away the grabby Muggle, only had time to part her lips to indignantly tear into this jerk for insulting her friends and implying she'd be maybe participating in a foursome with some strangers, when Montague turned back and decked Davey in the face.


End A/N: Hilariously, this was meant to be a one-shot. Since it's me, I got carried away. Feedback is always appreciated!