A/N. You all had some great guesses about where our young protagonists should be Sorted to! Unfortunately, though, I know EXACTLY when their intended Houses will be revealed and it will not be until the third part of the trilogy! And it's not how you'd expect, either *wink*.

Okay, another challenge: In the end, how do you think everyone (all of JKR's characters and my OCs) will be paired up and if they'll be paired up at all? Perhaps one of the gang will die alone? What are your thoughts and why?

Also, the Rita Skeeter issue will not be addressed this chapter, so sorry you guys who were expecting something about that situation (that entire thing will be taken care of next chapter, I believe). This is more of a fun chapter to lighten things up.

…~oOo~…

Chapter Five: In Which The Truth Is In The Blueberries

It went against each and every one of Draco's natural instincts. Never in a million years did he imagine this would happen, that he'd be lowered to this. But he was getting desperate and as the cliché went, desperate times called for desperate measures.

It wasn't like he had anyone he could go to. Every male figure in his life was either too cynical, too Slytherin, or too dead. Or too cynical, too Slytherin, and dead. And he hated just about everyone else, so he was in a corner. He was running out of time if he hadn't run out already and something had to be done!

If it was an apology Hermione wanted, it was an apology she would get. But the "how" was where it got complicated. Simply saying it after ignoring and being rude towards her after a year wouldn't do much, he imagined. And he had the sneakiest suspicion a bouquet and some chocolates wouldn't cut if for her.

Maybe he needed to see it from a different point of view, a different angle, hear some ideas from a mindset drastically different from his own. Someone lighter, more clear-minded, less burdened, and who wouldn't turn away the second he started talking to them.

With a big huff, Draco walked across the lawn of Mould-on-the-Wold where, upon his leaving as teacher, there were hoops and Quidditch pitch boundaries set up. Harry Potter hovered over the grass on a broom just in case something happened to his Seeker apprentice above.

"That's right, Adam! Good dive, and a very smooth save!" Potter shouted his encouragements.

Frankly, watching Adam on a broom always made Draco extremely anxious. He had no idea why, he just got a pit in his stomach and wanted to drag him back down to earth where the young boy belonged, where gravity intended him to be.

"Potter, I need to speak with Adam about a matter of utmost importance," Draco said, leaving no room for argument. It was clear by his stony expression, tone of voice, and body language that he meant business.

"Er… Sure, Draco," Potter said, blowing the whistle around his neck and waving Adam down. Around the bottom of the pitch a few of the new First Years were practicing hovering and short distances. It must have been time for the older kids' lessons.

"Anything wrong?" Potter asked, a concerned furrow in his brow.

"If it were any of your business, I would have told you already, wouldn't I have?" Draco said shortly.

Once on the ground, Adam beamed when he saw his old flying instructor. Before Adam could start yammering, Draco motioned for Adam to follow him around the side of the house towards the garden.

"Alright, Casanova, you claim to know a bit about women, yes? You've bragged in the past," Draco noted as they walked, his hands in his pockets in an attempt to seem at ease. But really they were clenched into fists. Merlin, this was so wrong. He was asking a thirteen-year-old boy for advice on girls! When Draco was thirteen, he didn't care about how girls thought or what they wanted – he just cared about what he could rut up against next, the end. Why did he think Adam Nolan could figure out something he couldn't?

"Sure, lots," Adam said with a big, wide grin. "Why, what's up? Do you have a girlfriend?"

"No, I don't have a girlfriend," Draco said, never having liked the word, and liking it even less as he got older. Hermione wasn't a girl; she was a woman. As if he'd settle for less. And for his own father, it was a courtship, then a betrothal, a marriage, and then a long period of time where you mostly ignored each other and found a mistress or three. So Draco didn't have really any real relationship with the word "girlfriend" except for that time at Hogwarts where Pansy would insist she was his.

"Are you trying to get one?" Adam asked.

"When you're older, you don't 'try to get one', you more or less wait for one to come around that you don't at all mind and find a way to get her to not despise you," Draco answered.

"Okay…" Adam said, drawing out the word for a long time, trying to process what his self-proclaimed mentor was telling him. "Does this have to do with Miss Hermione?"

"I thought you called her 'professor' still?"

"She said it didn't matter to her anymore, that she feels she doesn't deserve it because she hasn't completed the schooling," Adam said. "But the girls still do. You're changing the subject," he accused.

Draco sighed to himself. "Say, hypothetically, you made Miss Baker angry –"

"Chelsea doesn't get angry," Adam objected.

"Every woman gets angry. But say you did and –"

"No, really, Chelsea doesn't get angry, just quiet," Adam insisted. "And she's always quiet. Sometimes she'll whack me, but –"

"That's not the point," Draco hissed and halted to stared Adam down. "Listen, will you? Chelsea is hacked off. You did something irreparably stupid. The normal things don't work, like flowers or soliloquies in gardens under balconies. Got it? What would you do?"

"Hmm…" Adam said, thinking. "I mean, it would really depend on what I did. You aren't giving me much to go on."

"If you're fishing for information concerning my personal life, you're doing a very bad job of it," Draco said with a sneer. Adam was too Gryffindor for his own good.

Adam sighed and rolled his eyes. "Fine. But if I got Chelsea angry – so angry that she actually seemed angry, which would be something – I would probably… I dunno… make her something."

"Make her something?" Draco said skeptically.

Adam shrugged. "Sure. She loves little knickknacks. She's always carrying about that ribbon, the one she wears in her hair, and making it into a necklace or a bow. She's creative. And I think she'd like to see that I made some kind of effort in my apology."

"Effort, eh?" Draco said, already thinking deeply on it. "A physical effort."

"Well, yeah," Adam said. "Sometimes words aren't enough, you know? Especially for girls. They always want a bloody production, it seems. Except for Chelsea, though. But I figure she's the exception to the rule. Yvette though…" He shook his head with a heavy sigh.

"Girl problems?" Draco inquired, amused.

"Yvette is just tough to be around, she's very…loud… She's like the Anti-Chelsea." He smirked.

"You like Chelsea, yes?" Draco lifted an eyebrow.

"I like a lot of things, Mr. Malfoy," Adam said vaguely. "But personal information can only be exchanged for personal information, so unless you're ready to tell me what's really going on with Miss Hermione, then –"

"Go bother Potter now," Draco said stiffly.

Adam pouted.

"Seriously. Go," Draco urged.

Grumbling under his breath like a true teenager, Adam slouched off back towards the small pitch. Although, he did have something interesting to talk to Chelsea about later.

…~oOo~…

Two days later Fred and George Weasley went by Moony's to do a workshop with the students, something they did once a month. They usually chose one of their products that were proven safe and showed them how to make it. They made a day of it, spending two hours with each age group and then letting them keep their little pranks or toys to wreak havoc on their school, as it was abundantly clear to the Weasley twins that every school should have havoc wreaked on it.

That day they would be making a simple hair color changing potion. It was easy, it was fun, and took up enough time that they wouldn't have normal class and with plenty of downtime to show off the products from the store. With Diagon Alley being trolled by Ministry officials day and night, business was slow, but more than slow it was extremely boring. They wanted people to be enjoying their whizbangs and firecrackers, so seeing the kids' eyes light up at something new after being cooped up for so long was definitely special. And leaving them a bauble or two despite Hermione's express orders not to was always fun.

After the First, Second, and Third year kids were done with their potions, it was lunchtime.

"Well, I'd say today is successful so far, Georgie, how about you?" Fred said.

"Couldn't agree more, Freddie," George said, smiling wide. They stood by the door, letting kids flood out of the big room they'd used. He watched as Fred slipped a dungbomb into the tall, skinny boy's pocket.

All the kids were jabbering about their new potion, all wondering how they should use it and when. This was why Hermione let Fred and George come around even if it inevitably meant trouble – because they seemed to brighten the world. Or at least her little world.

"You did a good job, boys," Hermione said, being the last one to leave the classroom after chaperoning. Sure, they lightened the old manor up, but that didn't mean she was going to let them stay in a room with a bunch of kids unsupervised. Recipe for disaster, that would be. She stretched up on her toes to plant kisses on each of their cheeks. "I'll see you in the dining room for lunch." And she walked past them, following the mob of children.

George noticed Fred noticing Hermione's derriere in that skirt and couldn't help but smirk at his brother and elbow him playfully. Fred just shoved him back and they both laughed.

"She looks good," Fred noted with a leer in his eyes.

"She has better sense, you know," George said. "Probably wouldn't think it sensible with the war going on."

"Bah," Fred said, waving that off. "We've got to stuff in as much fun as possible while there's still fun to be had."

"Erm, excuse me?"

They both turned to look behind them to find one last student lingering in the doorway. It was the shy girl with the boy haircut. George blinked.

"Wow, we didn't even see you there," Fred said, eyebrows up by his hairline.

"Sorry," she whispered.

"No problems," George assured her. "Anything you need?"

"Dungbomb? Firecracker?" Fred added.

"Whizbang? Creepy Crawlies?"

"Um…Well, no," she said, seeming very nervous. George looked down to see her hands shaking right before she realized the same and clasped them in front of her. Poor thing was too small to be so anxious. "I have a question, you see. About one of your…products."

"Fred, I think I've got this," George assured his brother. Maybe she was better one-on-one. He was just worried she would faint from nervousness. "Save me a seat at the table."

"Sure thing, brother," Fred said, winking. He probably thought George was giving him a chance to go flirt with Hermione. He ran off, whistling a jolly tune.

George was grateful when he saw the girl noticeably relaxed. "What's your name again?"

"Chelsea," she said, looking slightly disheartened.

"Ah, that's right," George said, nodding, remembering a girl much mousier from the year before. "You've certainly grown!"

She sighed like she wasn't thrilled with this.

"Let's start walking to lunch, then," George said brightly, offering her his arm with a flourish.

She hesitated, but put her small hand in the crook of his elbow. She wasn't shaking anymore, so that was a good sign.

"See, I've got this friend," Chelsea began hesitantly. "And my friend is curious…what exactly is the Kissing Concoction?"

"It's nothing more than a watered-down love potion," George answered, smirking. Girls thought they were so sneaky with the "it's for a friend" business.

"What does it do?"

"Well, it simply makes one's natural feelings towards someone more…obvious. Unless of course you add a hair from yourself, in which case it will cause the drinker to have a temporary, false infatuation with you," he answered.

Chelsea's eyes got really big at that. "I wouldn't dream of…of…"

"Manipulating someone like that?" George finished for her. "Well, love, many would. And would pay for the privilege of doing so. It's only temporary and isn't real. No true harm done in the end, except for perhaps a little bit of embarrassment. But at its most basic, it just makes one more confident with the object of one's affections."

"Hmm," Chelsea said, considering this. "Well, Mr. George, I was wondering if I could…barter for a bottle of it?"

"Barter?" George said with a chuckle.

"I don't have any money," Chelsea said simply. "But…I mean… if I could owe you…"

George pretended to think about this, just to keep the girl on edge. "You would owe me a favor?"

Chelsea nodded.

"What sort of favors could you do? I mean, you're only – what? – twelve?"

"I'm a small thirteen-year-old," Chelsea lamented. And here she thought she'd gotten taller. Then she felt a ramble coming on and she couldn't do much to stop it. She just wanted to prove that she was good for favors. "But I am small, so I can… sneak around places. I've recently discovered in the last twenty-four hours that I'm actually quite adept at…stealing. I can remember almost anything and I am a good organizer."

"Did you say stealing?" A girl after his own heart.

She nodded, slightly ashamed.

"Deal, then," he said, popping a bottle out of his pocket and holding it out to her. "I was going to entertain you at lunch and let you all see ol' Longbottom and Lovegood snog over their pudding, but I dare say I find this investment much more interesting. I may hold onto the favor for a while, though, if you don't mind. Someday I might need something stolen without it being tracked back to me and I think I can trust you to be quiet about it."

Taking the potion in her palm, Chelsea said quite seriously, "I'm quiet about everything."

…~oOo~…

Hermione was working the crick in her neck from being bent over her desk for an hour when there was a knock on her office door. She figured it was one of the newest students, the class of First Years, because they were certainly a curious bunch. She called out, "Come in."

The door opened and in walked two of the students she had the biggest soft spots for.

Yvette and Chelsea were both growing into very pretty young ladies, and smart as well. Once upon a time, she would have called Chelsea the most studious, but it seemed that Chelsea simply had quite the photographic memory, but when put into application – namely potions or philosophy – she didn't shine as brightly as in essay work or tests. And once Yvette realized that her sourness wasn't about to get her any friends and that her wand simply refused to get along, she threw herself into her studies. She still complained the worst, but at least she was turning up some decent grades. She even retained a few lessons.

And, another hobby of Yvette's, she enjoyed baking which was why she seemed to be carrying a pie to Hermione.

The two young teen girls both stood before, each putting their offering onto her desk. Yvette's was the pie – blueberry by the look of it – and Yvette's was a cup of tea which was the perfect shade of light brown which meant it was the precise amount of cream she preferred.

And Hermione knew something was wrong when Yvette didn't say anything. It was normally Chelsea's thing to stare awkwardly at her feet at her hands. Yvette usually let the world know she was entering the room before she opened the door.

Even stranger that Yvette and Chelsea were willingly spending time together.

"Well, this is a lovely surprise," Hermione said with a smile. "Is everything alright? Is something broken or did you give Adam a potion that gave him rabbit ears?"

"Nothing like that," Yvette said, shaking her head fervently. "No, no, no. Not at all. We just wanted to…say hello and…show you that we appreciate everything you do."

Chelsea nodded in agreement, ever silent.

"And," Yvette said, "maybe wanted to cheer you up since…well…you've seemed sort of down. Wouldn't you agree, Chelsea?"

Chelsea nodded again.

"Oh," Hermione said. "I'm sorry to have concerned you both, but I'm fine, I assure you."

"Are you sure?" Yvette pressed, brushing one of her blonde curls out of her eyes. "Because you've seemed different."

"Again, I am sorry…" Hermione said, feeling bad for letting her personal life influence her responsibilities as a teacher.

"Oh, no, don't apologize," Yvette said. "I don't care, I'm just nosy." Very blunt. Very Yvette. And she completely missed the look that Chelsea shot at her.

"I care," Chelsea offered quietly.

"Well, this is very kind," Hermione said, examining the pie. It was still warm to the touch. And the tea was steaming. She took the mug in her hands and sipped it. "I think I'll share the pie with the other teachers, if that's alright with you."

"Whatever," Yvette said with a shrug. "Come on, Chelsea." With a little hair flip and flounce Yvette began towards the door, the permanent bounce in her step.

Chelsea hesitated, hanging behind for a moment.

"Do you have something you'd like to talk about, Chelsea?" Hermione asked.

After a short pause, Chelsea shook her head and followed along behind Yvette.

As ever, Hermione was concerned for Chelsea, but if the girl didn't want to talk about it, she would not. Hermione had tried in the past to get Chelsea to talk but it never did work.

Shaking her head, but smiling at the cup of tea, she took another sip. Perfect cream, perfect sugar. She returned to her grading.

…

"I cannot believe you, of all people, convinced me this was a good idea," Yvette whispered as they moved quickly down the hallway. "You're absolutely mad!"

"Well, you can't give 'er all the credit," Margot said, appearing out of nowhere it seemed. Really, she was just very sneaky, and it was easy to slink around unnoticed when she wore all black in a very dimly lit house. "Can you imagine if Chelsea thought up such a plan to actually slip a potion to 'er favorite professor?"

"I should have known!" Yvette said with a small stamp of her foot. "Of course you came up with it. You're the only real psychopath I know around here."

"In all fairness, the blackmail was Chelsea's idea," Margot said with pride. Chelsea's head just hung lower in embarrassment.

Yvette gave Chelsea a hardy shove. "I bet you're the one who pinched my diary too! I can't believe you went in my room!"

"I can't believe you used the word 'hunky' to describe Adam," Margot said with a wrinkle in her nose. "'E is a beanpole."

Chelsea went into her pocket and pulled out a little block. She tapped it with her wand and it enlarged itself into a book which she held out to Yvette. The blonde girl snatched it up indignantly and held it to her chest, nose in the air. And she marched away.

Chelsea was biting her lip curiously.

"What is it?" Margot asked.

With a sigh, Chelsea said, "She's going to share it."

Margot blinked, her smirk leaving her face. "With who?"

"The other teachers."

Margot made a frustrated noise. "Why couldn't we make a cupcake? Why did it have to be blueberries?"

"Blueberries are the only things that can truly mask the taste of the Kissing Concoction, according to Mr. George," Chelsea said lowly. Mr. George had been really nice to her and told her all about the potion on the way to lunch the day before after the workshop.

"Then why not blueberry cupcake?"

"Yvette said she didn't know how," Chelsea said with a shrug. Biting her lip, she added, "Do you think…Adam has a diary?"

"Not likely," Margot said as they walked towards the stairs. "Adam is a boy, after all. They do not relish seeing their emotions down on paper. Why?"

"Just…curious."

"Eager for more blackmail? You took Yvette's easy enough. What do you 'ave in mind?"

"Nothing," Chelsea said. "Curious if maybe…Adam thinks the same things about…Yvette."

Looking over at Chelsea, Margot felt bad for the younger girl. Even Chelsea didn't even realize her feelings yet, not really.

"She isn't 'is type," Margot said, which seemed to make Chelsea lift her chin up a little more. She'd been particularly melancholy lately and Margot was yet to find out why. "When do you think they'll eat it?"

"Their staff meeting is tomorrow afternoon," Chelsea said.

"She may just wait until then," Margot mused. "Well, either way, in twenty-four hours, this school is going to get a little mad."

Chelsea was already starting to regret their entire plan.

Adam came running towards them, looking flushed and excited. "Everything go according to plan?" He'd been the mastermind and the mastermind alone. He'd delegated tasks and even chosen the potion to use. But beyond that he mostly sat back and let the girls did what they did, which they did with more grace and poise and less stumbling than he would have.

"Yes, with no help from you," Margot said, rolling her eyes.

Chelsea nodded.

"Great!" Adam said, holding up hands for high-fives.

Margot and Chelsea both just walked past them. Margot because she disliked Adam, and Chelsea because she knew that this all would backfire horribly.

…~oOo~…

~ So Long And Thanks For All The Fish ~