Warning: Fairly detailed mention of child death during Draco's part.

Parvati looked down at her empty gold plate hungrily. The pumpkin pasties and chocolate frogs seemed ages ago. But she knew they had one more hurdle to jump before she'd see so much as a crumb.

"Welcome," Albus Dumbledore said. Right on cue, Parvati thought.

He was beaming at the students, his arms opened wide, as if nothing could have pleased him more than to see them all there. But the smile just didn't reach his eyes. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts!" he continued. "Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!"

Everybody clapped and cheered. Parvati didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

Undecided, she smirked instead and turned to the nearest Slytherin student. For her, that was the pretty brunette to her left. "Tell me he's not considered 'right' in the head around here."

"Only enough to teach school children," the girl laughed daintily. She offered Parvati her hand. "Elianna Rosier."

Parvati smiled sweetly. "Parvati Patil! Pleased to meet you."

Elianna rolled her eyes. "Cut the act. You stopped being able to pull the innocent look when you got the green trim."

Parvati dropped the smile. "That doesn't include in front of parents, does it?"

Elianna hummed. "If you were a boy, yes. But since you're a girl…Does your father treat you like a princess?"

Parvati twirled her hair, thinking. Or, rather, remembering. Her father had always treated her specially. He'd bragged about her endlessly. Parvati had inherited her intelligent dark eyes from him, Parvati was such a graceful dancer, Parvati would obviously follow in his footsteps and become a cunning Slytherin. Remarkably, he hadn't changed his tune when she was sorted into Gryffindor. Then Parvati was so brave, Parvati always stepped up to a challenge.

Parvati still recalled the summer before her original first year. One August afternoon Bhari Patil had decided to test his twin daughters. He'd called Padma to his office first, alone, and told her that he was making a marriage contract for her. Padma, always a little uncertain around their powerful father, had quietly resigned herself. When he'd pushed, looking for a fight, Padma had stared nervously at the floor until he'd come clean that it was merely a test.

Parvati, during her turn, had looked him in the eye and hissed, "Disown me, then." From then on, Parvati had been spoiled absolutely rotten.

The spoiling was broken up with hard work. Her father wanted Parvati to do everything to the best of her ability. Her summers had been taken over by tutors and dueling instructors, and then internships at her father's law firm Avery & Patil. School had almost been like a break. Parvati had giggled and laughed her way through classes and didn't much mind when teachers scolded her. Her father only cared that her work was top-notch. She'd need the grades to make the nepotism look less obvious when she joined him at the firm after graduation.

Pavarti hadn't gotten to work their long. Padma had discovered that Bhari Patil was one of the big names working to protect Lucius Malfoy's werewolf son and husband after his assassination on the Ministry steps. So infuriated by his "treachery," Padma had stormed outside and cast a bombarda maxima strong enough to bring down the entire building. Every witch and wizard inside had died. Parvati, who had been at the Ministry Hall of Record doing research for that very case, had lived just long enough to see Padma lauded for her "public service." Parvati had been assassinated by a team of hit wizards a week later.

Her sister had been with them and waited for the five more experienced assassins to subdue her before slitting Parvati's throat herself. Her last memory was of Padma's smug face as she'd twirled Parvati's Patil crest necklace between her bloody fingers. After losing her father, the last person she had thought herself able to depend on, death had nearly been a relief. However, knowing that Padma had lived without penance had obviously kept her spirit from a peaceful sleep.

Parvati felt sick at the memories, at the fall of her family. She wanted to run to the nearest fireplace and floo home. She'd thrown her arms around her father and hide her face in his robes until he promised to fix everything. But she couldn't drag him into this mess. It was hers to fix. So instead of doing what she wanted, she summoned her Gryffindor courage and her Slytherin cunning and hid all her emotions behind a flat smile.

"More like a princess wielding a sword," she told Elianna Rosier. She actually liked daggers better, though.

Elianna nodded dismissively and turned back to her dinner. "If your father spoiled you before, you'll still have him wrapped around your finger," she offered offhandedly.

Parvati felt her smile turn a touch more genuine. Yeah, she thought, And for a much longer time if I have anything to say about it.

Percy was laughing for what felt like the first time in his life. Graham Montague was a hilarious person, he thought as he caught his breath. How in five years of shared schooling did he miss that? As Graham started up another rambling story, Percy couldn't help but think about how happy he was to be back—even if Cho hadn't come along as well.

His eyes drifted over to the Ravenclaw table and his smile slipped away. Sitting there, talking happily to Penelope Clearwater, was a bright, innocent young girl. His wife was gone, quite possibly for good if he and the others succeeded in changing the future. Looking around at the influx of green trim, Percy couldn't deny that they already had. This Cho would never be his Cho. And Percy knew that she would be better off for that.

Tearing his eyes from her, Percy gave a brief moment to the loneliness and sadness her innocence had left him with. But her future with him had been nothing to hope for. They hadn't even married out of love. The Changs were a pureblood family who followed tradition while Percy had thrown himself into that world. Leaving Hogwarts without a marriage contract was a Society faux pas for them both. But Cho hadn't had an interest in anyone since Cedric and while Percy had maintained a relationship with Penelope Clearwater, he'd broken off with her when it became clear that she wanted more of him than he had of her. Cho's parents had threatened an arrangement and Percy had wanted the stability. So they'd married each other out of pure convenience.

They'd been more like flat mates—or squad mates, thanks to the war—than husband and wife. It was that relationship Percy grieved for. But if bearing that strange grief meant a happier life for her, then Percy was content with it.

The appearance of the feast distracted Percy from his melancholy. Damn, Percy thought. He'd forgotten how fantastic the food at Hogwarts was. Percy was talented at many things but cooking was not one. Outside of Ministry functions and political forays, this was easily the best spread he'd seen since leaving the Burrow.

Resisting the urge to just nab something and shove it down—as was the usual method when one lived with very many siblings and not so many manners—Percy called upon his knowledge of pureblood etiquette. He was a self-study, having figured that he would need to know the rules if he wanted to succeed in the Ministry. But Percy had never had an ill comment directed his way and he'd done lunch with some of the snottiest names Society could provide.

Percy had become knowledgeable enough that when the War had pushed some uncomfortable questions about morality and magic to the forefront, he'd found himself one of the people elected to define what pureblood tradition really meant. The other had been Draco Malfoy, and Merlin, hadn't that been an interesting friendship to make. In the end, their pro-tradition advocacy had gotten them both into hot water. Percy had been demoted in the Ministry and Draco had left to do his Potions mastery in Italy. But Percy didn't regret it, even if forcing the lessons on his brothers had been like water cutting into stone: slow going, if none the less effective.

Percy was pulled from his reminiscing by the tingling feeling of being watched. When he turned, it was to find Adrian Pucey smiling at him.

"I heard that all the Weasleys ate like pigs," Pucey said glibly. Percy cocked an eyebrow at him. Pucey hastened to add, "But looking at you and your brothers," he gestured to the assorted Weasleys, who were all behaving just as Percy and Draco had beaten into them, "I'd say that you all took etiquette lessons."

"We did," Percy cut in, keeping Pucey from working around to a backhanded insult. If that were his aim at all, Percy wondered. To Percy, Pucey looked as though he were just barely restraining a blush.

Ignoring Pucey for the moment, Percy looked around the rest of the table. The other Slytherins sat around him all had on a look of intrigue, their attention behooving him to elaborate. Percy instantly wished that he'd kept his mouth shut. It looked like he would have to put his conversational skills to the test rather earlier than he would have liked.

Ah well. Percy knew this conversation would have to happen sooner or later.

Friendly, "My name is Graham" Montague leaned forward, his face suddenly serious. "I thought the Weasleys didn't care much for tradition?"

Percy smothered a grimace. It was time to start making a different name for his family.

Percy looked pointedly away, as though he were trying to conceal a secret. The Slytherins around the table leaned in eagerly. Percy looked down as he noted their stares, just as he had as an actual fifth year when he was embarrassed. "Dad's changed his tune. He decided that it was high time for us to learn and embrace tradition."

Adrian Pucey and Graham Montague both looked inordinately pleased by this, as did the rest of the Slytherins eavesdropping from both ends of the table. The Slytherins nearest Fred, George, Ron, and Percy eyed them with new interest. The Weasleys were an old pureblood family with absolutely no inbreeding who had never produced a squib. The latest generation also carried the Honorable and Prestigious House of Prewett in their bloodline. The only reason most Slytherin families stayed away from the Weasleys was their Light tendencies, which went together with a disregard for tradition. Now that this was, apparently, changing…well, you didn't need a mastery in arithmancy to do the math there.

To sweeten the deal, there were seven unmarried Weasleys!

Percy largely missed the exchanges going around the table, caught up in thought. It had been a very long day for Percy. His father hadn't actually said those words himself, as he was in hospital being treated for Amortentia poisoning. Bill, however, had indicated that as much was the plan.

McGonagall had brought Percy to her office a to receive the emergency fire call herself, leaving only when Bill made it cuttingly clear that he needed to discuss a private family matter with Percy. Neither Bill nor himself had mentioned their returned memories during the call, aware that McGonagall might somehow still be listening, but Bill had dropped enough clues that Percy was confident his father and Charlie had both also returned. Still reeling from the return of his own memories, Bill's face had been a welcome reassurance and his words even more so.

"St Mungo's positively identified our mother as the potion's brewer. The aurors have barred her from the hospital pending Dad's return to lucidity and whether he wants to press charges," Bill had said dolefully, sorrow and horror plain on his face. Only one of his brothers would be able to see the relief that lived there, too.

Their father was saved. Already this life was a vast improvement on their last one.

"What about marriage contracts?" Terence Higgs questioned, reminding Percy that this was no time to ruminate. "They've always been a touchy subject for Light families," Higgs continued. "How does your father feel about those?"

A quick glance around the table confirmed his suspicion that Higgs wasn't the only party interested in his answer. Percy recognized the boy vaguely as a third year, right around the age when traditional families began solidifying marriage matches. It also didn't escape him that, except for Ron, all his brothers were at that age or older, too.

Percy tilted his head, thinking.

Adrian Pucey and Graham Montague, best friends who had both been quietly nursing a crush on the unattainable overachiever with varying degrees of success since he was made to tutor them in third year Charms, smiled at him. Until they caught the other smiling at Percy, that is, and then the smiles turned quickly into glares directed at each other.

"My dad would never force us into a marriage," Percy answered after a moment. That to do such was illegal went unspoken. 'Illegal' had varying definitions in traditional and therefore largely Dark circles. "But he would agree to a marriage contract if both participants were willing."

Higgs smiled shrewdly. "So if the Higgs Head of House offered a marriage contract to the Weasley Head of House—between Fred and I, for example—your father would only agree if Fred and I didn't mind?"

Percy was aware that the entirety of Slytherin was listening for what he would say next. He knew he was essentially declaring open season on his family if he said yes. Percy wasn't at all eager to put his siblings on the marriage market, but marriage contracts were a cornerstone of traditional society. If they wanted away from Dumbledore, they had to be able to move in these circles. Percy didn't have much of a choice.

"Well, there would be some questions our father would ask us and likely any suitors, too," Percy started to explain. "But they would be the same questions that would be asked if we were getting married without a contract. If the answers were satisfactory, I imagine my father would agree to the contract."

Pucey beamed at him, or at least smiled as much as a Slytherin in public ever would. "Our fathers work together, every now and then. They quite like each other, you know. They're friends even, I'd say." Pucey's smile took on a cunning sweetness. "Like we could be, I imagine. Please, do call me Adrian."

Percy nodded agreeably, deciding to take Adrian's earlier comment as a bad choice of words. After all, Percy had tutored Adrian once and he had been polite, even kind, then. As had Graham, Percy suddenly remembered, who Percy had tutored at the same time.

Percy regarded Graham and Adrian warmly, glad that he seemed to already have two friends in his new house. He'd never made friends so easily in Gryffindor. He smiled at Adrian, "Dad has said a few times that Tiberius Pucey is a great man to work with, so far as officials go. Please do likewise and call me Percy."

While Adrian drew Percy more deeply into conversation, Graham shot a glare at Adrian's curly brown hair. His long-time friend was now, apparently, his rival in love. He wouldn't lose, he swore, and resisted a growl upon seeing the same resolve in Adrian's eyes.

Percy, for his part, was rather more concerned with acquiring another serving of potatoes than anything else. He would kick himself for that later, but then hindsight was magic's clearest prophecy.

"Oh, Draco, I'm just so glad we're in Slytherin together. Think of all the time we can spend together," Pansy cooed, batting her lashes at him as though she were trying to flick them off her face.

Draco sighed under his breath and resisted slumping in his seat. Pansy was already flirting with him. If he was to survive the next seven years, he would have to get his father to settle a marriage contract with the Zabini family soon. Nothing but that would ever dissuade her, he knew from experience.

The Bloody Baron flew in and landed in front of Pansy, saving Draco from anymore of her inanity, and turned so that he could address all the first years. "Slytherin has earned the House Cup and the Quidditch Cup six years in a row. I sincerely hope the newest generation of Slytherin will not lose it for us just when we are about to set a Hogwarts record."

Draco nodded, having already heard this speech the last time around. He'd also heard the dressing down they'd received upon losing the Cup and he shuddered to remember it.

He had more important things to focus on anyway, like if his parents had made it back. And when he would be able to see his baby brother, Teddy, alive again. If he would ever get to see Teddy alive again.

Draco closed his eyes briefly. He remembered cutting Teddy's corpse down like he'd done it last night. He'd been forced to leave his mother's body behind, but he knew she would have understood. Even if she hadn't deserved her end, a child shouldn't be left to hang. The guilt he carried was his punishment for not being fast enough to save them in the first place.

His chest constricted. He saw the Malfoy mausoleum painted silvery with moonlight. Teddy's tiny body lay in the crypt, the only place it wouldn't be desecrated in their new, mad world of extreme Light. The bodies he had left behind creaked, jostled by the wind—

Blaise's hand squeezed his under the table, drawing him back to this new reality. "Respirare, il mio amore." Draco smiled at him breifly.

He would send a letter to his father that night, Draco decided. Among his typical first year babble he would hide hints to the future and wait to see how his parents reacted. If they dropped hints back, he would know that were returned. Everything else could wait until they had a chance for a face-to-face meeting.

Feeling more settled than he had since his memories had returned, Draco hid a sigh of relief behind a polite yawn. He just needed to keep it together, Draco thought, the mantra as familiar as his wand. Just keep it together.

He let his thumb brush over Blaise's hand, soft and smooth against his skin. With Blaise, he might even manage it.

As the last few bites of dinner disappeared, desserts appeared across the Slytherin table in a seemingly effortless wave. Susan grinned, as joyful as she had been as a real first year. Nice to see that her sweet tooth was still where it had always been, she thought with glee. As Susan helped herself to a treacle tart, the talk turned to their families.

"I'm half-and-half," said Seamus, as though he were just another first-year. "Dad's a Muggle. He was clueless about my Mum until they were married." Seamus grinned. "Hell of a shock for him."

Susan probably would have said it just as proudly if she were in Seamus's shoes. Though, sitting at the Slytherin table, the other kids clearly would have sneered if Seamus hadn't had such a dark look in his eyes. Such looks were very effective in Slytherin, she was learning. Harry Potter's fighters were inordinately adept at them, too. They were not to be taken lightly, even if he had started out training them in Dumbledore's Army.

"What about you, Neville?" Ron asked, pulling Susan from her thoughts. She bit back a snort. As if Ron didn't know—as if they all didn't know. 'Longbottom' wasn't exactly a common name or a powerless family, after all.

"Well, my Gran brought me up and she's a witch," Neville said cheerily. He then gave a heart-wrenching story that had Susan tucking a gaping mouth behind her hand.

Neville smiled merrily through the whole tale, oblivious to the tension that ran through Ron and Harry. His lovers in their last life, Susan guessed. She must have died before that happened. In any case, even some of the Slytherins looked to be biting back horror at Neville's words.

Susan's first thought was to contact her Aunt immediately. Her instincts, honed in St. Mungo's emergency ward, screamed abuse. When you had an abused child, you called the authorities. Whether he was a whatever-year-old mentally or not, he was still eleven now. The part of Susan that had already grown up and become a healer kicked her for not noticing the first time around. Looking around the hall, Susan wondered how many other children were at risk. Harry was one that popped instantly into mind. There had always been rumours, but Susan hadn't been one to listen to those back then. Now, looking at Harry with a trauma-healer's eyes, his stick-thin, tiny frame was an obvious clue that something wasn't right.

Already Susan knew that she would be writing one letter to her aunt on Harry's behalf. No one with her number of years as an emergency trauma healer could miss the significant looks Harry kept shooting between Susan and Ron's robe pocket, where a fat grey rat usually slept. Susan clearly remembered that scandal. Regardless of Amelia Bones's memories being returned, she would still come if Susan confessed that she feared a classmate's pet was a hidden Animagus.

Susan shot a small smile at Harry and immediately his shoulders dropped like she'd taken a huge weight from him. Yes, Susan thought, taking a bite of her tart. I'll be up late writing letters tonight.

At last, the desserts too disappeared and Professor Dumbledore got to his feet again. The hall fell silent.

"Ahem. Just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered."

"That makes it sound like we're horses," Susan said quietly, making Daphne laugh.

Dumbledore's twinkling eyes flashed in the direction of the Weasley twins as he gave his warning about abiding rules, as though changing houses meant nothing to him. The liar, Susan thought. Anyone who looked could tell that his warmth was faked. When Dumbledore tagged on the bit about the third floor Susan rolled her eyes, as did all the others who had come back. She highly doubted Harry would be falling for Dumbledore's obvious little test this time around.

"And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!" cried Dumbledore. Susan noticed amusedly that the other teachers' smiles had become rather fixed. With a flick of Dumbledore's wand the words appeared in the air and then they were off, ear-splitting and tuneless and off-key. The Weasley twins had still gone with a not-half bad funeral dirge beat. When that concluded, they were finally freed.

The Slytherin first years and those newly resorted into Slytherin followed prefect Adrian Pucey through the chattering crowds, out of the Great Hall, and down a marble staircase. "Basilisk," Pucey gave as a password to a seemingly ordinary patch of wall. The hidden door swung open silently.

Walking into the Slytherin Common Room, Lavender whistled. It was the complete opposite of the Gryffindor Common Room. Huge, gothic windows took up much of the stone walls, showing an enchanting view of Black Lake below the surface. Bookshelves of ancient relics and tomes stood proud between the windows and a roaring fireplace dominated the far wall. Intimate collections of wingback chairs and tables were scattered around the room, though obviously the prime spot was just before the fireplace, where three imposing leather couches made a stance.

Money and power, Lavender thought. The place reeked of money and power.

She smiled. Just the place for a reporter.

Pucey directed the first years to a set of spiral stairs on the left side of the room. Rooms were apparently up a floor, where sunlight actually shone. Girls were to turn left, boys to the right. Up the spiraling staircase, the boys found their rooms first.

Like in Gryffindor, the rooms had five huge four-poster beds each, though these were set into alcoves that gave the illusion of more privacy. The windows, of which there were many, looked out onto a spectacular view of the lake and were hung with thick green velvet drapes. Intricately woven carpets and tapestries covered the floor and walls, and a heavy dark-wood desk sat opposite each bed. Ron allowed himself to be reluctantly impressed.

In the fifth year dorms, Percy's bed was conveniently located between Adrian Pucey and Graham Montague's beds. Little did Percy realize that his new life was shaping up to be even more complicated than his last—just in an entirely different way.

Between those two floors, third-year Lee Jordan was wondering how the hell he'd ended up a Slytherin. Maybe he and the twins had taken their pranks too far and this was just divine punishment. He looked down at his green pillow and black bedspread with a sigh.

"You know, it's not so bad," voiced Cassius Warrington from behind him.

Lee closed his eyes, back still to Warrington while he quietly panicked. Because joining the snakes wasn't punishment enough, he was rooming with his fucking crush. Alone. Third year Slytherin had few enough students that they could spread across the rooms. Just bloody wonderful, Lee thought crankily. Life was either being unfairly cruel or blessing him with his secret desire. Lee, a pragmatic person, was leaning toward cruel.

Fred had ended up rooming with Terrance Higgs and George's roommate was Lucian Bole. It went unstated that none of the third year Slytherins trusted the three former-Gryffindors enough to let them room together. Justifiably so, Lee allowed, even if he didn't quite know what he was going to do without the twins to watch his back.

The first thing to do was probably to get through this conversation with Warrington in one piece. "Oh, really?" Lee asked, turning over to face his new roommate. Don't show fear, he cautioned himself, just like with a real snake.

Warrington sat on the edge of Lee's bed, looking for all the world like he belonged there. Lee squashed the butterflies tickling his ribcage ruthlessly.

"Yes, really." Warrington said, rolling the words teasingly off his tongue. He wore just the touch of an easy grin.

Lee felt zombie-butterflies rise with a vengeance.

"In fact," Warrington continued airily, "It's the best thing that's ever happened to you aside from learning about magic."

Lee scoffed. Purebloods. They always went and ruined their charm by opening their mouths. Lee sat up. "And why's that?"

"Well, you're a Muggle-born—" There we go, Lee thought, grabbing his wand, "—Hear me out!"

Lee crossed his arms but didn't put down his wand. He'd been down this road before with pureblood assholes. No matter how lovely Warrington looked, Lee wouldn't roll over for it.

…But he did have to live with this guy. Lee doubted Snape, of all professors, would let him change rooms over a little verbal abuse. He narrowed his eyes and gestured for Warrington to get on with it.

Warrington smiled charmingly. "As a Muggle-born Slytherin, you are treated a lot better. You have three times as many doors open for you than you would have had if you were a 'Puff or a Ravenclaw or a Gryffindor."

Lee glared at him, not buying. What could cause such a difference?

Warrington must have been able to read his disbelief. He held up his big hands and spoke calmly. "Being a Muggle-born Slytherin means you are no longer considered a mudblood. Though you are not a pureblood."

Ah, Lee thought, of course it centered on the Wizarding World's own magical brand of racism. Not like he hadn't dealt with a version of that all his Muggle life. Lee was too distracted by anger to notice how Warrington had continued to move closer to him. By the time he looked up, Warrington was staring down at him with a particularly pleased expression on his face.

Using the bravery that got him into Gryffindor, Lee stared directly into Warrington's eyes. "If I'm not a mudblood, then what am I?" he sneered.

Cassius smiled brighter. It made his stupidly blue eyes sparkle. "You're a newblood, now. Someone who knows our culture and respects our practices."

He casually wrapped an arm around Lee's shoulders, pulling Lee to sit beside him on the bed like they were old friends. "Did you know," Cassius said, "That I've liked you since we met on the train in our first year? I was so disappointed when you were sorted into Gryffindor."

Lee glared hard at that but inside his heart was racing. Cassius Warrington felt the same way he did. Still, he wouldn't let himself be stupid. It didn't matter what Warrington felt if he was a damned blood supremacist. "What? That not good enough for you?"

Warrington gave him a flirty grin. Lee glared. Stupid beautiful asshole. "Don't be angry, pet," Cassius murmured. "If you were just another mudblood, my parents would have never agreed to me marrying you. But now that you are a Slytherin… my parents would definitely approve!" Cassius beamed.

"Let go!" Lee snapped. Marriage, what the hell? This was the first conversation they'd ever had and Lee was fuming over most of it. He tried to push away but Warrington was much taller and bulky from Quidditch.

Lee grit his teeth. Smug bastard had the gall to look amused. Little did he know, Lee was an inch from hexing his balls off. "You're insane, Warrington."

"Call me Cassius, Lee." Warrington interrupted, blue eyes glittering. His voice was as smooth as silk. Lee felt a chill curl along his spine.

"Warrington—Cassius," It felt oddly intimate, using his first name. He must have said it a hundred times while announcing Quidditch matches, but this was different. Personal. Lee swallowed. "We're only third years, we're too young." He gave the bastard his most awful look. "And being in a different house hardly makes me less of a mudblood, as you lot are so fond of calling me."

Cassius laughed. Full-on, head-tossed-back laughed. Through his shock, Lee couldn't help but think he looked much friendlier laughing. Warmer. However, that didn't dilute the cunning in his eyes when he looked at Lee next.

"In Slytherin, Lee, we have our future spouse picked out and the marriage contract signed by the end of second year." Cassius looked up at the ceiling consideringly. "That means we're actually a bit late," he mused. "My parents will have to send out the marriage contract immediately for your guardians to sign."

There was so much wrong with that sentence that Lee could only pick out the most obvious one. "My parents would never sign a marriage contract." Mostly because they were Muggle and thought that those had died out in the seventeenth century. Like any reasonable person did.

Cassius looked back at Lee and smiled. It was a bit distracting. The damn Slytherin probably knew it, too.

"That's the best news," Cassius said. "In the Hogwarts doctrine, any Muggle-born sorted into Slytherin is automatically considered an orphan." At the blunt horror on Lee's face, Cassius hastened to explain.

"It's a holdover from the days when most Muggle-born students were already orphaned. Usually because their parents didn't want a freak around, or maybe because the parents died protecting their magical child from other Muggles." Cassius said darkly. "Technically the same goes for all houses, but Slytherin is the only one that follows through anymore."

"…By doing what, exactly?" Lee asked. He'd never heard of Muggles attacking Muggle-borns before, but from what he knew personally of Muggles it did make sense.

Magical history books never mentioned any witches or wizards who had died because of Muggles. Lee had assumed that meant there were never any casualties, but now that he thought of it many students looked particularly angry after leaving those classes.

"The Head of House looks for a Slytherin family willing to sponsor the Muggle-born. That's why you are not a mudblood once you are in Slytherin," Cassius explained. "Because other magicals can safely assume that you know our culture and are part of our society. That you will not just be sticking around to learn some entertaining tricks before running roughshod over our world. Or worse, turning us over to the Muggles." Cassius looked down. "That wasn't unknown to happen, back in the day. The Light just don't like to talk about it."

Lee stared at Cassius. "I've never heard it explained like that."

Cassius huffed. "Yes, well. I doubt you've ever held a civil conversation with a Slytherin, either."

Lee shrugged, unrepentant. "I didn't know there were any willing to be civil to me."

Cassius' eyes darkened. He glanced away. "You've not been wrong in thinking so. There is much wrong with our world. In the past even Slytherin's Head of House has been less than satisfactory. The consequences have been catastrophic."

Lee frowned. What could Cassius be talking about? Never mind, you have more important things to worry about, Lee told himself.

He took a breath. So, Cassius wasn't actually an awful prick. He was just an attractive guy with a different belief system. Who, apparently, returned Lee's feelings. Okay. But no matter how big of a crush he had on Cassius, marriage was still too much for the moment. And that was exactly what Lee told him.

Cassius made an affronted noise. "This is why history and etiquette classes are important," he sighed. "Lee, you are a Slytherin and a newblood. It's not just me who's going to pursue you." Lee swallowed. He didn't exactly like the sounds of that, either.

"If we had a contract," Cassius continued, "We would have time to get to know each other without other people interfering and making rumours. If we decided the relationship was not working, we could just rescind it." He looked up into Lee's eyes, for once unguarded by guile or sarcasm. "Not that I think I would ever want to rescind," Cassius said. He took Lee's hand and pressed a soft kiss to the back of it. Lee felt his face go pink.

The last person to put their lips on his body was also the first: Alice James, who'd almost sucked Lee's face off at the end-of-season Quidditch party last year. Lee had been so surprised he'd knocked over his smuggled butterbeer. It had landed on her skirt, giving Lee just enough time to get away. He'd spent the rest of the night avoiding her.

Cassius was different. His kiss was such an innocent gesture, but it sent a spark up his spine. With his other arm around Lee's shoulders, it felt like he was everywhere, strong but so gentle, warm and smelling faintly like leather. He must wear cologne, Lee thought absurdly. They were fourteen. Most boys Lee knew couldn't be bothered with run-of-the-mill deodorant. Why—pureblood, duh. Infuriating buggers.

Cassius put a hand on his face, sending another wisp of that smell at Lee, and Lee abruptly gave up thinking. He bit his lip, unable to meet Cassius's eyes, his face crimson red. Mercifully, that seemed to be some sort of signal. Cassius pulled away with a chuckle, leaving Lee with at least some brain matter left.

From somewhere, Lee managed to dredge up a smirk. "So, semi-fiancé. Does this mean I get a ring?"

Cassius rolled his eyes, giving Lee that warm smile again. He picked up Lee's left hand and brushed his thumb over his ring finger. "We'll go pick one out on our next Hogsmead visit. Will that make you happy, dear?"

"Ecstatic," Lee said, still pink, and found he meant it.

Hello, all! I know this chapter is bloody huge but the way it's set up wouldn't let me change that. I hope you like it all the same. It's your guys' amazing responses that keep these chapters coming so quickly! This chapter has also been edited recently (8/13/2022) so I hope you like those changes! Tell me what you think! As always, I'm eager for questions and comments! Hope to hear from you soon~

Sincerely,

BlackRoseGirl666