Benjamin Vinely clambered through the portrait hole of Gryffindor tower a little too quickly and stumbled, colliding with one of the many spongy armchairs of his house's common room. Once he had resurfaced, his disgruntled expression was evident, and then confirmed as he kicked the back of the innocent chair. A nearby second year blinked up at him, squeaked through a trembling lower lip and hurried away to a far corner of the room. Ben appeared unaffected, as was his temper, and he sunk grumpily into a seat next to Marcella Bell, a fellow fifth year. Marcella had witnessed Ben's outburst, and was now fighting the urge to smile at his antics, though it was obvious he was in a freshly terrible mood.

'Hi, Ben. How's it going?' She spoke in a would-be casual voice, though she was cautious of evoking anymore of her friend's hassled temper than already had been. Ben didn't reply, he merely raised his head slowly, peered at Marcella from behind narrow eyes and emitted a sound alike to growling.

'Alright…' Marcella whispered to herself. She was losing an effort to finish her Potions homework; a ten inch essay detailing the various health aiding properties of Eye of Newt. She scoffed at her own lethargic attempt at writing, and indulged her quill in its endeavours to merely trace circles upon her parchment. Following several tense minutes of procrastination and enduring the fluidly evil glances Ben was shooting about the room to nobody in particular, she decided to test his case once more.

'So… Ben…' He gave up on his random bullets of hatred and shifted his gaze to Marcella. She was sifting through her brain in order to locate a thought that might lessen his anger, maybe even make him smile. After a moment, her face illuminated. 'Ben! You were in Double Potions this morning, weren't you? Wasn't that just the greatest lesson ever? I've never really seen anything like it… It was quite funny really… I was so glad that Lorri stood up to –'

But apparently Ben didn't wish to talk about Lorri's episode with Snape this morning. Marcella was mystified as, without warning, he struck the leg of her table with his foot and ejected himself from his seat with such force that it toppled over backwards. He fired a look of unyielding aggravation at the puzzled Marcella, and then charged upstairs to the boys' dormitory without uttering a single word. Left gaping in the common room, Marcella remained seated at the table with only her unenthused attempt at an essay and the injured chair to keep her company. Her pure shock at what had just happened rendered her even more unable to concentrate on her homework. She simply sat in the comfortable room for several minutes uninterrupted, warming herself by the fire. As her mind and body grew steadily lazier, her thoughts settled upon Valentines Day, and Lorri's upcoming party. She sighed, regretfully acknowledging the fact that the Slytherins were bound to ruin her evening in some form or another; Draco Malfoy was especially certain to say or do something smug in order to justify his self-proclaimed superiority. Marcella lingered upon this brain wave, and a vivid image of Malfoy's pale, sneering face and unnaturally perfect hair swam behind her eyes. She let out an involuntary grunt of disgust; sometimes she just wanted to smack him across the face. She smiled to herself, satisfied with this idea, and sunk further into her heavily cushioned chair. It suddenly dawned upon her just how heavy her eyelids were, and she closed them, breathing deeply and abandoning her confusion at Ben's tirade. The crackling flickers of the fire relaxed her even further, and she permitted the flames to dance around her mind's eye, enticing her into sleep. She inhaled the warm, slightly perfumed air and gave a tiny groan from the back of her throat. Snape's homework could wait until tomorrow… Or maybe the next day…

'Marcie? Oh – um… I mean, Marcella?'

The kindly voice was beyond Marcella's recognition. She had been drifting into a deep sleep, an undeniable sleep, and the gentle hand which now shook her forearm tenderly was certainly not welcomed. She groaned, refusing to fully acknowledge the hand's presence, and despite her reluctance, the voice was caring yet persistent.

'Marcella? Marcella, are you awake? Oh, please wake up… I don't want you to sleep down here…'

Marcella's eyelids unwillingly heaved themselves a few millimetres away from their previous point of unconscious bliss. A hazy figure stood over her, silhouetted even further by the now expiring swirls of flame within the fireplace. The voice continued to coo at her.

'Marcella, please…'

Marcella gingerly raised her hand to her eyes and rubbed them more alert. She blinked several times, attempting to gain a better focus of the blurred figure before her. She yawned widely and squinted, her eyes gradually adjusting to their unwanted removal from sleepy contentment. With every blink, she forced herself further from her groggy pleasure and steadily, the figure before her came into focus. Marcella yawned broadly once more, and the dishevelled, fatigued face of Lorri Darlington became visible inches from her own.

'Argh! Uh – Lorri?' Marcella started, gasping and rubbing her eyes furiously. Lorri beamed, and Marcella returned a feeble smile. Lorri wore a grubby patch of dirt on her nose, and her long cherry hair was tangled, drooping haphazardly among her features. She looked as though she had endured a particularly exhausting evening.

'Lorri… what?' Marcella gazed towards the window and peered out at the cold, late night beyond. 'Lorri, what time is it? Where have you been? Uh… I can't believe I fell asleep here… It was the fire, it was so warm… Nice… And I was having the loveliest daydream…'

Marcella's voice trailed away, apparently rapt in her thoughts. Lorri seemed to adopt her cue, mind vacant to her friend's inattentiveness.

'Oh yes, it's very late. A long way past bedtime. But you shouldn't be sleeping down here Marcella, the fire is dying and you don't have a blanket or anything.'

Marcella turned to her friend, her brow now wrinkled in suspicion.

'Lorri, where have you been?' She repeated.

Lorri produced a nervous giggle, and immediately cupped her mouth in her hands. When she spoke next, she did not remove them, so the sound of her throaty retort was muffled.

'Oh - nowhere. I've just – just been out, doing things for the party. You know, this and that. Ahh yes.'

Marcella frowned. Lorri was more unruffled than usual, and when Marcella opened her mouth to question her, she was cut short by the giddy redhead, still chortling and apparently determined to continue discussing the party.

'Um… Oh yes! Ah – do you – do you have a partner? For the party… my party? Uh… hmm. A partner? Like, a date? Marcie?'

Marcella merely stared. She crinkled her nose and paused for a moment.

'Marcie?' She uttered, entirely bewildered now.

'What?' Lorri said, eyes wide.

'Lorri, you just called me Marcie. Since when do you call me that? Nobody calls me that.'

'What? No I didn't.' Lorri said quickly. Marcella watched her through narrow eyes.

'You did. You did just then!'

'Oh Marcella, don't be silly. Why would I call you that?' Lorri was tugging at her own fingers and biting her lip timidly. She was obviously enthusiastic to redirect the conversation back to the party. 'So ahh… Do you have a partner?'

Marcella peered at Lorri worryingly.

'Um, no… I don't. Lorri, are you alright?'

'Oh yes! Fine, very fine!' Though her grin now looked as though it was more of Lorri gritting her teeth. 'Well um, Marcella. Perhaps you should ah, you know, consider your options? For the party, I mean…'

'My… options?' Marcella's head was titled in bemusement.

'Yes. Options. Many, many options. We should discuss your options tomorrow! At breakfast. It will be fun! But now… now… it's bedtime. I'm tired. Very tired. Uh… goodnight, Marcella! Please don't sleep here. Come upstairs. And tomorrow… Options!'

Upon her final words, Lorri had spun clumsily on the spot, stumbled slightly and all but sprinted up the stairs to the girls' dormitory. Marcella remained in the common room, her expression crowded with puzzlement. She took a shallow breath and muttered to herself.

'Options?'