AUTHOR'S NOTE: The following contains some slight sexual references. You have been warned. Also, I don't own Harry Potter or the Harry Potter Universe, but Jimmy O'Bannon and the characters at the Salem Witches Institute are my own creation.

"I can't believe he actually threatened you like that?"

Artimus Rand's gaze followed Cecilia as she slowly walked across her dorm room. Anger and shock battled within, each emotion trying to claim dominance. He thought back to the Halloween Dance when he smashed that chair across Jimmy's back. After hearing Cecilia describe her confrontation with Jimmy, he wished he could do it again.

"It shouldn't surprise anyone." She looked over her shoulder at him. "It's in his blood."

"Well, Jimmy's always had this chip on his shoulder about being Muggle-born."

"That's not what I meant." Cecilia bent over and opened a desk drawer. "When he was at Hogwarts he was sorted into Gryffindor, remember?"

Artimus snorted. "How can I forget when he's got that red and gold banner hanging from his wall?"

Cecilia's lips twisted as she rummaged through her drawer. "Yes, Gryffindor House. So noble and courageous. They never mention the other trait inherent to all Gryffindors. A deep-seeded hatred for Slytherins. A-ha! Still here."

"What?"

"Sorry." Cecilia shot him a quick smile. "I just wanted to make sure my copy of Washington's Wizards was still here. I make sure to hide it in different places so Serinta won't nip it again."

"Did you tell her to stop taking the book?"

"Ha!" Cecilia closed the drawer and walked over to her bed, where Artimus sat. "Do you really think someone like Serinta Sejant will respect the wishes of a child of blood traitors?"

Artimus shook his head. "This is ridiculous. My father's the same. He may not use the word M . . . Mudblood." He said it in a whisper. "But he thinks Muggle-borns are nothing but interlopers in our world."

"I think there are plenty of Muggles and Muggle-borns who are just as ambitious, cunning and power hungry as any pureblood Slytherin."

Cecilia sat next to Artimus. A hot flash surged through him. His heartbeat picked up as his eyes drifted to Cecilia's skirt, which ended just below her knees. She had very nice legs.

She actually had very nice everything.

"I just . . ." Artimus chewed on his lower lip.

"What?" Cecilia canted her head.

"Well . . . I just wonder. I mean, we get along well, don't you think?"

"Of course."

Artimus intertwined his fingers, pressing them against his inner left thigh. He drew a breath before continuing. "Um, we're . . . we're friends, right?"

Now Cecilia paused, her face frozen in that unreadable mask. A dark, undulating mass of panic grew in Artimus' chest.

"Yes, Artimus," she finally said. "We are friends."

Tension gripped his muscles even more. His mouth went dry. Still he managed to speak.

"It's just . . . I think you're nice. I mean, tough and determined, too. But you're nothing like all of Jimmy's stories about Slytherins, like your cousin Draco."

Cecilia's nose twitched at the name.

Artimus continued. "Don't any of the Gryffindors make an attempt to get to know you, or any of the Slytherins?"

Cecilia choked off a laugh. "They wouldn't know how. At Hogwarts, the same families usually wind up in the same houses. You have generation after generation of Gryffindors growing up being taught to hate Slytherins. Their minds are poisoned before they even arrive at Hogwarts. Then they indoctrinate the Muggle-borns into hating Slytherin. And the same goes on in Slytherin, except my House is more fanatical about blood status than Gryffindor. When you're fed that sort of hatred day in and day out, it's hard to move past one's pre-conceived notions of a Gryffindor or a Slytherin and see them as an actual person. One who might not be so bad regardless of their House."

Artimus shook his head. "It makes me glad we don't do that sorting stuff here at Salem."

"I envy you. Outside of your sports, you only see these dorms as the places you live, not as some separate fiefdom. You don't look at someone from, say, Jingosocke Hall, and assume they're smart, or they're a happy, toiling fool or an egotistical noble idiot or the epitome of evil. You're all simply Salem students. I can't say that about my school."

"I wish you could." Artimus slid closer to Cecilia on the edge of the bed. "I . . . I wish Jimmy and Rosa and Jared and all those people at Hogwarts could see you for what you really are."

Cecilia cocked a thin eyebrow. "And what do you think I really am?"

"A . . . a nice girl."

"'Nice' isn't a word most people associate with Slytherin House."

"I don't care what other people think about you or your house," Artimus said forcefully. "I mean, you actually came looking for me and invited me to your room to talk after I got that damn Howler from my father. I didn't see Jimmy or Jared or Rosa doing that."

"I just know what it's like to have other people hold you down. I don't want to see the same thing happen to you."

"Thanks for caring."

Cecilia leaned closer to him. "It may come as a shock to most, but some of us Slytherins are capable of caring about someone other than ourselves."

"Y-You care about me?" A tremor went through Artimus' body. His heart felt as though it would explode.

"Would I be here talking to you like this if I didn't?"

Artimus' breaths came quicker. His eyes studied every inch of Cecilia's smooth, narrow features, the way her blond hair framed her face.

Then he realized their faces couldn't be more than a few inches apart.

"So," Cecilia said without taking her eyes off him. "Are you going to spend all night just staring at me, or are you actually going to kiss me?"

Artimus stopped breathing. His brain processed Cecilia's words again, wanting to confirm she had actually said them.

She did. Merlin's beard, she actually did.

He leaned forward and gently pressed his lips to Cecilia's. She slid her hand through his hair.

Their mouths opened. Their kissing grew fiercer. Artimus lost himself in the euphoria of Cecilia's pert breasts pressed against his chest, and her tongue darting around his mouth.

He moved his lips down her neck. Cecilia moaned and let Artimus slowly lower her onto her back. She hooked her leg around his.

"Artimus," she uttered breathlessly.

He gently kissed her chin, then her lips, then her nose. "Cecilia. I just wanted to tell you . . . you are so beautiful."

She grinned wide. "Even for a snake girl."

"I think snake girl is appropriate, considering the things you can do with your tongue."

The grin faded from Cecilia's lips. Artimus froze. The panic returned and seeped into every bone in his body. He only meant it as a joke. Did he go too far?

Cecilia dug her fingers into Artimus' sides. He yelped and rolled on his side.

"Oh this isn't good." She smiled again. "Now I've discovered your weakness. You're ticklish."

Artimus howled with laughter as Cecilia continued to tickle his sides. He finally managed to slide his right hand up Cecilia's buttock and tickled her side. She let out a surprised squeal.

They rolled around the bed, tickling one another viciously. A couple times Artimus thought he gained the upper hand, but Cecilia came back at him with renewed determination.

He got her on her back again and moved his fingers up and down Cecilia's sides. Even as she giggled loudly she worked her fingers along his sides and across his stomach. Artimus rolled off her . . .

And fell off the bed and onto the floor.

Cecilia looked over the edge, laughing hysterically. "Are you all right, down there?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Artimus groaned. "Except I feel kinda stupid."

"Well since you fell off the bed, I think that means I can declare victory."

"When did I say I was surrendering?"

Cecilia waggled her eyebrows. "Then why don't you come up here and prove to me -"

The door banged open.

Cecilia spun around. Artimus looked under the bed and saw a pair of shoes walking rapidly across the room.

"Take what you can. We're leaving."

Artimus' lungs seized. The voice belonged to Serinta Sejant.

"What the bloody hell are you talking about?" Cecilia demanded.

"They know. O'Bannon and his two idiot friends." Serinta bent down and opened her trunk. Artimus lay flat on his stomach as he watched her.

"And the Ponce woman," Serinta continued. "Except that's not really her name. She's British. Probably one of Dumbledore's lackies."

"How do you know all this?"

"Because I left dinner to go after you when you chased after that Rand boy." Serinta got to her feet and moved to the dresser, opening drawers. "That's when I heard O'Bannon and Ponce or whoever she is arguing. I followed the lot of them back to her office. They know. They know everything. Where's your damn book!"

"Why are you so int-"

"Just shut up and get moving!"

Artimus' blood went cold as Serinta moved around Cecilia's bed.

"We have to move fast before . . ."

Serinta stopped in her tracks. Artimus swallowed as the girl locked eyes with him.

"Well, look who we have here." Serinta's gaze shifted to Cecilia. "You weren't thinking of shagging him, were you? I would have thought even you had better taste than that."

Artimus shivered as Serinta turned back to him with an evil grin.

"So. What should we do with you?"

The shaking in Artimus' arms and legs grew more violent. Jimmy was right. The Slytherins were up to something.

At least Serinta was. But Cecilia . . .

Is . . . is she going to kill me?

Serinta reached into her robes.

Artimus pushed himself to his knees. He stuck a hand inside his robes, fumbling for his wand.

The room vanished in a brilliant flash. Darkness followed.

TO BE CONTINUED