AN: Where are my reviews, people? T_T I swear, I'm going to whore this to all of my friends until somebody besides me says something. Ok, I realise this chapter's a little bit out of continuity from the last one, because I wrote the segment and then forgot about it, then wrote a new one... but anyway, hopefully it works. I expanded upon Cinnamon's Mary Sue-age here, even though she's kind of a bitch in this chapter. Whateverrrrrr. More dialogue than actual story, but then again, dialogue is my specialty. I made Brassi kind of a snob, which she actually wasn't until she got older, but then again, TAI is my series and I can do whatever I want with the characters XD

Cinnamon decided to go and visit her sister once she'd changed into a beautiful black robe made of cashmere, and she brought along some other stuff for bragging purposes. Brassi clucked her tongue disapprovingly as she noted her twin's many purchases.

"What is it now, sister dear?" asked Cinnamon, a little bit irritated. Hardly a week went by when the five-days-younger do-gooder didn't find osmething new about her more adventurous sister to criticise.

"You can't possibly think Mother's illgotten cash will last forever?"

"Hardly illgotten!" countered Cinnamon. "It was a perfectly fair currency exchange. Our bits and baubles for Wizard cash, and for your information, I have plenty more of what they call Muggle paraphernalia to sell."

"And what if the gentleman buying runs out of money?"

Cinnamon tossed her hair. "Then I shall simply find another buyer," she said. "Honestly, Brassi, you should shop more. It's good for the soul."

"You would know? You've sold your soul for cashmere robes!"

"And they look fabulous on me, thank you." Cinnamon stalked away, head held high, taking her new clothes with her.

"We'll see how fabulous they loook when you spill something on them in Potions!" Brassi called after her.

xxx

Back in her own compartment, Cinnamon sat down and heaved a dramatic sigh. "That blithering idiot who calls herself my sister may as well be in Hufflepuff already," she said, a little meanly. Draco had been explaining the different Houses, with the general idea being that Slytherin was the best; apparently Hufflepuff was full of whoever the other three Houses wouldn't take, Gryffindor was full of foolhardly do-gooders, Ravenclaw was for pretentious know-it-alls, and Slytherin consisted of noble pureblooded wizards with lineages tracing back to the magical counterparts of Adam and Eve. (In other words, snobs. New York's famous Upper East Side comes to mind.)

Draco laughed. "I can't believe you two are related," he said.

"Yes, but only by birth, so please don't hold it against me," said the copper-haired nymal dryly. "She's starstruck by the celebrikid whos' supposed to be in our year."

"Harry Potter," spat Draco, looking suddenly cross. He didn't need to say more.

"You don't like him," guessed Cinnamon.

"Father wants us to get along, but Potter acts like he doesn't need anybody but himself."

Cinnamon nodded, with the nagging feeling that they'd already had this conversation.

"Let your father meet Potter for himself," she advised. "If he doesn't like the boy, he might stop pushing you to get along. If it's Society friends your father wants you to have, then stick with me. My mother taught me hwo to make friends with the rich, beautiful, and well-reputed."

Draco had the brief sense to look grateful, then resumed sulking about Harry Potter. Cinnamon decided to content herself with the consumption of her candy and the soft texture of her robes.