A/N: I'm sorrier than you'll ever know. I'll update more frequently, promise.

"I feel hot and sticky and disgusting," Kat said with a slow chuckle, passing the neatly rolled spliff back to Blaise. She coughed into her balled fist, her eyes closing another millimeter. "Who did you get this from? It's class stuff."

Blaise only smiled, exhaling the smoke in a slow, thick cloud, inhaling it in again through his nostrils. "You know Ant? That Ravenclaw? Always has the best kush." He cursed, lying back against his sheets, not even flinching when Kat fell down next to him, their arms brushing from the proximity. "What was it you wanted to talk about again?," he slurred through his purple haze.

Kat's eyes were hardly open and she felt sleepy and thick. Her head was pounding in an achingly good way. Grasping the edge of her loose white tee shirt, she pushed it up over the skin of her stomach, anxiously trying to move it as far away from her body as she could. Blaise glanced over at her, his foggy blue eyes widening slightly, his lips curling into a smirk.

"Fuck," he breathed with a cloud of smoke as the material of her shirt was pushed up to reveal the lacy, pinkness of her demi-cup bra.

"I don't remember anything, Blaise," Kat muttered, her fingers dragging over her pale skin. "I don't remember anything." She closed her eyes completely. "I feel heavy," she moaned lightly. "Feel me. Feel how heavy I am."

Blaise leaned up and over her, his arms holding him aloft above her still, relaxed body. "I want to feel you." The words that escaped his lips were barely a whisper, and her own lips parted to form a response that never came. She just couldn't remember. Kat knew she'd come to Blaise desperate to talk. To talk. To talk about what?

Wide, cool hands smoothing over the goose-pimpled flesh of her sides distracted her further and it felt so nice, so goddamn nice. Draco was touching her and he was the loveliest being ever. He was angelic, too beautiful for a boy, so pretty it hurt. She'd kissed him, that's right. Was that what she'd meant to talk to Blaise about? It sounded reasonable. Blaise.

They were Blaise's hands, not Draco's, and her doe eyes blinked open with the realization as his hands gently lifted her an inch from the bed, expertly undoing the clasp of her bra. Why wasn't she stopping him? Her judgment was sorely impaired. Blaise smelled so nice, like clean linens and grade-A cannabis. Why should she stop him?

His warm mouth descended upon her skin, trailing wet kisses down the smooth column of her neck, dusting over her collarbones, in a straight line between her breasts to her bellybutton. It was the most glorious feeling.

"Unh," Kat whimpered, arching under him, her hips cradling his. She wanted, no, needed to feel his skin on hers more than anything ever before. His lips closed around a pale rose-coloured nipple, suckling gently in a way that made her skin crawl with pleasure. His hands fumbled sluggishly with the button of her Cheap Monday jeans and he pulled away with a chuckle, refocusing. Smiling up at him, she raised her hands above her head, relishing in his sigh as he eagerly drank in the sight of her, proffered to him as she was. Her tight-fitting jeans were tugged slowly down her legs, his tongue darting along the inside of her right thigh. She exhaled harshly, her head swimming. She was intoxicated, completely drunk with the feeling of his hands, his mouth, his tongue on her.

"I need," she murmured, "I need, I need.. I need…"

Beside her discarded jeans landed her underwear. The coolness she felt instantly was soon replaced with the wet heat of Blaise's tongue as he licked her with slow, cat-like licks. Crying out, her fingers tangled in his sheets, in his hair, the collar of his, unfortunately, still-worn shirt.

She'd been stupid to deny this attraction. Completely stupid, and naïve. And now she couldn't stop, nor did she want to. But at the back of her mind, in a cloudy recess, was a blonde, an angel, a boy. She just couldn't stop.

Railey watched her fingers, the tips pressing down on Theo's smooth, warm skin, creating small indents. His back rose and fell with every breath, his eyes never opening from his slumber. She wanted to snatch her hand away, to get up from the bed, redress and run, but she couldn't bring herself to leave his side. Pulling the sheets tighter around herself, Railey exhaled harshly. Her fingers remained on him, stroking along his spine.

Why was she here, in his dorm, in his bed? Was she really that poor at controlling her primal urges? Goddamn it, she wasn't mature enough to deal with this. They weren't mature enough to deal with this. Before, she could always pretend that the sex had an emotional attachment, that they were doing it because they were together and young and in love. But this time, it wasn't there. They weren't cuffed to each other, they were just fucking. She couldn't deal with that.

The look in his eyes had told her. Where there was once endearing, puppy-love, now there was nothing. Physically, it had felt just as good, if not better than before. But mentally? It had left Railey exhausted and wanting to cry.

Railey wanted to tell herself that what they'd just done was a long time coming, that Theo still had feelings for her, and that's why they'd joined so… so fucking passionately. She didn't, though. That was a lie. The look in his eyes had told her that, too.

Violet picked up the nearest object small enough to throw and launched it directly at Anthony's head.

"What the fuck, Vi?," Anthony spat out, narrowly dodging the Captain America action figure that had been projected across the room at him. "I haven't even done anything to you today!"

Violet growled, throwing the Newport pack in her right hand at Anthony's lap. It landed with a soft 'plop' on his crotch and he flinched, full-bodied.

"Open them," Violet growled once more, motioning to the cigarettes. "Take a fucking look inside." Anthony cautiously opened the cigarettes, knowing that what he was about to find could not be good.

Twinkies?

Mashed up Twinkies at that, shoved and stuffed and ripped until they completely filled the tiny cardboard box.

"Every single pack, Ant," Violet drawled, her voice low and menacing. "All of my Newports, gone, replaced with.. with.." Violet let out an ear-piercing shriek of animalistic anger, her fists clenched at her sides. "It was that bitch, I know it was! Fuck! I can't even leave my room for fifteen minutes without her destroying something of mine. First the clothes, now this. All because she got a bit of powder on her nose." Anthony watched Violet's hands carefully, hoping that she wouldn't go for his Aquaman figurine next.

"Don't you think this is a bit extreme, Violet? I mean, it's getting pretty petty and immature," Anthony attempted to reason. "Why don't you just try to make nice with the girl? You don't have to be friends with her, but at least she wouldn't be destroying your personal property on a daily basis."

"That is not an option, Anthony," Violet spoke dangerously, her fingers dragging precariously over Aquaman's hard, plastic torso. "This is one battle that I won't surrender from. I have to win."

Anthony was sure he'd never seen someone with so much bloodlust in their eyes before.

"Harry," Sara hissed out quietly, trying to wake him, but not Ron Weasley, who was snoring in his own bed only five feet away. "Harry, I can't find my other sock!"

Harry snorted sleepily, rolling over to face him. "Shh," he breathed, her whispered words seeming louder to his sleep-addled brain. He yawned, his eyes cracking open lazily. "If you can't find them, then I sure as hell won't be able to." He yawned again before rolling back over. Sara wanted to scream, lash out and possibly hit him with a very hard object, but she didn't. Mainly because there really wasn't anything hard enough in her immediate reach.

Sara growled under her breath, throwing her lone sock onto the red of his duvet. "There," she huffed, shoving her bare feet into her shoes. "You deal with it when your girlfriend finds some girls socks in your bed. Asshole."

Harry merely snored in reply and Sara couldn't believe what a mistake she'd made.

Abby smiled at her phone's caller I.D. as she walked across the green in the direction of her dorm. Fred, calling her, during school. It was a good sign, she thought, but she was hesitant to say anything to anyone lest she jinx it. Plus, he'd only recently broken up with his girlfriend, and Audrey had seemed pretty broken up about it.

"Hello," she managed to squeak into her phone, frowning at her obvious anxiety over his call.

"Well, how did it go?," Fred asked eagerly, forgoing the usual greetings.

"Well enough, I suppose," Abby said with a smile. "From what I've heard, Aly's holed herself up in her room and refuses to come out, or let Lavender back in. Apparently, Lav's been sleeping on the Commons couch for the past two days." Fred chuckled and Abby couldn't help the grin that split her face.

"Sounds like we were successful," his deep voice said cheerfully. Somehow, though, Abby couldn't feel that good about what she and Fred had done to Aly. Not that she was feeling guilt; it was likely that she never would. She just didn't see it as being that important any more. Sure, she'd been pretty upset over Lee to begin with, but there were bigger and better things. And those things happened to be devilishly funny and good-looking. Really, it was only one thing, and his name was Fred.

"I'm not opening the door," Aly said tiredly at the knock, pulling her Juicy Couture terry-cloth bathrobe tighter around her small form. "So just give up now and go away."

"Look," replied the slightly familiar voice. "I'm probably the only person at this school that won't judge you right now, so it'd do you good to let me in. Besides, I have food, and you can't survive on the junk you brought from home for much longer." Aly's stomach growled in return and she sighed, determined to punish her mutinous body.

"Alright," she finally said, dejectedly. "I'm coming to open the door, but you have to hurry in before Lavender sees that I've let you in and tries to storm the room." The disembodied voice chuckled and Aly slumped over to the door, opening it and finding herself face to face with Andy.

"It's you," she said with delightful surprise. "Thank God, I was really expecting that bitch." Offering her the plate of lukewarm food, Andy pushed past Aly into the room, sitting on Lavender's bed comfortably, making himself at home.

"So," he began amiably. "How long has it been since you've left?"

"'Fwee days," Aly mumbled around a mouthful of mashed potatoes. "But I'm going to face them soon." She swallowed, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. "Just not today. And probably not tomorrow, either, because I've, uh, got lots of reading to do tomorrow. And tidying." Andy only rolled his eyes.

"You can't hide away forever," he said with a smile, running his fingers through his short curls. He sighed, the toes of his black converse shoes tapping against the hardwood floor.

"Watch me," Aly dared as she stared at her reflection in her full-length mirror, poking at her pale face tiredly.

"You're too beautiful to hide, is what I mean."

"Oh yes, baby. Just like that. Right there! Oh! Fuck, fuck, fuck! Fuck my pussy, fuck it. Harder. Oh fuck! You like my pussy? Fuck!"

Jane had just kissed Seamus, so why was he in his dorm, alone, watching porn? He frowned.

Becca had been talking for fifteen minutes without pause for breath, though Audrey supposed she was breathing somehow. All of it had been about her roommate, every last word, and Audrey wanted to either break Violet's neck, or break Becca's. Usually, Audrey didn't mind being the one to listen and give advice and offer the occasional consolation of a shoulder to cry on. But now it only made her angry, her hands clenching into small fists to keep herself from snapping.

No one had asked her if she was okay. She'd thought it was obvious that she'd been crying herself to sleep for the past three days. No one had even asked how Fred was, and that she at least expected. It was like no one noticed, or no one cared. Not even her best friend, who was now going on twenty-minutes about the junkie in the bed across from her.

Pansy stood up, closing the laptop in front of her. The damage was done. By the next morning, everyone would know Kat's dirty little secret.