A/n: In this chapter I introduce some of my favorite characters: Coraline's buyers.

Coraline

Marvel Jordan is an interesting sort of person. He's friends with the Weasley and Potter crowd, he's been bred by his father to be a pranking artist, and he's got half the school hanging off his every word. It might help that he's also a particularly good-looking boy, with his dark hair that's always in his shocking green eyes, tan skin and a muscular build. Everyone seems to love this boy. This is why I'm suspicious as to his reasons for buying me, Coraline Darcy, the most uninteresting person on the planet.

As I slide my bra strap onto my shoulder I scrutinize myself in the mirror. I'm a girl. Two arms, two legs, appropriate reproductive organs. My too-big nose is properly centered in the middle of my face, bellow a pair of uninteresting blue eyes which are decorated by all sorts of beauty products, and above two pink lips that never seem to say the right thing. My blonde hair falls straight, flat and in an averagely ordinary fashion. I'm awkward in my movements, gangly and self-conscious, and it's only after some long contemplation that I can think of something funny or witty, and usually when I do, the moment has passed.

Marvel and I are polar opposites, and we're going to spend the day together.

Merlin save me, I'm going to make a fool of myself.

Well, thanks to Dominique Weasley, I'll at least look decent while doing so.

She gives me a pair of jeans – loose, to make my legs look less scrawny than usual – a Falmouth Falcons shirt from my own closet, with thick, grey and white horizontal stripes and a falcon on the back, and a dark jacket that zips diagonally which belongs to Nell and I'm rather fond of. To top it off I sneak my rash red, hand knit by yours truly, wool mittens and hat into my pocket before dashing down the stairs to the Great Hall.

I nod a hello to my captain as I pass her and the Wotter crew on their way out of the hall, my eyes resting on one particular head of brilliant orange hair for a moment longer than the others. He doesn't notice, he never does, and continues his conversation with a younger Weasley.

I want to kick myself as my cheeks redden and my eyes shift to the floating candles, pretending to find them fascinating, though the interest in them wore off back in first year when one drifted too close and poured wax on my unsuspecting eleven-year-old self.

Marvel is sitting with a group of people, consisting of some chattering girls, the Scamander twins and Julien Shoal. I stand off to the side awkwardly for a moment before Julien spots me and waves me over.

'Ready for today?' He asks me. 'We've been up all night compiling a list of things for Marvel and you to do.' I make a noise at this, unsure of how to respond to him. 'I hear that Rosie's been bought by Malfoy. James went bezerk when he came back to the common room after the auction, rounded up all of his cousins – the male ones mind you, seeing as all of the girls are against what he's planning. Fred was going to join you guys today, but he's been coerced into following Rose around Hogsmead with James.'

I look away and Marvel calls out. 'Julien! It's eight o'clock and you're cutting into my time with Coraline.' He shoos away the girls, slipping away from the bench to put his arm around my shoulder. The only thing that I can seem to think of at this moment is how I'm going to smell like his armpit.

Lorcan and Lysander Scamander and fall into step behind us as Marvel steers me out of the hall.

'Is Julien not coming with us?' I ask him as we enter the line of students leaving the school. Julien is the only Gryffindor boy that I've ever really felt comfortable with.

'Nah, he's got a date.' Marvel tells me. 'A Hufflepuff named Lila or something.'

We fall into uncomfortable silence.

His body odour is slowly seeping into the materials of Nell's jacket. She's going to murder me.

He still doesn't remove his arm from my shoulder when we enter the carriage. I end up squished on a bench with him and both of the Scamanders, but it isn't as bad at Ruth, who ends up across from us with two thirteen year old Slytherins on each side. When we arrive at the village, they scurry out first, and Ruth grimaces at me before chasing after them, stopping to pick up one of their lost hats.

Mavel finally lets me go in order to leave the carriage without tripping. I do anyways and he catches me, placing his arm back around my shoulder. I huff but don't say anything.

'Alright,' Marvel says, taking out of his pocket a torn piece of paper. 'Let's get started. First we'll go to Honeydukes. You're going to taste-test all of their new candies.'

'That doesn't sound too bad.' I tell myself. Due to his close proximity, Marvel hears me and laughs, surprising me.

'We'll see.' He says, looking at me with a puckish look on his face.

I was wrong. In celebration of Halloween, the candy store ordered the newest in scary sweets. I try the Ghoul's Foot, which tastes as bad as it sounds and makes my tongue turn a sickly shade of green, and the Spider's Nest, which makes it feel as if thousands of spiders are scuttling around in my mouth. They also have new acid pops, flavoured with real pumpkin and with double the acid. That burns all of the taste buds off my tongue and ends the whole affair. Marvel ends up getting a bit of everything.

'Where to next? I ask, shifting his bags in my arms. He takes one and slips his arm around my shoulder.

'The Hogs Head. It isn't on the list, but I'm making an addition.' He grins. 'We're getting you some firewhiskey.'

'That's not allowed. We're underage.' I plant my feet firmly on the ground and place my hands on my hips.

He grins at the defiant expression on my face. 'Come on, love. Five minutes, one drink. No one will know. Besides, Aberforth is half-blind and won't refuse a customer. Tell him you're twenty-five and he won't be able to tell.'

He moves forwards, but I stay in place.

'Alright, I gave you the choice to come of your own free will, but it seems that you're going to be all stubborn. I bought you at the auction and you have to do what I tell you to.'

'There are restrictions.' I scowl at him.

'I read them – didn't say anything about getting a drink.' He winks at me and slips his hand into mine. 'Come on, it'll be fun.'

My mouth works as I try to find a new argument, but I'm done and he pulls me down the street, the Scamander twins still in tow. We leave the main street and skirt down an alley, finding ourselves standing outside of a dingy looking inn. The sign above the door reads The Hogs Head Inn, with a crude image of a severed pigs head below it. Marvel opens the door and ushers me through first. The inside of the inn is even dingier and dirtier than the outside, and the place seems deserted, apart from a very old man behind the counter that I presume is Aberforth Dumbledore.

'Hello?' He calls out, pausing to hack loudly. 'Who's there?'

'Just looking for a drink.' Marvel replies, pulling me over to the counter. 'One firewhiskey.'

'Aye, three sickles and a knut.' The man coughs into his hand then reaches for a large glass. He wipes the rim of it with a rag that is so filthy that it makes the cup even dirtier. Into the glass he pours a golden liquid from a bottle without a label. When he's done pouring, almost to the brim, I slide my hand across the counter and Marvel places the proper amount of coins in the old man's waiting hand.

'Down it goes, Coraline.' Marvel says, clapping my on the back. He settles back on a barstool to watch the show.

I sniff the drink carefully before raising it too my lips. I try not to let the dirty glass touch my mouth as the firewhiskey slips down my throat.

I've had alcohol before – I'm not quite the innocent little Ravenclaw brain you think I am – but never firewhiskey. The drink burns its way down my throat and makes my eyes water. I cough and hack, pounding a fist on my chest as the burning sensation hits my stomach and begins to spread. Finally, it subsides.

'Merlin, that's foul!' I gasp.

Lorcan and Lysander, who, up until this point, have been silent, suddenly burst out into loud laughter, surprising me. Lorcan, the twin with the bigger nose, recovers first and reaches for the glass, taking a gulp. He smiles at me and swallows without a hint of discomfort.

'Show off.' I mutter at him and he just smiles wider.

The boys pass the firewhiskey around and then the last sip returns to me. I try to down it in the same manner they have, but it hurts so much and I grip my throat and cough after just a second.

'So,' I ask, looking down at the empty glass. 'How much will two sips of firewhiskey affect me, do you suppose?'

The boys shrug. 'We'll just have to see.'

Marvel takes my hand again and we leave the inn. 'Let's go to Zonko's next.'

It's a short walk to Zonko's joke shop and soon the bell is dinging as we open the door. The shop isn't very full yet but we all recognise the boy at the counter.

'Fred!' Marvel calls out. 'Free from your cousin's clutches? Care to join us in showing Coraline the town?'

I blame my reddening cheeks on the alcohol.

'You know I'd love to,' He replies. 'But James is waiting for me. I just had to deliver a letter to Zonko from my dad. He wants to sell some of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes products here because he couldn't get a shop of his own.'

Those are banned-

It's on the tip of my tongue, but for once I'm able to hold it back. And then I choke on my spit and start coughing and hacking like crazy. Lysander steps forwards and hits me on the back several times until I raise a hand and groan: 'I'm alright.'

Marvel and Fred watch this all, trying damn hard not to laugh.

'Well,' Fred says after a moment. 'I've got to be off. See you tonight.'

He sidesteps us and heads to the door. I watch him leave, and it takes a moment for me to realise that my gaze is resting on his arse. I quickly turn away, hoping that no one noticed, attempting nonchalance and succeeding in knocking over a display of exploding snap games. I grimace and turn to see all three boys staring at me.

'What?'

'Were you just looking at my best mate's...' Marvel tries to find the appropriate words. 'Derrière?'

'He's got a nice arse.' I squeak, unable to stop myself.

Bloody Merlin's pink frilly knickers – they're going to tear the mickey out of me! I'm going to be the laughing stock of the school! Why can't Fred's bum be less attractive?

And they laugh.

'He's got other features that are nice too!' I tell them loudly, putting my hands on my hips and glaring at Marvel. 'Like his hair. I like red heads. And his eyes. They're very blue.'

Marvel recovers enough to speak. 'I'm not questioning what you like about the bloke – I'm wondering why, in the name of Merlin, you chose that bloke. I mean, Fred?'

'Thanks.' I spit sarcastically. 'But I've already figured out how improbable the match is.' I glance at my watch. It's only noon. Eight hours left.

'You know,' Lorcan says, speaking for the first time today. 'It's not that improbable.'

We all stare at him.

'Yes, it is.' I contradict. 'He's Fred Weasley, prankster, jokester extraordinaire. I'm Coraline Darcy, Ravenclaw brain.'

'No... Lorcan has a point.' Lysander says, contemplating me. 'Fred is a bloke. Coraline is gorgeous. He just needs some gentle prodding... And she needs at shit ton of help acting like a normal person.'

I glower at him.

Marvel grins. 'Challenge accepted! Boys, we're going to help Coraline snag our mate, Fred.'

'No – challenge not accepted!' I turn on him, waving my hands wildly. 'There is no challenge at all! Honestly, I could care less about him. It's just a tiny infatuation.'

'And when did this tiny infatuation begin?' Lysander asks, slinging his arm around my shoulder. Ew. More armpit sweat soaking into my jacket.

Start of this year. I want to tell them, but I can't bring myself to lie. 'Third year. When I tripped down some stairs and he helped me up and didn't jinx my books to tease me like I expected him to.'

'And he hasn't shown any signs of liking you back?'

'He's kind of oblivious.' I retort. 'And I haven't made it very obvious.'

Marvel sighs, then rubs his hands together. 'Looks like we have our work cut out for us. Let's get started.'

A/n: Next we hear from Ruth.