Updates will probably be slower from here on... I'm unfortunately back in school now. But thanks to all of you who took the time to review, I really appreciate it. S/O to Guest, Stromsten, Lissa and Guest! I'm glad you guys love this story so much!

As for the rating issue, I've never really written explicit scenes before, but I'm not against it (though I won't promise quality lol). Again, maybe some more ideas on this?

"Pucey."

The blonde-haired boy turned around, eyes searching for the owner of the voice that had called out his name. He frowned. Spinnet.

"What do you want, Spinnet? Or should I say DeWitt? Soliciting donations for your gown, then?" he sneered sarcastically as the girl approached him. Alicia felt her lips curl in disgust but refrained from pulling out her wand. So. The invites had gone out, then.

"Where's Warrington?" she spat, crossing her arms in irritation.

Pucey smirked. "Why? Hoping he'll pay you for some birthday sex? You must be desperate. Sadly, you're a bit late - here, I've a sickle for you right now if you blow me -

Alicia whipped out her wand, but Pucey grabbed her by the wrist, clutching it tightly to the point of pain. Alicia stomped her foot down over his and wrenched her self out of his grasp.

"Fernunculus!" Alicia hissed, pointing her wand at Pucey's groin. He let out a shriek and dropped to the floor, clutching himself and writhing in pain. Alicia smiled grimly as boils started to appear on his visible skin, fat and red with bulging white points that pulsed but refused to pop.

She ran down the corridor, away from the scene of the crime, glancing back to make sure nobody was chasing her, and collided face-first into somebody.

It was Cassius, who looked like he'd just crawled out of a graveyard. His face was drawn and ashen, his eyes bloodshot, and his lips cracked and dry. His face shut down into a hard sneer when he realized who she was, and Alicia pushed herself away from him.

"I've been sending you owls all bloody day," she said loudly over Pucey's continued shrieks.

"What did you do," he said in a rough voice, shoving her aside to run towards Pucey's prone figure.

"Episkey," he said quickly, pointing his wand at Pucey. The boils didn't disappear, but the redness quickly faded, and Pucey's shrieks died down. Weakly, he crawled onto his knees, then onto his feet.

"I'm going to kill you," he snarled, lunging towards Alicia. She ducked, and Cassius pushed her out of the way.

"Forget her," Cassius growled, "You need to get to the Hospital Wing before the charm fades."

"I don't give a shit if she's your partner or not," Pucey hissed, but he winced in pain when he tried to grab a hold his wand, due to the pressure it put on the boils that covered his hands.

"You can hex her all you want when you get out of the Hospital," Cassius barked. "And you, you can fuck off, Spinnet, you've done enough."

"I've been looking for you all day!"

"Congratulations, you found me. Now leave."

After escorting a bitter, complaining Pucey to the hospital wing, Cassius slowly made his way over to the library, still fighting off a headache and remnants of nausea.

When he'd woken up that afternoon with a splitting headache and a rolling stomach, the six girls had already vanished, replaced by his roommates and their own conquests, all in various states of undress, passed out on their respective beds, curtains semi-shut or even wide open.

He spent the day in bed, his own curtains drawn, moaning in pain, until he'd forced himself to crawl to the kitchens, dying of hunger for having missed all three meals of the day. It was on his way back to the common room that he'd heard the ghastly screaming, and then Spinnet had barrelled head-first into his chest, causing his stomach to momentarily heave before he managed to keep himself under control.

The library was busier than usual, with students working hard to catch up on work they'd neglected due to the previous day's Hogsmeade trip. Cassius navigated his way over to "Spinnet's desk", breathing slowly and deeply to calm his headache. He felt his heartbeat speed up, however, and his headache reach a pulsing max, when, as her desk came into sight, he saw that she was not alone. Her head was bent over a book, avidly copying down notes, but there was somebody sitting across from her, back to Cassius. He clenched his fists. Bishop.

He strolled over to the desk, forcing himself to calm down.

"Well, well, aren't we cozy here," he sneered softly, dropping his book bag on the floor next to the desk. "You can leave now, Bishop, Spinnet and I have work to get done."

Alicia opened her mouth to protest, but Carson beat her to it.

"Don't worry about it, Warrington," he said easily, leaning back in his chair, "She's already done all the work without you, we've been here all day until she decided to go looking for your ass... we can't all be Outstanding students, after all."

If looks could kill, Alicia imagined Carson would have dropped dead on the spot. Warrington's eyes flashed dangerously, though his face was a stony impassive mask - always a bad sign, Alicia had learned.

She flinched. How did she know that?

"Bishop, I'm going to give you three seconds to pack your things before I send you packing," he said coldly in an even tone, not a hint of anger in his voice, though one look in his eyes betrayed his brewing irritation.

Alicia pursed her lips, and Carson looked at her with a serious expression on his face.

"Alicia, do you want me to go? We can go work somewhere else if you want -

"Three -

"Er, thanks for your help, Carson - you're right, I'm nearly done. But maybe I should look over it with Warrington, it's his assignment too -

"Two -

"Are you sure? Don't let him bully you -

Alicia smiled warmly at him.

"I'm almost insulted, when do I ever let anyone bully me?"

"One -

Carson stood, pushing back the chair, and turned to glare at Warrington.

"Guys," Alicia whispered, glancing around to make sure Pince wasn't around. She stepped in between the boys, out of fear they might start throttling each other.

"I really appreciate all the help, Carson. You've been great. I'm your girl if you ever need anything, yeah?"

"Yeah, no problem, 'Licia, any time. Let me know if you have any more questions, or if you've any problems," he said, eying Cassius angrily. "Oh, and let me know when you're free - there's a couple empty classrooms big enough to practice dancing in. I promise, you'll be ready in no time."

Alicia nodded and gave him a quick hug.

"Thanks, you're the best. I'll see you tomorrow, then? And tell Peter I hope he's stopped puking by now!"

"Yeah, good luck with the report!"

"Fairy," Cassius hissed, as Carson grabbed his things and disappeared. It'd taken all his will and patience not to curse the prick, while he'd chatted away with Spinnet over what - dancing? And she'd hugged him, and smiled at him, and showered him in stupid compliments. "Shagging him for help, then?" Cassius asked sourly, sitting down on Bishop's still-warm seat. His scowl deepened. Alicia glared at him, offended.

"I'm not a whore, Warrington," she snapped, "Although I can see why you might think that, considering you apparently don't know any girls who are otherwise."

"That's funny," he said darkly, "I could have sworn you dragged him to the alley yesterday, and didn't he come back in, looking all self-satisfied."

"Jealous, are we?" she said mockingly. "You disgust me. Carson is nice, unlike you, and he helps me because he's a friend -

Cassius scoffed in disbelief.

"-He's a friend," Alicia repeated, "Who actually cares about people and their well-being. And for your information, not that it's any of your business, I didn't 'drag' him to the alley to shag him, though I'm not even going to ask why you were watching us in the first place -

"Don't flatter yourself, Spinnet," he spat, "It's just hard not to notice -

"Shut up, Warrington. Just shut up. I don't even know why I'm telling you any of this. Let's just get to work. Carson and I -

"Carson and I," Cassius sneered. "Why don't you just work with him, then, seems like he's already done most of it for you. Did he tie your shoes for you too? And what's this bollocks about dancing? Don't tell me that's some euphemism -

"Ooh, big words there, Warrington. Like I said, it's none of your business what Carson and I get up to in our free time -

Cassius saw red. He wasn't sure what did it, but he had a feeling it was those three words, Carson and I, which made him want to gag.

"Like hell it isn't," he hissed in a rage.

She glared at him, eyes narrowed to slits.

"You don't have any say in what I do with my life or who I do it with. Why the hell are you here, anyway? Correct me if I'm wrong, but you're the one who said, and I quote, 'we haven't spoken in what, two weeks? It's been fucking amazing. Let's keep this up.' I agree, Warrington, it's been fucking amazing. Carson and I have already done most of your work while you were obviously recovering from whatever birthday bullshit you got up to last night."

She stood and shoved her work towards him.

"You can correct it and send it to me, though I highly doubt there's anything to correct. We can't all be Outstanding students after all."

She gave him a derogatory smile, the sort of look she usually reserved for Montague or for Bletchley, or for high-intensity quidditch matches, and stalked off with her book bag and robes. Cassius felt his blood boil. He shoved his seat back and stood hastily onto his feet, and in three quick strides he caught up with Alicia's scampering figure. He reached out and grabbed her by the shoulder. She whirled around, her hair whipping him in the face as she did so, causing him to flinch as a few strands got into his eyes. She held her wand out menacingly.

"Don't touch me," she snapped, furious at the hot, angry sting of tears that sprang out of nowhere. She blinked them back. "Don't ever touch me again, Warrington, or I swear to God, you'll regret it. I hate you. I fucking hate you."

"Calm down," he said gruffly, loathing the sound of his own voice and the way she looked at him, shaking with anger, eyes wide with tears that had yet to fall.

"Fuck you," she gasped in a choking voice. "And don't tell me to calm down, I am bloody calm." She brushed at her eyes with the back of her hand, and cursed as she felt her mascara smear.

"Lisso," he muttered, lazily flicking his wand at her face.

"You must have a lot of practice at that," she choked sarcastically.

"Put you wand away, Alicia," he said warily, pocketing his own.

"You have no right to call me that," she said, sniffing angrily.

He gave her a mocking smile.

"What, then, shall I call you? DeWitt?"

Her eyes flashed angrily.

"I hate you," she hissed.

"So you've said. Start walking, Spinnet. I can't work in here."

She looked at him like he was stupid.

"You can't possibly think I actually want to work with you after -

"Look, I've got a headache enough as it is. If you've already done most of the work, let me just look it over and then that's it. Done. I'll do it all on my own next time, if that makes you feel better, alright? Yeah, I got a little fucked up last night. It was my birthday. Curse me."

She looked at him in disbelief. That was his idea of an apology? She could have laughed had she not been so upset. She settled with another bitter "I hate you", to which he responded with an apathetic shrug.

"Where are we going?" she muttered, breaking the silence as they left the library.

"It's a 'we' now, is it?" he asked sarcastically.

"Shut up."

"But I thought you hated me?" he said in a mocking voice.

"I do hate you," she said, sounding suddenly exhausted.

They fell silent again as they walked down the corridors until suddenly, he asked her, "What was all that bollocks about dancing then?"

She looked at him like she he was stupid, but Cassius simply stared back at her, unwilling to embarrass himself. It seemed like his mouth did a lot of its own voluntary talking these days. "Just asking... always thought Bishop was a bit of a fairy -

"He's not a fairy!"

"I promise, you'll be ready in no time!" he said in a high-pitched voice.

"Is that supposed to be Carson, because you realize he doesn't sound like that at all, and he's not a bloody fairy."

"Right. Well if you're not shagging him, and if he's not a fairy -

"Oh, fuck off! It's none of your business, anyway. Stop asking me questions. And where the hell are we going? I thought you were just going to read it over - honestly, not that you even need to, Carson's looked over it a thousand times -

"Merlin, will you shut it about Carson? If I hear that name one more time -

"You'll what?"

"I promise you, I'll throw him off his broom next match," he said coldly, and Alicia somehow knew that he wasn't exaggerating.

"Well then," she said crossly, "Stop asking me about my personal life."

"Oh, so then it's personal, is it?"

"You're the one who just said you didn't want to hear anything else -

"All I asked was what this whole dancing rubbish -

"Why?" Alicia snapped. "What the hell is wrong with you? Why do you want to know about my life? One second you're all 'I want to fuck you Spinnet', and the next, you're all 'Don't talk to me, Spinnet' - What. Is. Your. Problem? Here's a newsflash for you, Warrington. You. Have. No. Right. You know what, I don't even know why I'm following you right now. Read it on your own. There isn't much left to do. I'm sure you've figured out how to spell your name by now."

He looked at her coolly, ignoring the unpleasant twinge he felt with every word, quite aware of that fact that he shouldn't have cared for a word she said. Her eyes were wild with anger and confusion, her cheeks flushed, and he wondered bitterly why she'd so rudely barged in on his life.

"Is he taking you to the ball, then?" he finally asked, in a toneless voice, already fearing the answer, to which she gave him a small, silent nod. He ran his hand through his hair, liking the gentle tug on his scalp, which temporarily eased his frustration.

"Right. And you can't dance, I take it."

"I can dance fine. Sort of," she said stiffly. "He's just offered to practice with me." She laughed, and it sounded dark and hollow. "Why do you care, Warrington?"

"I don't," he said, and even to him, his voice rang false. She laughed again, and he hated the sound, the coldness of it, the bitterness. It was nothing like how she sounded with her friends, or even with Bishop. Carson. He gritted his teeth in disgust. "Just saying... he'll want a shag, then, if he's offered you dance lessons - can't imagine why he'd offer other wise."

"Is that all it is with you, then? Excuse me, of course it is, how silly of me... No-Romance-Warrington. Again, not that it's any of your bloody business, but he has a girlfriend. If he wants to help me not embarrass myself and make an utter travesty of the divine Dewitt name, it's because he's my friend and a good person, two things which you obviously are not."

"You don't know anything about me," Cassius spat, clenching his fists in anger, "So don't climb up on your high horse and trot out all this rubbish about how good or bad I am. You don't know anything. You're ignorant, you're hardheaded, and you're a fucking hypocrite if I ever saw one -

"Oh, that's rich of you," she gasped, "You're the one who came after me, you're the one who went on about how fantastic it was not having anything to do with each other -

"And what? Did I threaten you? Did I hold my wand up to your head and order you about? Last I checked, you're the one who's made all the decisions here, so don't try to push this all off on me. I didn't force you to kiss me, I didn't force you to sleep in my dorm, and I sure as hell didn't force you to follow me about right now. Go back to your dorm, Spinnet, you and I both know I can finish this up on my own. You're right, I'm pretty sure I've figured out how to spell my name by now."

They walked in tense, angry silence, though neither made any efforts to separate. Cassius found his feet directing him on a now-familiar path towards the Slytherin stadium entrance, and Alicia simply followed him, head vacant, chest tight, and unwilling to let the argument end as it had.

Outside, it was another chilly, windy night. October had come and they could hear the rustling of the trees in the distance. The Hufflepuff team was just finishing up their practice, and they watched quietly as the seven players filed into their locker room, oblivious to their newly arrived audience.

It was the first time Alicia and Cassius had seen the team in full formation in over a year, for the Triwizard Tournament had taken place the previous year, and Quidditch had been cancelled. Alicia realized with a sudden strangeness that Cedric Diggory's lanky frame was missing from the ranks. He would have graduated, gone by now anyhow, but it was still strange nevertheless. He would never fly a broom, catch a snitch or walk the earth again. She imagined having to practice without Angelina or Katie, the twins, or even Harry and Ron. It made her stomach clench in anxiety.

She blinked when a little blue flame suddenly appeared out of nowhere, and Cassius handed her a small glass jar that exuded warmth.

"Cigarette?" he said tonelessly, as he lit one with a silver lighter, inhaling sharply as the tip suddenly glowed red. Alicia nodded, feeling numb. He passed her the pack - Chasers - and his silver lighter. He pulled out a flask from his robes, unscrewed it and took a painful looking gulp before offering it to her. She stared down at it, and accepted it just as gingerly.

Sitting there next to him in the cold, smoking silently and taking occasional horrid sips from his flask, Alicia thought about her parents. In that moment, she could picture it clearly, her mother still the same, though younger, with her long, wavy dark hair and her red lips, cigarette dangling from her mouth as she wandered about muggle London, having escaped from Diagon Alley through the Leaky Cauldron, searching for somebody with a lighter. And her father, she imagined him sitting on the steps in front of the pub, unchanged even after all these years (a little pudgier now, perhaps), with Uncle Slink and Uncle Shifty, lighting a smoke just as Aurora would have turned the corner, looking lost and terribly posh in a knee-length navy dress and little leather boots, sauntering up to the three of them with a brave, wicked smile on her face.

"When did you become such a lush?" she asked suddenly, for it seemed strange to her that Cassius carried a flask of fire whiskey about with him.

"When I met you," Cassius grunted. He looked at her and she was shivering, though she didn't seem to mind the cold apart from it. He glanced downward, and through the part in her robes, he could see that she was wearing her stupid school skirt (too short by four years, Pucey's voice reminded him), without tights on.

"If I didn't know better, I'd swear you were a muggle," he muttered, casting a warming charm over her robes. She looked at him, offended, though she stopped shivering after a few seconds and curled her legs up against her chest to get full coverage from her warmed robes. The glow from the bluebell flames made her look like a strange child.

"I hate you," she said suddenly, though without any animosity. Cassius tipped his flask to his lips.

"So we've established."

"No. Really, I do. I don't understand you. I don't understand how you can be - so... nice, I guess is the closest thing I can think of - and then a complete and utter prat in the blink of an eye."

Cassius shut his eyes, breathing in the cool air.

"Your problem, Spinnet, is that you're always asking yourself these stupid questions. Don't you ever just... shut down?"

"No. No, I can't."

"Well then... you should probably work on that." He took a last puff from his cigarette and put it out under the heel of his foot.

"And is that working out well for you?" she demanded.

He scowled at her. Questions, always questions. Was it working out for him? He thought about it and concluded that yes, for the most part, it was. Logic was his friend. Losing one's head to whims and madness was entirely a Gryffindor trait... Only, the past month had proven to him time and again that he'd developed a weakness where Spinnet was concerned, and it was worrisome, as though her... gryffindorness was catching.

In fact, he feared it, and Cassius had never quite feared anything before. He'd felt worry, to some degree, but never fear. And right now, he feared. He feared how she could turn him into a raging beast, how the memory of her naked form in the Gryffindor locker room could reduce him to a panting thirteen-year-old, how he felt his blood boil when she laughed and smiled so openly with Bishop (even though the prick had a girlfriend, supposedly), he feared what might happen if anybody were to discover his infatuation, especially his father, and more importantly, he feared what it all meant.

Did she feel the same? It was the first time the question came up in his mind, and he frowned. Questions. Spinnet and her stupid questions. It was affecting his mind. But did she? He looked at her out of the corner of his eye. She was still huddled up under her robes, chin tucked over her knees, but she'd turned so that her back to him to get more foot support from the bleachers. What was she thinking about? Why had she followed him out here? Why had she allowed him to touch her? Why had she slept with him when they both knew she could have made it back to Gryffindor tower alone? Why hadn't she opted for the risk of detention like a normal Gryffindor, instead of sneaking into his common room? Had she trusted him not to make a move that night? Or had she perhaps wanted him to make a move?

"We should be getting back," he muttered, standing up to stretch his back. She stood up, her back to him still, and she looked up into the sky. Her hood fell back, revealing her soft, round, unsmiling face under the glow of the full moon.

He reached out for her with an almost instinctive motion that he found to be mentally unhinging. She flinched under his grasp, but she turned around nevertheless.

"Don't," she breathed, and he could see the wisps of vapour from her breath.

"Don't what?"

She smelled like Ogden's and cigarettes, and he found it disturbing that he couldn't smell Her through the fog of it. He pulled her towards him, and slowly leaned down to bury his face into the crook of her neck, burrowing himself into her hair. He breathed in. There she was, that soft sweet smell that made his blood rush to his head. She shivered under him, and he tightened his grip on her as though afraid she'd disappear. He kissed her neck, nibbling her skin, unable to help himself from taking a small bite. She let out a moan, and he slid one hand into her hair so that he could see her face. She stared at him, wide-eyed like a unicorn fawn, and trembling just as much.

"Don't, Cassius," she said, and he hated it, hated, hated, hated how gentle his name sounded when she said it. He kissed her, and they were both unhappy for it, but unable to stop.

Alicia was horrified by her inability to pull away, and by the familiarity of his taste, even under the mask of Ogden's and smoke. His hands had pulled open her robes and he'd drawn her up against him, as his cold hands worked their way up under her shirt, causing her to break out into goosebumps as he feverishly nibbled his way down her jaw to her collarbones.

"What do you want, Alicia?" he whispered hoarsely, tugging gently on her hair so that her head was cocked back, forcing her to look up at him. She let out an involuntary moan, and his face broke out into a wicked grin. "You like that?" he said coarsely, giving her hair another gentle tug. Another choked moan. He felt a rush of blood descend to his groin. Suddenly, he slowly pushed her forwards, still holding her gently by the hair, so that she had to brace herself against the bleachers with her hands.

Alicia had never felt so... so... so what? She couldn't put a word to it, but her heart beat loudly, strongly, so much so that she feared she would choke on it, and her legs trembled in anticipation (for what?), and for some reason the usual flush of embarrassment hadn't come. Maybe it was the whiskey (it was definitely the whiskey) or maybe it was the cold (doubtful), but something made her shiver in excitement, made her feel downright... wicked. She felt one of Cassius' hands snake around her front, sliding under her robes and coming to a firm rest on the small of her back as he pressed himself up against her. He leaned forward, and whispered into her ear, "Bend your back - like that - fuck, you like that, Alicia?" He ran his hand down over her skirt until he reached her bare skin. "Keep your back bent," he said, sounding stricter than he'd meant to. But she obeyed, bent her back in and tilted her hips up into his hands without hesitation. Merlin's fucking balls, the girl actually obeyed.

She let out a squeal of surprise as his hand suddenly laid down a sharp slap over her ass. He couldn't help it, hadn't even thought about it; the second his hand had slid up under her skirt and he'd discovered with pleasure and great surprise the hot smoothness of her naked skin against his palms instead of the fabric he'd been expecting, something in him had snapped. He was hard against her, and Alicia rocked back against him from the shocking impact of his hand, the sharp sound of his callused palm meeting her own soft skin still ringing in her ears. He let out a half-moan, half grunt as a low hum of shock and delight escaped from her lips. "Like that, did you, you dirty girl?" he said in an amused voice, pulling her upright against him, gripping her tightly enough to leave marks, back against his chest. She felt a full-blown blush rise to her face as she realized what had just occurred. She wasn't that drunk. "Where are your knickers then?" he murmured into her ear, fingers caressing her thigh through the gap in her robes. She didn't reply, too distracted by his wandering hand, too distracted by the tingling, rushing of her blood, his warmth, his smell, the stiffness that pressed against her bottom despite his pants, her robes and her skirt in between them. He forced himself to calm his erratic heartbeat as he slowly let his fingers trail up, up, up to where it mattered most. He let out a harsh breath when his hand brushed against the cool damp satin of what was evidently a thong. His fingers trailed back down in semi-disappointment. If only she'd been naked under there like he'd thought... but then what? Then they would have fucked, and then he would be even more lost than he already was. This was a dangerous game he was playing, and he hadn't yet figured out the rules. Or rather, he hadn't yet figured out how to circumvent them.

"I can't believe you spanked me," she said, staring off towards the goal posts at the opposite end of the stadium, after his hand had drifted away and his grip on her loosened, replaced by a heavy silence. Alicia wasn't sure if she was disappointed he hadn't continued his explorations, or relieved.

"Are you mad at me?" he asked curiously, his chin resting on her head.

"No," she whispered, unhappy at her own truthfulness. "No, I - nobody's ever done that before," she admitted. He raised an eyebrow.

"Well they're missing out," he said seriously, though with a glint of humour in his voice. "You have a great ass, Spinnet."

"Back to Spinnet, then, Warrington?" she said ruefully, detangling herself from his grasp.

"You'll always be Spinnet," he said, his voice suddenly curt, picking up the jar of bluebell flames as well as her book bag, which he handed to her. The moment had ended, but - well, not badly. All quiet on the front. For now. He picked up his own bag, then looked around to make sure he'd left nothing behind. He caught a glimpse of his pack of Chasers on the floor. He didn't bother to pick them up.

"I don't really hate you," she said suddenly, as they made their way indoors.

"Don't let anyone hear you say that," he said seriously, turning to look her in the eye.

"Right. Warrington. I hate your guts," she said as tonelessly as she could, mimicking the blank expression on his face.

He shut his eyes. His migraine had come back, tenfold. Punishment, it was punishment for drinking again and so soon, for sitting out in the cold, for engaging in illicit activities with somebody with whom he shouldn't have been on a first-name basis. She sped up so that she was walking ahead of him, steps light and quick as she hurried down the corridor.

"Alicia. Spinnet. Spinnet!" For fuck's sake, he reprimanded himself, her name is Spinnet. Spinnet.

"What?" she said without turning around.

"Don't hang out with Bishop anymore," he said, unable to come up with anything better to say.

She laughed sarcastically, stopping to look at him, and he felt like a fool.

"And why not? What did I tell you about my personal life?" she said, her voice on edge.

"Who said anything about your personal life?" he snapped. "I meant for the assignment. It's only going to get more complicated. And we're going to have to start getting together once we have to start applying Arithmancy. And - fuck Bishop, I'm your partner, for all you know he's bloody sabotaging us. Wouldn't put it past him, bloody Ravenclaw prick."

"In fact," he muttered, "Just... fuck Bishop."

"Cassius," she said softly, because she knew he wasn't freaking out about the assignment. "Just leave it alone."

He felt himself tense, because she was right, and because he was angry. He was angry because he wanted a say in her life, some sort of control over just who she laughed with and smiled with and danced with; he was angry because of the way she murmured Cassius with none of the disgust with which she spit out Warrington like gum to be stepped on in the street; and mostly, he was angry because he was angry.

He inhaled sharply and drew himself up to his full height. She was a tiny thing, all soft and round where he was hard planes and edges. It made his stomach churn to see her look up at him with her big eyes, baring all her emotions for the world to see as though there weren't snakes slithering around waiting to bite at any sign of weakness.

He could crush her right now for the way she was looking at him. She shouldn't have been looking at him like that. Those eyes weren't meant to look at him with softness, so pleadingly. Pleading for what? Those eyes should have been narrowed to slits, glinting with disgust and with loathing. That wasn't Spinnet staring up at him, that was Alicia. This was the girl who joked with her friends and who lavished them with hugs and laughter. This was not the girl who could take a hit on the pitch and knock a bloke where it hurt for being in her way. This was not the girl who knew so many hexes it was scary. It was like peeking through a keyhole and seeing something forbidden, yet here she was staring at him, out in the open for all to see. Anybody could pass by and see her looking at him like that, feel the tension thick in the air.

"Curfew!" somebody's voice reverberated from a distance, pulling him back into reality.

"We're not friends, Spinnet," Cassius said finally, urgently, pretending that her wide eyes weren't burning holes into his face, because she needed to understand. "We are not friends," he repeated again, more firmly, though he secretly wondered if it was for her benefit or for his that he did so. She gave him a strange smile that made him uneasy.

"No, we're not, are we?" she mused.

No. No we. There was no we. Not here, not in this corridor, where they could hear prefects ushering straggling students to their common rooms, over loud complaints and the sounds of stomping feet. Here, in this corridor, it was Spinnet and Warrington, Gryffindor and Slytherin, enemies, reluctant partners, rivals. Here, in this damnably public corridor, Cassius could not reach out and pull her up against him, he could not bury his face into the crook of her neck and breathe in the soft, sweet smell of her skin, he could not push her up against the wall and run his hand over her plush behind, whispering filth into her ear as she squirmed up against him as he would have liked.

She was walking away now, shrugging off her robes to reveal that damned skirt, and all he could think was that not even half an hour ago, she'd been bent over for him in the Slytherin stands, back arched under his hand, as he'd laid down a firm smack on that ass of hers. She was walking away from him now, no longer Alicia, but Spinnet, Spinnet who laughed with her friends and threw jinxes and insults at her enemies with the same well-timed precision she was known for in quidditch.

Cassius breathed deeply, shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his robes, his fingers searching, brushing the cool metal of his grandfather's flask, until he remembered that he'd left his pack of Chasers behind in the stands, just like they'd left behind Cassius and Alicia.

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Also, check out my C2:

community/Chasers-Overcoming-Rivlary-Gryffindor-Slytherin/33416/

Basically it's a compilation of as many Alicia-Warrington; Katie-Marcus; Angelina-Montague fics that I've been able to find, if you guys are interested.

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