Better Be Slytherin
I
It Had Better be Slytherin!
"Welcome, students," said Amycus, who was leaning against his desk, surveying them like a hawk when they took their places. "Firstly, I want your Inferi essays back."
He waved his wand lazily and rolls of parchment came flying towards him. Goyle shrunk subtly in his seat. Amycus pretended not to notice there had been an essay too few from the Slytherin table, but he definitely noticed there was one lacking from the Gryffindor one.
He narrowed his eyes and said, "Longbottom! Your essay seems to be missing."
Everyone turned to look at Neville Longbottom, who looked defiant. "I haven't had time to write it."
"You'll address me as sir, or Professor."
"I haven't had time, Professor."
"Well, that certainly won't do," said Amycus with a small smile. "No, that most definitely won't do, Longbottom! Detention!"
Longbottom sighed irritably, "If you've forgotten, I've been in detention every night for the past two weeks, which is why I haven't had time to write it."
"And if you stop misbehaving you won't land yourself in detention!" Amycus was now shouting.
"Just because I stand up for the first years that are being tortured by you and your sister!" Longbottom yelled back, his face now wildly red.
"Punishment, Longbottom!"
The Gryffindors and Ravenclaws shouted their protests, but Amycus pointed his wand at Longbottom who angrily got to the front of the classroom. Instead of the usual Cruciatus Curse, Amycus punched him in the face. They could hear his jaw crack, and Longbottom stumbled into a desk.
A loud disgusted gasp was heard at the Slytherin table, and Draco's attention shot there at once. It was Pansy. She'd turned her head away not to see, and was swallowing hard, her eyes closed.
Several of the Gryffindors and Ravenclaws had turned to look too. Draco's heart started beating faster. It was suddenly very silent. Amycus stopped and slowly looked up at Pansy instead. There was a moment where Amycus stared at Pansy, the whole class holding a breath, while Pansy didn't notice.
Then, he tossed Longbottom to the side and said, "You don't like what it is I'm doing then, miss Parkinson?"
Pansy looked up and slowly turned back, very apprehensive. The two stared at each other, and then Amycus suddenly yelled, "Then maybe you should come up here and do it yourself! If you've actually got any pure blood in you!"
Pansy opened her mouth but didn't say anything. She glanced around, swallowed and rose. Draco felt a slight annoyance that she couldn't act as well as he could and just keep her mouth shut.
"That's right, you do it instead. Give him a Crucio, go on..."
Amycus looked like he was rather enjoying it. Nobody else looked amused – the whole class sat quiet as mice, shocked and scared, except from Crabbe who had his usual smirk. They weren't used to someone as Pureblood and high-ranking as Pansy being challenged. Greengrass and Wilkes sent each other unsure looks. Nott was frowning.
Pansy's face was screwed up in apparent discomfort as she pulled out her wand and pointed it to Longbottom who was bent over clutching his face. Amycus smiled widely showing his uneven teeth. "Go on."
"Crucio," said Pansy in a shivering voice. Nothing happened.
Amycus looked fierce. "You need to ruddy mean it! Or it won't happen!"
Pansy tore her eyes off Longbottom and daringly looked up into Amycus' face, feigning confidence. "Do you really want me spilling pure blood, Professor?"
Amycus looked vaguely surprised for a moment and then he smiled evilly. "Well, choose whoever you like, girly!" he said, waving an arm over the class. He sniggered.
When Pansy slowly turned to look out over the class, her fear was obvious for everyone to see. Draco was torn between wanting to help her and being annoyed with her for not playing it cooler. She brought herself up there. Her eyes darted over the class and her gaze lingered at Draco desperately, but he knew she had no choice, and what was he supposed to do?
He'd felt this way for ages and not shown it – she'd felt this way for two days and was already spilling the beans. Pansy shouldn't have brought this upon herself; it put them both in a difficult situation.
"Sir," he began, protesting slowly, feeling obliged to. "Perhaps someone else could do it; I'm not sure Pansy—"
"I've said I want her to do it!" Amycus snapped. "Don't question me, Malfoy; you're not going to take the hit for your precious girlfriend this time all righ'..."
"I'm merely suggest—"
"Silence! I'm the ruddy teacher here, aren't I? Another word from you and you'll have landed yourself in detention every night until this term ends."
"You can't do that, Professor, I'm Head Boy. I'll speak to Professor Snape—"
"Shut up, boy!" Amycus roared. "Detention!"
"Draco, it's fine, I'll do it," Pansy said quickly. She didn't want him to sacrifice himself. "No need for detention, Professor, I'm doing it."
Amycus licked his lips and tapped his wand against the wood surface of desk. "Now go on! We don't have all day, do we, missy."
She picked someone at random. Pansy swallowed and said, "Him". She nodded towards someone in the far back of the classroom. Everyone turned. Terry Boot was staring appalled back at Pansy.
The Ravenclaws and Gryffindors broke into protests at once. "He's not done anything!"
"You can't possibly—!"
But Amycus merely barked, "Shut up, you bloody kids! Be happy it's not you instead!"
The pupils fell silent although some were still clinging onto Boot as if to stop him, or protect him. One of the Ravenclaw girls had tears in her eyes.
"Boot, get up here!"
The Ravenclaws were tugging on his arms but surprisingly he made his way through the classroom and came up to Pansy at the front.
Daphne Greengrass caught Draco's eyes, and he felt as though she wanted him to do something but what could he do? He avoided her gaze, but she wouldn't look away. He glanced to his left instead, where Blaise and Theodore were frowning unsurely.
Boot's eyes didn't leave Pansy; he looked- at her, disgusted.
"Bitch," Boot breathed so only Pansy could hear. It angered her but not to the point where she felt like she could do this to him.
Pansy and Boot stood face to face and stared, and then Pansy raised her quivering arm.
"Oh, no no no," came Amycus' amused voice, "That's not how I want it happening. Boot, get on your knees. By our feet, you Mudblood, it's where you belong."
If looks could kill, Amycus would be dead. Reluctantly, his jaw trembling in suppressed fury, Boot got to his knees.
Amycus laughed. "Now do him."
"Crucio!" said Pansy quickly, her voice louder, but still nothing happened. Amycus frowned expectantly at her. "Just have to warm up..." mumbled Pansy.
"Crucio!" she shouted. Nothing happened. "Bloody Crucio!" she was waving her wand furiously now. Draco cringed watching. Then she turned to Amycus. "It doesn't work, sir, you have to mean it."
The Gryffindors and Ravenclaws fell silent. Draco licked his lips nervously. Crabbe's eyes were narrowing suspiciously now. Amycus stared at her for a second and then, "IDIOT GIRL! Just mean it then! Why don't you mean it then?!"
Pansy started backwards, not used to being shouted at, Draco was sure. Then she collected herself and now her face was completely different – contemptuous, insulted, angered, consequence-less.
"Because I don't take pleasure in hurting innocent kids like us."
The class was deadly silent. Everyone was staring at Pansy and Professor Carrow, the latter looking absolutely shocked, that a Slytherin would've said something like that.
Then, with a whoosh of air, his hand collided with her face. He'd slapped her. Pansy shrieked and turned away clutching his cheek. Draco, Nott, Greengrass, Wilkes, Goyle and Bulstrode sprang to their feet.
"INNONCENT?! INNOCENT?! THEY'RE STEALING THEIR POWERS FROM DECENT WIZARDS, PARKINSON! THEY WANT TO DILUTE OUR BLOOD! THEY'RE DIRTY AND UNWORTHY AND THEY'RE STEALING OUR POWERS AND DILUTING OUR BLOOD!"
"I haven't stolen anything!" Boot shouted, encouraged by Pansy. "I'm Half-blood!" He was standing up now, and they were both moving away from Amycus. The Ravenclaws were talking over each other.
"I did not expect that from you, Parkinson, no I did not expect that from you!" Amycus was roaring, "You're going to be in detention until you take your NEWTs, Parkinson! Surely you should know the value of—"
"Piss off."
The whole class gasped. The words coming out of Pansy's bleeding mouth was so unexpected that even though they were low, Amycus trailed off and gasped for air. "What did you say to me?" he hissed.
"Pansy come here now," Draco hissed dangerously and he reached out to grab her arm to force her back to the table. She was getting out of control and he had to rectify the situation.
Everyone was staring at them. Crabbe's mouth was hanging open. Pansy pulled her arm out of Draco's grip but backed away to the Slytherins. "I said piss off, nobody hits me. I'm writing to my father about this."
Amycus' eyes looked like they were about to pop from their sockets. "How dare you speak to me like that? Apologise!"
Pansy just stood between Goyle and Draco, her arms crossed and said nothing.
"I thought you supported the Dark Lord. I THOUGHT YOU ALL WANTED TO JOIN HIM!" He looked around widely at all the Slytherins.
"It's not about that," boomed Millicent Bulstrode, "It's about you!"
The Ravenclaws and Gryffindors were so shocked they didn't speak. They just stared.
"DETENTION, MISS BULSTRODE!" he roared, "I'm here on the Dark Lord's orders – if you're not prepared to do something as easy as putting the Crucio on a Mudblood, how will you get by when you're serving the Dark Lord?!"
Annoyed at Pansy for making him feel obligated to do this, he finally spoke up, calmly. "You're not the Dark Lord, Amycus. So stick to your teaching."
"You as well, Malfoy?"
Draco looked firmly back at him. He despised Amycus but he didn't want to do this. He'd been acting for so long and he'd just about managed a whole year, and now Pansy was ruining it. But he had to.
"Well, I'd trust you to wimp out," Amycus sneered. "Isn't that what you did last summer, when you were supposed to kill Albus Dumbledore?"
The Gryffindor and Ravenclaws gasped.
"Well, who cares about you anyway, you little prick, you're finished. As is your father."
Draco swallowed but he had to try to save his skin. "This has nothing to do with me or my father. I don't appreciate you assaulting the Head Girl and I'll definitely be speaking to Snape."
"DETENTION, MALFOY!" Amycus stumbled, seemingly breathless and red in the face. "Now, get out of here before I let you have a taste of the Cruciatus curse, all of you!"
Two and a half years earlier
Pansy Parkinson pushed open the door to the compartment Draco Malfoy, Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle were occupying and stepped inside with a smug expression on her face. "Hello, boys."
The three turned and looked at her. She noted that Crabbe's eyes lingered on her chest for a moment, eyebrows slightly raised. Goyle muttered a simple "hiya" and returned to his comics. Malfoy immediately tilted his head slightly to one side and smirked at her. "All right, Pans?"
His eyes travelled down to her chest, where her Prefect badge was.
Malfoy, who had an identical copy of the badge on his own robe, gave a sort-of laugh and exclaimed, "I knew you'd get it! Let me see…"
He beckoned her towards him. She smiled contently. She hadn't doubted for a second that he had become the second Prefect in their house. Malfoy was the clear favourite student of their Head of House, not to mention how Snape was a long-time confidante of Draco's father, who suitably enough was on the school board. Given that, it wasn't surprising that Pansy had been chosen as the second Prefect, as in Snape's words "Mr. Malfoy and Miss Parkinson cooperate nicely and possess all the right values".
The compartment door slid close behind her as she went to sit next to Malfoy, who immediately fixed her badge where it was on her chest. "We're going to do Prefect duties together now, just imagine it; we can boss everyone around... I knew you'd get it..."
"Yeah, honestly, it'll be brilliant!"
Malfoy was now done re-attaching the badge onto her robe and had looked up at her. "Do you reckon Potter's got one?" he asked.
"Probably," she said, rolling her eyes. "He is Dumbledore's pet, after all."
Malfoy looked away in thought, as he muttered: "You're probably right, yeah... He's The-Boy-Who-Lived – `course he had to get picked."
Before she could taunt him about his longstanding enmity with the Boy Wonder, Malfoy's face lit up into a big smirk, with his eyes still focused on something on the floor before them and he spoke again. "But if he doesn't get picked..."
Pansy looked at him and started smirking as well.
"Then I'll be able to take points from him, won't I?" continued Malfoy, as if he'd just found a way to really improve his life. "And then he wouldn't be able to say anything back because I'd get him detention for being disrespectful towards a Prefect." On that last remark, he popped out his chest a bit, looking satisfied.
Malfoy turned to her slowly and as their eyes met, they both broke into laughter.
Encouraged by the conversation, Draco decided to pay a little visit to one Harry Potter as soon as Pansy had sauntered off back to the compartment her gang of girls were occupying. Making his way along the corridor of the train with Crabbe and Goyle by his sides, he began smirking, thinking of what to say that would aggravate Potter and his friends the most. He gave a snort-laugh when they found the right compartment and pushed the sliding doors open.
Before he had time to say anything, however, Potter snapped, "What do you want?"
He raised one eyebrow, mildly surprised. Potter thought he'd become a big man over the summer, did he? He probably just wanted to show off for the Mudblood Granger or the youngest Weasley spawn.
"Manners, Potter, or I'll have to give you detention," Draco countered. "You see, I, unlike you, have been made a Prefect, which means that I, unlike you, have the power to hand out punishments."
"Yeah," said Potter, "but you, unlike me, are a git, so get out and leave us alone."
Potter's pathetic little friends began laughing at once. Draco sneered. Was that the best he could come up with – "git"?
"Tell me, how does it feel being second-best to Weasley, Potter?" he asked, immediately knowing he'd won.
"Shut up, Malfoy," said the Mudblood sharply. Draco didn't even bother to look at her.
"I seem to have touched a nerve," said Draco, smirking, focusing his eyes on Potter. "Well, just watch yourself, Potter, because I'll be dogging your footsteps in case you step out of line."
"Get out!" The Mudblood rose. With one last mischievous look at Potter, he left the compartment, followed by Crabbe and Goyle, feeling more pleased than ever. Even if Potter was set on not letting Draco get to him this year, Draco would have to see to that.
The sky outside of the compartment window grew darker into dusk as Theodore Nott read today's copy of The Evening Prophet. Everything was at peace as he did this, sitting alone with just his toad, Margaret, in the dimly lit compartment, with the landscape rushing past outside the window. He knew toads had gone out of fashion years ago – all the other students had cats or owls – but he liked her.
The train made a sudden turn, making the lanterns swing and his trunk move slightly. Scottish countryside whooshed past outside the window. Theodore could see himself and the setting inside of the compartment reflected in the dark window glass.
The combination of his comfortable seat, the muffled sounds of other students' voices from the neighbouring compartments and the dull light made him progressively sleepier. The newspaper slowly slid through his grip as his eyes closed. But then...
BANG! The compartment door was roughly pushed open, making Theodore jump. He was now staring up at the tall and sturdy Blaise Zabini who began pushing his trunk inside.
"You mind if I sit here, mate?" he said, with a voice that had gotten much deeper over the summer , but he didn't wait for an answer. Theodore sat up straighter and collected himself, rubbing his face.
"All the other compartments are full," commented Zabini, as he slung his trunk up on the luggage rack easily. "Well, except for Malfoy's – but who'd want to sit in there? I mean the company'd make me want to hurt myself."
Zabini sank down into the seat opposite Theodore, who snorted. "Crabbe and Goyle eh?" he said in a knowing sort of tone, wrinkling his nose.
"Parkinson as well," sniggered Zabini. "That ditzy cow just gets worse every year." Pansy was the obvious leader of a small gang of girls in their House and liked to mock people. Theodore privately didn't think she was so bad, although he despised Crabbe and Goyle, Draco's brainless brutes.
"Well..." said Theodore after a moment of silence. "Had a nice holiday?"
Zabini shrugged and half-rolled his eyes, "I suppose."
Zabini wasn't really one to share personal experiences. Theodore didn't really mind the silence either, which was probably why Zabini was the closest thing he had to a friend. He supposed he was sort of friends with Malfoy too, they'd grown up together after all, because their fathers were "business acquaintances" – but Theodore had always been slightly jealous of Malfoy when they were little – he was spoilt and rude and lived in a big manor and he'd had all the toys Theodore wanted back then. Draco was still the same drama queen. Theodore himself grew up in a small rural cottage in Norfolk with a very absent father and a mother who he could barely remember these days.
Finally, when the sky was dark blue and scattered with stars, the train slowed down and stopped at Hogsmeade station. There was a slight ruckus when they grabbed their trunks and pushed their way out into the already crowded corridor, but Theodore simply followed in Zabini's confident tracks, and they were soon out on the platform.
Pansy was shivering in the cold. Even though the platform was packed with students, there was a biting cold in the air. The wind went through the branches of the high trees beside the station and she wrapped her school robes closer around her. It was oddly cold for this time of year. The atmosphere was high, though – there was an excitement in the air to get up to the castle.
"Where's Gryffindor Golden Boy, then?" Malfoy had teased Ron Weasley as soon as he saw him at the Prefects' meeting on the train, even though they'd already pestered Potter. Weasley had simply rolled his eyes. "Well, congrats, Weasley," Malfoy had commented hastily, "on finally beating Potter in something, that is." It had made Pansy laugh loudly.
All the students were trying to get a carriage – the first ones had just arrived. Malfoy, further ahead, was pushing some tiny Hufflepuffs out of his way. Pansy noticed he'd grown taller over the summer. Interesting. She tried pushing through the crowd but she was a smaller than most of her peers, so instead she barked at Crabbe to "Get my trunk!" while Goyle walked straight into her. She sent him a glare, and he smiled apologetically before pushing through the crowd to make way. She followed in his wake to the awaiting carriage. Draco held out a hand for her to assist her into the carriage, and then he carried on making mocking impressions of Potter for the rest of the ride up to the castle. Her Daphne Greengrass and Tracey Davis laughed uncontrollably – she really had the funniest friends in the world.
The first thing that Draco noticed after getting settled in at the Slytherin table in the Great Hall, was the absence of a certain Professor at the staff table.
"That great of Hagrid isn't here," he commented loudly to his classmates. "Not sure why the old tosspot thought it a good idea to hire an animal like that in the first place though…"
"Just proves how low the standards of this school are," Pansy said, rolling her eyes.
"Potter seems to have noticed," said Draco, mildly satisfied, as he glanced over towards the Gryffindor table where the Golden Trio were anxiously searching for their half breed friend. "Probably heartbroken his beloved half-giant pal isn't here to welcome him. Serves him right, the Blood-traitor."
He was halfway through his meal of steak and kidney pie with roast potatoes (never as good as at Malfoy manor, the House-Elves just didn't put in as much effort here), when Dumbledore's start of term speech was interrupted. To be fair, they'd all heard his speeches a hundred times and could probably recite them by heart, so this wasn't necessarily an unwelcome interruption. A toad-like, pink-wearing Ministry of Magic-employed woman had gotten up to tell them all about how Hogwarts was going to change this year. The nerve of her, it was almost impressive. No one had ever defied Dumbledore before.
It would be great indeed if someone were to improve the manners of how the school was run, but Draco thought sceptically that he'd have to see her in action before he could make any judgements.
He noticed Theodore Nott looking disapprovingly at their new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher during her speech. Blaise Zabini seemed utterly uninterested; Crabbe and Goyle too slow to care.
"What do you reckon?" he asked Pansy at his side, under his breath, nodding towards the woman in her fuzzy cardigan.
Pansy looked at her with a hint of disgust. "She needs a new wardrobe," she said, making Daphne Greengrass and Queenie Wilkes snigger, and it seemed to resolve the matter as nobody said anything about it after that.
After leading first years down to the common room (bloody Prefect badge, Draco thought), and sternly letting them know not to lose any house points and to follow the rules (official and unwritten), he, Crabbe and Goyle slung themselves down into the sofas by the fireplace – their usual spot. Everyone knew that these seats belonged to them, unless of course Graham Montague and Miles Bletchley were around. They were older, bigger and more authoritative after all. They spent the rest of the evening complaining about being back at school, although a part of him couldn't deny enjoying it too.
Their first lesson with Umbridge were quite different indeed from their previous experience. After years of being taught by werewolves, Death Eaters in disguise and other unfit teachers, it was surprisingly settled and easy. They were only tasked to read Defensive Magical Theory and their new Professor explained how they wouldn't need to learn to use spells, which caused an argument between her and the pretentious Gryffindors. Fine, Umbridge didn't seem as sugary sweet as she tried to make herself out to be but the Gryffindors were overreacting. Draco scoffed. Why would teenagers need to learn to duel? Ridiculous.
"Do you think Potter is actually a nutter or is he telling the truth?" Daphne Greengrass asked Pansy on the way out of the lesson. "About the Dark Lord returning and killing pretty boy Diggory."
Draco scoffed, as if Pansy had any clue on the matter.
"I don't know, what do you think Draco?"
Draco smirked. He loved knowing more than his peers. But naturally he had to lie. Top secret stuff.
"Of course he's a nutter, what have I always said?"
He stole a glance at Theodore, who kept a passive front during the exchange. Did he know too? Or had Lucius shared more with his son than Albert had with his?
The next evening, they were to have a small party in the Slytherin common room; Malfoy's idea, naturally. Apparently he reckoned school had not gotten "serious" yet so it was perfect to let off some steam. Greg wasn't as keen on the plan as his housemates were – he never had fun at their parties, he just sat there sipping on a Butterbeer speaking to only Crabbe. But he followed Malfoy's wishes as usual.
There was a secret way out from Hogwarts behind a portrait of Gregory the Smarmy in the end of the seventh floor corridor. When Pansy saw it, she grinned evilly.
"Haha, Gregory the Smarmy, isn't that you, Goyle?" she commented.
Malfoy sniggered, and Zabini gave a small crooked smile, his eyes glimmering scornfully.
Greg didn't reply. Without haughty Zabini around, the mood between them was normally not too bad, but whenever Zabini was with them, Malfoy had that competitive attitude as if he had to show Zabini his right place, and so he took it out on Greg through sarcastic comments, and Pansy did the same.
He and Crabbe were to stand guard by the entrance whilst Malfoy and Pansy got the Firewhiskey. He hadn't a clue how they did this as they weren't seventeen yet, but he didn't ask questions, he was used to following Malfoy around. His Death Eater father had told him early that the easiest way to get what he wanted would be to stick with Malfoy. And he'd been raised to obey. If Malfoy liked Umbridge, Greg would too. He had faith in Malfoy.
That evening the common room was unusually warm for being positioned down in the dungeons. The Weird Sisters' music was playing loudly on the gramophone, some Slytherins including Pansy's gang of girls were up dancing in the greenish light, and a few upperclassmen were snogging in the sofas.
Greg was sat with Crabbe, Miles Bletchley and Caecus Warrington dully sipping Butterbeer when Slytherin Quidditch team captain, Graham Montague, threw himself into the armchair next to them.
"What are you doing sitting here, you twats? I saw you chatting some fat bird up, Goyle," he was slightly sneering. "Well done, you're more likely to get some from someone like that, aren't you, I mean, when you look like you."
"Fuck off Montague."
He'd only exchanged a couple of words with Millicent Bulstrode about Snape's essay, and anyway Montague wasn't exactly one to pass judgements on firm builds, but Greg didn't have to make that big of an effort to ignore the comment because Malfoy, Zabini and Adrian Pucey just arrived and Montague's attention was transferred. The older lads went on as they always did.
"Who's looking fit tonight then?" asked Pucey.
"Daphne Greengrass, always," said Bletchley.
"I'd give my right pinkie to have a go on her," said Pucey.
"You'd never stand a chance, you tosser," said Montague.
Greg cringed.
"That Grace Lynch-Nutley is the best looking one out of all of them, though," said Bletchley.
"Pansy Parkinson is a bit of me," said Pucey.
"She's well fit, isn't she," said Warrington, grinning. "Not necessarily her face, but her body… I'd have a go on her."
Warrington looked over at Pansy and gave a small whistle. Greg noticed that Malfoy was glaring disapprovingly at Warrington, who didn't notice at all, but Malfoy kept his mouth shut and looked away, apparently adopting a passive role in the topic.
Pansy was on the other side of the room with her girlfriends. Warrington winked at her, Pansy grinned and gave him a slightly flirty look. Greg wondered if any girl would ever flirt with him. Probably not. He looked at Millicent who was stood next to Pansy, Daphne, Queenie and Tracey drinking her Butterbeer, not dancing. She was the only girl who bothered to speak to him. If he hadn't been so busy thinking about girls he might've noticed Malfoy's face expression when Pansy gave Warrington that look.
"Where's my Butterbeer gone?" asked Warrington angrily when he turned back.
"Why don't you go and try and pull a bird, Greg," said Bletchley, laughing loudly. Greg sent him a glare. He knew they only wanted him to be rejected for their entertainment.
"Sod off."
"Just go talk to one of them," said Warrington.
"No."
"What about her?" said Malfoy and jerked his head in the general direction of Astoria Greengrass.
"Yeah, go on, go have a chat with her!"
"I said no," he grunted.
"She's fit," said Bletchley.
"She's like fourteen," said Greg.
"Only a year younger than us," Malfoy pointed out.
"And," grinned Vaisey, another teammate. "Looks like she's had quite a bit to drink as well, so you might just get lucky."
"You're disgusting," Greg said.
"I'll do it," said Montague, and downed the rest of his Firewhiskey and got up.
"Go get her, mate," said Warrington laughing.
Malfoy was sipping his Fire Whiskey in his armchair, watching Montague, looking rather content with life.
"Get the buggering hell away from me, you filth!" Astoria Greengrass exclaimed at Montague as soon as he'd approached her.
Unsurprisingly, the lads were completely wrapped up in their fits of laughter when he returned. Malfoy was lying on the floor clutching his stomach, laughing. Even haughty Zabini had a small crooked smile on his lips. Greg too gave an amused smiled.
"That's all right," said Vaisey when the laughing had subsided. "I've shagged her before."
"Nobody believes that, Vaisey."
"She's fourteen, and she won't even speak to boys."
"Plus, Daphne would never let anything happen to her sister."
Greg concluded most of his friends were a bunch of liars and snakes. But then again, maybe all teenaged boys were.
