Harry awoke at exactly six the next morning as a harsh sounding siren filled the Room. Opening his eyes slowly, he found Daphne nestled into his body, his right arm handing limply over her chest and his morning erection pressing against the warm flesh of Daphne's ass. The siren immediately stopped, and Daphne too awoke, yawning and turning towards Harry, a smile glowing across her face and awe in her eyes.
She ground herself into Harry's growing bulge, and Harry grinned lazily thinking about the night's events. "Not now Daph," Harry whispered. "Time to get you back to the snake pit." Just as the disappointment reached her eyes, Harry continued. "Suppose I've got time for a quickie – just to make sure that trick of your tongue wasn't a one time thing."
Daphne wasn't satisfied, and her desire for more…conjoining activities was obvious, but she did not hesitate to slide herself down Harry's body, stopping as her faced approached his crotch. Maintaining eye contact, she took one hand off his stomach and began to play with his balls, grazing them with her fingers before fondling them with a greater force.
She began to play with his head with her tongue. "Hmmph", Harry grunted. "Got a game for us pet." He mumbled, "If you can bring me off in under five minutes, I'll return the favor before we leave. Removing one of his hands from Daphne's hair, Harry grabbed his wand and managed to stuttered "Video Tempo".
Immediately, a counter appeared above him, counting up the seconds. Nodding his head, Harry then fell down, prepared to begin his next game with his precious toy.
Daphne, to her credit, recognized the power play and did everything in her power to win this little match. Oh, her servitude to her master was undisputed, but is was obvious that it was her fierce independent and competitive nature that had brought her the honor of her current position, and she had no intention or desire to stop now.
She began to consume him greedily; her cheeks hollow and she lapped and sucked in a determined effort to make her master come within the allotted time. Pushing herself further down her shaft, she drew herself to her limits – thrusting her nose deep within his pubic hair as her throat muscles squeezed his pulsing member. She was confident she could pull this off, for as…equipped and energetic as her master was, he was as new as this as she, and in this tiny endeavor she could gain some small prize.
She almost succeeded, and in truth it was Harry's burning need to win more than anything else that determined the outcome. Harry watched with faraway eyes as the timer indicated a second over the limit had passed.
At that moment, Harry allowed himself to come, and as Daphne swallowed his seed, he attempted to bring himself back under control. Finally, he looked at the girl with a face of mock sympathy. "Sorry Daph – maybe next time if you're a good girl."
Daphne pouted, and for a moment Harry thought she would outright defy him. The thought threatened to make him hard again. She did not – in the end she merely sighed, and following Harry's lead, began to redress herself. With a chaste kiss that opposed all the previous actions of the night, Harry walked out the room, howling with joy inside his head. Daphne Greengrass, the Wicked Slytherin Witch of East Anglia was totally, indiscriminately, and undoubtedly his – and he knew she would be the first of many.
Despite my morning foray with Daphne, I still make it back to the common room by six thirty. Normally I'd have another hour in bed before heading down to breakfast, but a quick snooze isn't going to make any difference – once I get off this high I'm going to be exhausted all day. It's probably best if I go ahead and shower – wouldn't do to have Angelina seeing me when I'm smelling of sex.
Thatin itself requires a master piece of acting. Angelina comes down into the common room at seven, just as I've come out the showers and am lying down on one of the many sofas in the room. She immediately babbles out an apology, explaining she had been caught by Filch and just feltawfulwhen she found that I was no longer in the Gryffindor Room. I think she believes I'm going to blow up and dump her after three days.
She's pathetic really. So high strung over exams and quidditch that she's insecure talking to a boy two years younger than her with knobby knees. Mind you, I've got a reason to feel a bit cocky this morning. But I smile, say I understand, and had just been worried thatshewasn't interested in /me/. Like I said, pathetic.
Malfoy made it back to Charms today, all limbs and digits attached. Good thing too, everyone was so busy glancing at the little ferret that no one notices the satisfied dozing faces Daphne and I both are sporting. I can't really blame the 'Puffs for being clueless – I honestly think when I get around to claiming any of them…Hannah perhaps, she'll have to have my fucking mark explained to her twice overafterit's on her sodding chest.
But the Slytherins, fuck for a house that's supposed to exhibit guile and cunning they more often than not show a level of tact comparable to Hagrid. Malfoy's already bitching about not being able to hold his wand properly, and having Ernie do the day's assignment for him. Fucking pansy. Ernie that is, not Draco. Draco's a tosspot. There's a difference.
The week passed quickly for Harry, and he soon found himself sitting in Friday's Double Potions, working through the first phase of the blood replenishing solution. Much to his displeasure, Slughorn had decided that the class ought to "follow Harry's fine example", and had rearranged the class into partnerships consisting of both houses.
Malfoy, much to Harry's astonishment, had asked if he might be paired with the mu…muggle-born Granger. Slughorn had jumped at the chance to attempt to redeem such a potential influence on society, and had beamed at the spirit of cooperatively growing between the houses. Even Harry had to admire how Malfoy had played this one, as he now spoke to Hermione in faux civility, asking if she might cut the pickled skrewt livers, his hand still far too shaky for the disgusting task.
Unfortunately, Harry was caught in this new train of thought, and was now paired up with Malfoy's sycophant, Pansy Parkinson. Harry had never had much to do with the girl, except for an occasional sneer exchanged by both parties.
Within a day of spending an hour in her presence, Harry had every right to hate the spoiled brat. She complained, she bossed, she moaned, she demanded, she mocked, and she did nothing all at once.She's like an unproductive Hermione,Harry mused,well except for the perpetual sneer and an undoubtedly much looser twat.
Daphne wasn't faring much better, having been paired up with Neville Longbottom. For all the complaints about Severus' Snape, Neville was proving to simply be a case of a bad workman blaming his tools.
"Potter, you can't add the lotus petals untilafteryou've stirred in the rat's milk…" Pansy moaned. "Parkinson", Harry gritted out, "If you know just what to do, then kindly either take over or toss off." Harry's potion was not perfect, but it was very close to the translucent pink his textbook described.
Pansy huffed, but didn't respond, as if dismissing him. Livid, Harry mumbled that he was going to weigh out the ten grams of tortoise scales that were the final step of the day's assignment. Before leaving, Harry took the lemon juice he had knicked from the kitchens earlier, and quickly poured the tiny vial into the cup of water standing beside the potion.
Walking loudly over to the golden scales in the back of the classroom, Harry began to add the tortoise scales to his plate, when from behind he hear a loud whistle. He turned around just in time to see Pansy standing wide-eyed over the cauldron, the measuring cup of water in hand. Too late she jumped backwards, and the darkening potion bubbled out of the pot, splatters hitting her arms and potions robe.
Pansy shrieked, as the affected areas began to turn a rather noxious shade of yellow. Harry had intended to sabotage Malfoy's (and bonus…Hermione's) potion, but her royal pain in the ass had convinced Harry that he was better off losing his own potion if it took her down a peg. He was well rewarded for his efforts
Slughorn jumped up. "Oh dear! Ms. Parkinson, you cannot add water until the acidity of the solution has settled. Nothing to fear, Mrs. Pomphrey will be able to have you back in shape in no time – nothing to worry about. Mr. Potter, if you'd like to come by this evening and redo your potion in light of Ms. Parkinson's…mishap, you are more than welcome."
"Thank you Professor, I will." Harry replied. If looks could kill, the glare Pansy graced Harry with would have had him dead faster than Avada Kedavra. As it was, Harry tried to look sympathetic, and could barely contain his howls of joy at this most delectable of situations.
Harry returned to the Potions lab later that evening. The potion, at least this first step, was not very complex. The only process that required any thought was maintaining a steady pH once the lotus had been added. Of course, the simplicity of it only served to heighten Pansy's embarrassment, and Harry could not help but enjoy a private smile several times throughout the day thinking back on it.
Within an hour, Harry had finished the day's assignment, and Slughorn happily informed him he had earned an E for the day, "Unfortunate, but I can't give an O for a retaken assignment…bureaucratic nonsense…" Slughorn announced. "S'Alright Professor" Harry reassured him, earning a toothy smile from the walrus-like potions master.
"Almost curfew Harry, you did well tonight, I look forward to seeing you again next week." "Actually Professor," Harry said, "I was wondering if…if I could ask you for a favor." "A favor you say?" Slughorn asked, suddenly straightening up. "By all means, ask away my young friend."
Harry smiled gratefully, "I was wondering if I might ask you for extra tutoring." Slughorn frowned, "Harry my boy, rest assured you're doing fine, I know today's mishap was no fault of yours." "No Professor, you misunderstand" Harry gently corrected the older man, "I meant in addition to class, like new material…I want to learn about antidotes."
If anything Slughorn's frown deepened. "Harry, antidotes are Newt level, surely you have no need…" Harry interrupted, "Professor, I'm scared. I know that the Death Eaters are regrouping and want me dead. Please sir, something only you can teach me may very well save my life."
That turned Slughorn's frown to a look of deep thought. However morbid, the thought that the Boy-who-lived could one day owe /him, Horace E.F. Slughorn a life debt…why, it would be on par with the time Nicholas Flamel had personally recommended him to the Austrian Minister at the 330th Annual conference of the European Apothecary Guild. Not that he wanted harm to befall the boy of course…
"Well Harry, I suppose we could jump start your education – working you through the curriculum a little early won't hurt anyone. Mind you, antidotes aren't taught alone – you'll have to learn how to brew the poisons that go with them too."
Harry appeared to be thinking hard. "I don't like the idea of brewing poisons professor…" Harry began slowly, "but if that's what I must do to protect myself…to fulfill my mother's dying wish that I live a long life, then I will do it."
Slughorn smiled at the determined youth – such dedication to learning, just like his mother. "I'm sure she could not be prouder of you, Harry my boy" Slughorn declared as if stating some profound truth. "I think I could clear a time for you to work with me – say Tuesdays and Fridays at 8?" Harry nodded, a look of relief crossing his features. "So it's no problem then. Now you best be returning back to your common room – don't want a detention just for being a model student!"
Harry laughed along with Slughorn, and with a another Thank you (/not a problem Harry!/) and a good night, Harry left, on his way to a quick snog in the common room with Angelina before sneaking out and shagging Daphne good and proper…/And to think I used to hate being me…/
The last week and a bit pass quickly, and again I can't complain about the turn of events. Angelina is still making sure to mollify me after she stood me up the week before, and quite frankly it's almost absurd how I have to actively stop snogging one bird just so I can make time for another. She hasn't let me in her pants yet, so really she's fortunate I'm not angry, because she's certainly isn't doing anything to actively rectify the 'situation'. What she is doing though, she is doing very, very well.
Ginny's face is a perpetual scowl these days, and Hermione has taken to spending all her time in the library. Good riddance to bad rubbish. With a majority of Angelina's time taken up with the captaincy and preparing for her exams anyway, I've got all the 'free' time I want, most of which of course is spent getting spent, which brings me to Daphne.
The girl pleases me to no end. Half the time, I'm gentle and tender, and then I turn it all on its head and act like a right bastard.It's fun!Last Friday, there we were, lying tangled in the sheets after another round of violent sex. Just as we were cuddling, I decided to tell Daphne about just what a great kisser Angelina is. I've never felt so warm – I think I could orgasm just watching Daphne think about murder if I pushed her hard enough.
Especially when I mentioned just howpureAngelina is – my little white Angel. I've no idea, hell chances are more than good she knows her way around the bedroom, but the sheer hate pouring out Daph's eyes was just too much. Honestly, I couldn't tell if it was directed towards myself or Angelina. I'll have to do this more often.
Hogsmead trip today. 'Bout bloody time – I swear if Angelina doesn't start acting like she fucking should I'll just put claim to her and start fucking Bell. Seems like Angelina's the kind of girl who believes a guy should take her out once before he gets under her skirt. Didn't have problems like this with Daph. Fuck, from what Daphne tells me even a toss like Malfoy didn't have to deal with this from Parkinson. Course…neither did Nott, Pucey, or Ashbury if all the gossip circulating the Slytherin common room holds water, so maybe she's not the best comparison.
"Harry, you ready?" Angelina's voice called out. Harry bolted up from where he had been slouching in the common room. "Yeh…yeh I'm up and about." Harry grumbled good naturedly as he stood up and smoothed his robes.
Smiling brightly Angelina walked over and gave Harry a quick kiss, and the two began to walk towards the portrait hole. The end of the school week had been rather tense, as Hermione and Ron had deduced that for the first time, Harry would not be going with them to Hogsmeade. When Harry pointed out that theyhadin fact gone once before without him, at the beginning of third year, Ron had claimed that wasn't the point and Hermione had merely sulked, mumbling how Harry was never around anymore.
Saturday morning, Hermione had claimed that she had no reason to go into town anyway, and would content herself with reading ahead in charms…/somebody's jealous, mused Harry with a smile.
Harry enjoyed the trip, taking pleasure in the fact that, for today at least, he could take time off from his rather strenuous extracurricular activities. Not that he minded them for the most part - getting a quickie from Daphne was quickly becoming the top ten things he'd ever done, but the extra attempts at training, the newly commenced tutorials with Slughorn, the slow infiltration of the other houses – yes it was good to have a day off.
Harry's mind however, proved quite averse to simply stop plotting. Angelina had insisted on meeting Katie and Alicia at the Three Broomsticks for lunch, and Harry concluded that this was the first time he'd seen the three of them together without their school or quidditch robes.
He'd always known they were attractive, hell he was dating one and he did have a pair of eyes in his head, but his thoughts drifted elsewhere as Harry began to devise new and outrageous schemes, including a fantasy of shagging all three of them whilst flying his Fire-bolt. /Gives new meaning to the phrase 'riding the broomstick', Harry thought, allowing a grin to cross his face.
Harry returned to the conversation at hand. "…How about you Harry, any preference this year?" Angelina asked. Harry blinked, trying to recall what they had been talking about…ah yes, quidditch.
"I reckon the Harpies have a good shot, if they beat Bristol and Potree, they've got a fairly easy ride the rest of the season." "Harpies", Katie scoffed. "You men are all the same – put seven girls on brooms and off you go."
"Don't need seven, three up front is good enough for me" Harry teased with a leer. The girls giggled, and Harry ordered another round of Butter Beers.
The good mood was shattered, for Harry at least, when he caught glimpse of the pub door opening, and Lavender Brown stepped in, accompanied by none other than the Little Red Weasel who shouldn't, but with Lavender, apparently /could/.
Harry was furious. How was it possible that Ron, who had proven himself incapable in every field he attempted, could convince a girl as good looking as Lavender to be seen with him, in /public/? Back burner they may have been, Harry had plans involving Lavender, but he would be damned if he was going to take Ron's ragged remains – hand-me-downs were supposed to work the other way round.
Trying to contain his fury, Harry toyed with Angelina's hand and returned to the conversation, making sure not to crush his drinking glass in his anger. Finally, Lavender excused herself, and with a peck on the cheek to Angelina, Harry headed towards the bathrooms in the back of the establishment.
Taking out his wand, he placed a small confounding charm on the women's door, and with a quick look behind him, he entered.
There she is, powdering her nose. Who just who the fuck powders their nose in a public house. Same type a girl who would flash Ron some tit I suppose. I've got myself in an ironic situation. What I really want to do is punish the girl, beat some sense into that empty bag of air she uses to hold up her pretty little face.
On the other hand, most people would see my actions today as just and kind, preventing such a delicious morsel from falling into the abyss that is the Weasly family. That's how it works, I'm sure of it. One minute, you're probably a decent looking girl, and then a Weasly looks at you. A minute later, you're shitting out kids like there's no tomorrow, and your boobs are swinging like the pendulum in the Great Hall. Hell, stupid chit may very well owe me a life debt for this.
"Hello Lav," I sneer at her. "Harry!" She shrieks, her face a masterpiece of righteous indignation and shock at my sudden appearance. "This is the ladies room! Get out!"
I laugh sarcastically, "Lav, I know what I'm doing…something I'd be willing to bet my last GalleonWon Wonhasn't a fucking clue." I grab her arms, her satchel falling off the counter as she tries to get away. "Look at me," I hiss. She's looking away, eyes down.
She starts to scream, and I curse my stupidity for not putting up silencing charms earlier. I clamp my hand over her mouth and force her face up to meet my gaze. Too close…far too fucking close. It's happening again, the magic pulsing through me, my scar – winding its way out and bending Lavender to its, to my will. She stops struggling, and her eyes lose there fear entirely, slowly being replaced by a look of serene contentment.
Odd, Daphne was still ready to murdersomeonewhen I was finished – I guess the end result is personal. Not a bad thing though – last think I want is a bunch of interchangeable whores. No, my girls arespecial.
"Lavender, you're mine now, aren't you pet?" She looks at me in confusion, as if no other possibility has ever crossed her mind. She nods, and moves in to kiss me. I pull away – she still needs to be punished.
"Not yet pet – you've been a very, very bad girl, and you've made me angry. You shouldn't make me angry." She nods, and suddenly appears to be on the brink of tears. "No crying Lav – I hate seeing a woman's tears." Well not quite true – I once spent half an hour lapping at Daphne's tears when I was testing her threshold for pain. Makes her stronger, my games do.
"Now my pretty face, you have to undo your mistakes." She nods, but still appears clueless. Christ, if she's always this slow I don't know if I'll have the patience. Course, I did claim her due to circumstances that should have given me warning signs. "Ron Weasly, the idiot you thought you'd lead on for a bit? Ring any bells?" She looks down, presumably with shame for angering me.
"I don't have time now pet, Angelina's gonna get antsy. As soon as I walk out, you are going to go back to Ron. The next time,the very next time, he tries to touch you /anywhereor says something remotely insensitive, you're going to slap him and storm out. I presume the weeping charm from second year is still lodged in that empty space between your ears?"
Her face betrays that she does in fact recognize that as the insult it is, but she nods anyway. "I swear Lavender, if any girl, even one as thick as you even looks at Ron from now till Christmas, they'll be hell to pay." With that I storm out, removing the Confundus and heading back to the girls I left behind.
Harry walked back to the table, apologizing for being gone so long and then changing the subject. After agreeing to pick up another round of Butter Beers, Harry headed to the bar, leaving behind the hushed giggles, /he's just so sweet/.
Harry rolled his eyes, thinking on just how sweet they'd find him if they knew a fraction of what he'd done…course, if they knew more than a fraction, he'd be their bloody God – funny how things usually did come round full circle.
Just as Harry balanced the four jugs as the girls reached out to help him, a resounding squawk filled the tumultuous pup. Harry looked over just in time to see Lavender hit Ron with a harsh sounding slap. Without warning the girl burst into tears, grabbed her bag and ran towards the door. All eyes were now on Ron, at best shocked and at worst appalled.
Ron turned a very amusing red, and with a muttered "No idea what I did" ran after the girl he had been getting along just fine with minutes before. Harry bit back his laughter, turning a confused face to the girls, who had unanimously decided to find out what had happened to the poor girl when they returned to the tower later in the afternoon.
That evening, which by when Lavender had told anyone within earshot that Ron had told her just how easy she was (/I said how easy she was to talk too!/) and had tried to grope her, Harry snuck out of the dorms and once again headed toward his secret Room of Desires.
He had informed Lavender earlier that he would require her presence on the sixth floor stairwell for the continuation for her punishment, to which she had nodded meekly. Harry took the five minutes of quiet to reflect on his last week. Something was not quite right about his first tutorial with Professor Slughorn. Harry had mentioned he did not possess a NEWT level potions textbook, and Slughorn had told him not to worry – that the school provided him with a number of returned books that should be more than adequate at the moment.
Slughorn had taken a book off the shelf at random and opened it as if to make sure it was indeed the correct book. Suddenly, he had appeared pensive, and frowning, he had returned the book to the shelf, handing Harry the much newer-looking version that had been next to it. There was obviously something there that the Professor had not expected to find, and Harry was determined to figure out what.
His musings were stopped short by the arrival of Lavender Brown, who not seeing Harry, had stopped by the banister and was now looking around like a lost lamb. Sighing at the lack of initiative or self-awareness in his newest acquisition, Harry pulled looked around to make sure she had not been followed, and removed his cloak, earning a high pitched squeak from the blonde in front of him.
"Next time," Harry drawled, "Take an effort to make sure you're not being followed. Didn't know you liked a crowd."
The girl looked shocked, but again, nodded meekly and followed behind Harry up the stairs. The door appeared, and Harry beckoned her through. She showed no fear, though Harry suspected that was no so much due to her bravery but her complete lack of anything other than obedience in regards to himself.
Unlike his first time with Daphne, the room held no implements nor had taken an intimidating atmosphere. Instead, this room was…comfy. A large, overstuffed chair dominated the small room, and Harry threw himself into it, instructing Lavender to kneel before him.
"Here's the game pet." Harry finally threw out with a nasty grin. "You have to get me off with only your mouth, no hands. If you make any noise, /any whatsoever, before I give you permission once you start, you lose. You'll still give me the best head you possibly can of course, but I won't brand you – I won't make you mine. S'what you want though isn't it?"
Lavender nodded emphatically. "Get ready then, but one quick addition – /Profugus/." Lavender suddenly whimpered in pain. "Don't like it pet? It's a migraine curse I had been planning to use on Ron but honestly, I think it's high time someone gave your pretty little head a jolt of something. Don't you?" Lavender nodded, and immediately winced at the pain the slight movement caused. "Well Lav, get too it." Lavender slowly, gingerly, crawled between Harry legs, and began to bury her head into his robes, trying to separate the material without causing herself further pain.
Finally creating an entrance, she bit at his zipper, at long last freeing his straining erection. Without any attempt at foreplay what-so-ever, she began to take Harry in her mouth, moving her tongue and driving him further down her throat.
/She isn't very good, was Harry's first thought, though he supposed the pain could have something to do with it. She soon proved otherwise however, and it became obvious that at the very least, Lavender had put in many, many practice sessions with a banana.
Lavender came to the realization that the faster she could make her master cum, the faster she might find her own relief. Taking him down her throat, she began to time his thrusts to her own need to breath, using the tight passage of her throat to massage all parts of her master's cock. Harry let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding, and quickly amended his previous statement.
Daphne may be his vicious angel, his sadistic princess. She may be the murderous psychopath that could get Harry hard solely with her eyes, and she may very well one day become his alpha consort. Lavender gave better head, and that was in spite of the pain he was sure was ransacking her skull. The spell in question required a very specific desire from the caster, and Harry had no dearth of terrible headaches on which to focus on when casting the curse.
Both of them lost conscious thought, one from pleasure and one from pain. At that moment Lavender whimpered, and the thought of his own high coming at such torture threw Harry over his threshold, and he shot thick strands of cum down Lavender's throat.
She recoiled, the pain proving too much, and Harry's seed began dribbling out her mouth, even as she desperately tried to swallow it down. As Harry came to, his spoke in a cold and hard voice. "You failed."
Lavender whimpered again. "I thought you wanted to be mine, Lav. You do don't you?" At this last question, Harry's voice became soft, almost loving, and he stroked the side of Lavender's face. Despite her pain, she couldn't help but smile at the affection in her master's voice, and she nodded slightly.
Suddenly, the softness was no longer their, but he was squeezing her breasts roughly, threatening to make her bleed as his fingernails dug into the soft flesh of her large, creamy mounds.
"Really?" he asked snidely. "Because it seems to me you'd rather I sent you back to be Weasly's whore." She blanched in fright. "I gave you a simple task Lav, and you failed. I have no use for worthless jewelry, and that's all you are Lavender – eye candy."
The girl nodded again, agreeing with her master even as his words pushed her to tears. "I'm a fair man Lavender, so I'll give you another chance in a week's time – on Halloween. But fail me again Lav, and it will be the last time you have such an opportunity."
That, of course, is the greatest heap of bullocks I've ever dished out. Even if Lavender proves to be totally and wholly useless, I can think of millions of things I could do if she just spent every minute sitting between my legs. Still, nice to keep the girls on their toes – builds up character and all that rot.
"I really want to mark you Lavender, to make you mine for eternity." I say with a smile that twists my intentions. "But I'm not going to mark you unless you really want me too – and you're actions today say you don't."
With that, I get out of the chair and walk out the room, leaving a crying girl behind. Don't cry. That's how the Dursley's raised me and look how I've ended up. She'll get better.
I pull out the map, making sure the coast is clear before heading back to my room. True, I've got the cloak, but you can never be too careful. Being out at night is against the rules, and I don't want to be thought of as a trouble maker. It's really all shits and grins though – Dumbledore is deliberately avoiding me this year, and I'm deliberately avoiding him. Works out well for both sides.
I watch as Lavender walks out, her eyes still red and puffy but otherwise she's fine. I hope everyone thinks Ron's the reason she's so upset. Rosy, rosy day.
Instead of following her, I decide to head back into the Room of Desires, and now it's a study. I've decided I like this environment when I just want to be left alone to my thoughts. Makes me feel all important. I've got a lot of things that need to be done. Blaise is coming along nicely – seems I can actually say "Zabini" and he doesn't have to resort to narrowing his eyes and gritting out "Potter." I even mentioned the weather the other day. We'll be best friends before too long.
Tracey's still a bitch, but that's good, as that's what I want.
The mystery book in Slughorn's office gets me thinking to just what other bits of contraband are hiding in this school that no one knows about. Shrugging the thought off but vowing to put more time to the question later I standing up, picking up my map and cloak and head back out the door, when suddenly it hits me, like a truly blinding bit of inspiration. I must have my own muse.
/The Marauder's Map/. Seven years ago, Fred and George found the map purely by chance, and they found it during detention. In Filch's office. In a cabinet that was marked specifically for dangerous contraband.
I let out a short bark. I'm going to break out every sodding document in that office, and the chance to take another cheap shot at Filch is just a bonus.