Author's Note: This chapter actually takes place in the middle of the previous story, Punishment Patrol.

Special thanks to MandyinKC, who helped me see I needed to write the second part of this from Adrian's POV when I got a bit jammed.

There are two tropes borrowed specifically from Mandy's story A Girl Like Her; I did not think of them on my own. When Alicia asks Adrian what color he wants in chess, followed by her next question, was directly inspired by that story. As was Adrian's fetish for Alicia's long hair.

Valentine's Day Night

February 10, 1996 - Saturday

The weather couldn't have been more perfect for the Hogsmeade trip on the Saturday before Valentine's Day. It was fresh and breezy, the snow was melting, and the sun was shining weakly through the clouds. But despite the niceness of the weather, Alicia felt rather left out and forgotten that day.

It wasn't as if her friends had meant to leave her out, and she wasn't really upset with them. Angelina had a date with a Ravenclaw seventh year, who was quite fit but very quiet and studious. Alicia didn't think he was Angelina's type, but Angelina liked to try on men as she did shoes. Katie, on the other hand, was seeing Brett Dewell in her Gryffindor class. In fact, Katie had tried to set Alicia up with one of Brett's dorm mates, Sean Tiernan, but Alicia had flatly refused. Sean was a cousin to the incredibly irritating Cormac, and while he wasn't quite as bad as McClaggen, he wasn't far off. Alicia knew her personality would clash horribly with Sean's. There was just no point in seeing if that would work or not, because it wouldn't. Angelina and Katie both told her she was being too picky. Well, so be it, she thought bitterly. But she wasn't going out with McClaggen or Tiernan just because she was desperate! She had rather hoped that maybe Gil Royle in Hufflepuff would ask her out; he was quite fit himself and had a great sense of humor. But that hadn't happened, either.

She had no idea if her friends and their dates had gone to Madam Rosemerta's or Madam Puddifoot's or somewhere else when they'd arrived in Hogsmeade, nor did she want to. She didn't want to think about what they were doing, if they were cozying up to the guys they were seeing. George and Lee had left for the village after breakfast, too. Fred, on the other hand, was sneaking off with a Hufflepuff fifth year. The boys didn't really talk about that sort of thing around Angelina and Alicia, but she'd heard about it just the same through some gossip or another, and it didn't surprise her. As for Kenneth, he was going to the village with Karen Pickford of Hufflepuff, having broken up with Viola the summer before. Alicia much preferred him with Karen, who seemed to bring out a completely different side of him than Viola had. He was more relaxed this year, which was good, seeing as he was Head Boy and Umbridge was in charge. He needed to be more flexible, which was something Viola wouldn't have allowed him to be.

Lee and George had encouraged her to come with them to Hogsmeade, but Alicia stalled at the front doors by lying and saying she'd forgotten her wallet upstairs. She told them to go ahead without her; it would take her a bit to get back up to Gryffindor Tower and back down again.

Truthfully, though, she mostly just wanted to be by herself. If she'd gone with Lee and George, Lee would have hung off her shoulder all day. Which wouldn't have been bad, until she was ready to return to the castle. Because Lee would want to spend every second he could in Hogsmeade before he had to go back to the castle, and he'd whinge and coerce her into staying until they wasted the entire day in the Three Broomsticks and Zonkos. So it was just best to go alone, and then she could return to Hogwarts when she felt like it. It wasn't as if she needed much in Hogsmeade, anyways. She was really only walking down to the village because it was such a nice day. And to get a new quill; hers was worn out with all her seventh year homework.

She bypassed the Three Broomsticks to avoid running the risk of bumping into Angelina, Katie, or Kenneth and went straight to Scrivenshaft's. When she pushed open the door, there were no other students inside. It was peaceful, quiet, and it smelled like ink and parchment. Her mind instantly drifted back to their Advanced Potions lesson just the week before, when the seventh years had finished their cauldrons of Amortentia. Not, of course, that Snape had assigned it because Valentine's Day was drawing near; rather, it was part of the Advanced curriculum and he waited until second term to assign it, having commented with a sneer that he hoped his seventh years would not be foolish enough to try and sneak any of it out of the dungeon once they finished the difficult, month-long brewing process. To do so would risk his extreme displeasure and no-questions-asked expulsion from the school. Alicia hadn't been interested in sneaking any of it out, but she had been curious as to what it would smell like. To her surprise, hers had smelled like parchment, broom polish, and a woodsy scent that made her blush furiously even as she ladled some into a crystal flask and took it to Snape's desk for grading. Pucey had taken his flask up to the desk at the same time, and they'd glanced once at each other before looking away. Alicia was sure her face had been a ridiculous shade of magenta.

Damn, but she needed to put that out of her mind. She pulled herself from the memory and focused as the door swung shut behind her with a soft tinkle of the bell.

The middle-aged shopkeeper looked up, nodded, and welcomed her. "Let me know if I can help, miss," he said kindly, from where he was sorting quills behind the counter.

Alicia returned the smile before she started meandering amongst the shelves, gazing fondly at all the different types of quills — tiny ones, large ones, color-changing, self-correcting, self-inking. Some quills were in locked glass cases because they were so ridiculously expensive, made from large feathers like peacock and ostrich. Ostentatious. The sort of thing Lockhart would have flourished around while ridiculously gabbing on about his alleged exploits. She almost giggled at the thought, but managed to stifle the sound. Merlin, they had all detested that man.

She really just needed a plain new quill, but something made her want to get one with a little flare or color. Not a bloody ostrich feather, of course, but something a bit different than her usual. N.E.W.T. work was exhausting. Maybe a pretty quill would make it marginally better.

She stopped and paused at a locked glass case near the counter, looking at an unusual feather quill with a very tight vane. It was entirely black with a lovely splash of red and yellow-gold nearest the nib. She'd never seen one like it before.

"How much is this one?" she asked politely. The shopkeeper moved down the counter to look at what she wanted, while at the same time, she heard the bell tinkle as another customer walked in.

"Ah yes," he said knowledgeably. "Imported from America — a red-winged blackbird feather quill. They're specially bred by a magizoologist there so that the harvesting of the feathers doesn't harm the birds. Five galleons a piece for those, they're quite hard to come by, I'm afraid."

Alicia's heart sank. She should have known, seeing they were in a locked glass case. That was expensive for a quill; she just needed one to do her homework! She gave him a small smile as he made to unlock the case and shook her head. "No, don't bother... I'll... find something a bit more practical. I was just curious."

"Very well," he said. He turned back towards the front of the shop. "Can I help you, sirs?"

As Alicia turned away from the case, she heard his voice.

"I'm just looking, thank you."

"Let me know if I can help," the shopkeeper replied.

Alicia glanced behind her. Pucey was walking down the far aisle, looking at some of the quills on the shelving. Most unfortunately, Warrington was with him, and to her disquiet, the other Slytherin Chaser's eyes narrowed on her with a look she didn't like at all. Fortunately, he wouldn't do anything to her in front of a shopkeeper, but she wouldn't need to hang around and make herself a target, either. The Slytherin-Gryffindor game was nearly three months in the past, but that didn't mean the Slytherin team wasn't still bitter and angry about what had happened.

She walked towards the back of the shop, where the cheaper quills were located, took a quick breath through her nose to recenter herself, picked out her usual quill, and turned briskly for the counter. Pucey was still looking at quills on the other side of the narrow shop; Warrington had joined him and was grumbling under his breath.

"Seriously," she heard Warrington mutter. "I'm supposed to meet Jacinthe outside of the Broomsticks, damn it. Hurry up and pick something out. It's just a quill." Warrington, it seemed, had already picked one out for himself.

"No one's stopping you from paying and going," Pucey answered indifferently, picking up a quill to look at it more closely, then deciding it wasn't right and putting it back.

Warrington moved around Pucey to look at a different shelf, while shooting Alicia another withering look. "I should leave," he hissed at Pucey. "It'd serve you right to get hexed, since you aren't hurrying the fuck up."

"What the hell are you on about?"

Alicia pulled out her wallet to pay 12 sickles and four knuts for her quill, disliking that her back was to Warrington. She just barely heard him mutter, "...member of the Gryffindor team."

"I swear to Merlin's arse," Pucey snapped in a very low voice that still carried to her ears, "If you don't stop hovering, I'll hex you myself. She isn't going to hex me in the middle of a shop in Hogsmeade, arsehole." He shoved Warrington away from him. "Go meet Hallifax and leave me alone."

Alicia took a slow breath as she took the small bag with her quill in it. Then she hurried from the shop. Warrington didn't follow her out, thank Merlin.

The encounter had unnerved her, and not just because Warrington was suspicious of her trying to hex Pucey. She supposed Courtney Vanhausen had likely told the other Slytherins in their year that Umbridge had been partnering Pucey with Alicia on patrols one night a week, to "control" Alicia. Perhaps Warrington thought Alicia was looking for an opportunity to attack Pucey out of spite. But that wasn't the reason for her embarrassment. No, what really bothered her was that the two of them had found her alone, on the Valentine's weekend in Hogsmeade, without a date herself, while all of her friends had dates today. Damn, even Warrington had a date. She really was the biggest loser in the school.

Well, not entirely — Ernest was the biggest loser in the school. But Alicia didn't feel too far behind him.

She paused in the high street, surrounded by students. Younger ones were laughing; older ones were almost exclusively in pairs (mostly boy-girl, though she did see Will Richardson of Hufflepuff walking around with his current Ravenclaw boyfriend). If she went into the Three Broomsticks and Katie or Angelina were there, they might feel sorry for her and hail her over to sit with them and their dates a bit, and she didn't want to do that, either. And she sure as heck wasn't going into Madam Puddifoot's for tea, alone, four days before Valentine's. That thought was positively nauseating.

Best to just go back to the castle, she thought. She would just do homework, while wondering why no decent guy ever asked her out, and why Pucey insisted on respecting their friendship despite fancying her.

February 13, 1996 (Tuesday)

Valentine's Day fell on a Wednesday, of all days, and Chrysanthe stopped Alicia the day before as they were leaving Charms — the Hufflepuff was heading for Divination, while Alicia was on her way to Ancient Runes.

"Listen, 'Licia... about tomorrow..."

Alicia braced herself. Her friend was still dating Danny; likely she wanted Alicia to avoid finding the two of them in a broom closet somewhere during prefect duties the following evening. The prefects tended to look out for each other, after all, especially on nights like Valentine's. It was sort of an unwritten code between them.

"...I think you should wear your hair down," Chrysanthe said.

Well. That was... not what she'd been expecting.

"...what?"

"Your hair." Chrysanthe reached out and tucked a stray strand behind Alicia's ear, where it had come free during the previous lesson. "Wear it down tomorrow. It's very pretty down. Promise me?"

"But — it gets in my way!"

"Ah! No buts. Promise me. I'm very serious."

Alicia shifted her satchel uncomfortably. What a bizarre thing to ask, she thought, but what she said was, "Fine, whatever."

"Thank you. You won't regret it, I promise." Chrysanthe gave her a secretive smile before she waved and headed down the opposite corridor.

Alicia watched her go, unnerved.

Surely Chrysanthe didn't know...

No, there was no way. She pushed the idea from her mind. Only Alicia knew about that. And one other person, but he wouldn't have told anyone.

February 14, 1996 (Wednesday)

"Mr. Pucey, I'm sorry to have to take you away from all the Slytherin girls on Valentine's Day," Umbridge said sweetly. "I'm sure they'll be most disappointed."

Adrian gave the horrid toad a very fake smile. "Undoubtedly." There was also no sense in pretending — seven different Slytherin girls had asked him to spend the evening with them (including two girls who already had boyfriends), to say nothing of the three Ravenclaws, six Hufflepuffs, and two Gryffindors who had approached him. Both of whom had been the wrong Gryffindor, he might add. He couldn't imagine why Romilda effin' Vane and one of her friends really thought he'd say yes to her ridiculous request. They were bloody third-years; he was not having a threesome with them. That would get him expelled, and never mind he disliked both girls.

"Well, I will need you and Miss Spinnet to patrol the dungeons for students who might be sneaking out tonight to engage in more...lascivious behaviors," Umbridge said distastefully. "We certainly can't have any of that, now can we?"

It took all he had not to roll his eyes and tell her to sod the fuck off. If he wasn't trying to be respectful of Alicia and the fragile friendship they shared, he'd sure as hell be snogging her for most of the evening, it not outright shagging her. Umbridge's very voice was giving him a splitting headache. Or maybe it was from keeping his mask firmly in place so she didn't suspect him for any reason. Whichever, the sooner he got out of this room, the better. He had big plans for tonight.

Maintaining perfect posture despite wanting to hex her, he said smoothly, "As you wish, Professor."

"You don't have to patrol more than an hour tonight if you would rather not, Mr. Pucey. Miss Spinnet can finish the patrol on her own if you have something else you'd rather be doing," Umbridge hinted, her eyes flicking hatefully towards Alicia.

He almost snorted at her blatant favoritism and how unfair it was for her to even suggest he go back to his dorm early while leaving his partner to patrol alone. Merlin knew that if Alicia stumbled across a couple of Slytherins in a broom closet tonight (or anyone in a broom closet, for that matter), she'd likely get hexed so badly she'd probably end up in the hospital wing. He was absolutely not going to let that happen. Umbridge could go to hell, and he rather hoped she did.

But as Alicia turned to exit and he stepped back to allow her out of the room first, he noticed she unconsciously pulled her long, straight hair over her shoulder, dragging her fingers through it. Chrysanthe, who was standing beside her, glanced once at Umbridge (who had turned to her desk to get a quill while consulting her clipboard) and then grabbed Alicia's hand, squeezed it encouragingly, and gave her friend a look that Adrian could only label as indecent. The blonde girl winked at Alicia, who stared back at her in complete confusion. Because Alicia had no idea —

Alicia was still staring, trying to decipher that look, and Umbridge was going to turn around any second, notice Alicia's inattention, and demand answers. Adrian couldn't help drawling out hatefully, "Come on, Spinnet, let's get this over with. I do have other things to do tonight, you know."

She inhaled sharply through her nose, turned away from Chrysanthe, and snarled at him, "I'm sure you do..." as she stormed past him into the corridor. He caught Kenneth glaring at him with something akin to hatred even as he pulled the door to. Well, the good news was, they were still fooling Towler and Umbridge with their little act.

They headed down the staircases to the ground floor in silence. It was too risky to speak until they knew they were alone; there were likely a lot of students sneaking around tonight.

He glanced covertly at Alicia, who was looking in the opposite direction as they descended the marble staircase. Her hair hung almost to her waist, pulled back with a heart-shaped barrette. Chrysanthe had clearly held up this part of their bargain, and a feeling like butterbeer zinged around inside of him. He really did love Alicia's hair down.

He caught himself almost about to smile and forced his mouth into a frown instead.

As for her, she looked annoyed. She kept unconsciously playing with the strand over her shoulder as they walked. He wondered if she had secretly been planning to meet someone else after their patrol, if that's why she was in a bad mood. He knew Jordan had asked her out at least three times in the past two days, just in the Great Hall alone, in that loud voice that sounded like he was always on the Quidditch Pitch yelling out plays. Something about her dating Jordan made his gut roil unpleasantly, and yet, he knew it wasn't fair of him to hold her back if that's what she wanted.

Which made his plans for tonight even worse. It had been an opportunity at the time, one he had seized upon like any good Slytherin would, but now he was second-guessing himself. What if she got angry at him? What if she accused him of leading her on? Wasn't that exactly what he was about to do? Merlin, he was in way over his head. He was spending way too much time with her, and it as affecting his decision-making process. The past few days was clear evidence of that.

He could have deviated, of course. He could have headed for the usual dungeon classroom where they practiced Defense, Charms, Transfiguration, and studied together when they should have been patrolling. But she'd worn her hair down, and that goaded him into recklessly continuing with this little plan.

At the bottom of the stairs, he turned instead for the passage that led to the kitchens and the Hufflepuff common room.

Alicia was clearly startled at his seemingly bizarre change in direction. She had started for the dungeons, but then, as she realized he was moving towards the opposite side of the Entrance Hall, she hurried to catch up with him.

"Pucey! What are you — I thought we were supposed to —"

He heard additional footsteps and schooled his expression into one of annoyed arrogance as two third year Hufflepuff girls darted around them.

"We'll do this side first." Then, noticing the two girls were watching them closely, he snapped, "Get back to your common room. It's past your curfew! Ten points from Hufflepuff!"

The girls hurried into the corridor below, but they didn't seem too annoyed at having lost points; instead, they were giggling inappropriately and kept looking behind them, all the way to the end of the corridor, where they turned for their common room. The giggling annoyed him even more.

Alicia was at his elbow now, looking stern. "Pucey, seriously. Why are we down here?" she hissed.

He couldn't wonder at that. Umbridge always assigned them the dungeons. The hateful woman had never told them to patrol this area, even though it was technically under the castle, too. He looked both ways along the corridor as they passed the bowl of fruit and moved further down. They were alone, but there was always the risk that someone would come along, especially at this hour and on this holiday.

When he got to the stretch of wall in question, he put one hand to the stone and muttered, "Repono absconditus..." while grabbing her hand and quickly pulling her through.

He hadn't been down here with her since Boxing Day during their previous school year, when they'd unexpectedly had afternoon tea together to escape their common rooms. The long, low hallway was as dimly lit as it always was, and there was no one around. He cast Homenum Revelio as a precaution, but nothing happened. With that, he let out a long sigh and ran a hand into his hair. Thank Merlin. They were finally alone and he could drop his mask a bit.

Alicia, who had not seen him cast Homenum Revelio because she was stepping through the wall, said dryly, "Er... I hate to break this to you, but I suspect that room is occupied and I personally have no desire to tell a couple of randy Hufflepuffs to get back to their common room."

He ignored that for the moment and started walking. "Just come on."

"Fine, but I'm going to stay behind you so I can reverse whatever hex they hit you with."

To be fair, she had a valid point. If there was someone in the room in question, they probably would throw a hex if Adrian and Alicia burst in on them. But there wasn't anyone in that room, and that was part of the surprise. His mouth went dry at the thought. Part of the reason he had never brought her back down here was because he knew it would be too risky. Not that someone would burst in on them, but he didn't trust himself. Tonight would be an incredibly difficult challenge for his self-control.

As he expected, the tiny light beside the door was not lit when they approached the room, and as Alicia noticed it, her eyebrows pinched together.

He opened the door and smiled at her. "Coming?"

"How is it not occupied?" she blurted, clearly thrown off.

He allowed her to go first and followed her, before he sealed the door behind him. Then he said, "I made a deal with a particularly devious Hufflepuff. I'm of the opinion they're all secretly agents of hell, but this one is especially evil."

She arched an eyebrow at him. He smiled at her and started shucking off his robes, tossing them onto a nearby shelf. "Get those off, we may as well be comfortable, Spinnet. We'll be here for four or five hours, at least."

Her eyes widened. "Four or five hours? We can't practice Defense in here —!"

"We aren't going to practice Defense in here," he said easily, reaching out and starting to unfasten the clasp of her robes for her, hating himself for blushing. The idea of taking her clothes off was very much not what he needed to think about when he'd already decided to maintain his self-control tonight, and here he was, testing it right out of the gate. Bloody mental, that's what he was.

She batted his hands away in clear embarrassment and started undoing the clasp herself. He merely chuckled at her reaction and moved around her, heading for the little fireplace on the far right side. It already had a fire in it, just as he'd planned.

Lightly, he said, "I thought maybe we could do something...different. Just for tonight."

"Different? How?"

"You'll see."

"Do you have any idea," she sputtered, as she tossed her robes next to his and wove her way through the wooden shelves, "how many Hufflepuffs —?"

He cut her off, grinning over his shoulder. "— got cockblocked because I reserved this room two months in advance for the entire night? All of the sixth and seventh year boys, I'm sure. Most of the girls, too. Plus several fifth years. Maybe even a couple of fourth years."

She just stared at him. "What on earth did it cost you to reserve this room two months in advance?" she asked in a voice of horror.

"Mostly my dignity."

The truest statement he'd ever uttered. He was now completely convinced that Hayden was Satan Incarnate. His request had come at the steep price of the truth, or as much as he could force himself to admit aloud, anyways. Hayden seemed to be able to guess most of it, regardless — something he had suspected since fifth year. She was very intuitive. It was unnerving and disturbing.

But instead of scowling about it, he gave Alicia a smile as he sat down on the sofa. Hayden had outdone herself with the house elves; there was a tea service and a hot chocolate service on a tray, along with a variety of cakes, cookies, and chocolates with a very obvious Valentine theme. Not to mention a vase of roses on the tray and roses arranged artfully across the mantel. He should have done that part himself, but it had been part of the price Hayden demanded for his reserving the room two months in advance.

"You know all of Hufflepuff will want your balls if they find out a Slytherin reserved their room for the most romantic night of the year? To say nothing of how I'm going to have to be the one to tell them it's off limits for Valentine's?" she'd demanded hotly. "And the worst part is, you don't even want to use it for a romantic purpose!"

He'd lost his temper a bit at that.

"Who said it wasn't for a romantic purpose?"

And that was when he'd had his bollocks served on a platter by that blonde-haired, blue-eyed, deceptively innocent-looking witch.

"If I'm going to hand you over Hidden Storage, you're going to hand me details, Pucey. Now."

Girl would have done well in Slytherin...

Alicia's voice brought him back to the present. "What does that mean?" she asked, sitting beside him.

Except it wasn't quite sitting. She had twisted so her right elbow was resting on the back of the couch and her knuckles against the side of her head, and she'd curled her right leg under her, so he mostly got an eyeful of her leg where her short skirt had ridden up. Fuck, his control was definitely going to slip if she kept that up. He should have just patrolled the dungeons with her.

"It means..." He sighed, and decided to admit the truth. "I had to enlist the help of our evil Head Girl. Too bad it's no longer Bess Oakfield," he muttered as an afterthought. "She would have let me off a lot easier than Hayden did."

Alicia stared at him before she blurted, "That little sneak! No wonder she told me to —!"

She broke off suddenly though, and he arched his eyebrows in question.

Alicia flushed and looked at the pattern on the back of the couch. "Wear my hair down, damn it. I wondered," she muttered.

He couldn't help but grin at that. "Oh. That was my request. She merely relayed it. Thank you, by the way. It's very pretty tonight."

Adrian saw it in that moment: Alicia realized exactly what he'd meant by The Truth. He had taken a massive gamble, trusting Chrysanthe Hayden with their secret friendship and his own feelings. It was very un-Slytherin.

"What did you tell her?" she whispered.

Adrian shrugged and waved his wand to pour them each a cup of tea. "That you and I are actually friends, but the other Slytherins wouldn't understand, and I don't want anything to happen to you if they were to find out we're friends. That I'd never intended the two of us to sneak off even as much as we have. I feel rather bad about that." He sighed heavily. "We're doing exactly what I said we wouldn't: sneaking around. Even if it's because of Umbridge, it isn't fair to you. I told her I didn't want to date you because we would have to do it in secret, and that was a rubbish way to treat you, and I respected you more than that. Hayden told me I was being ridiculous." He could feel his neck burning as he remembered the way the Hufflepuff had literally swelled with indignation and blasted him.

"You mean to tell me," she'd said through gritted teeth, "that you're mad about 'Licia, that you totally fancy her, have for years, and you won't act on it because you think she'd be upset with you for carrying on a relationship in secret? When she knows damned well that Montague, Warrington, Bletchley, Dinkworth, and the others would probably curse the both of you to oblivion and back if it were out in the open? She's not naïve, damn it!"

Alicia shifted so she was sitting properly on the sofa, but at the same time, she also slid closer, until their thighs were brushing together. The couch really was pretty small. He remembered sneaking around with Bess; his lean frame had been way too tall for this couch, though that hadn't stopped them from shagging in here throughout his sixth year and her seventh. They'd had a very loose agreement: friends with benefits. No feelings, no emotions. Just pleasure, just fun. He had not been her first, not by a long shot, but she had been his. He was grateful to Bess. She'd taught him well. Snogging was easy — sex to please a woman was a lot harder. The porn he'd read in his early teen years was paltry compared to Bess's lessons. He distinctly remembered her laughing about some of it in the very early days.

If Alicia felt him stiffen when her thigh brushed his trousers (damn it, why didn't that skirt of hers come down further? Why had he suggested she take off her robes?), she pretended not to notice as she picked up the sugar to drop two cubes into her tea, then handed him the sugar bowl.

She said quietly, "She's right. You shouldn't feel bad. We're just friends. You aren't using me or disrespecting me. I hope."

"Definitely not."

"I do have one very serious question, though."

"Oh?" He dropped a cube of sugar in his own tea before placing the crystal bowl back down and stirring until the little square dissolved.

"How often do the Hufflepuffs actually clean this couch? Because I really don't want to think about all the couples who have shagged on it."

She said it so seriously, but when he looked up at her in surprise, it was to see her eyes twinkling at him and her lips twitching. He couldn't help it; he burst out laughing at her joke and fell back on the sofa. Alicia was trying not to laugh too now, and she leaned over and grabbed his arms.

"Stop it, it's not funny!" she giggled, lying. "I'm being perfectly serious!"

He finally managed to look at her, his eyes sparkling with humor. "It's a rule," he explained, still on the verge of laughing. "The rule, really. Each couple is required to clean it afterwards. If they don't, they risk losing their privilege of coming here." Bess had drilled that firmly into his head.

"Well, that's good to know. But now I have another serious question."

"I'm not sure I want to know what the second one is."

Suddenly she looked nervous and wouldn't meet his eyes. "Not that I mind coming here, but... don't you have an actual date tonight?"

He stared at her incredulously. Was she fucking serious?

She inhaled sharply and rolled her eyes. "Surely you had twenty different girls throwing themselves at you for Valentine's Day."

Yes, he had, but there was no reason to tell her that and make her feel any more insecure than she already was. Hayden had told him Alicia was very insecure about boys in general because she was always sandwiched between Angelina and Katie on the pitch and no one ever asked her out except Jordan. That was rubbish, too. All three Chasers were fit as hell, but especially Alicia. He didn't understand why she should struggle with self-esteem. And he really didn't understand why none of the other boys ever asked her out, though he selfishly told himself it was better for him if they didn't. A closed expression crossed his features. "Perhaps, but I didn't want to spend tonight with any of them. Or any other night for that matter."

"Yes, but —"

It would be too easy to tell her the truth: to admit the depth of his feelings for her, how lovesick he was, but he couldn't. Not yet. They were still in school, Umbridge was practically ruling Hogwarts, and he still had to contend with his prejudiced, cruel classmates. And hers, if he got down to it.

Brusquely, he said, "Spinnet. If we actually patrol, we'll get hexed fifty times tonight, and I'm in no mood to put all that Defense training to the test. So we're going to stay cloistered in here, and have a nice evening together."

She stared at him. After a long moment, while he sipped his tea, she finally stammered, "We're just going to sit here for four hours?"

"That's why I had the house elves bring all of this." He nodded towards the tray.

"Then... why the flowers?" Her eyebrows knitted together.

Bloody Hayden.

"I don't know," he lied. He could feel his ears turning pink. "Listen, even if we just sit here and drink tea and eat cake and play wizard's chess —"

"We're going to play chess?" Her eyebrows unknitted and rose.

"Well," he fumbled, hating himself for apparently not picking the right words, "I told the house elves to have a chess set in here just in case we wanted to play chess. And a wireless." He glanced up at the mantel and flicked his wand at the wireless to turn it on. That stupid git Silas Spellbound filtered quietly through in the room, just enough to be background noise and not impede conversation. Middle-aged witches loved him, but blokes Adrian's age thought the man was a crooning, ridiculous ponce. He could give Lockhart a run for his bloody money.

Blushing harder, he added, "Besides. You still owe me a slow dance."

He could hear the smile in her voice. "That was over a year ago."

"I know; it's a damn good thing I'm patient." He sat up straighter and hitched his smile back in place. "But! Tea first, I think. And if we get really bored just talking, we can figure something else out, I guess."

She mused, "Strip chess?"

It took a second for that statement to settle into his brain, but when it did, when he finally registered exactly what she'd said, he sputtered, "Bloody fucking — no, Spinnet!" He grabbed one of the nice cloth serviettes and threw it at her. Was she out of her mind? If they played strip anything, his control would shatter.

She just snickered and whacked him in the arm with the same napkin.

He grabbed it from her and tossed it back on the table. "Salazar's arse, you cannot be serious!"

Her eyes were bright. "It would make things more interesting."

"There are sixteen pieces on each side of a chess board," he snarled, resisting the urge to hit her lightly with the napkin a second time. "We aren't wearing sixteen pieces of clothing!"

"Well, let's see. Two shoes, two socks —"

"Goddamn it, you are not going to count —" He stared at her in absolute horror.

"My skirt and your trousers make five —"

"To think your formidable Arithmancy skills are being wasted on this discussion!"

"— then our shirts, our sweaters, and the ties make eight. I assume we're each wearing underwear, so that would be nine... Oh!" Her face took on a look of faux surprise. "Except I suppose I do have you at a disadvantage, since I'm wearing a bra... that gives me an extra piece..."

He knew he was gaping at her in horror. He couldn't believe she was actually suggesting this. Even if she was joking...! The idea of playing strip chess with her, of watching her slowly remove pieces of clothing? Shite.

"You know," she went on thoughtfully, "we could say the pawns don't count, and only the eight major pieces in play count to lose an article of clothing... but we're each wearing at least nine articles, and not every piece on the board gets taken in a game... I suppose I could take off one of my shoes in advance to make up for me having a bra..."

His entire face was bright pink now, he was absolutely positive of it. "We are absolutely not playing strip chess," he growled.

"Are you sure? My bra is pink."

What had she just said?

His eyes unconsciously flickered to her breasts; his face turned a deep shade of cerise. Perfect, it would match the fucking bra if he kept on. He tore his eyes away from her and looked at the wall instead. Why had he ever thought coming here with her tonight was a good idea? Merlin's balls, he wasn't going to get the image of her bra out of his head for anything.

She laughed, scooted towards him on the couch, and leaned her hand and slight weight on his shoulder for a brief second. It didn't escape her notice that he shirked away a bit.

"Come on, Pucey, relax! I was just teasing. I'm really sorry. Forgive me?"

"I don't know. I need to think about it," he muttered. "That was pretty low, even for you."

Against his better judgment, he met her eyes. They were big, brown, and suddenly concerned that she had finally overstepped. She was even worrying her lower lip between her teeth. He knew his eyes had a flare of heat in them — he couldn't think about her bra without heat, after all. And she was so close that it would be too easy to kiss her. He needed to find some mundane, bland subject to discuss while they had this late tea.

He coughed. "So... how are your classes going?"

Bloody brilliant, Pucey, asking her about school...

She kept watching him for another few moments before she sat back and smiled shyly, though a bit naughty at the same time. "They're going well. I got really good marks on our Potions assignment last week. The Amortentia one?"

Fucking hell.

How had he forgotten about that assignment when he asked her about school?

Insane. He was absolutely insane, thinking they could have a peaceful night together.

She went on, clearly aware of his rigid posture and the way his hands were clenching on his thighs.

"Snape said mine was almost perfect." She laughed and picked up a chocolate cherry. "I know it must have tasted like ash in his mouth to admit it," she added with derision.

"I did pretty well on it, too," he admitted grudgingly.

"I figured you did; you're always really good at Potions. I do have a question, though."

Here it comes. She was going to ask him what he had smelled —

"Do you prefer to be white or black in chess?"

That caught him off guard. "Er, what?"

"Chess. Do you want to be white or black?" She pulled out her wand, shifted the opposite way on the couch to put some space between then, and summoned the chess board.

"White."

The chess board landed neatly between them. As she picked up her tea again, he directed a pawn forward.

"So?" she asked softly, glancing at the board and issuing an order to one of her pawns. "What does your Amortentia smell like?"

All the teasing was gone — this voice was gentle and curious, not trying to press every single nerve he possessed.

He didn't have the energy to make something up or divert the conversation or give her a non-answer; she had whittled his defenses down in a matter of moments, simply by talking about strip chess. As they completed their second set of moves, he took another sip of tea and finally confessed, "Old library books. The Quidditch pitch. ...a floral scent."

He could feel her watching him over the board, but he couldn't look at her right this second. Her teasing him about playing strip chess was embarrassing in one way, because he was an eighteen-year-old man and it was Valentine's and he'd be lying if he said he wasn't randy as hell for her. But her quietly asking about what his love potion smelled like, when that smell was entirely unique and special to each person... that was intimate on a completely different level than the color of her bra.

From his peripheral vision, he saw her touch the side of her neck, where she always dabbed her perfume. "Oh."

"What do you smell?" He both wanted to know, and didn't. If it wasn't him...

"Parchment." Her voice sounded a bit throaty. "Broom polish." She hesitated. "And... a really nice, masculine woodsy scent."

He grew quite still. His cologne.

He smelled her perfume, and she smelled his cologne.

He quietly moved his third piece. Neither said anything to the other for several minutes, speaking only to direct their pieces, but when she captured one of his pawns first, they finally met eyes over the board and smiled at each other. A spark of competitiveness glittered in her eyes.

To give her a dose of her own damn medicine, he kicked one of his shoes off.

Her gaze instantly grew large and shocked and she inhaled sharply; then she burst into giggles. "You aren't serious."

"Only one way to find out."

It was anyone's game, really.

They stopped playing by the time their shoes, ties, and vests were off, both making the decision simultaneously that they didn't need to go any further while blushing profusely, and Adrian levitated the chess board and pieces to the far corner in case they decided to pick the game up in another thirty minutes when they both had more sanity and less desire to strip out of their clothing. He wasn't going to treat her that way.

"I believe," she said, standing up suddenly, "that I owe you a slow dance, Pucey."

It was only 9:07. They still had three damn hours to go.

"In a while," he drawled, rolling his sleeves back. "But not yet. Sit back down, Spinnet."

They spent the next hour talking about N.E.W.T.s and classes, bashing Snape's vindictiveness and Umbridge's bigoted hatred while listening to the wireless. Neither bothered putting their shoes, vests, or ties back on; those lay discarded and forgotten on the floor and the back of the couch. Towards the end of the hour, Alicia did reach over and unbutton a couple of his shirt buttons, though.

"Is it bad to tell you that I've fantasized about finding you in the Quidditch locker rooms after a game, alone?" She looked up at him through her lashes, her fingers growing still on the third button.

Fuck, they still had two hours to go and his self-control was very nearly shattered.

"Well." He cleared his throat. "I fantasize about you in the dress you wore to the Yule Ball last year." Although he'd had plenty of Quidditch-related fantasies, too.

"I did really love my dress."

"Mostly I fantasize about taking it off of you."

Her face turned pink again.

Served her right, he thought.

They picked the game of chess back up, this time agreeing not to strip off any more clothes.

Adrian won.

He was a little disappointed he didn't get to see her pink bra, though. She would have at least had to take her shirt or skirt off by the time they finished the game, had they still been playing strip chess. His prize could have been a good shag, instead of paltry bragging rights.

At 11:30, while they were in the midst of a very passionate discussion about the British and Irish Quidditch League, Adrian heard the clock chime and realized with a jolt what time it was. He finally stood up.

"What's up?" Alicia asked, frowning slightly.

There was a slow song on the wireless; Misty Morgante was singing Bound by Your Spell. He would never have listened to this kind of ridiculous music otherwise, but he needed something slow, and rock and punk weren't going to cut it.

He turned and held out his hand. "I believe you owe me a slow dance."

Alicia blushed; a pretty, soft pink that spread over her cheeks, but she stood up and put her hand in his and he held her at arm's length as she walked around the coffee table and joined him in front of the fireplace.

"I've... never actually slow danced," she admitted, her voice barely a mumble.

"Then we should remedy that, shouldn't we?" He slid his hands around her waist. "Put your hand around my neck."

She huffed. "I could use my heels," she grumbled. "This was easier at the Yule Ball when I was wearing heels."

She barely came up to his collarbones and the hollow of his throat; the top of her head may have brushed his chin if he bent slightly. But she did as he instructed, her face turning pinker every second. After a moment, he took her right hand in his and pulled her close, their hands trapped slightly between them, while his other hand clenched in the small of her back. He wanted her as close as possible, but he also needed a slight distance from her perfect mouth.

"You can lean into me, you know."

Alicia nodded, as though she didn't trust herself to speak, and slid her hand more securely around his neck, her fingers just in his hair. He bent his head and closed his eyes, inhaling that soft floral scent that had wafted over him when he finished his stupid love potion last week.

Within five minutes, they were practically draped on each other, each becoming more relaxed as they swayed just slightly to the soft music. The firelight was growing dimmer, and he sighed as he rubbed his thumb over her hand. Her fingers tightened in his hair. This, he thought, was pretty well perfect.

When the song finally ended and another slow one started up, they didn't stop.

They just kept slow dancing for fifteen minutes, until he was sure he could fall asleep standing up as long as he was holding her like this, her head tucked under his chin against his chest, her lips very close to his collarbone from where she'd teasingly unbuttoned his shirt.

"It's must be nearly midnight," she finally whispered.

"Don't remind me," he muttered, turning his head into her hair. He didn't kiss her hair, but his lips were against her hair. That wasn't the same thing, was it?

"We'll have to get back to our dormitories."

"I'll walk you back to Gryffindor Tower. But... before we go... I have something for you."

"Adrian..." she whispered. "Don't you think you've given me enough tonight?"

She rarely used his given name and it sent a shock of pleasure through him. He liked the way it rolled off her lips. He wanted to hear her say it while they were in the midst of making love one day.

"No," he said, licking his own lips. "But I do, in fact, have one more thing for you."

He reluctantly pulled away from her just enough to reach up onto the mantel, and take a long, dark wooden box from behind the wireless.

"I just thought... well, it's nothing, really, but I thought you might like it."

He was blushing again, damn it.

Alicia took it but immediately knew what it was without opening it; the top of the box read Scrivenshaft's.

Her lip wobbled slightly. "This is too expensive! I know what it cost —"

"Expensive for you, maybe. Not for me."

Her shoulders dropped. "But I can't give you anything this nice in return!"

Bemused, he said, "It was just five galleons, Alicia." Adrian reached over and opened the box for her. The red-winged blackbird quill sat inside.

"Gryffindor colors," he said gently. "It suits you."

She brushed her palm against her eye, wiping back a tear, and he nearly panicked. Oh shite. Had he made her cry?

"T-thank you," she whispered.

Still concerned, he stammered, "It's just a quill. You shouldn't cry."

She shook her head and smiled. "I can't help it."

He needed to change the subject. "Come on. We should tidy up in here, or Hayden will have my arse tomorrow."

She laughed, a soft burble that made his chest feel like it was going to burst.

"She would, wouldn't she?"

As soon as the room was neat again, and they'd retrieved their strewn clothing, and the fire was out, Adrian lit his wand and they headed back through the shelves to the door.

"We should both Disillusion ourselves," he murmured, before he opened the door. "Just in case there are any Hufflepuffs out there. I'd rather not get hexed."

"You're right," she agreed, swinging her cloak over herself.

But before he could grab his own cloak, she reached up and snagged his very loose tie to pull him down. He was too tall, even with her on tip-toes, but she managed to press a kiss into his throat.

"Thank you for tonight, Adrian," she whispered. "It was wonderful."

She was out of the door before he could think straight, before the feeling rushed back into his hands and groin and feet. She had just kissed his throat. And when he finally darted into the hall, he couldn't see her, because she'd already Disillusioned herself.

"Wait!" he hissed. "I need to walk you back to Gryffindor Tower!"

Somewhere ahead, Alicia's voice said, "I can get back on my own. I'll see you tomorrow in class?"

And with that, she was gone.

Bonus Scene

February 15, 1996 - Thursday

"I had Hufflepuffs breathing down my neck for five days straight before Valentine's, and they're still pissed." Chrysanthe's eyes glittered at him. "Please tell me you at least kissed her."

They were heading for lunch after Advanced Transfiguration, one of the only original core classes that Adrian's Slytherin class had shared with the Hufflepuffs of their year. Though he knew Cassius, Ian, and Jessica had all gone ahead of them, as well as Gil, Cedric, and Cynthia, he still glanced around furtively before he hissed, "Shut up, will you?"

"They're miles ahead of us, now." Her eyes narrowed. "Answer my question."

He could feel heat creeping up his neck. "The other way around, actually," he muttered.

He felt rather than saw Hayden's step falter as she processed that. Then she said forcefully, "Good on her."

"Oh, knock it off," he snapped. "It wasn't the way you expected."

She stopped walking and stared at him. "Excuse me?"

That was exactly the tone she'd used just a few days earlier, and one that made him backtrack quickly. Pissing off Hayden was a very, very bad idea. How had he missed that in the past six years? It had been a hard lesson to learn.

"She...kissed me. Here." His fingers slid over the spot where her lips had pressed into his throat. Merlin, it could still feel lips. He'd have to duck into the dorm before going to lunch, damn it.

Chrysanthe's shoulders dropped and she looked completely resigned. "You have got to be fucking kidding me. You two," she stated baldly, "are fucking hopeless, Adrian."

Before he could respond, she stormed off.

It would have been better, he thought sourly, if he'd never confided in her in the first place. He really was an idiot.