Decent sized chapter here for you lot (well, a decent chapter for what's supposed to be a short novella thingy)

Chapter Three: Lovely Leaves

"There was blood everywhere," exclaimed Pansy, swinging her arm across the side of the sofa. "A second later and he would've been dead."

Gryffindors were dramatic, but Slytherins were far superior at exaggerating. A small paper cut would be scaled to a war wound.

Which is sort of what happened here.

"He seems fine to me," said Daphne, her brows furrowing.

"That's because he is fine," Theodore said. "Pomfrey took care of the injury in like forty seconds."

Pansy glared at him, her hand curling around her wand. He rolled his eyes in reply.

"So what's all the fuss about?" Daphne turned around, her hair falling over her shoulder.

"Flint wants the quidditch game moved," he said. "That's literally all it's for."

"Fair enough. I've always thought it was daft to have the game against Gryffindor as the season opener."

Did it really make a difference when certain games were held? It was just flying around on a broom, and praying your seeker caught the snitch first.

"Why don't you try out?" he asked, "You're handy on a broom."

It was true. Their summers had been filled with an awful lot of flying, often starting at midday and not finishing until well past dusk. And while Theodore wasn't a huge fan of quidditch, it was hard not to appreciate such skilful flying.

Daphne shrugged. "Prefer watching it."

Theodore raised a brow. "You attended the Wasps trials when you were nine, and they marked you down as a future prospect."

"I get bored easily." She gave him a wry smile. "Training would be the death of me."

"Just skip the training," he said, stretching his legs out on the sofa and using the armrest as a pillow. A rather uncomfortable pillow.

Daphne elbowed his legs sharply and glared at him. Her hair was a soft brown in the firelight, rather than its usual chocolate.

"Stay on your own seat," she complained, attempting to shove him away.

"Nah," he said, "it's better like this."

"I'll hex you, Theo."

"No you won't," he said, "Otherwise you'll lose your only Zonko's partner."

"Fine," she huffed, her eyes narrowing. "But you better not ditch."

"I won't."

Of course he'd be there. He was looking forward to his first trip to the village, counting down the days until he finally got to see it.

It was only nineteen days away.

"What do you even do when we're watching the quidditch?"

Theodore felt the blood rush out of his cheeks, his eyes widening a fraction.

The blood rushed out of his cheeks, the room a whole lot colder, and the fireplace a whole lot dimmer. The coarse rug was a dark, forest green, curling up at the corners exposing the grey, hatched backing.

The words weren't spoken by Daphne, no. Their owner had a sweet, saccharine lull to their voice, in the way only someone named after a flower could.

Her eyes were innocent enough, but the coy smile plastered across her face said she was anything but.

"I just sit around," he choked out, gesturing towards the common room.

"Around?" Pansy's eyes flashed with mirth.

Theodore swallowed as he nodded with great difficulty. "Yeah," he said with a stiff nod. "In the common room, and stuff."

"You see," she began slowly, "I had the pleasure of spending last year's game against Ravenclaw in the common room." She paused for a moment, her eyes narrowing. "And you were nowhere to be seen."

"Pansy," said Daphne warningly, but her gaze was locked on to him, "Don't be an arse."

Pansy waved her off. "I've heard these... rumours." She let the words linger.

Theodore sank deeper into the sofa, burying his face in the velvety green cloth.

"Rumours?" he murmured against the sofa.

"Yeah," she said, "about who you spend your time with."

Crap, crap, crap.

She knew, and there was nothing he could do about it. The whole of their house would know, the whole school would know.

A group of fourth years paused their game of gobstones, to look at the three of them. Pansy sneered at them, and they simply rolled their eyes in reply.

"I hear," she whispered, leaning in slightly, "you're-"

"Now, now," came Blaise's voice from behind him, "I'm sure you can declare your undying love for dear Theodore another time-" he fixed the girl with a piercing stare, "-but I need to copy his potions homework."

Theodore had never been more glad to see him. Like, ever. He owed him big time for this, like, at least a hundred galleon's worth of favours.

He sat up, brushing his shirt down. Pansy wore a light pink blush, as she glared murderously at Blaise. Daphne bit her lip, in what looked to be a feeble attempt to hide a grin.

"I'm- It's not- urgh," spluttered Pansy. "Why don't you do your own bloody work?"

"Can't be bothered," shrugged Blaise, turning to Theodore, "You have done the work, haven't you?"

He nodded. "It's downstairs in the dorm, we can do it there."

Daphne flashed him a smile, "Any chance I can get a hold of that homework?"

"Depends on whether you want to spend your next few hours copying down four feet and nine inches of work in the boy's dorm."

"I can't think of any better way to spend my Thursday evening," she said.

"Neither of you have even started that work, have you?" he asked, trying not to smile.

They were his friends, of course, he knew what they were like. He was fairly confident Blaise had no idea of the homework until today.

"What on earth gave you that idea?"

"Let's get going, shall we," said Blaise. "Tons of homework and not enough time."

"We got the essay a month ago," said Theodore, deadpan.

"Not all of us can be perfect like you, Theo."

He rolled his eyes at the girl. "Thanks, Daph."

"Shit," remarked Daphne, once Theodore took the work out. "Your writing is tinier than usual."

Blaise groaned, "Who the hell writes that much about Flobberworm mucus?"

"Do you want the work, or not?"

That got the two of them to pipe down rather effectively.

"Lavender, what's wrong?"

She'd refused to even look in his direction throughout the lesson, in fact, she seemed to be glued to Patil's side. It was a wonder he managed to catch her alone.

It did involve him waiting behind, and then sort of ambushing the Gryffindor. Of course, there was no one else around, because he wasn't that stupid. Not yet, anyway.

"She was right." She brushed desperately at her puffed-up eyes.

"Who was right?" he asked.

"Professor Trelawney," she choked out. "She said the thing I fear most will happen on the sixteenth of October."

"That old hack?"

Whilst Theodore hadn't taken Divination himself, he'd heard enough stories from Goyle and Daphne. They never actually did anything in the lessons, just seemed to look at cups of tea.

He sort of regretted not picking it, it would've been an easy O.W.L., a walk in the park. Not that he hated Ancient Runes, in fact, it was sort of fun, learning about the different symbols and curses.

"She's not a hack." Lavender hiccupped.

"What happened?"

"Binky – my rabbit – he died," she said, tears streaming down her cheeks. "He was only a baby."

"I'm sorry," he said, not quite sure how to respond.

Theodore hadn't ever had a pet unless you counted his owl, but he was looked after by the house elf.

He reached over to pat her shoulder in what was supposed to be a comforting gesture. It leant more on the awkward side if he was being truly honest.

Lavender wrapped her arms around Theodore and buried her head in the front of his robes. His arms stayed by his side, his shoulders stiff. Wet tears splashed his robes, his face burning.

"Erm, would you like a chocolate frog?"

What on earth was he supposed to do in a situation like this? Maybe offering a chocolate frog wasn't the right thing to do, but it was the only thing he could think of and-

"No thanks." The words were muffled against his robes.

"Erm, don't you have a lesson to get to?" he asked.

"I don't want to go," she said petulantly. "Can't we just stay here?"

In the cold, hidden away in the trees where no one would be able to find them. Surrounded by shrivelled, grey leaves, some of the lucky ones clinging onto a faint orange hue. Nothing but the wind to disturb them.

At least for the next ten minutes.

Because then Hagrid's next class would arrive, and the autumn leaves beneath their feet weren't exactly quiet. They'd be caught immediately.

"Won't your housemates look for you?" he asked. "I'm sure Patil will be worried sick if you don't go to your next lesson."

"Fine," she muttered, untangling her arms from his middle. She took a shaky breath, "I hate having to wait for Quidditch matches just so I can speak to you."

Me too, Lavender. Me too.

Hogsmeade was exactly like the older students had described it, and so much more. The streets were lined top to bottom so many shops, ranging from quaint cafes all the way to elaborately decorated boutiques.

Pansy made sure to stop by every building resembling a shop, which wasn't nearly as exciting as it sounded. There was only so much tea and hot chocolate you could have without wanting to throw up. And he didn't need any new robes, certainly not bright red ones (he had half a mind to hex Pansy in the middle of Gladrags).

In the main square The Three Broomsticks - or if the sign was to be followed it'd be 'The T ree B ooms icks' – bustling with fellow students. That might have had something to do with the bright purple building beside it.

"Just give me a second," said Daphne, hands patting her pockets. "I think I've left my Stink Pellets in Zonko's."

"Do you want me to go with you?" he asked, glancing at a green-feathered quill, its golden nib gleaming behind the shop window.

Daphne laughed slightly, gesturing towards the half-open door. "You go on to Scrivenshaft's. I'll meet you there."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive," she said. "I won't be a second."

Theodore was just about to step on the stairs leading into the shop when a hand grabbed him and shoved him to the side. He stumbled into a wall, the bricks grazing his abdomen.

"What the actual-" His words were muffled by a soft hand.

"Language, Theodore."

Lavender Brown stood in front of him, one hand against his mouth, and the other limply by her side. She wore a grin, shiny and new like she'd just bought it now from one of the dozens of shops. Her eyes gleamed with mirth, part of her face obscured by blonde curls.

If Theodore could reach his wand, he'd have petrified her by now.

Lavender stepped away, her hand dropping. They were in a small alleyway – he didn't even know there was space between Scrivenshaft's and Ceridwen's Cauldron's – leading to a dead end.

"What on earth was that for?" he asked, rubbing at his scuffed robes.

The Gryffindor shrugged, "You were alone. And I wanted to see what you bought."

"You could've just asked at the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff game," he said. "There's people everywhere."

There were Slytherins everywhere.

"Don't be a scaredy cat," she said but glanced at the dark entrance nonetheless. "Are all Slytherins this boring?"

Slytherins weren't boring. They were responsible, not like the stupidly reckless idiots calling on their Gryffindor spirit.

"I'm not boring," he frowned. "Boring people don't spend half an hour in Zonko's."

"But they go to Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop," she said, arching a brow. "Honestly, who in their right mind goes to a quill shop when they have enough money to buy the whole of Honeydukes?"

"I didn't know you were that rich," he said dryly.

Lavender rolled her eyes. "Lavender Brown, heir to millions of Galleons left to her by," she paused, crossing her arms, "her healer mother, and her... let's see... her Accidental Magic Reversal officer father."

"Heiress Brown has a nice ring to it," he said, arching a brow.

"Ew," she grimaced, "it sounds disgustingly pretentious."

It didn't sound that bad. There wasn't anything wrong with having a large inheritance to your name, it secured your future. In what world could that be a bad thing?

"Is there anything you Gryffindors even like?"

"We like loads of stuff," she sniffed. "We're not as picky as you lot 'Oh but Mummy but I wanted the Nimbus 2001 not the Nimbus 2000'."

"I think we've moved on to the Firebolt," said Theodore.

"Since when have you cared about Quidditch brooms?" she asked wrinkling her nose. "Don't tell me Malfoy managed to convert you with his sob story."

A rat peeked out from under a thick, black bin bag. It skittered across the alleyway, its claws pattering across the solid floor.

A bell chimed faintly, signalling the change of the hour.

"It's going to kill me," she shrieked, jumping forward and grabbing hold of his robes.

"Someone's going to hear you," he hissed, jerking away from her. Lavender's hold on his robes tightened. "Besides, you're doing it wrong. Draco grabbed his arm and rolled on to-"

"The rat, you idiot," she cried, burying her face in his arm, "It's going to kill us both. We're going to die."

The rat wasn't even close to them. It perched by the dark entrance, inching further and further away.

"You can barely see the rat from here," he said, pushing her away. She refused to move, stuck to him like a Niffler to gold.

"If I die now," she said, "I'll haunt you as a ghost."

He'd rather not have to deal with Lamenting Lavender floating around the Slytherin Common Room, complaining about how much she hated quidditch and studying.

"It's gone now," he said.

It wasn't gone, it was just a lot harder to see it amongst the long stringy weeds poking from the ground.

"If you're lying, I'll kill you," she whispered.

"I'm not," he said.

Lavender giggled into his robes. "I know you are. Get it? Because you're Nott?"

He'd never heard that one before. Wit of the highest quality right there, in a random alley in Hogsmeade, get your tickets now.

"I'm sure the rat appreciates your comedic genius," he muttered. "Oh look, it's actually run away this time."

Probably. He couldn't see it anymore, and it's not like he blamed the poor rat.

"You're so mean," she said, her hands dropping away from him. "I saved you from your silly Slytherin friends and this is what you do to me."

"My friends aren't silly," he said, "they're better than you lot."

"Oi," she whined, "you owe me at least five liquorice wands for that."

"I didn't buy any," he said flashing her an innocent smile.

"Then go and buy some."

And that's how Theodore ended up in Honeydukes a second time that day, receiving puzzled looks from Blaise and Daphne who were both 'so tired their feet were about to drop off'. Well, it was Blaise who had said it, Daphne had simply nodded along rather enthusiastically.

In the end, he agreed to buy both of them a Halloween-themed sweets basket for their kindness and generosity.

Having friends was bloody expensive.

It had been pre-agreed that the two of them would attend the quidditch final. This time, Lavender didn't look too put off by the news, instead, she had shrugged it off. Like it was no big deal.

And yeah, it bothered Theodore a bit, especially after their little fallout last year. Though maybe it was a good she hadn't taken it too badly.

At least it would shut Pansy up, at least until the holidays. Next year would be another matter altogether.

Right now though, she was too busy comforting Draco on Slytherin's rather devastating loss. It had been Gryffindor's biggest margin of victory in a disrupted season in the last one hundred and thirty years, according to Daphne, who had been spouting random quidditch facts monotonously for the past few days.

Whilst the rest moped about, Theodore lounged on an armchair, twiddling around with his mother's compass. It was unusually warm, the metal heating his hand. He flicked it open and was greeted by two needles. The ever-present red needle (pointing North, like always) was accompanied by a gold one which shone towards the East direction.

An owl flew in, one belonging to the Hogwarts Owlery, and dropped a letter onto his lap. Its beady emerald gaze stared at him - no - into him.

Theodore snapped the compass shut. The owl hooted and flew away. He put it back in his pocket.

"Who's that from?" asked Blaise.

Even Daphne looked up from her copy of 'Most Dramatic League Cup Finishes in the Twentieth Century'.

"Dunno," he shrugged. It had a small 'Theo' scrawled in blotchy ink. In Lavender's writing.

As he got up from the armchair, he stuffed the letter in his robe pocket, so it was half-hanging out.

"Aren't you going to open it?"

It was Daphne who spoke, her voice light, laced with subtle nonchalance. She wanted him to open the letter.

"Yeah, Theo," drawled Pansy, "aren't you the least bit curious?"

Clearly, someone had gotten bored of Draco, which was rather unfortunate for Theodore.

He plastered on a smile, as he turned to face her. "It's from the library. I reserved a copy of 'Numerology and Grammatica'." He began walking towards the exit. "Would you like to come with me?"

The best lies were often rooted in the truth. He had, in fact, reserved an Arithmancy textbook- albeit, a different one, a name he couldn't quite recall- but he'd simply forgotten to collect it earlier.

Apparently, she bought the lie, since Pansy sneered at him, but didn't say anything. Daphne had returned to her book, but Blaise was still looking at him, his brows furrowed.

Theodore didn't think about it for too long as he rushed out of the dungeons and tore the letter open.

Meet me next to the dungons entranse in 10 mins,

Lav.

He flipped the letter around, but the other side was blank.

Ten words, nothing more, nothing less.

He ran towards the stairs, climbing them two at a time. The winding staircase seemed longer than usual, and the steps steeper as his footsteps echoed through the lobby.

His breathing grew heavy as he ran to the end of the corridor, to the arch marking the entrance to the dungeons. Theodore waited by the pillar, tapping the letter against his leg over and over again.

Ten minutes that's what she had written. How long had it been? He'd spent about three minutes in the common room, maybe another four minutes getting out of the dungeons.

That left him about three minutes.

Theodore waited four minutes before he took off in the direction of Gryffindor Tower.

He made it about to the base of the stairs on the ground floor, when he was pulled aside and into a rather large cupboard. Or a very small room.

He wasn't quite sure what it was, but the walls were lined with shelves filled with glittering plates, cups and cutlery. Like the ones they used during meal times.

"Hermione's gone," breathed Lavender.

"I'm sure she'll be back," he said, wrinkling his nose. She was probably off somewhere with Weasley and Potter.

"She told me to tell someone if she wasn't back by half-eight."

"I think she might've meant a teacher, Lavender." He stared at a cup on the top shelf. It looked as though someone had taken a bit out of the metal.

"I know," she said hurriedly, "But I couldn't find McGonagall and Harry and Ron weren't in the tower either, so I panicked, and sent you that letter."

"That was unbelievably stupid," he said, pulling the letter out of his pockets. "It was delivered in front of everyone, what if someone saw what it said? Pansy already thinks- I don't actually know what she thinks-" he ran a hand through his hair, "- but she knows something."

"The parchment's charmed," Lavender said slowly, "Only you'd be able to read it. Everyone else would see a bunch of nonsense words."

A charmed letter? Surely Lavender hadn't done that herself?

"That's very advanced magic," he said, "how did you-"

"I bought it from Tomes and Scrolls. I only did the timer."

"The timer?" he asked, brows furrowed.

Lavender huffed as she snatched the paper from his hands, unfolding it.

"Look," she said.

She pointed at the '10'. Or well, where the ten was. It now had a '0' on it, the '1' erased completely.

"The timer began only when you opened the paper," she explained quickly. "That way I'd know you'd definitely opened it."

"That's impressive," he said, his mouth curling into a small.

Lavender blushed, her cheeks a brilliant scarlet. "It was easy, all I needed was a strand of your hair-"

"How on earth did you get that?"

She bit her lip. "In Hogsmeade? I wanted to see whether this worked, but I needed someone to try it on, and you were there, so I just took some of your hair?"

"And you waited until now to try it?"

Lavender shrugged. "I saved it for an emergency." And then her forehead creased, her eyebrows tightly knit. "Is there any chance you can tell Snape about Hermione?"

Theodore found himself nodding. "You owe me at least three games of chess for this," he said pointedly, as he left the small room. "Six, if Professor Snape gives me detention."

"Thank you," she breathed.

So Theodore sprinted back down to the dungeons, the same way he came up. Two steps at a time.

He knocked sharply on the Professor's office, and barrelled before he could even say "Enter."

"Granger, Weasley... and Potter might be... in danger," he said, the words barely coming out through his pants.

Professor Snape continued to unpack the box of potions on the desk.

"I think they need help," Theodore said slowly.

Still no response.

"I'm sorry for disturbing you," he said, taking a few steps back. "I'll just go back to the common room..." he trailed off.

What if Lavender had been right? What if they were in danger?

As much as he disliked Granger, he didn't want her dead. Potter and Weasley, well, he couldn't care less. Granger pushed him academically, challenged him, even if she didn't know it.

It'd be a shame if something happened to her.

"Mr Nott."

The professor's voice was soft, barely a whisper, but Theodore could've sworn it echoed around the office.

"Yes, Professor?"

"It'll be in your best interest to keep this little meeting," he paused, letting the words hang, "between us."

Theodore nodded slowly. "Yes sir."

"Good lad." He unpacked another potion and stuck a label onto it. "You've just earned yourself thirty house points."

God, maybe the Gryffindors were right to dislike Snape. He seemed so... unbothered by it all. He was supposed to care, he was a teacher, for goodness sake.

"Run along, Mr Nott," said the Professor, "I'm sure your housemates will be curious about your whereabouts."

Theodore couldn't help the sick feeling in his stomach as he trudged back to the Slytherin common room. Snape had been useless. A last-ditch effort from Lavender, and Theodore had failed.

"Where did you go, Theodore?" Blaise asked sharply. "Don't give me that library crap."

"I'm tired, Blaise," was all he said as he brushed past his friend.

"Theo," said the boy with a shake of his head. "You can tell me, you know."

"I know," he said quietly. "I just want to sleep though."

It wasn't like he could hex the professor into action. Theodore kicked at the corner of the rug, and it seemed to draw away from him.

"Tomorrow then?"

"Yeah," he muttered, before stalking down to his dormitory and collapsing onto his bed.

He hoped for Lavender's sake, Granger, Potter and Weasley pulled their usual arrogant end-of-year Gryffindor stunts. Clearly, the professors seemed to be incapable of taking care of such things.

He'd just have to tell Blaise he went to see Snape about his potions work, despite the professor's strict instructions. The alternative was unthinkable.

Snape would vouch for his lie, Theodore knew that much. Not that it'd be needed, unless Pansy got wind of things. Only she'd actually go out of her way to test his lies. Well, they weren't exactly lies, just minor untruths.

"I can't believe Professor Lupin's a werewolf," said Lavender, as she unpacked the chess.

"I can't believe Potter and his two musketeers survived," he said.

"Thanks to you, the unsung hero," she said with a smile. "You'll go down in history- actually no you won't, you'll just be forgotten, maybe be a myth if you're lucky."

"What are you talking about?"

"The boy who braved the wrath of the dreaded Potions master to save three of his fellow peers," she said, "it's almost romantic."

"Yeah, no," he said sharply. "There's absolutely nothing romantic about knocking on the door of a stubborn teacher. It was all pointless. A fat lot of good it did."

Lavender placed her remaining knight down before looking at him. Her gaze was puzzled, the glare of the sun making her eyes an unnatural brown.

"He just told me to keep quiet and gave me house points for hiding his cowardice."

"Snape did go," she said slowly, dragging a bishop across the board. "Ron was telling us after they all came back. He also swore a couple of times, but I think Snape sort of saved them?"

Theodore's mind reeled. He'd been so unbothered, so careless. The lack of urgency had been astounding. He just assumed that Snape had stayed in his office, unboxing potions.

It wasn't like the professor had shown any signs of interest.

And yet...

"Snape went?"

Lavender nodded. "Did you not know?"

"I'm not friends with idiotic Gryffindors," he said, rolling his eyes. "Who on earth was supposed to tell me?"

She held a finger up. "Wait, did you just say we're not friends? Or did you say I'm not an idiot?"

"The first one," he said dryly.

"That hurt," she said placing a hand on her heart, "right there. You can probably hear it crack."

"I'm sure Pomfrey has a cure for heartbreak," he said, narrowing his eyes.

Lavender doubled over, clutching her chest.

"You might have to carry me," she said, the words muffled by the grass.

"No thanks," Theodore said, wrinkling his nose. "I thought we established this is a strict non-friendship."

"So you'd rather watch me die?"

Theodore rolled his eyes.

"You're all so unnecessarily dramatic," he said.

"I'm going to miss Professor Lupin," Lavender said quietly. "We spent all of last lesson trying to convince him to take back his resignation."

Of course, that's what Gryffindor did in their last Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson. Slytherin's was the polar opposite, and well, he wasn't exactly proud of it. He'd been a good professor, though it wasn't like the benchmark was that high. A host for you-know-who followed by a fraudster wasn't exactly hard to beat.

"The governors would force the school to close until they got rid of him," he said. "The majority of parents will throw a fit if he stays."

His father would certainly be one of the first parents to riot. He'd use his place in Wizengamot to get rid of Dumbledore as well.

He'd already sent the school two very threatening letters, not that Theodore would ever admit it to the Gryffindor beside him.

"It's not fair though," she said, "It's not his fault, he's a werewolf. For starters, he's been our only proper teacher in our three years at the school. It's common knowledge that they're not dangerous when they have Wolfsbane. Any healer will tell you the same."

"Lavender, purebloods can't even get along with half-bloods, and you're expecting them to suddenly accept creatures classified as volatile by the ministry?"

"You're not like that, though," she said. "You're a proper pureblood, one of the sacred twenty-eight."

He shrugged. "There's loads of us."

"You don't have to stand up for the other Slytherins, you know," she said. "You don't owe them anything."

"I know," he said, moving a pawn forward. "But it's true."

Well, it was sort of true. The Slytherin house wasn't anything like his father's descriptions. Nowadays it was a nice place to be. Most of the time, at least.

"Good Slytherins exist," he said, "the same way bad Gryffindors exist. Sirius Black is a prime example of that."

"Black's dead, though," said Lavender. "You Slytherins get away with everything, and live like kings."

"That's because most Gryffindors share a single brain cell between them."

"That's well mean," she said, her eyes narrowing.

"Nice people never win."

"That's, like, the most Slytherin thing I've ever heard," she said. "Checkmate."

"You still owe me two more games," said Theodore, wryly.

Lavender shrugged but began rearranging her pieces nonetheless.

"You aren't worried about getting interrogated about your extended library session?"

"Nah," he said. "Everyone's busy packing."

"I still think it's a crap lie," said Lavender, "Who on earth spends more than fifteen minutes in the library?"

"I do," he said.

"You probably do as well," she said, her nose wrinkled. "That's well sad."

"It's not sad," he spluttered. "I happen to enjoy reading."

"Blink twice if you've been imperiused," she said.

"Hilarious."

"Aww, thanks, Theodore. It means more than I can ever say."

As far as mind games went, Lavender was much better than him, not that he'd ever admit it out loud. Which, in his opinion, was the reason he lost the following two games as well.

Thanks for reading this week's chapter. If by any chance you don't hate the story yet, well, chapter four will be uploaded next week.