CHAPTER 18: Show of Hands (Part 4)

A part of Ron still couldn't believe he was here right now. It felt like when you were so into a dream, where weeks and months had passed, and you were only now just realising this wasn't real. And yet, the dream continued, showing no sign of when it would end, and he would wake up in his tight, crooked room. He didn't have as much angst about money anymore. Somewhere along the last two years, he must have grown up and realised that there were many more important things than that. If seeing Cedric and Krum's corpses hadn't been enough, their visit to the Ministry had been what finally did it. But even if he didn't put that much focus on money anymore, Ron never thought he would be able to even look at a place like this, much less be a guest.

This was the type of resort that old, snobbish families like the Malfoys frequented. This wasn't him being bitter, it was something that had proven itself as he met more and more people here. Of course, there were a few that, while not like him, weren't posh twats either. Ramiro, the little Mexican boy, was one of them, crass and so unlike the old money sort despite being one of them. A little rebellion from the pre-teen boy, one that Ron couldn't help but encourage. The twins, too, were some of his favourites. They were much more grounded, it really didn't feel like their family was the third richest in all of South America. And, sure, they had their moments, but they had a good heart and were fast friends with both him and Ginny.

The big surprise, though, was Theo Nott. Harry had sicked him and Parkinson on them, Ron knew it, he didn't even have to ask around to be sure. It made sense, he was away a lot, so squishing both friend groups together solved two problems at once. Ron had been ready to try, he'd tolerate it for Harry, and Theo hadn't been that bad on that Quidditch game they had a few days before leaving Britain. What he hadn't expected was to like the boy as much as he actually had. They had nothing in common, not superficially at least. Besides Quidditch, Theo was as similar to him as a cow was to a hippogriff. But somehow, they fit. It was like one of those weird Muggle kid games his father had once brought home - the one where you had to match a shape to a hole - and though Theo wasn't the right shape, it still somehow went through the hole.

Of course, after Harry, it wasn't like he could continue believing all Slytherins were evil megalomaniacs. They were… well, they were weird. Yes, Harry sometimes gave off that vibe. And sometimes he saved his entire family for no other reason than he can. Yeah, weird's the right word. But Harry had always felt like he was apart from the others. Like he was in his own little house that just so happened to share Slytherin's colours and had a small dormitory in the dungeons. He wasn't like the others, and Ron still stood by that, which is why he was genuinely liking Theo. Even if the boy sometimes looked at his sister a bit too much for his liking.

The days had gone by entirely too quickly, and he was dreading leaving already. This had been just what he'd needed. Ever since he arrived, he hadn't been thinking of Neville or Hermione or the shaky friendship between the three of them. Here, on the other side of the world, it all seemed too far away. And though Hermione was making an effort to being less aloof, he had barely seen Neville since that first night.

Maybe he was being a bad friend, but it was easier to focus on Theo and his international friends than Neville.

With things wrapping up at the ICW, the resort felt fuller today, and it seemed everyone was sticking to their families because it was just the four of them today. Parkinson and Blaise, who always stuck to Theo, were nowhere to be found, and Ron wasn't about to complain. At least Malfoy and Greengrass hadn't made an appearance; being friendly with them would have just been too awkward. So, it ended up being a much more relaxed day. No Quidditch or football matches, no riding the hippocampi or enjoying the slides. It was a quiet pool day, and, as usual, Theo had made it clear that drinks were on him. When the boy told him it would be Harry's problem to explain that to Scrimgeour, he ordered too extra drinks for himself.

The two of them hung around the pool while Ginny and Hermione took the chance to sunbathe. Ron was glad no other boy tried to approach either of them while they were away. He had nearly lost his top when those German fuckers tried to shamelessly flirt with both girls. Fortunately for his pride, they had turned them down before he tried to step in.

They drank, laughed, drank some more, invited Hermione and Ginny with them for a while, drank even more, tried to flirt with some American birds, got rejected rather harshly, endured Ginny and Hermione's mocks, and drank another few rounds for good measure. Ron was sure they did a few more things in between, but the alcohol had already erased them. Not that it stopped them from continuing downing it. So, it wasn't a surprise that he wasn't very sure about what he was talking about with Theo when he saw Neville. It was a hallucination, it had to be, there was no way Neville Longbottom would wear a swimsuit instead of his formal robes. But Theo saw him too, and then that didn't make sense. Unless something about the alcohol connected their brains like this. Ron doubted it.

Even drunk, Theo was an expert at reading social cues. "I'm going for another round," he told Ron. "Want another one?"

He did, because, suddenly, he felt as sober as he had been this morning. He nodded and Theo left.

Neville looked warily at the water. Even if he had changed, it seemed he wasn't ready to take that final leap and jump in. But he was looking straight at Ron, and it was the expression he had when he told him he was going to head for the Stone, when he told him he was going to save Potter, when he was facing down Sirius and the dragon and everything else that was a threat to his life. Even with how broken their friendship was, he couldn't ignore that.

Ron got out of the pool, using the towel to lightly dry himself before sitting on the sun lounge beside Neville's. It was weird. All around them was sunny and hot, filled with children and shrieks and laughter, and yet, Ron felt like he was away from it all. Like one of those pensieve memories Neville told him about. It didn't seem real. But this time, it was different to the rest of the week. He wondered if it would have been better if the pool was deserted, if the weather was rainy, and if it was night instead of day. Or, maybe, just being around Neville now made everything feel that much drearier.

Ron didn't speak. He watched, slightly concerned, as Neville abruptly shook his head, looked in one direction then another, muttered some words to himself, and did a hundred other things. He seemed ready to bolt, but he hadn't. He was already regretting this. But, he stayed, and somehow, that made Ron feel a little better.

"I've been a twat," he finally said. Ron didn't know why he didn't laugh. Any other time, he would have, but now he didn't even feel it in himself to do so. "I- well…" Neville trailed off. Ginny and Hermione were watching them from afar. Hermione looked almost teary-eyed. Neville shook his head madly. "I'm sorry. I've been such a shitty friend. Just… shitty in general, really. Potter came to me the other day, he actually called me off for being an arsehole to you. I mean," he laughed. "Fuck. You know you're fucked when Potter's calling you out, don't you."

Ron shrugged. "Yeah, I guess so."

Neville's brows scrunched together. He looked, well, he looked like he was about to take a dump. "I… Ron, I want to- I need to…" But whatever he wanted or needed, Ron never learned it, because Neville continued as if he had never said those words. "After the Ministry, my injury, everything… I just didn't- I didn't take it well. I took it out on you, and Hermione, and everyone else. And I shouldn't have. I just… if you… if I could just…" And then, he sighed. "I'm trying. I'll keep trying. Just, don't give up on me, yeah. And if I start doing it again, if I start fucking up… just call me out on it before Potter does it again."

Finally, Ron felt the laugh, and he didn't stop it. Because what else could he have wanted? Merlin knew he'd given worse apologies and gotten away with it. But this, just this, knowing that he still wanted to be his friend, that there was something to salvage, it was everything. "Yeah, alright. I'll make sure to beat you with my broom before Potter gets another chance."

Neville smiled. And then Hermione was there. She looked between the two of them. Her mouth shook, and knowing her, there were a million things she wanted to say. But instead, she just scooped both of them in a fierce hug, and for the first time, Ron wasn't embarrassed by it. He hugged them both as fiercely as she did, and when Ginny joined them as well, he didn't complain.

"Ah, now I'm feeling left out," Theo said, giving them a bashful smile. "Unfortunately, Slytherins have never been good at giving hugs."

Ron snorted. "I didn't think you lot knew what they were."

"I think I'm the only one. Here," he handed Ron his drink.

Everything turned tense. Neville was looking at Theo, unrelenting, and suddenly Ron wondered what Neville might think of their new friendship with the Slytherins. He hated Harry already, he probably hated the rest, and given everything that had happened, he might try to force the issue.

"Neville," Theo greeted him politely.

Neville turned away, then shut his eyes tightly before, yet again, shaking his head. This time, when he turned to Theo, there was no anger in his eyes. "Nott."

Theo nodded. "I'll leave you guys for a while. I'm sure Blaise is silently praying I'll go save him from his mum."

"No," Neville said. The words felt forced, as if it had pained him just to say it. "It's fine. You can stay, if you want."

Theo grinned, looking very un-Slytherin as he did. "Brilliant. Fancy a drink? It's on Harry's tab."

It didn't brighten Neville up, but it at least caught his attention. "Will it get him in trouble?"

"Not sure," Theo shrugged. "But a guy can hope."

"Get me a couple, then."

It was well past the afternoon, and Pansy still hadn't left her room. Theo had looked at her oddly when she'd begged off, at first thinking she had just gotten tired of the stupid Gryffindors until he saw her rejecting Daphne and Draco's invitation to go with their posh friends, then he'd gotten worried. He hadn't said anything, and even if he had, she wasn't planning on answering any questions. It wasn't as if she could answer them to herself, anyway.

There was something wrong. Something she felt deep within her, deep in her soul, her mind, her everything. She could feel it, almost trace it, but she couldn't reach it, just like those times a small piece of food would get stuck in her teeth and mysteriously disappear when she tried to take it out.

Pansy was shaking. She felt pale, and though she'd eaten more than enough throughout the week, she felt malnourished. She was cold even in the infernal weather, even as she burrowed herself deeper in the covers. Something was wrong with her, but she didn't know why. She needed her grandfather. With all his knowledge, he would be able to easily fix it. And even if he didn't have it, even if he was just some witless bum from the road, Pansy felt she would still need him. Love, she scoffed. Probably. It was bound to happen. It wasn't as if she hadn't been clung to her parents as well before her grandfather came and essentially stole her from them.

It had been so long since she had missed them, or even just thought of them. But she did, oh so very much. Looking back, she had hated her grandfather during those first few months. He had kidnapped her, told her everything she believed in was wrong, and that her parents were some moronic sycophants who had brainwashed her. But, he was right, wasn't he? That's what they were, and the Dark Lord needed to be stopped. She had been stupid thinking otherwise. Right? She believed that, she knew she did. But she couldn't remember why. It wasn't as if she didn't have a reason, maybe her sickness was just making things fuzzy. It wouldn't be the first time her mind was compromised, she had made a fool of herself by pining for Draco back in her first two years. Love - again, she scoffed - it was definitely a sickness, even if it didn't leave her a shivering mess.

Merlin, she missed her parents. She hadn't realised how much until right now. She missed her family, she missed… and it was gone. The thought escaped her. But she still missed it, it was such a part of her that she could feel it even in its absence.

Something was wrong with her. She needed to see her grandfather. She needed him there. When the door opened, she thought that maybe he had known, that she had somehow summoned him. But it was Draco who stepped into the room, Draco who she had summoned thinking back on her stupid crush on a boy who definitely did not deserve it. Looking at him now, she couldn't understand how she ever fell for him. He was handsome, sure, but the moment he opened his mouth, he sounded like a whiny ten-year-old. Maybe that's why she didn't realise it in those first few years, it didn't seem so out of place back then. Not like it did now.

"You look like shit," he told her, using his usual charm.

"What do you want?" Pansy scowled.

"Was looking for you, actually. Well, was looking for anyone, really, but I found you first. So I guess I'll have to settle."

"I'm touched."

"You should be,"

"Where's Daphne?"

"Dunno," Draco shrugged. "Ditched me a couple of hours ago, I thought she was with you." Then, from within his robes, he pulled out a bottle of Firewhisky.

"Where did you get that?" She demanded.

"Nicked it from one of the minibars. Pretty sure one of the servers saw me, but they'll just probably charge Potter for it."

"He's going to kill you."

"Nah," and, ignoring all personal boundaries, he sat on her bed. "I mean, last year, yeah, I would have been afraid of just breathing wrong near him. But, well, he's pretty soft, isn't he?"

Pansy blinked. She was dumbfounded, genuinely speechless for the first time in a very long while.

"Well, I mean, all torturing, maiming, and killing aside, he's got a soft spot for us, doesn't he? He'll chew my head off, sure, but he won't do more than that."

Something raged inside her. Something weird and uncomfortable and very foreign. "So, what, you think you can just use him then?"

"What?" Draco gaped at her. "No, fuck no. I'm not a moron. Merlin, Pansy, what do you think of me?"

"Someone willing to use whatever advantage he has."

"Well, yes, but Harry's… you know… Harry. Even if it wasn't scary, he's… you know. It would be weird, that's all. I wouldn't go that low."

"I hope, for your sake, you're not lying."

He scoffed. "Merlin, aren't you protective all of a sudden?"

"What's it to you?" She challenged.

"Nothing. Forget I said anything, yeah?"

He opened the bottle, and just as he did, a pair of glasses suddenly appeared at her nightstand. Draco poured a drink out for him, and then he started filling up the other glass.

"What are you doing?"

"Making us a drink," he answered, as if it was obvious.

"No, no," Pansy shook her head, and even that simple act made her dizzy. "Can't you see I'm sick."

"This will make you better."

"No, it won't."

"Please, alright," he whined. "We're in Mexico! It's the only place I'll be able to drink without my father knowing about it, and he doesn't like it when I drink." Then, he curled his lip in a sneer and raised his nose. "Dulling the mind, messing with your senses, I didn't think you were that stupid, Draco."

"I still don't see why I should care," she said.

"Just-" he handed her the glass, and she hated herself for reaching for it. "Thank you. I owe you, yeah? Next time you need a drink, just give me a call."

Pansy shrugged and took a small sip. She liked the feeling, she hoped it would make her ignore just how wrong she was feeling. They drank a few glasses, eventually, it got hot enough that she dared ventured out of the covers. The sun was going down, she was feeling fuzzy. She didn't remember the last time she had laughed so much. Logically, she knew it was the alcohol in her system making her simple, but that didn't stop her from enjoying the moment. Between her OWLs and having to save Harry's arse over and over again, she hadn't gotten much respite in the past year. She was immensely grateful for the opportunity.

"Merlin, do you remember his face when Longbottom's name came out of the Goblet? He looked more insulted than Karkaroff!" Draco laughed.

Pansy couldn't help but smile. She remembered that night perfectly. Harry had given a full rant to the entire Slytherin Common Room about the preferential treatment of the poor, Boy Who Lived. It was the one time he had been accepted by the entire house. "No wonder people thought Harry was in love with him."

"Merlin, imagine that," he snorted, then, he went quiet for a moment. He gently moved the glass in his hand, studying it carefully before taking a swig. "Can I ask you a… personal question?"

She glared at him. "If you ask me to play some sort of stripping game, I will slap you."

"Ew. No, not at all," his face screwed up in disgust. "Merlin, Pansy, don't say shit like that. You're just- no."

"Good," she nodded. "What do you want?"

"Well… just - and don't hit me, okay - but, what happened to you?"

"What do you mean?"

"You!" He exclaimed. "I don't know. You just changed so much, didn't you? Fifth-year started and, suddenly, you were all over Harry. You went against Montague, even when he tried to recruit you too. I know what happened, I know he told you he was doing the Dark Lord's bidding, and you've just been… well, you've been Muggle-friendly lately. I thought you didn't buy into their shit."

"I…" She didn't know what she wanted to say. The words appeared in her mind, but they weren't the right ones. They didn't feel right, true, but she still said them. "I haven't changed. I just realised a few things."

"Like what?" Draco was studying her carefully. "I know Potter hasn't- well, he has a distorted view of things at times. But you didn't have to change everything about yourself to just be his friend. I mean, it's not like I'm quiet about my thoughts on the Dark Lord, and he hasn't kicked me to the curb."

"And you don't think he will?"

"I… no," his voice was small. "I sort of thought that he'd come around, you know, eventually. That he'd realised the Dark Lord wasn't completely wrong. It's not pretty, but he has reasons for what he does."

"Draco, Harry is destined to kill him. You're not an idiot. You know Voldemort would never keep him alive after that."

"Harry's powerful, he's an asset. They could make a vow, something to keep the peace between them."

"Who has the distorted view now?" Pansy said.

He scowled. "You still haven't answered my question. I know you still agree with me. I know you believe in the Dark Lord, in his war. I see it in your face whenever the subject comes up."

"You see it in my face?" She raised an eyebrow at him. "Master of body language, are you, Malfoy?"

"Come on. You can't be this daft!"

"Maybe I am." She was shaking again. She didn't know why, but she felt like she was about to burst. It was as if her entire body was focused on keeping her like she was, and she didn't know why. "The Dark Lord is a threat, Draco. He doesn't care about wizards or witches or anything other than himself. He'll kill us all. He'll kill Harry. That's why he has to die."

"You don't believe that," he said. "I know you don't, why are you pretending like you do?"

Pansy glared. She felt she needed to say something. Her entire body was burning too. But she kept her mouth shut.

The door to their room suddenly burst open. Laughs and shouts filled the room. Pansy and Draco looked at each other, their argument quickly put aside as they bounded over to the living room. Theo was back, and he'd brought his entire gaggle of Gryffindors. Weasley was laying on the couch, looking fully out of it. His sister was on the kitchen, glass offhand, sitting beside Granger. Even Longbottom was there, an odd smile on his face as he launched a pillow directly at Weasley.

"Ow! What was that for?" He slurred.

Theo laughed. He was making himself another drink from a half-empty bottle he had been carrying.

"Oi, Weasel, that's my bed," Draco snarled.

"Your bed? This is the couch." His eyes widened. "No way! Don't tell me they threw you out to the living room."

"Harry did," Theo said smugly.

The little Weasley girl laughed.

"Out!" Draco shouted before rounding on Theo. "What do you think you're doing bringing them here? This is our room!"

"Oh, calm down, Ferret," the Weasley girl said lightly. "We're just having fun. It won't hurt you to not be an arse."

"This is not fun. Just because you lot can't hold in your liquor doesn't mean I'm obligated to babysit you."

"And what? You're so great at handling your alcohol, then?"

Draco sneered. "Obviously."

Theo was at his side, a drink in hand. Draco grabbed it before it fell to the ground. "Prove it then."

"Theo," Pansy warned.

"What?" He asked innocently. "Afraid of a little competition with these fine Gryffindors?"

"Fine?" Draco looked Theo up and down, as if trying to see if it was really their friend or some polyjuiced pretender. He took a large sip of his glass regardless. Draco Malfoy was never one to be bested by Gryffindors.

"Come on, Pansy," Theo smiled at her, a little drunkenly. "It'll be fun. You know fun, don't you?"

"Harry's going to murder you," she whispered, but accepted the new glass nonetheless.

"I think he'd actually approve."

When Blaise had finally been allowed to leave the hotel room, he hadn't expected to find Theo, Draco, and Ron Weasley sneaking into one of the pool mini bars. It was an odd sight, watching three boys with virtually nothing in common laughing and snorting and shushing themselves as if they were embarking on some sort of secret spy mission from those Muggle movies. He watched them, frozen by the complete randomness of it all as they jumped into the pool, vaulted over into the closest mini island, and spent a couple of minutes dealing with the locks securing the alcohol before Weasley triumphantly raised a bottle of Firewhisky as Theo whooped.

They'd gotten close lately, so it wasn't surprising. On the other hand, watching Draco accept a high five from both boys definitely was. Maybe that's what alcohol did to you, made you all dumb that you completely forget your principal values of hating people of lower class. Because, to Malfoy, Weasley was definitely lower class, and, if he had been sober, he would have rather died than do such a thing. Only, tonight, he was plastered, a couple of drinks away from going on his knees and retching whatever his body was willing to expend.

A flare of jealousy burst at the sight, something that rarely happened to Blaise. It felt like he'd missed so much, like being trapped in his mother's schemes had taken him away from all his friends to the point where Weasley had been considered a suitable replacement. It was all wrong, and he hated his mother for it. But as quickly as it came, it was gone. That's just how life for Blaise Zabini was supposed to be, this wasn't even the first time in his holiday that being the son of the infamous Black Widow had done him a disservice.

Theo hadn't realised just how renowned she really was, until the other day, when he tried to join Theo and Pansy with their newly formed group. Theo, being an Everyman, was instantly best friends of everyone there, which meant that Blaise had often been left to fend on his own. Talking with the Gryffindors was just weird, and Pansy, with her foul mood, didn't seem to be an option, so, instead, he'd tried making friends with the other boys. The Germans were obnoxious, the twins busy with Theo, so he had no other choice but to go to the American bloke. But as soon as he arrived, he and his girlfriend gave Blaise a nasty look. He had tried to ignore it, talking often helped to get people to endear themselves to him. Only, this time, it failed miserably.

"So, who are you here with?" Blaise eventually asked, having run out of every other topic he could think of.

"Mother's part of the American delegation," he replied curtly. The boy's girlfriend still refused to say a word.

"Oh, funny that," Blaise laughed. "My Mum's with the Italians."

"Yes, we know."

"You know? Wait, don't tell me we've met before. We haven't, have we? Merlin, that would be embarrassing."

The boy glared at him. "No, we're just familiar with your mother. She's made quite a name for herself."

That was when Blaise had felt his stomach dropped. Whenever someone spoke of his mother's exploits, they usually often referred to one thing. "Ah, yeah. It's, umm, well, just awful what's happened, you know? Really bad luck."

The boy scoffed. "Sure, if that's what you want to call it."

"I think murder's the right word," the girl said darkly.

He had no idea what he could have said. Should have said. There was no right answer, but he still had to give one. "What- you- my mother hasn't murdered anyone. Just because she's had a rough go of it doesn't mean-"

"Yeah, whatever," the boy waved him off, pulling his girlfriend toward him as he started walking away. "Make's sense, like mother like son. We knew you'd be just like her the moment we saw you. What kind of person are you? To excuse everything she's done."

"One of those men was your father, you know?" the girl told him. "But I guess you wouldn't care, would you? As long as you get to live like a king, everyone else can rot, yeah?"

Blaise watched them leave, and, thankfully, he never had to be alone with them again. Nor did anyone else brought the topic of his mother to him again. But they all knew, it was in the way they looked at him, how they avoided him without being obvious. His mother was a ghost, a hand off his shoulder that constantly followed him, and it was as if everyone but him could see the apparition behind him.

It was something he'd had to deal with all his life. The baggage of his mother's sins had been dropped to him, and as she went around gallivanting, enticing a new husband, adding to her wealth, he was the one who paid the price. He was mistrusted, ostracized, and hated as if he had had a hand in his mother's murders. But what else was he supposed to do? Despite how much he hated her, he could never bring himself to turn on her. He loved her, even if he didn't want to admit it, and so he lied for her. And he did, he felt a part of himself crack with each lie.

It wasn't until Theo and the others left the pool that Blaise came out of his hiding spot. Malfoy screeched like a girl, Weasley fumbled for his wand only to remember he was only wearing a swimsuit. Theo smiled at him. "Well," the word sort of tumbled out of his mouth, slipping and swaying. "There you are! You look sober. Are you sober? Here," and before Blaise could say anything, the bottle was right in his face and his mouth was being opened. The burning liquid was poured down his throat, and Blaise nearly spewed it back to the ground.

"There," Theo said proudly. "That should help."

"Did you steal that?" Blaise asked.

"No," Weasley slurred.

"So what if we did?"

"Harry's going to-"

"Murder us, yeah, we know," Malfoy said pompously. "But he hasn't come back from his ICW thing, so it can wait for tomorrow."

Blaise scrunched his eyebrows. He wondered why his mother had wrapped up early herself.

The four of them headed back to the room, taking turns and having gos at the bottle every five steps. "You're going to finish that before we even make it back," Blaise warned.

"Nonsense," Theo said, and then he thrust the bottle back into Blaise's face.

Theo was right, they had only downed half the bottle by the time Pansy let them inside the room. "Oh, look, you're here too now. Perfect," she said. She looked almost sober, her irritation at having to host five extra people fighting the alcohol in her system.

Blaise smiled at her. "Good to see you too, Parkinson."

He was a bit tipsy already. The night started passing by swiftly. It wasn't long before he lost track of time and track of how much he'd actually drunk. There was suddenly another bottle in the room with them. Had they gone back out again for more alcohol? Blaise didn't remember going out. The competition between Weasley, Draco, and Theo was still going strong, each pushing the boundary as they tried to outdrink the others. If Blaise hadn't been fucked up, he would have wondered if it was smart, incurring a potential alcohol poisoning on a meaningless bet where only honour was on the line. What was worse was that, somehow, he'd gotten roped into it as well, so he was drinking just as much as them.

"Oh, Merlin, I can't go back to Mum like this," Blaise whined later in the night. "She's going to kill me."

"Don't be a moron. You can stay here. There's plenty of space in our bed for three."

"What?" Draco shouted from the other side of the room. "No, if I can't stay there, Blaise can't either!"

"Blaise doesn't snore," Theo retorted.

"Blaise can stay on the couch, I'll move to the bed."

"How about you sleep at Ron's room and Blaise can stay here?"

"Oi, no, we don't want him!"

"I second that," Weasley's sister added.

"As if I would ever sleep in a room full of Gryffindors," Draco sneered. "Blaise can stay with them."

Longbottom was giving him that weird look again. "I think I'd rather stay here," Blaise said.

"Well, then, I call dibs on the bed!" Draco shouted, and before Blaise could blink, he jumped over the couch and headed towards the room on the left side.

"Don't you dare!" Theo shouted.

Suddenly, everyone was chasing Draco. Even Granger and Longbottom, who's been quiet for most of the night, had rushed towards them. Draco crashed into the door, trying to turn the stuck knob, before he pulled out his wand and cast a series of unlocking charms. And, before Theo could reach him, something clicked and Draco pushed forward. But as the door opened, it was like another world had been allowed into the room. There were moans and groans and cries of pleasure that suddenly echoed all around them. Blaise pushed forward, elbowing Weasley and Theo as he tried to get a look.

"What the fuck?" Draco shouted.

The two naked, sweaty figures on the bed suddenly yelped and threw themselves on the ground, behind the bed. Blaise managed to get a glimpse of the long, blond hair before the emerald eyes besides the girl suddenly lit up. And, then, everything went cold. And Blaise got the sudden urge to turn around and bolt out of the room.

"CLOSE THE FUCKING DOOR!"

That's it for this chapter, thank you all for reading!

By the time I'm posting this, I'M TWELVE chapters ahead, and starting the second arc of the Hogwarts Fall Term titled Lazarus Rising! If you're interested in learning how to get early access to the chapters, join my discord server using the following link: discord . gg / jyPfbGqhJT

As always, thank you for reading, favoriting, and commenting. I appreciate all of you!