Something in the Air

Sasha was sitting in her bed, painting her nails. Pansy Parkinson, she was fully aware, was watching her with pleading eyes. And Sasha was ignoring her completely.

"Sasha," Pansy said bravely. Sasha figured she couldn't very well ignore her when she was speaking to her, so she decided to acknowledge Pansy.

"Yeah," Sasha replied, not looking up from her fingernails. She was struggling with a French manicure.

"How's...Draco?" Pansy ventured. Brave one, she was.

"Fine," Sasha said icily. She hoped to God that Pansy knew she hated her.

"That's good," Pansy replied. Sasha was tempted to say something mean and unnecessary, but she was working on self-control, and it didn't allow her to tell Pansy to 'go die in a pit, you satanic bitch'.

"Have you heard from your parents lately?" Pansy asked. Sasha closed her eyes and tried to count, but found that there wasn't a number high enough.

"No," Sasha said through her teeth. "Why do you ask?" A vein was definitely popping out in her neck, Sasha knew it. Whenever she tried to suppress her anger, a vein popped out in her neck.

"Because, my parents wrote and said they were with your parents and wanted to know how we were doing. And they wanted to know how Draco was. And they wanted to know what kind of wedding dress you want, and ask him if he likes bowties or neckties," Pansy explained excitedly.

"Why are our parents together?" Sasha asked, incensed.

"Because they're on vacation together, of course," Pansy answered, as if this were obvious.

"Really," Sasha said in a strangled voice. "And why do your parents care so much about me?"

"Because we're, like, best friends forever and ever and are practically sisters," Pansy replied, again, as if this were the most obvious answer.

"You infuriate me," Sasha snarled viciously. She was extremely tempted to whip out her wand and kill Pansy right there. But she restrained herself, telling herself that it would ensure her a one-way ticket to Death Eater-dom. Actually, if it meant she could kill Pansy, it was beginning to not sound half bad.

"Well, it's one of the best-friend-practically-sister's jobs, isn't it?" Pansy said cheerily, completely oblivious to the fact that Sasha's fingers were twitching with anger, and Sasha's entire body was beginning to shake.

"The only job," Sasha growled. She silently promised herself that she would most definitely enroll herself as a Death Eater. And her first act of evil as a Follower would be to kill Pansy Parkinson. And maybe her own older sister, because Isabella was intolerable to no end. She had stolen Sasha's favorite pair of stilettos. And never given them back.

"Wanna go shopping today, Sasha?" Pansy asked. Sasha sighed and rolled her eyes. She felt much calmer after that.

"Why not," she said unenthusiastically. She wasn't really one to pass up a shopping trip. She'd just have to think of something to keep Draco out of the way, or else endure the never-ending flow of bad pickup attempts from Pansy.

"Woo!!" Pansy yelled. "We're gonna have so much FUN!! We'll shop for hours and hours and hours until we don't have any money, then we'll go to the bank and get more money and then we'll shop and shop and shop and shop..." Sasha tuned Pansy out as Pansy went on to shriek about how much FUN it was going to be to go shopping together. To Sasha, it sounded like a nightmare.

Then again, that, ultimately, was what Pansy was. A living, breathing, shopping nightmare.

Sasha pulled a bottle of vodka out from under her pillow, opened it, and took a long drink straight from the bottle.

"Here's to nightmares," she muttered.

***

Draco was sitting alone in his room, watching snow fall outside the one window. The windowsill outside was getting dusted in tiny, delicate flakes. He was a little disappointed. He'd actually been hoping for a blizzard.

"I'm lonely," he said. And, amazingly, he wasn't looking in the mirror. He was waiting for Sasha to come back, because he actually really missed her even when she'd only been gone for a half an hour.

Someone knocked on the door, and Draco leapt up from his bed to answer it, hoping to see Sasha standing there.

He opened the door, and sure enough, Sasha was standing there, but instead of leaping into his arms and smothering him in kisses like he'd hoped, she was looking absolutely, positively livid.

"I'm going shopping with Pansy," she explained shortly. "Please kill me."

"What?" Draco asked, lost in the quick explanation.

"Pansy wants me to go shopping," she repeated in a monotone. "And I want you to kill me before she realizes I'm gone."

"Um...let me think about that one...No?" Draco replied. "Just don't go."

They heard someone coming up the stairs, and before long that someone identified themselves.

"Sasha? It's Pansy!!!! Let's go!!!!!!" Pansy shrieked.

"Idea!" Sasha yelled. She poked her head out the door, making sure Pansy could see her, waited until she was only looking from her peripheral vision, and stuck her finger down her throat.

Sasha vomited out into the hallway, catching Pansy's attention. Pansy rushed over to her, looking worried.

"Are you alright?" she demanded. Sasha worked up her best pathetic, terribly ill look and shook her head no.

"I think she should stay here with me," Draco said. "Just in case."

"Oh," Pansy said, looking deflated. "Of course. I mean, definitely. If you're not up to a fun-filled day of shopping with your bestestly best friend-practically-sister?"

"I'm sure," Sasha choked, almost puking for real at the thought of having Pansy for a sister. Pansy looked dejected and slouched off, her knockoff designer bag dangling sadly from the crook of her arm.

When she was sure Pansy was out of earshot, Sasha turned to Draco, smiling devilishly.

Draco returned the smirk, and led her into his room, slamming the door shut behind them. Sasha smiled, and tore away from him, walking over to the dresser where she'd stashed everything necessary for an entire year of PG-13, maybe R-rated fun. However, she was looking for her staple 3 C's: caviar, champagne and condoms. But, upon discovering that her champagne was flat, would have to improvise, and make it 2 C's and a magical V: caviar, condoms, and vodka.

"Baby, we only have vodka," she said to Draco.

"And that's a problem why?" Draco replied lazily.

"It's not. It's just champagne is more romantic. And it fits with the C theme," Sasha said.

"There's a theme?" Draco asked.

"Just...never mind," Sasha replied. She tossed the vodka onto the bed, where it landed dangerously near the edge, but Draco quickly snatched it up.

"Trojan right here," Draco called. Sasha grabbed a condom out of the drawer and chucked it at him. He snatched it out of the air, and placed it beside him. Sasha skipped over next to him, and uncorked the bottle of vodka with her teeth, something she knew for a fact made Draco ridiculously horny. She took a long swig from the bottle to get rid of the taste of vomit.

Draco snatched the bottle out of her hands, and drank for a while before grabbing her face between his weird-but-sexy manicured hands and kissed her.

"I love you," he said when he let her go.

"I love you too," she replied, hoping to God he wasn't talking to the mirror.

***

Harry finally woke up around eleven thirty, and was perfectly satisfied. He'd completely missed double Potions, thank God, and Divination was halfway done. If he stumbled into class now, he'd get in trouble for being tardy. And if he showed up for the rest of today's classes, he'd be accused of skipping. So, he decided that his best bet would be to just lay low all day.

He was sure that Hermione would be seething mad, and, of course, that wasn't preferable. However, this idea lasted only a moment, because then he was overcome with another idea: what if Sasha was skipping too? They could get together, maybe go to a bar, or have lunch...

Nah. If Sasha skipped, odds were that Draco would too, since they were The Couple, and were practically attached at the hip. And Harry wanted to see Sasha, and spend time with her. Not Draco, because that could easily result in Harry not being able to have children.

Thinking of the consequences of hanging out with Sasha and getting caught made Harry remember something that was all over the news over the summer. There was a man who was trying to steal lobsters from the local fish market, and, in an attempt to hide them, stuck them down his pants. He was rushed to the hospital, and the doctors had told the papers that he'd basically been given a vasectomy by the lobsters, and wouldn't be persecuted for robbery because the fish store owner thought he'd learned his lesson.

Harry chuckled to himself, and pulled open the curtains on his bed, and saw that Ron was still asleep, with one curtain half-open. Then Harry noticed something under Ron's bed, and crept over to investigate.

Harry reached under the bed, and found that it was a turquoise bra edged with black lace. Ron stirred, and Harry quickly retreated to his bed, the undergarment still in hand. Harry watched as Ron stretched and woke up, and Harry felt brave. He decided to ask Ron exactly who had de-clothed themselves and left something behind.

"Ron?" Harry asked.

"Mmm," Ron replied, sitting up and opening his eyes.

"Who's is this?" Harry demanded, holding up the bra by its strap.

Ron took a double take. He was frantic.

"Uh....no one's?" he attempted weakly.

"Who's?" Harry pressed aggressively. He needed to know who Ron was

-doing- so often that they left behind underwear.

"You wouldn't know her," Ron said quickly.

"Oh yeah?" Harry said. "Try me."

Ron mumbled a name, and Harry cupped his hand around his ear teasingly.

"A little louder?" Harry pressed.

"Themy Annousi," Ron said loudly and liberally.

"Who?" Harry asked, this time because he had no Earthly idea who Themy Annousi was.

"She's in Ravenclaw. She's our age. Graduating in the spring, just like us," Ron clarified.

"How did you get her up here?" Harry asked, envious. He'd had trouble getting Hermione out. He was wondering how Ron could get a Ravenclaw in and out unnoticed.

"Just walked in and walked out," Ron replied. "No one noticed."

"Invisibility cloak, potion, or charm?" Harry demanded knowingly.

"Charm," Ron whispered. "God, she's awesome."

Harry decided he didn't really want to know what Ron meant by that, so he decided to act like he hadn't heard him.

"I wanna meet her sometime," Harry said.

"No," Ron said quickly. "You can't."

"Why not?" Harry whined.

"Because," Ron replied childishly. "It could jeopardize everything."

"Oh come off it, Ron," Harry snapped. "I won't tell."

"Well, I can't be certain of it. And if you meet her...well, who knows who'll find out."

"Ron, stop trying to be so secretive," Harry sighed. "Everyone'll find out eventually."
"Oh yeah?" Ron said. "Well, if you're so comfortable, why don't you share with me what happened between you and Sasha Borgen at the Valentine's Dance?"

"Nothing happened," Harry almost yelled. "Absolutely nothing."
"You bloody liar," Ron said. "You know full well something happened. People notice, Harry. People see the way you look at her. And they especially see the way she looks back."
"We were drunk!" Harry protested. "It was an accident!"

"Tell me," Ron said angrily. "I might not tell Hermione."

"You have to swear you won't," Harry said in frustration. "She'll never forgive me."
"Well, that's for me to call," Ron grunted.

"I won't tell you if you'll tell her. I'm not going to get myself into trouble like that," Harry said simply.

"Why do you want to hurt her?" Ron yelled. "Why? She doesn't deserve it, Harry! She was angry at you that night because she knew you liked Sasha! Just tell her if something happened. It'll make her feel a hell of a lot better."

"I don't want to hurt Hermione!" Harry screamed. He also didn't want her to find out that he and Sasha had seen each other the night before. Ron, luckily, was stuck on the fact that Harry and Sasha had hooked up the night of the Valentine's Dance.

Ron rolled his eyes and turned away from Harry.

Great, Harry thought. He'd thought he and Ron had been done fighting between fourth and fifth year. Apparently not.

***

Sasha was incredibly bored after like, two hours of kissing\licking and indecent exposure\touching. Draco, however, appeared to just be getting started. Sasha was near dead, she was sure. It was possible to die of boredom. And she sure as hell was suffering.

"Draco," she said irritably, pushing his head away from her neck. "Stop."

"What?" he said, looking disappointed and confused like a stupid puppy. She hated his stupid puppy face. It made him look pathetic and...Emotional. Actually, it just made him look gay, and she didn't feel like telling him.

"Don't fucking make that face," she snarled. "It makes you look fucking gay."

"Sasha, what's wrong?" he asked, watching her as she got up and got dressed.

"I'm hungry," she growled. The truth was, she was inexplicably angry and didn't want to end up killing him in a fit of rage. Life would be gruesomely boring without Draco.

"I've got food around here," Draco offered. He was becoming like the other boys. He shook his head. He hated to be like the rest of them. On his and Sasha's first date, she had said that she wished that one boy would prove to her that they're not all the same. And Draco was striving to be that boy.

"No, I'm going back to my room and getting my own food," Sasha said, watching as he struggled to get his pants over his boxers.

"Please stay," he practically was down on his knees, begging her to stay.

"I'm going to get food," Sasha snapped at him, and slammed the door in his face.

Draco let out a long breath, and walked in circles around his room. He seriously wondered what had gotten into her. She'd been fine about three hours earlier.

He sat down at his desk, grabbed a blank sheet of parchment stamped with the Malfoy family crest, dipped his quill in some ink, and decided to write a letter to his mother.

Dear Mother, he began, but decided it was way too run-of-the-mill, and kind of made him sound like he actually was doing this over, say, having sex with his girlfriend.

He scratched it out, and spilled some ink on it, to make it look like a mistake he'd made earlier, or maybe it had seeped through another piece of paper.

Draco pushed the parchment off to the side, not in the mood to write to his mother. He sat there, staring into space, until a tapping at his window startled him.

He opened the latch window to let in a huge, rather frightening black owl carrying a letter. He untied it from the creature's leg, and shooed it out of the window, quickly closing and locking it after the behemoth had flown away.

Draco examined the seal, and realized that it wasn't a Malfoy seal, but a Borgen seal. He flipped over the envelope and read that it was, indeed, addressed to him.

He tore it open, and unfolded the letter, finding it to be written in Mrs. Ophelia Borgen's neat, easy-to-read cursive.

Darling Draco,

I just would like to check in on how you were doing, and wanted to know what was happening between my daughter and yourself. I love updates, darling, and I'm not getting many from Giselle. This bar is wonderful!! The vodaka is great!! Oh, herere, Seven wants to write something to you.................

There was a long trail of ink across the page, obviously from Mr. Borgen prying the quill from his wife's hands. She was so obviously drunk or on drugs, because she'd mistaken Sasha for her younger sister, Giselle, spelled 'vodka' with an extra 'a', written the end of 'here' twice, and called her current, young, Swedish model boyfriend, Sven, 'Seven'.

Draco--

Sorry about Ophelia, she's only completely wasted. I know we've only met a couple times, but she wanted me to ask you...never mind. She wanted to ask a really personal question, and I suppose it's best if it just remains unasked. Alright, alright. She says I should tell you that she was wondering if her daughter is...no. I'm not going to finish that. She'll ask you later. Anyway, how's Sasha? I know she said Giselle before, but, sorry, Ophelia's wasted.

Draco promptly crumpled the letter and chucked it into the garbage basket beside his desk. He knew that Sven hadn't finished writing, nor had Ophelia, but, luckily, he didn't exactly want to continue.

Draco then laughed to himself. Ophelia Borgen was 'happily' married to Sven Borgen, but she was dating Sven Inkstoffer. She obviously had a thing for Swedish men named Sven.

He sighed and wondered where Sasha had got to. She'd been gone a while, and he vaguely remembered it having something to do with him. Or maybe it had nothing to do with him at all. Either way, she wasn't here, he was horny, and had nothing to do with himself.

Then he remembered: she was getting food. From where, he had no idea, because she and Pansy had absolutely nothing in their room. He looked at his watch, and saw that it was noon. She was probably in the Great Hall, eating like a goddamn pig.

He growled something at the ceiling, made a rude gesture, again, at the ceiling, and stalked down to the Great Hall to find his girlfriend.