All the Wrong Things

Chapter 11

Sunday, November 16, 1997

The fire in the common room is dying. It's almost three in the morning and I'm considering whether to stoke it.

I haven't been able to sleep for a few weeks. I feel the war coming. The weight of it keeps me awake.

I don't know what Blaise's excuse is, though.

He nodded off an hour ago, sitting across from me, reading his History of Magic homework.

He hasn't been tapped for the Death Eaters. He doesn't have family relations to pull him towards the war. All he has is his mother and her new husband, for as long as this one lasts.

I watch him sleep. I envy him.

The dungeon wall opens, and Theo Nott appears, moving quietly before he sees me watching him.

"What's kept you up, then?" he says, taking note of Blaise passed out.

"I could ask you the same," I hum. "Or should I ask 'who?'"

Theo stops, and before he's allowed himself to blush, he says, "Hufflepuff." He smiles, a tight grin. "She's pure-blood, I assure you."

He flops into a chair, and I decide not to press further, knowing that the only pure-blood Hufflepuff in our year is Ernie Macmillan.

"Anything new to report?" Theo asks. He looks around the room for curious ears – even though it is clear we are the only two conscious occupants of the common room – and asks, "Anything on Potter since the Ministry break in?"

I shake my head. "Nothing from Father."

I look back to the fire. Theo is always trying to get into the thick of things.

"I've heard something interesting."

I look to him. His brows are raised and he's examining his cuticles.

What an irritating little closeted queer.

"Yes?" I take the bait.

He looks around the room again, eyes landing on the sleeping Blaise, then back to me.

"Have you heard about an Auction?" he asks.

A year ago, my eye would have twitched.

Two years ago, I would have taken a deep breath and centered my thoughts to find a lie.

"Yes," I say. "I've heard rumors."

Theo grins. "I'm thinking of asking for a Mudblood for my birthday."

He laughs.

I grin back.

"Or a Weasley," he says. "Make them clean my house. Polish my shoes."

I'm about to make some comment about the majority of the Weasley options being men... who would have limited purposes for most blokes, when Blaise beats me to it.

"Could have them working in a loin cloth for you, Theo," says Blaise's groggy voice. He sits up and rubs his eyes. "Better hope they're auctioning off the older two. Infinitely more handsome than the rest." He finds the energy to wink at him.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Theo's jaw tenses. His eyes dart to me, then back to Blaise.

"Nothing, Theo. Nothing." Blaise closes his book and stretches his arms over his head. "I'm sure you meant Ginny Weasley. Having her slave for you and bring you meals in bed."

So, Blaise is already aware of the Auction. Or is not surprised by it. I concentrate on emptiness while they bicker.

Theo simmers in his chair. "The Weasley chit is too expensive. Both she and Granger are starting at 10,000 each."