I checked my purse and whistled. I haven't bought anything for awhile, so it's nice to see the welcoming weight in the bottom, shining Knuts winking up at me.

Wait-winking?

"LENA! What have you done to my cash!"

“Money,” I whisper from my hiding place behind a barrel of Honeydukes Acid Pops, watching Rachel on the other side of the glass, “is the root of all evil. Lack of money, though, is the motivation of improvisations.”

Besides, that’s what that canny ‘Claw gets for cheating at poker. Again. Nobody, and I mean nobody, gets three royal flushes in a row. Settling down more comfortably behind the barrel, I try to decide between a chocolate frog and an ice mouse. So far this weekend is off to a very satisfying start.

I shrug, and decide to hope that the shopkeepers will accept the money, even if it is a bit...lively.

Heading into Honeydukes in search of a chocolate fix however, I spy a familiar coat. For once, fashion is going to work FOR me.

I reach over to tap her on the shoulder.

I feel the tap on my shoulder and freeze. (Damn my unquenchable thirst for long coats! Will no good taste go unpunished?) Ok, ok, time to calm down and think like a snake in front of a running tractor (Translation: damn fast and desperate).

What Would Salazar Slytherin Do?

1) Assess the situation. Busted.
2) Analyze available resources. A chocolate frog (slightly melted), an ice mouse (chilly), witnesses, and good running shoes. I’ve done better with worse, really.
3) Act.

I turn around and smile openly, all the while reaching for my left pocket. “Oh, hey, Rachel, didn’t see you looming there. My, that’s a lovely scowl you’re wearing-ATTACK, MY FAITHFUL TOAD!” I’m on my feet the second the little tasty fellow comes hoping out of the package. Fueled by desperation, glee, and the memory of what she did the last time I messed with her property, I dash past her, and outside, fast as a Firebolt on steroids. But not before stuffing the ice mouse down her collar.

Surely, somewhere Salazar is smiling.

"Ack, ack, ack, I am going to KILL you!" I scream as I dance around, trying to get the freezing mouse out from under my collar while trying to catch the frog at the same time. Darned Slytherins being so...Slytherin!

Finally, the mouse falls to the floor and dissolves under my boot, while the frog ends up spotting my shirt before I catch it. Holding it, I take a glance around before eating it. No sense in letting good chocolate go to waste. I spy the familiar green coat go skidding down the street outside, and smile. She only THINKS she's gotten away.

But of course you know, this means war.

*Pokes head into the bar*

So...uh. I know a guy in Hufflepuff, and well, let's just say if anyone would like to come have a smoke with me out behind the Hog's Head, they're welcome.

I see someone smoking behind the Hog's Head. Thank God, Im not the only one. I take out my stash of smokes and walk over to the person.

"Did ya ever notice that the smokers are always the ones that get to know each other best?" I say with a smile.

"It's amazing how intoxicants will do that," I reply, sticking out my hand for a shake.

"Maggie, Slytherin. And you are?"

I switched my smoke from one hand to the other and shake hands.

I think Oh crud, a Slytherin, but she looks harmless as of yet.

"Im Andrea, one of the few Hufflepuff smokers." I take another deep breath and look around. "Nice day out today," I sputter, realizing that weather-talk is one of the lowest forms of conversation.

I spot Maggie hanging out behind the hogs head with another girl. I don't recognise the girl, which means she's not Slytherin. I wrinkle my nose ever so slightly before noticing she has a cigarette in her hand. Clearly this girl is worth knowing.

I pull my cloak tighter around me and pull the hood so my hair just peeks out. I'm briefly reminded of a prank involving fake-dementors, but decide the protection for my habit is worth the association. I stick a cigarette in my mouth and clamp it between my teeth while I head over to the alley-cum hiding-area behind the Hogs head, desperately searching my pockets for some matches.

"Hey Maggie." I give my fellow housemate a friendly squeeze on the shoulder and turn to introduce myself to the stranger. "Pixie, Slytherin. Don't bother asking my real name, I was sorted with this one and I'll never tell. Yourself?" I cast my eyes to Maggie to include her in my request. "Anyone got a match? Only I cant find mine."

I produce a match for the bestest housemate ever. Then I pull an official-looking letter out of my bag and wave it about pissily.

"Look at this shit, Pixie. They're making me send Mr. Scratches home. How can they do this!? It's not like it's his fault...he's an ancient, disgruntled kneazle for God's sake, I TOLD them that to begin with! Stupid firsties and their (I make air quotes) 'grevious bodily harm.'"

I gratefully take the match and light my cigarette, before realising that I am a witch, and in my pocket is a 11 inch long piece of wood designed for doing these sort of things FOR me. Without matches. I shakes my head and rub my eyes, pulling my hood off now that we're in the dimmer alley and the light isn't hurting my head so much.

"Sleep deprivation." I mutter, before taking the document and reading it carefully, turning it over in my hands and inspecting all the heals and signatures. "It seems official enough. It's complete bullshit, of course. They can't see it through. Theres absolutely nothing to suggest those first-years arent attention seeking little brats. I mean if we want to be drastic you can cast a claw-clipping charm on...Mr Scratches." My nose wrinkles as I remember my first encounter with the ... animal. "Plus, they were provoking him, poking him, aggravating and abusing him, werent they?" I squint my eyes as I mentally begin turning the wheel in my head before turning suddenly to my housemate. "counter-attack. threaten to take them before the CIAMB (Counsel for Investigation of Abuse of Magical Beasts). They've been terrorising Mr ...Cuddles," I rais emy eyebrows meaningfully at Maggie, indicating a temporary name-change might do some good "since they first arrived at hogwarts, and the poor, nearly crippled old animal lashed out with it's last bit of fear and desperation. Really Maggie, Mr ...Cuddles, is the victim here." I purse my lips and nod my head in mock-severity. "Dumbledore's not stupid enough to MAKE you send the um...delightful creature home. He knows we'll kick up a fuss."

I smile to myself and take a deep drag on my cigarette, peeping round the corner to see if theres anyone around I know before sticking my head back into the alley and exhaling. I look at the other girl standing with us, wondering what her story is.

I grin.

"You know, I was just going to appeal it based on all the stress he must be under as a deceit-detecting creature living in a house full of people who lie to each other regularly for entertainment...but your idea is...quite good."

I take a long drag of my cigarette and smile even wider.

"Yes...poor, poor Mr...Cuddles."

I listen intently as the second slytherin on the scene advices Maggie on "Cuddles" issues. Pixie had been giving me the eye since she had arrived, and at the break of their conversation, I let myself be introduced.

"Hey, Im Andrea, resident of Hufflepuff. But dont let that fool you," I say with a grin, and take another drag off my smoke.

I looked over at Maggie and graciously accepted the biscuit. I was so excited to get out of the castle, I forgot to eat breakfast.

I tried to add to the conversation. "Yeah, my cat is about as lazy as Snape is mean," I bit my tounge, and tried to recover, "Consider yourself fortunate enough to have a cat that is actual reactive to its surroundings." Darn, I hated meeting new people. I always look a fool.

I look appraisingly at Andrea. I guess that blows the Slytherin theory that any Hufflepuff exposed to plotting for more than thirty seconds will explode. I grin when she makes the faux pas about Snape. I'm tempted to think "fresh meat" but decide that maybe I shouldn't make the only Hufflepuff smoker extinct. We're a dying breed.

"I would say Snapes an old softie once you get to know him, but then I like my nose the length it is. I'll not deny the blatant favouritism though. But then again Mcgonaal and Dumbledore both favour the Gryffindors, so I suppose we're entitled to Snape." I take a deep breathe and exhale, watching the smoke gather in the air and then disperse. I used to only smoke cigarette that made shapes when you exhaled, but now I found the blank, shapeless cloud of smoke soothing for some reason. "Personally I couldn't even consider bringing my pet to Hogwarts. Not that they'd have allowed a student to have a pet jarvey on the premises, much too distracting. And Cookie has a better life at home where she can run around all day abusing the house elves. She'd be bored stiff at Hogwarts."

"Yeah, I didnt mean the Snape comment in a bad way. He seems like just a toughie, and has a slight stereotypical view of all of my house. But, so does most of Hogwarts, and Im basically over that," I start laughing to myself about some of the more "wee" of my clan, and understand why were seen as we are.

"Im not really sure what teacher we would be privaleged to, other than Sprout, but plants have never been my thing. That and she kind of spittles when she talks." My cigarette had been reaching the end, but I decide to have one more. The company seemed well enough, and it was few and far between that I found good smoking company. Usually I just stood solo, keeping a steady watch out for McGonigal on days such as this.

"Oh, Mr. Scratches...er...Cuddles is reactive alright," I say.

I smile at our brave Hufflepuff friend and took a deep drag off my ciggie.

"So what's the story on your house? All the good gossip and whatnot?"

"Hmm...," I tried to think of anything halfway interesting happening in my house. No one in my house was overly exciting. "Well, we did have that small prank for april fools day. I dont think it went all that well though, even if I was one of the main ones behind it." I thought so more, and still had nothing.

"Most of my house is too afraid of their own shadow to do anything to exciting," I knew I was slamming my own, but didnt feel I needed to for the sake of my Slytherin company, I just really felt that way sometimes. And when I couldnt even think of one exciting or interesting subject of any of the fellow puffs, I gave into another wave of feeling that I was in the nervous house.

"Oh, bugger," I think. "Obviously our reputation preceeds us."

I fumble around in my bag for both a lighter and a small cardboard package. Yes, there they are, the orange marmalade chocolate-covered biscuits of reconciliation. I offer Andrea the tube and smile...

"Okay secret, pinkie swear you can't tell...the hat almost put me with your lot. You might say I'm a Slytherpuff. Now I'm not sure whether that means I'm less or more dangerous...but I'm nice I swear. See, nothing up my sleeve but biscuits."

I shake my robe sleeve and, unfortunately, my stash of gillyweed chooses that moment to fall out.

"Okay then," I say. "Make that nothing but biscuits and mood-enhancing substances."

Well, it had been a long time since I had been to Hogsmeade. IN and out of the infirmary, no doubt. Ill with the flu for over a week? Check. Fallen off my broom when I thought I wanted to try out for Quiddich? Check. Insomnia? Wait. Did you have to go to the infirmary for that?

Probably not, but eh. Had that too. It was nice to get out of the castle and socialize. Which. Was what I was intending on doing, but oops, accidentally sat down on a bench to enjoy the nice weather, yup.

I wander into the Hog's Head and order myself *ahem* a drink. ;) and try to not breathe in the smell of goats too deeply.

I walk into the Hog's Head and see someone ordering a drink at the bar. Thanks goodness someone has a tolerance for Goat smell like I do.

"Hey what did you order?" I ask.

*whispers* "firewhiskey."

"I don't usually end up with company here... Everyone seems to stick to the tamer places."

As I walk into Hog's Head I see a couple girls who happen to be Hogwarts students and I make my way over there just in time to hear the end of one of the girl's sentneces.

"That is because they have to uphold Hogwarts's sterling reputation, at least that's what my friends tell me whenever I try to convince them to come here with me. Personally, I think they're either scared of the other customers or their scared for their noses. Mind if I join you?"

I gesture to a free chair, then take a generous sip from my drink.

"Destiny." I say, then add "and the smell really isn't so bad... sort of earthy like a farm."

The sun is warm, the wind tickles at my bare legs, and I inwardly revel at the fact that the weather these past few weeks has been warm enough so that even sane people could wear skirts outdoors. Of course, it could be twenty below zero out, and I'd probably still wear a skirt - I'd done it, in fact, on several occasions - but warm weather just makes it so much more enjoyable. As I walk down the High Street, all I can think is, Weekend weekend it's the weekend isn't it great weekend because yeah WEEKEND.

Yes, my thoughts are always that coherent.

Several moments later, I duck into the Three Broomsticks to get myself a Butterbeer. There are a few other students therein, and I make my way over to a table near the bar.