My Godfather

Chapter LIII: Sundown

"Drink up, losers!" Angelina Johnson smirked victoriously as the tiny red ball fell neatly into the cup of beer on Oliver Wood and Fred Weasley's side of the table. She high fived her partner George as the two boys obediently accepted defeat and drank a cup each.

The party in the Common Room was wilder than Harry had imagined. The first and second years had been all but herded off to bed right after dinner while the third-year students had managed to convince the prefects to let them stay. All the third- and fourth-year students had been strictly warned to stay away from the beer and Firewhiskey.

Fred and George had threatened to lock their older brother and Head boy Percy in the broom cupboard if he didn't keep his trap shut about the party. That night belonged to the Gryffindor quidditch team.

It wasn't just the Gryffindors in the Common Room though. Many had managed to sneak their friends from the other houses inside as well. In a dark corner, Alicia Spinnet was snogging Lee Jordan while Ravenclaw's Roger Davies and Katie Bell had occupied another inconspicuous alcove.

"Come on George, just one drink," Ron pleaded with his brother for the umpteenth time.

"Don't even think about it, Ronniekins," George replied in an uncharacteristically serious tone. "Anything funny happens and mum will kill me. You can have a go next year. Now shoo before I tell dear old Percy."

Harry snorted. He was content to simply watch the others make a fool of themselves. Never had he ever imagined the day he'd find Draco Malfoy in the Gryffindor common room, surrounded by the scarlet wallpaper but totally at ease. Yet there he was, lounging on one of the sofas and engaged in a rather animated conversation with Hermione.

Those two were spending an awful lot of time together off late.

By the fireplace, Blaise appeared to have befriended Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan surprisingly quick. Honestly by this point, Harry would be more surprised if the Italian didn't get along with anyone.

"Enjoying yourself, Potter?"

He turned to see Nott standing next to him, hands tucked into his pocket. He hadn't heard him approach. He should probably blame that on the magically charmed music raging in the room. "Not one to party, are we?"

"You're one to talk," Harry shot back.

"If I wanted to, I could beat all four of them in a drinking game," Nott stated, jerking his chin towards the table where the older students were playing.

Harry scoffed. "You wish."

"Yeah, I do. Can't stand the taste of beer. Tried it during Christmas... hated it. I'm more of the firewhiskey sort, at least when my Mum allows it."

Harry snorted. He himself hadn't acquired a taste for any of the spirits so far. He was perfectly content with butter beer and pumpkin juice.

"By the way, that was a move worthy of a true Slytherin today, Potter."

"What was?"

"Leading Diggory right into the stands? If you weren't almost idiotically brave, I'd say your talents were wasted in Gryffindor."

"Thanks... I guess?"

"You're welcome." Nott's mouth curled into a slightly crooked smile.

"So are you coming with the rest of us to the grounds in the morning? Ron, Draco, Fred, George, Angelina, Oliver, Blaise, Seamus— I've promised them all a go on the Firebolt. You can take it for a spin too if you like."

"Blaise mentioned it earlier this evening. As kind as your offer is, Potter, I'm going to have to decline. I possess many skills but I'm afraid flying isn't one of them. I prefer having both feet firmly on the ground." Nott smirked at Harry lazily and for a minute, Harry wanted to ask if all purebloods were taught to master that particular smirk at Pureblood Primary School.