Bathwater

Hogwarts: Where the Screwed Live

"I'm telling you they did—"

"Impossible—"

"How's so? It's a marriage law, innit? I know what I heard—"

"Rumours aren't facts—"

"My brother saw it! She has a wedding ring! She married—"

"They're so young though—"

Usually greeted with distrustful eyes, sneers, or indifference, Draco and Blaise arrived at the Gryffindor table to find the younger lions huddling together, sharing conspiracy theories in what they thought were whispers. Draco leered at a few that blinked up when they registered them; none of them would have lasted in Slytherin, let alone the war. Especially if they thought discussing what they considered vital, important information at these volumes.

"Besides, a ring doesn't mean anything—"

"It means everything—"

"Pathetic! Rings don't always constitute as—"

"My brother said she checked out a book with a different surname—"

Draco snapped his fingers at one of the younger Gryffindors, gesturing for him to slide as far away as possible. Once the latter did as he was told, Draco took a seat at the open space right next to Hermione. She looked up from the book she was reading, brown eyes big and bright as she leaned in, pressing a kiss on the side of his jaw.  Across from them, Pansy smirked while tucked underneath Ron's arm. 

"Your brother's an idiot and we all know it—"

"Oi! Don't insult my—"

"I heard she's always had that ring. Neville Longbottom gave it to her after he took her to the Yule—"

"Longbottom? You're joking—"

"It's plausible—"

Next to Ron and Pansy, Harry and Ginny Potter were pretending to be enjoying their meal despite the very loud theories echoing across the Gryffindor table. Both had grins on their faces as Draco looked up to roll his eyes at them. 

Leave it to a (two) Potter(s) to enjoy the spotlight. 

"You honestly expect us to believe she kept a ring from another bloke when—"

"I'm not saying she kept it because she fancies Longbottom—"

"Then what's the point of—"

"WILL YOU SHUT UP?" roared Blaise, slamming his goblet of Pumpkin Juice down on the tabletop. The scattered conversations ceased immediately. All attention was on him now. "Yes, they did get married! Yes, a Weasley became a Potter! Yes, they're too bloody young! Yes, that is a wedding ring—get over it!"

The huddle of young, obnoxiously loud Gryffindors watched horrified as the Slytherin was now pointing his fork at them like he knew ten different ways to maim them with each pick from the silverware. Red like the ties around their necks, they turned away from Harry, Ginny, Ron, and other older Gryffindors laughing at them (worse when Pansy Parkinson and Draco Malfoy sneered at them, too). 

Having been sat the Gryffindor table herself, Luna put a hand on Blaise's shoulder. 

"Fucking Gryffindors," muttered Blaise, turning from the young students and lowering his fork back down on his plate, stabbing it into a thick chunk of steak. "No bloody finesse—mind as well be broadcasting it—can't see they're right there—can't fucking ask—courageous my arse!"

Still grinning, Ginny blinked away from Blaise to cast her eyes at Draco. "What's wrong with your best mate now, Malfoy?"

"What isn't wrong with him?" Pansy responded before Draco could decide whether or not he wanted to speak to Weaslette Potter. On cue, Blaise dismissed his fork to tear at the steak with his hands; each piece he pulled off he shoved in his mouth angrily, chunks of meat and bone flying in different directions.