nine : THROUGH GREY EYES

chapter ix : through grey eyes

"i think you fancy her."

THE WORLD OF DRACO MALFOY, had been a rigid tapestry woven from ancient names, pure-blood superiority, and the chilling legacy of the Dark Lord. Malfoy Manor wasn't only a home: it was a fortress of expectation. Every lesson, every formal dinner, every carefully chosen word from his father, Lucius, hammered the same message: the Malfoys were above others. They were powerful, influential, and their destiny was intertwined with the re-establishment of pure-blood dominance. Anything less was a failure, a disgrace to generations of their bloodline.

Hogwarts, with its chaos and mixed-blooded students, had been a jarring contrast. Yet, it also offered a strange, unsettling kind of freedom. Away from his father's direct gaze, the constant pressure was a dull ache rather than a sharp sting. Still, the ingrained beliefs were hard to shake. His father's letters were constant reminders, laced with veiled threats about maintaining the family's standing and subtly hinting at the darker currents that still flowed through their world. Draco knew his family's history, the sacrifices made, the choices that kept them 'safe' during the Dark Lord's first reign. That shadow of fear, of disappointment, was a far heavier burden than any schoolwork.

                His focus had always been singular: uphold the Malfoy name. And part of that meant putting the arrogant, rule-breaking Potter twins in their place. Especially Valerie.

In his first and second years, his interactions with Valerie Potter had been pure, unadulterated rivalry.

He had lived for her quick retorts, the way her eyes flashed, her infuriatingly brave defiance. He thought it was the thrill of getting under her skin.

However, Blaise Zabini, his closest friend, had seen it differently even then.

             "You spend more time trying to provoke Valerie Potter than you do studying, Draco." Blaise had drawled one evening in first year, watching him plot a particularly elaborate taunt for Valerie. "I think you fancy her." He called him out.

Draco had scoffed, feeling a hot flush rise to his face.

           "Don't be an idiot, Blaise! She's a half-blood, and a complete annoyance!" He stomped off, but Blaise's smirk had lingered, unsettling him more than he'd admit.

The real shift had begun subtly in third year.

It wasn't a single lightning bolt, but a slow, creeping realisation.

There were small moments: a sharp, unexpected wit during a class debate that made him genuinely smile before he remembered to sneer. Or the way she comforted a crying first-year, her usually guarded expression softening into something genuinely kind. Each time, a tiny crack appeared in the wall of his hatred, letting in a confusing, unwanted warmth.

He initially dismissed it as weakness.

But the more he tried to push her away, the more he found himself drawn to observing her, to provoking her just to get her attention, to the undeniable pull of her presence.

The uncomfortable truth had finally clicked: he didn't just hate her: a part of him, a deeply buried, fiercely denied part, actually liked her.

Hated it, in fact.

Hated himself for it.

How could a Malfoy, a true Malfoy, like a half-blood?

It was absurd, humiliating. But it was there, a dull ache beneath the surface of his usual disdain.

During the Quidditch World Cup, the celebration had quickly devolved into chaos, a terrifying surge of dark magic and screaming as Death Eaters, tore through the camp. Draco's mind latched onto one terrifying thought: Valerie. Was she safe? He, who was meant to inherit a legacy intertwined with these very dark forces, felt a visceral, illogical dread for the half-blood he was supposed to hate. The fear was sharp and immediate.

Back at the Manor, after the horrifying events, the anxiety for her gnawed at him. He couldn't ask his father. He couldn't ask anyone in his circle. The thought was humiliating, dangerous. But he needed to know. Discreetly, he sought out Millicent Bulstrode, one of his childhood pureblood 'playmates'.

He called her through his phone, "Bulstrode," He began, his voice low, almost a growl, the demand contradicting the desperate plea in his voice. "I need something from you. And if you breathe a word of this to anyone, I swear, I'll make your life a misery. Valerie's phone number. Do you have it?"

Millicent's eyebrow rose, while pressing her phone against her ear. She knew their history. After a beat of silent assessment, she continued. "And why, exactly, would you need that, Malfoy?"

"Just send it to me," He hissed, his face tightening. "It's important."

"Fine," She finally said, "But you owe me."

The anonymous texts had evolved into something more when they found themselves alone, often after hours, in secluded corners of the castle – the astronomy tower, broom closets or an unused classroom. He told himself it was purely for 'research'.

Each kiss was a betrayal of his name, his father, his very identity, yet he couldn't stop.

The feel of her lips, the rush of adrenaline, the forbidden nature of it all – it was intoxicating, dangerous, and utterly captivating.

His world, already teetering on the edge of the carefully constructed facade he maintained, came crashing down the day Ron Weasley caught them. Draco had just pulled away from Valerie, breathless, their 'research' forgotten in the heat of the moment and Ron's horrified gasp echoed through the corridor.

Terror, cold and absolute, gripped Draco.

It wasn't just getting caught: it was Ron Weasley, her brother's best friend, the mouthiest Gryffindor in the school.

The exposure, the humiliation, the sheer, crushing weight of his father's inevitable wrath descended on him.

All the expectations, all the rules, all the pure-blood ideology came crashing down.

He saw his future, already burdened by obligation, crumbling into public disgrace.

More than that, he saw Valerie's face, her own shock and fear, and a wave of protective guilt washed over him.

He had put her in this position.

He had been so utterly foolish.

He had to escape, to deny, to distance himself before the world imploded.

Draco Malfoy kept his distance from Valerie Potter, however, his feelings for her remained the same.

Weeks before the First Task, everyone seemed to believe Valerie and Harry had cheated their way into the tournament, and the whispers and glares followed them everywhere.

Draco, walking through a crowded corridor with Crabbe and Goyle lumbering behind him, spotted Valerie up ahead.

She is so gorgeous

Valerie was alone, clearly trying to make herself small as she navigated the glares from students.

He could practically hear the nasty remarks forming on Crabbe and Goyle's thick tongues.

Without a conscious thought, he abruptly steered Crabbe and Goyle down a different, less direct route, practically shoving them into a less crowded side passage.

"Let's go this way," He muttered.

His cronies grumbled, confused but obedient, leaving Valerie to pass by free in peace.

Draco risked a quick glance over his shoulder. She hadn't seemed to notice his subtle diversion. A strange, almost unfamiliar satisfaction bloomed in his chest. He would never admit it, not to them, not even to himself most days, but he just couldn't stand the thought of her being subjected to even more venom. Not when she was already carrying such a heavy burden.

Watching Valerie face the Hungarian Horntail during the First Task, was complete terror for Draco.

Every fiery breath, every swing of that spiked tail, felt like a personal assault.

He remembered her pale face, her whispered fear, his own clumsy attempts to offer advice.

This wasn't about the tournament anymore: it was about her survival. He held his breath through every second, his knuckles white as he gripped the railing.

Then, she did it.

Her Patronus.

A magnificent, shimmering blue dragon.

His jaw had literally dropped.

It was powerful, unique, and terrifyingly beautiful.

It solidified a respect he hadn't known how to process, an echo of his own fascination with dragons, but imbued with her brilliance, her unique magic.

And finally, the celebration in the common room. The alliance she proposed. It wasn't about love, not in a way he could even comprehend or admit. But it was a truce.

The moment their hands clasped, the world had exploded.

He didn't know what was happening, only that his mind was being bombarded by images – Himself and Valerie, but older, their hands intertwined. Laughter. Shared secrets. Pain. Sacrifices. And then, the most incomprehensible of all: defiant love. It was all there, a future so vividly real it hurt.

He saw the horror in Valerie's eyes, felt her pull away, witnessed the blood trickling from her nose. He hadn't understood why her nose was bleeding, but the shared vision, the impossible memories of a future that felt profoundly true, resonated deep within him. It was a truth that directly contradicted every single lesson, every expectation, every value his father had ever instilled in him. It was a vision of a life, a connection, that was utterly forbidden by his family's code. And yet...

It was also a profound, undeniable sense of hope. A sign. A terrifying, beautiful revelation that this forbidden connection, this strange pull towards Valerie Potter, was not just real, but perhaps even meant to be.

It was the universe telling him that the weight of his family's expectations might not be his only path. It was a call to push them away, to defy them, and to follow the chaotic, bewildering, utterly compelling path that led to Valerie Potter. The choice before him was now stark, terrifying, and exhilarating.

The memory of her bleeding nose, of Snape's grim face as he led her away, remained a stark image in his mind. But more potent, more haunting, were the flashes of a future that demanded everything he thought he knew be questioned. He couldn't shake it. He couldn't ignore it. And as the days bled into December, and the castle began to buzz with a new, baffling kind of excitement, Draco found himself watching Valerie with an intensity that had nothing to do with rivalry and everything to do with that impossible vision

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ♡ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

THE BITING WIND and sleet of early December had descended upon Hogwarts, a fitting atmosphere for the strange week and a half that had passed. It was a mere ten days since the First Task, and since that night, Valerie Potter's world had fundamentally shifted. When Professor Snape had swiftly escorted her from the Slytherin common room, she hadn't known she was being led to a destiny Professor Trelawney had long foreseen. The eccentric Divination teacher, already waiting, had confirmed it: Valerie was a Seer, the rarest and most potent kind, capable of unwillingly glimpsing both past and future. Yet, such power came with a harsh caveat—a forbidden secret. To share the contents of her visions would weaken her, risking severe physical tolls. The weight of this knowledge proved too heavy for Valerie to bear alone: the Golden Trio, Eric, and even Sirius, by way of owl, had all been brought into her new, complicated truth: She is a Silent Seer.

The air in the Herbology greenhouses was thick with the earthy scent of damp soil and exotic plants, a stark contrast to the crisp, cold air outside. Valerie and Draco's class was tending to a particularly prickly patch of Venomous Tentacula saplings, requiring delicate handling and plenty of focus. Harry was on the other side of the potting bench, wrestling with a particularly stubborn Mimbulus Mimbletonia.

As Valerie reached for a pot of fresh soil, her characteristic clumsiness asserted itself. Her elbow snagged on a stray root, sending a shower of dirt across the already messy workspace and causing her to stumble sideways.

She braced for impact, but instead, found herself pressing against a firm chest.

It was Draco.

He had been reaching for something at the same moment, and now they were impossibly close, a mere breath away.

His hands, still covered in potting soil, instinctively reached out to steady her, gripping her arms just above the elbows.

Their eyes locked.

The easy contempt, the practiced disdain, vanished instantly, replaced by something raw and yearning.

His grey eyes, usually cold and sharp, held a flicker of the same desperation that churned in her own gut.

Her gaze dropped, almost involuntarily, to his lips, then back to his eyes, searching.

His followed hers, a silent, electric acknowledgment of the unspoken kisses, the forbidden longing that still thrummed between them.

The greenhouse, filled with the rustling of leaves and the low murmur of students, suddenly felt utterly silent, as if the world held its breath around them.

The moment shattered.

            "—Val! Did you get the seeds?" Harry's voice, annoyingly loud and completely oblivious, cut through the charged atmosphere like a well-aimed Bludger. He peered over a giant potted Mandrake, looking directly at them.

Valerie flinched, pulling away from Draco as if she'd been burned. Her face flushed a deep crimson. "Uh... yeah! Got it!" She stammered, her voice a reedy whisper. Without another glance at Draco, she practically bolted towards her brother, snatching a small bag of seeds off the bench.

Harry, however, was still staring, his brow furrowed in confusion.

He saw the way they'd been standing, the intense look on their faces before his interruption.

"Everything alright, Val?" He asked, his voice low with suspicion, his eyes darting between his sister's flushed face and Draco, who was now meticulously wiping dirt off his robes, his back to them. "You two looked... well, weird."

Valerie merely rolled her eyes, forcing a laugh. "It's Malfoy, Harry. What do you expect? He practically shoves everyone in the corridor. You just saw it wrong." She dismissed him with a dismissive wave of her hand, but her heart was still hammering against her ribs, echoing the frantic rhythm of Draco's own as he tried to regain his composure amidst the fragrant chaos of the greenhouse.

"Mr. Lewis! Miss Potter! Will you pay attention, please?!" Professor McGonagall's voice, whipped through the empty classroom on a dreary Friday afternoon. The sound instantly jolted Valerie and Eric's heads up from where they had been engaged in the juiciest gossip.

The Gryffindor and Slytherin fourth years were gathered together after the last class of the day, split into two rigid lines of chairs along opposite walls – boys on one side, girls on the other. Eric Lewis, however, had made a strategic, brilliant maneuver. He was currently squeezed onto the end of the female row, practically vibrating with suppressed glee beside his best friend, Valerie.

"Now that Miss Potter and Mr. Lewis have been kind enough to act their age..." Professor McGonagall's gaze, snagged on the pair. She glared, a vein throbbing faintly in her temple. "I have something to say to you all... The Yule Ball is approaching – a traditional part of the Triwizard Tournament and an opportunity for us to socialise with our foreign guests." Her voice softened almost imperceptibly, a rare moment of... giddiness? "Now, the ball will be open only to fourth years and above – although you may invite a younger student if you wish... The Yule Ball is, first and foremost... A dance."

A collective groan, deep and guttural, erupted from the males.

Eric Lewis however, didn't groan.

He squealed.

A high-pitched, enthusiastic sound that perfectly matched the chorus of delighted giggles from the girls beside him.

He let out another shrill giggle, practically bouncing in his seat.

Valerie nudged him hard in the ribs, her face a furious contortion as she valiantly fought a laugh of her own. She knew the drill: one look at Eric's delighted, unhinged grin, or one accidental eye-contact, and she would break. The sheer absurdity of the situation, coupled with Eric's infectious joy, was a dangerous combination.

"Silence!" McGonagall snapped, her gaze sweeping across the room like a searchlight. "Now, to dance, is to let the body breathe. Inside every girl, a secret swan slumbers, longing to burst forth and take flight..."

Ron Weasley, hunched over and looking utterly miserable, turned to Seamus Finnegan. "Something's about to burst out of Eloise Midgen," He muttered, loud enough to be heard by most of the boys, "But I don't think it's a swan." A snort of muffled laughter rippled through their ranks, quickly hushed as McGonagall's eyes narrowed.

Professor McGonagall's gaze, landed directly on Ron. "Inside every boy," She continued, her voice now dangerously calm, "A lordly lion prepared to prance... Mr. Weasley?" She strode towards him, her hand outstretched with an air of grim determination.

Ron's eyes widened, a deer caught in light. "Yes...??" He squeaked, clearly terrified.

"Will you join me, please?" McGonagall's tone left no room for argument.

Ron, looking like he was about to face a fully-grown dragon without a wand, slowly followed his teacher, earning 'ooohs'.

"Now, Mr. Weasley," McGonagall instructed, standing stiffly before him. "Place your right hand on my waist..."

Ron's face went crimson, a shade usually reserved for advanced Potions explosions. "Where??" He exaggerated, his voice cracking horribly.

"My waist," McGonagall repeated, her patience clearly wearing thinner than a Dementor's cloak. Ron, looking utterly revolted, gingerly placed his hand on her waist as if it were a live Bludger. The tension was palpable, but just as Ron thought it couldn't get worse, a sharp, piercing whistle echoed through the room.

Eric Lewis, unleashed an ear-splitting, utterly triumphant whistle. It was perfectly timed, perfectly pitched, and absolutely guaranteed to drive Ron insane.

"Mr. Filch, if you please!" McGonagall commanded, ignoring Eric's performance with a Herculean effort.

The scratchy strains of music immediately filled the room, and Professor McGonagall, surprisingly graceful, began to guide a thoroughly mortified Ron. "One, two, three... One, two, three..." Ron shuffled and stumbled, his feet seeming to possess the grace of a collapsing stack of Quidditch balls, while Eric Lewis dissolved into silent laughter beside Valerie. It was going to be a long, hilarious lesson.

we're all most likely gonna die since we have harry & valerie potter in our class 🤡[ CLASS GROUP CHAT ]

draco malfoy :

@/ronweasley , having fun there aye mr weasley ? 😏😏

photo saved by 17+ people

valerie potter :IM DEAD 💀💀

eric lewis : PLS 😭😭😭

nathaniel young : i'm trying so hard to hold in my laughter-

blaise zabini : 😩😩😩✋

As the music struck up, the classroom instantly transformed into a whirlwind of flailing limbs and nervous laughter. Eric and Valerie, however, were already in their element. With a delighted whoop, Eric grabbed Valerie's hand, pulling her into an enthusiastic spin. They twirled across the floor, completely lost in their own joyous world, Valerie's laughter ringing out as Eric dipped her with dramatic flair.

Across the room, Blaise Zabini, ever the smoothest operator among the Slytherin boys, was one of the few to stride confidently towards a partner.

He made a beeline for Millicent Bulstrode, whose initial hesitation was palpable: she clearly had no desire to dance. She hated dancing. But Blaise, with a persuasive grin and a gentle but firm grip on her arm, practically coaxed her into motion. They'd known each other since they were four, a silent history passing between them as Millicent, still looking slightly put-upon, grudgingly began to move.

Ron and Harry, meanwhile, looked like two dazed hippogriffs who'd wandered into a ballroom.

Their eyes darted around frantically, and with a shared, desperate glance, they made a beeline for Hermione.

She was, to their minds, their only viable option.

Hermione, however, saw them coming.

Her eyes rolled with an almost audible groan, and with a decisive turn, she snagged Neville Longbottom by the arm, leaving the two boys standing awkwardly in her wake. They watched everyone else pair off, casting desperate glances around the room for any other unfortunate girl standing alone.

There wasn't one.

A moment of silent, mortified understanding passed between Ron and Harry.

Then, with a sudden burst of self-deprecating laughter, they shrugged and reluctantly faced each other.

Ron, still red-faced from his earlier ordeal, fumbled into position, and they began to awkwardly 'dance,' tripping over each other's feet and dissolving into helpless giggles the entire time.

Meanwhile, Claudia Selwyn, oblivious to the concept of personal space or disinterest, was practically shoving Draco Malfoy's hand onto her waist. Draco's face was a mask of rigid distaste: he didn't so much dance as endure. He was clearly trying to mentally obliterate himself from the situation, but with everyone else paired off, he knew he had no other choice. Being partnerless was a fate worse than dancing with Claudia, apparently.

The bell rang with a merciful clang, bringing an immediate end to the dance floor charade. There was the usual scuffle of activity as everyone grabbed their bags from under their chairs, swinging them onto their shoulders.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ♡ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

THE HOGWARTS STAFF'S DETERMINATION to impress their Beauxbatons and Durmstrang guests was undeniable. The school had never looked so stunning. Everlasting icicles clung to the banisters of the marble staircase, shimmering with an ethereal glow. In the Great Hall, the usual twelve Christmas trees were masterpieces of festive magic, bedecked with luminous holly berries, real hooting golden owls nestled among the branches, and suits of armor that burst into spontaneous carols whenever someone passed. The air practically thrummed with a shimmering, festive magic.

Harry Potter, however, was far from feeling festive. He still hadn't asked Cho Chang to the Yule Ball, and a cold knot of dread tightened in his stomach with each passing hour. He and Ron had made a desperate pact: by tonight, they would both have partners. But every glimpse Harry caught of Cho that day only intensified his anxiety. She was always, always, surrounded by friends. Didn't she ever go anywhere alone? The ludicrous thought of ambushing her on her way to the bathroom even crossed his mind, quickly dismissed when he remembered she even went there with an escort of four or five girls. If he didn't act soon, someone else was bound to snatch her up. The desperation was gnawing at him, a relentless little beast.

So, he sought out his sister, Valerie.

"I suppose there's always Moaning Myrtle," Harry muttered gloomily, his eyes darting around. He and Valerie were hidden behind a corner, an attempt by Valerie to coax him into asking Cho before it was too late. But Harry was deeply, agonisingly hesitant. "Why do you girls even go to the bathroom together? It's like there's some kind of secret party in there."

Valerie sighed, a small ripple of exasperation crossing her face. "It's not a big deal, Harry. Just go up to her and ask if you can have a private word. And if Cho already has a date, don't take it to heart."

          "Well, I was thinking—" Harry began, his voice laced with hope, "If you could ask Cho for me..."

            "Absolutely not," Valerie denied instantly, her resolve firm. "It's much better if you do it yourself."

"Can you at least come with me?" Harry pleaded, his voice a strained whisper.

"Um—"

"Fine, then, never mind..." The words were out before he could second-guess himself.

A surge of desperate courage propelled Harry forward, but the gaggle of girls surrounding Cho made his stomach clench. "Er—Cho? Could I have a word with you?"

Giggling should be illegal, Harry thought furiously as all of Cho's friends erupted into a chorus of high-pitched titters.

Cho, thankfully, remained composed. "Okay," She simply answered, stepping away from her friends and following him.

Harry turned to face her, and his stomach gave a weird lurch, as though he'd missed a step walking downstairs.

His mind was a blank. Um... He couldn't. But he needed to. Cho stood there, seemingly puzzled, her dark eyes fixed on him, waiting patiently. The words tumbled out before Harry had quite got his tongue around them, a garbled mess of nerves.

"Wangoballwime?"

Cho's brow furrowed, a faint hint of confusion in her voice. "Sorry?"

"D-do you—do you want to go to the ball with me?" Harry managed, the words finally clear, though his face felt like it was on fire.

Why did he have to go red now? Why?

"Oh!" Cho's cheeks flushed a delicate pink to match his. "Oh, Harry, I'm really sorry." And she truly did sound regretful. "I've already said I'll go with someone else."

It was odd: a moment before, his insides had been writhing like a nest of snakes, a frantic jumble of hope and terror. Now, suddenly, he didn't seem to have any insides at all. Just a vast, empty hollowness where his organs should have been.

"Oh, okay... No problem..." He trailed off, the words flat and meaningless.

"I'm really sorry," Cho apologised again, her voice soft. "Cedric—Cedric Diggory... He asked me quite long ago."

"Oh, right." His insides had come back again, but they felt like they'd been filled with lead in their absence, heavy and inert.

Harry walked away slowly, his sister silently beside him, Cho's voice echoing in his ears.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ♡ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

LUNCH IN THE GREAT HALL buzzed with the usual cacophony of hungry students and clattering cutlery. Eric and Valerie, sat comfortably amidst the Gryffindors. Across from them, Ron Weasley was in full flight, gesticulating wildly with a chicken drumstick. "And then Fred and George set off a whole cascade of Fizzing Whizbees!" Ron boasted, his voice a little too loud for a casual lunch. "The common room was absolute chaos, in the best possible way. Honestly, Gryffindor parties are undeniably the best. No contest."

Eric Lewis, a proud Sagittarius , leaned back crossing his arms with a mischievous grin playing on his lips. "Rubbish, Ron! Gryffindor parties are quaint. You've never experienced a real party until you've been to a Slytherin one." He paused, letting his words hang in the air. "All that predictable fun. Honestly."

Ron scoffed. "Predictable? We had Professor Flitwick singing 'Bohemian Rhapsody'! What do Slytherins do? Play chess and discuss the finer points of potion-making?"

Eric chuckled, pushing his plate away. "Prove it then, Weasley. My birthday is coming up – I'm turning fifteen, finally!" He puffed out his chest playfully. "You and Harry have to sneak into the Slytherin common room. It's the only way you'll truly understand. Prepare to have your mind absolutely blown."

He glanced at Hermione, who was meticulously cutting her pie. "What about you, Hermione? Fancy a bit of actual fun?"

Hermione looked up, her expression a mix of politeness and firm resolve. "Oh, Eric, that sounds... fun, but I really can't. I don't want to get into trouble, you know. Rules are rules."

Eric shrugged good-naturedly. "Fair enough, Hermione. More party for us!" He understood her stance: it was classic Hermione.

Ron, however, was still muttering, "No matter what you say, Gryffindor parties are still the best. You'll see."

GO, GO, GO, GO

HEAD SO GOOD, SHE A HONOUR ROLL, SHE RIDE THE DICK LIKE A CARNIVAL

I DONE DID THE IMPOSSIBLE

GO, GO, GO, GO

HEAD SO GOOD, SHE A HONOUR ROLL, SHE RIDE THE DICK LIKE A CARNIVAL

I DONE DID THE IMPOSSIBLE

The Slytherin common room was a pulsating, throbbing beast of a party. It was a full-blown rave. Flashing lights, enchanted to pulse, bounced off the ancient stone walls, creating a dizzying, hypnotic kaleidoscope. The air vibrated with a powerful, booming beat, a bass-heavy track that throbbed through their chests, making the very floor tremble.

Harry and Ron had sneaked into the Slytherin common room with the invisibility cloak, while following a fellow Slytherin inside. The moment they slipped past the concealed entrance, their jaws had dropped. "Blimey, Harry," Ron choked out, his voice barely a whisper, eyes wide as saucers. "He wasn't lying... this is incredible!"

Slytherins, usually so poised and contained, were utterly unleashed. They were on their feet, jumping, pumping their fists, and singing/shouting along with the music, their faces alight with unadulterated joy. It was a very hyped-up crowd, a vibrant mix of ages, with taller Sixth and Seventh Years towering over the younger students, all united in the frenetic energy.

Right at the heart of the maelstrom, on a sturdy table, was Eric Lewis. He was the undisputed life of the party, hyping the crowd, arms pumping, a wide, triumphant grin plastered on his face.

And next to him, tiny but radiating immense energy, stood Professor Flitwick, also wearing dark sunglasses, his wand occasionally sparking light effects into the air as he bobbed his head to the beat, a surprisingly cool presence amidst the chaos.

Suddenly, a high-pitched shriek cut through the booming music right beside Harry.

"—HAPPY FUCKING BIRTHDAY!" Valerie was there, jumping wildly next to them, a glimmering short black dress, her own black sunglasses perched stylishly on her nose, perfectly matching Eric's. Her friends screamed with her, lost in the moment.

Nearby, Blaise Zabini was on his feet, hyping up the crowd with a fierce energy that mirrored Eric's.

Even Draco Malfoy, leaning against a wall, was drinking punch, a rare, genuine smile playing on his lips, his gaze fixed on Valerie, clearly captivated by her vibrant enthusiasm.

Harry and Ron stood, momentarily paralysed, their minds blown. Ron had been utterly, gloriously wrong.

The sheer, unexpected intensity of the Slytherin party was infectious. Without a word, a wide grin spreading across his face, Ron shed his earlier skepticism and began to jump, his gangly limbs flailing enthusiastically to the beat. Harry, caught up in the exhilarating atmosphere, felt a laugh bubble up in his chest. They both plunged into the throng, partying together, completely swept away by the unexpected Slytherin revelry.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ♡ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

( entire chapter rewritten, made significant changes - june 24th 2025 )

i was listening to the spotify playlist called "a slytherin party, except it's pure chaos'. that is where i got the idea to add a slytherin common room party, i hope you all enjoyed and found it fun!

for those who have already read / finished this fanfiction, i have changed a major part for more excitement which will be in the next chapter :)

authors note - june 26th 2025 -i wanted to give you all a quick heads-up that i'll be taking a break from Wattpad and TikTok for about a month!

i am heading off on a much-needed vacation, and while i'm super excited, i'm also very sorry for the interruption to new chapters.

i'll miss connecting with you all, but i pinky promise to come back refreshed and ready to jump right back into posting new chapters as soon as i'm back.

thank you so much for your understanding and continued support!

💞 see you angels in a month! 💞

( p.s. i am so very sorry i will come back to posting new chapters as soon as i can 🥺 )

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