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Slytherin's match against Ravenclaw hadn't managed to excite anyone.
Quidditch seem sort of anticlimactic this year; no-one's heart seemed to be
in it.

Ron, Harry, and Hermione took their seats, ready to cheer Ravenclaw on.
Before the game had a chance to begin, however, three students strolled
confidently onto the pitch. They were dressed in identical short
green-and-silver pleated miniskirts and tight black tank tops emblazoned
with a serpent coiled into an 'S'. All three carried what Harry realized
were pom-poams.

"What the hell is this?" said Ron.

"Shhh," murmured Hermione, grinning. Harry quirked an eyebrow at her, but
said nothing.

"GIMME AN 'S'!" Shouted the one with the green and silver hair. She must
have been using some sort of voice-amplifying spell to be heard so clearly
at this distance.

A scattered chorus of enthusiastic "S!"es rang from the audience. Ron and
Harry did a doubletake at Hermione's gleeful shout.

"Do you know something about this?" Harry whispered fiercely at her.

"Shut up, or play along. Don't worry, this'll be fun."


Fearing the Wrath of Hermione, Ron and Harry gave her an L.

"Hey," whispered Ron. "The short one on the right, isn't that Malcolm
Baddock? He's a mu- er, Muggle-born, right, Hermione?"

"They all are," she whispered back. "The other Slytherins do their best to
make them miserable. This is payback."

"GIMME A 'Y'!"

Everyone seemed to be getting into the spirit of the thing, and rewarded
her with an enthusiastic "Y!"

"Because I said so! Now GIMME AN 'L'!"


"GIMME A 'T'!"

"Okay, here's the plan..." Hermione muttered something to Ron and Harry,
and they snorted with amusement.













It seemed Hermione had not been the only one in on the joke, nor the only
one to clue her friends in.

But it wasn't over yet, apparently. The threesome on the pitch began to
sing, waving their pom-poms and wriggling their hips in unison.

"Stand up and cheer for Slytherin House,
We'll kill your dog and seduce your spouse!
If you always play to win,
You'll be at home in Slytherin!"

"We get our best grades in Potions class,
'Cause Snape likes the way we all kiss his ass--"

At this, the three of them struck identical hipshot poses and blew a noisy
kiss at the teacher's section of the stands. Ron was afraid to look; even at
this distance, and without it being aimed at him, he could feel the heat of
Snape's glare.

"If you'd stoop to things obscene,
Remember the silver and the green!"

"So stand up and cheer for the House of the Snake!
We may not be liked but we've got what it takes!
And what it takes is what we'll do,
To get a head start on you!"

The stunned outrage from the Slytherin section was swallowed up by the
general howling laughter. Even the faculty was laughing. Some, like
Dumbledore, weren't even trying to hide it. Except, of course, for Professor
Snape. Catching sight of his bland expression and single raised eyebrow, Ron
was suddenly *very* glad it wasn't him prancing around on the field in a

But it was Draco Malfoy who reached them first. He grabbed one of the
impromptu cheerleaders by the collar and tried to drag her bodily off the

"Oooooo," she squealed, "Shouldn't you be waiting until *after* the game to
drag me off and do unspeakable things to me?"

The voice amplification spell must have been cast on the area, rather than
the cheerleaders, because everyone heard Draco's response.

"Addams, I wouldn't fuck you with Colin Creevey's dick!"

A loud "Oooooo" swept through the stands. One of the miniskirted students
("Joel Rosen," Herione whispered, "He's in my Arithmancy class") jeered,
"Yeah, Malfoy, we know. You really want to fuck Pr--"

Whatever he'd been about to say, it was cut short by the arrival of a
fuming Professor Snape. "Detention, all of you," he snapped.

"Yeah, detention!" echoed Draco.

"I said *all* of you, Mr. Malfoy. Surely you needn't have added to this
little disruption?"

"Awww," cooed Malcolm, as Draco stood, stunned. "Detention? Does that mean
you're not going to *spank* us?"

"Spank us! Spank us!" chorused Joel Rosen and Mag Addams. Snape stalked
back to his seat.

The trio of troublemakers dashed into the stands. Harry and Ron goggled at
the sight of Malcolm Braddock seating himself in Justin Finch-Fletchley's
lap and kissing him soundly.

"Justin Finch-Fletchley and a *guy*?" croaked Ron.

"Justin Finch-Fletchley and a *Slytherin*?" gasped Harry.

Hermione muttered something about glass houses and stones.