FEBRUARY 13, 1976

KATHLEEN WOKE WITH A COLD HAND DRAWING LINES ON HER BREASTBONE. She gasped, eyelids flinging open, and was met with a view of her (thankfully) drawn bedcurtains.

"About time. You sleep like the dead," Black's voice had turned low and hoarse through the ache of sleep, and Kathleen realized that he'd somehow pulled them both under the covers, though he was still very much pressed against her.

Her mind lurched. OhfuckwhatdidIjustdo- but then the headache came. Like a tsunami, a dizzying wave of soreness hit her at both temples, and she groaned aloud. 

Black laughed somewhere in the distance, and though her eyes were clenched to slits, she made out the small vial of blue Potion he held in front of her face. In hindsight, she definitely shouln't have drank it straight away- what if he spiked it? But she squeezed her eyes shut, snatched the vial and tipped it straight down her throat. She groaned again, but the Hangover Potion worked wonders- her headache was gone in seconds.

Light was peeking through her canopy from the windows- it was morning, but still early. She scrambled to look down at herself- thank god her brassiere was still on. But her waist was only covered by a paper-thin sheet; her bedsheets? She realized mortifyingly that her blanket wasn't even on her bed anymore. Half of her bedsheets weren't tucked neatly under, and it was those that she'd been sleeping under. Oh, Merlin. 

"You're blushing. Did I not flatter you enough last night?"

Even in her screechingly embarrassed state, a sharp retort was on the tip of Kathleen's tongue. But it faded as she turned to Black. His hair was mussed, and it was all standing up on one side. Like a block, actually. Kathleen wondered how on earth someone's hair could look like that. It felt like the fire in her cheeks was expanding as she noticed the little marks on his bare chest, and the smudged lipstick streaks on his face. But what stopped her from cringing was the look in his eyes. If she were five feet away, she would probably slap him for looking like a Cheshire cat, grinning as if he made another conquest. But, with their faces not even a few inches apart, there was a soft clinginess within his irises' icy blues, that spoke of layers of emotion she couldn't put into words.

Reg had been awake for almost an hour now. To be honest, he was quite sore, from both the night before and how he'd lain still for so long, not moving. Prewett looked delightfully mussed in the mornings, with her hair quite bushy instread of stick-straight. She looked like an Obliviated Muggle, and Reg chuckled.

"I- erm. Thank you; for the Potion," Kathleen had to double back, her throat dry and her voice extremely high-pitched. "My roommates- did we?"

She made some obscure gestures with her hands.

"Ah, indeed. I cast the charm."

"No, the..." she gestured again, this time to herself.

"Yes, both. Imperturbable as well as Contraception," Now he was getting red.

Kathleen didn't even have the space in her stomach to feel relieved. "Okay. Erm- I'm going to the lavatory now!"

She twisted out of Black's arms, grapping for her knickers, which lay by the pillow. Hastily sliding them on, she tumbled out between her bedcurtains, while Black made a short noise of protest behind her.

Her room was empty. As she fumbled for her dressing gown, she saw that Miksa's corner was neat as always, meaning she'd slept and had already departed. Flora's side, however, remained how it looked last night. Kathleen did a horrible knot with her silk dressing gown, frantically reaching for a brush. A glance to the mirror (which said, in a drawl, "Top the morning to you, dear,") told her she looked ghastly. She'd only brushed through half her hair when the door swung open without a knock.

Blishwick strolled in, with her hair mussed artfully instead of chaotically, wearing her heels from the night before, but covered in a Slytherin overcoat. It was the most obvious ensemble someone could have worn to show that they'd classily slept with a boy, unlike Kathleen. 

"-Oh. Prewett," Blishwick clearly remembered their fight on the dance floor last night. "Had a rough night?"

"Could say the same for you," Kathleen bit.

"Mm, no. Quinn was wonderful, so gentle and touching," Blishwick's voice was dripping with false pity. "You couldn't relate. And a shame, that you missed the rest of the party."

"I'm glad I did, since I didn't have to see your face," Kathleen spat, advancing to Blishwick, but a noise distracted them. 

Both girls whirled around to see Regulus Black climb out of Kathleen's bedcurtains, carefully sliding them shut. He whistled a small tune as he walked out in nothing but his trunks, summoning his shoes and robes. He didn't even make eye contact as he slid his black and green robes over his bare chest, muscle carved into his skin from years of Quidditch. 

Black slipped his wand, which lay on Kathleen's bedside stand, back into his robe sleeve, before coming up to the two of them, finally.

"I must depart," he said, his words rolling off his tongue in a cloud of danger. He turned to Flora. "Blishwick. I suppose you're wrong and you're right. I was also quite wonderful, but Kathleen likes it rough."

He strolled out of their room. Blishwick looked like a wizard seeing electricity for the first time. And Kathleen was no better, and the flame in her face let her know that she'd fully gone red red to match her hair.

The door swung shut with a creak and a click. Blishwick wasn't even looking at Kathleen- she was looking past her, at her bed, with the mussed sheets, the blanket on the floor, and the obviously-mens' dress shirt and trousers scattered over her chair. Kathleen jumped at the opportunity.

"I'm going to the lavatory now!" she said for the second time, and bolted before she heard a response. When the door to the three girls' shared lavatory finally locked, she took a shuddering breath in, but she wasn't embarrassed anymore. About Black? Definitely. 

But, as the realization slowly dawned inch by inch, she'd finally proven her point to Blishwick.