Third Year Slytherin Girls Dorm

Pansy Parkinson was a shrewd business artist, besides having the reputation of the class artist. No matter how poor of an opinion people had Pansy, everyone would have to begrudgingly admit that she was pretty darn good at drawing. Her skills were generally beyond those of her thirteen years, and she was always practicing and working at her art.

Also, no matter what you had to say about Pansy, one would also have to agree that she was smart. Not in her subjects, but in how she thought and with her schemes.

And she had a plan indeed. A plan to cash in on the budding sexual desires and curiosity of her fellow peers.

As she carefully arranged a stack of drawings into a brown paper bag, she stretched out onto her bed, patiently waiting for the first idiot to walk in.

And lo, at that very moment, Mélenie Astor happened along in search of her missing Transfiguration textbook. "Hi, Pansy," she said as a token greeting to her roommate as she made a beeline for the cranny beneath her bed.

"Mel!" Pansy suddenly hopped off her bed. With her twin little tales swinging beside her head, she immediately reached over and shook Mélenie's entire arm up and down entirely. "Mel, please, come sit down and talk for a while!"

Something was already suspicious; Pansy never made any friendly advances towards Mélenie if she could help it.

"Ay-up!" Mél agreed cheerily, never one to resist a social advance of any sort, whether advantageous or otherwise. "How are you?

"Good! Hey Mel, I have a question I am, err... class president for third year Slytherin girls, you see," Pansy said craftily, despite Hogwarts lacking such a student body hierarchy. "And, I was wondering if you are attractive to any particular upperclassmen, and if so, who?"

Ah, yes. A favorite subject of hers. Putting on her best set of rosy cheeks, she bashfully began a tirade on her ever-flourishing adoration for one Cedric Diggory, the seeker of the Hufflepuff quidditch team.

"Huh, Cedric?" Pansy said thoughtfully. Ah, Cedric. How could anyone NOT know him? Athletic as he was handsome, and chivlarious and loyal to boot. If anyone were to rescue a girl from a fire breathing dragon, it would be him.

With all of this in mind, her best work was without a doubt, Cedric.

So, taking in her bag, she pulled out a picture of Cedric, and shoved it in Mel's face.

"If you like Cedric, would like to buy this?!" she exclaimed, with a mad glint in her eye. What she held up to Mel was a detailed picture of said boy they were discussing. Cedric In Nude, she called it, with a proud smile. He was strong, tall, and handsome, with a dashing to smile to boot.

He looked more or less like this, pretty much

Mél fell catatonic immediately. Her face and spots on the backs of her hands flushed a deep, almost pucelike shade of red. No words, no words. That rump! "... Ah?"

"Come on! There's nothing like a hunk of man meat to get those hormones raging out of control!" Pansy exclaimed, waving it in front of her face. "I'll give you a Slytherin House Membership discount!" she offered.

Mél shrieked and made a mad dash out of the dormitory! Out of the house! Out of the dungeon!

"Wait, come on!" Pansy shouted after her. "I'll cut the original price in half, just for you!" She gazed down at her picture. Damn. Was the picture too hot to handle or was Mel just weak?

Having swept the winter blues away with a broom of Illumination palm leaves she kept under her pillow for luck, Mélenie set to work in front of the dorm's vanity mirror straightening her borderline-afro. First came a charm she'd picked up from a tween mag stolen from her sister years ago -- surprisingly, quite reliable when it came to such matters. That did most of the trick. Then came taming the numerous cowlicks and choosing whether or not to go with her natural centre-part. She tried parting it to the left, then to the right. Both made her bangs look rather odd, almost unintentional. She went with the centre. Yes, perfect.

Mél smiled at herself in the mirror: first with her teeth, then without. Then a blatant frown, then with inflated cheeks and crossed eyes. She tugged on a navy blue cardigan over her t-shirt, her winter jacket over that. She checked once more to be absolutely sure that there wasn't a single loose thread out of place, nor a stray mole, or what have you. Off to Hogsmeade.