Hi, guys! And when I say guys, I mean guys and girls obviously. So this is my attempt to do NaNoWriMo, or at least my version of it. This isn't going to be a novel, but it'll be the project I'm working on, so expect updates! Anyways, only Hilde belongs to me. And, I suppose, any other extraneous characters that I make up along the way. Cheers!

"Get out," I snarled at the first-year, "of my seat. Now."

The first-year, a dark-haired boy with a large ears, merely blinked. His upper lip instinctively curled at my order, probably a honed response. "And why should I?"

"Because," I crossed my arms in front of me, "because I'm your elder, you little, you little-"

And that's where my mind went blank. Completely out of words, completely out of insults, completely out of comebacks.

Blank.

"Wow." The first year cocked his neatly-groomed pureblood head of hair. "That was pathetic. I think my house elf can come up with a better comeback than that."

"Whatever, you- you," I stuttered, "brat! Just vacate the armchair before I make you!"

"And how exactly are you going to do that? You can barely spout out a sentence." He settled further into the comfy, green chair in question. It was my spot in the common room, the only place I'd been able to carve out for myself in the past six years I'd been at Hogwarts. Sitting in the corner of the common room, it was next to the one of the few torches in the room, as well as a small, circular porthole that emanated green light from the depths of the lake. Occasionally, I'd even see the Giant Squid outside and wave, because that's the way I was raised.

Niceness. Politeness. Goodness.

They had no place here. And yet, I still couldn't seem to give them up.

"Look," I said. "I know how this is going to go. I'm going to try and intimidate you, and I'll fail, and you're going to make fun of me and sneer and all that, but I'm just going to be straight with you. That's my chair, and I am not literally going anywhere until you get your little snake butt out of it, because I'm that loyal to it. So, please, just get off and save yourself some time unless you want to be constantly annoyed for the rest of the night, because I have no problem doing so."

He lazily blinked again, a blink I'd become very familiar with over the years. I internally sighed.

"I'll get up." He smiled, and I swore his teeth were sharpened to points, though that detail might've been in my head. "But on a couple of conditions. Let's make a deal."

I sighed, externally this time. "What's your price?"

He smiled, his first smile of the night. "Name first, please. I like to know who I'm doing business with."

I rolled my eyes. "How old are you again, kid? Like eleven?"

"Just tell me your name." He sniffed.

"It doesn't matter," I said. "Just tell me what you want."

"Your name," he growled, his brown eyes growing darker as they bored into me. "Otherwise, I will sit here every day, and when I'm gone, I'll just get others to do the same. Your choice."

My eyes widened at the scenario he drew out. Never to have my spot again, my one comfort?

No. It wasn't an option, not even if the little serpent did back me into a corner.

For the umpteenth time in forever, I wished I could manipulate myself out of this situation or simply lie to get my own way. Maybe even bully him, a physical slap might even be involved. But unfortunately, none of those actions were in my nature. They were dormant, or perhaps absent. Missing, like a girl on a milk carton.

Being nice was my flaw.

"My name's Hilde," I breathed, raising my chin high. "Hilde Hufflepuff, actually. Now what's your price?"

The cat, or owl, or even toad, was out of the bag, so to speak.

His jaw dropped. I smiled a bit; the shock was always fun to play up, but the aftermath usually wasn't. I enjoyed it while I could. Where else would I get my fun?

"You're the Puff," he said, mouth still agape with wonder at my own darling presence. "They've told me about you. You're the heir of Hufflepuff that got sorted into Slytherin. How are you still alive?"

"Sweets, treats, and a lot of favors actually. But that's beside the point." I squinted at him. "Now what do you want, little snake?"

His reaction wasn't matching the usual ones I received. Instead of mockery or laughter or even jeering, he looked thoughtful, deeply pensive. He sat on my armchair straight upright, his legs crossed underneath his green and black robes, making him appear like a miniature Yoda. The amount of wrinkles on his scrunched up forehead was almost comical.

"I'd like a favor," he said with a dead serious face. "You're a Prefect, right?"

"Correct." I gritted through my teeth. I hated abusing my abilities as a Prefect, but if it guaranteed the stability of my spot, I could do it for one little boy. "What about it?"

"I fancy a girl." His dark eyes shone up at me, and I stared at him uncertainly in return. "I'd like you to put me in her good favor and get her to go on a date with me."

Oh. A date.

Not exactly what I was expecting.

"Look, kid," I said, "I'm not a miracle worker or a matchmaker; I'm just a sixth-year Prefect; besides, what's so hard about asking her out yourself? You seem confident enough….I can tell at least you don't think girls have cooties anymore. That's progress."

"I don't think you understand." He rolled his eyes at me. "It's a bit more complicated than that. I'll need all of your abilities to make this work."

"And why's that?" I waited for the punchline. Any second now… just please don't be Professor McGonagall, don't be Professor McGonagall, don't be Professor McGonagall…

"She's a Gryffindor," he said.

No, no, no, no, no, no, no, not McGonagall, no, no…

"And she's James Potter's cousin," he concluded with a sigh. "Amelia Potter. But he won't let Slytherin near her, much less me. She just got Sorted this year like me, and he's been watching over her ever since."

"Brilliant." I snorted, pacing a bit back and forth across the embroidered rug on the floor. "And this somehow makes me more qualified than you how? I'm still a Slytherin, in case you haven't forgot."

"But you're different." He peered up at me, sneering as he said the words. "You're nice; you're a Sorting mistake. You really aren't Slytherin, but for some reason, you're here. You're qualified, because you break the boundaries. You put up a good face for Slytherin throughout all the other Houses, so no one would suspect you of any wrongdoing."

I glared at him. "You know, just because I'm nice doesn't mean that I can do anything I want. There are limits even for me."

"Oh, I know," he waved it off. "If it were an effective strategy, I'd use it all the time, but unfortunately, it can only work for a certain few. Personally, I think it takes too much effort, and it's not worth the measures it takes to keep up. I mean, smiling, honestly. Who has the time?"

"It's really not that hard," I said. "Plus, it puts people more at ease, so they'll smile back at you."

"And why would I want that?" He deadpanned, utterly serious.

Sometimes, (more often than not) I'd wondered if Slytherin students had any empathy at all. I'd suspected for a while that most were raised in households that preached strict pureblood mindsets, so I thought that somehow they must be all emotionally stunted in some way. Occasionally, I'd juggled the thought around to hold a feelings workshop for my House, but… Well, I felt my fellow snakes would sabotage me in some way. It was most unfortunate. I'd come up with quite a few trust exercises already.

"Because it's the friendly thing to do." I sighed, wishing I wasn't speaking to a tiny sociopath in my midst. "I don't like deceiving people, in case you haven't noticed."

"That's the brilliant thing about it, Puff," he said. "You'd mainly just be acting as a distraction. No deception, at all. You just have to buy me time without any interruption. It's simple, really. A child could do it."

"Then why don't you have one of your little friends do it for you then?" My eyes shifted to the porthole, catching a glimpse of movement. One of the squid's tentacles floated by, suctioning to the window for a second, and I swore it was trying to give me a signal. Like, squid talk for DON'T MAKE A DEAL WITH THIS LITTLE DEVIL!

"Friends," the kid scoffed, turning his head away from me to face the porthole as well. He observed the last suction cups of the tentacles sliding off the glass with an analytical eye. "Who needs friends? Friends are useless. All I need in life are allies."

My stomach bottomed out, and I gave the kid a hard stare. He looked scrawny in the emerald armchair, despite his attempts to intimidate me earlier. He was small for his age, thin, absurdly pale, and most likely only eleven (as I repeatedly tried to confirm). Attempting to remember my own experience at Hogwarts at eleven made me shudder. It was then that I made my decision. Of course, I didn't say it right that moment.

"So just distractions? Nothing else?" I asked, feigning my true emotions. But then again, I was curious.

He perked up slightly at my interest in the job and turned back to face me. "And perhaps a few small favors. Your status as a Prefect does give you some power, after all."

I grimaced slightly at the implied exploitation of power that I'd be abusing. My nerves started to act up, so I began to pace. I liked my responsibility. I liked roaming the halls at night to check for out of bed students. I liked my Prefect bathroom privileges. I liked to respect authority. I didn't want to lose my position. Besides, my badge was shiny. And it gave me the ability to take points away from little snot-nosed kids like the one in front of me.

"And how long exactly do you plan on this taking?" I queried, still pacing. This wasn't any favor, not a simple pass for being in the corridors too late at night or even a pardon for a detention. It was a commitment, an obligation. A binding to this kid, whoever he was. "Also, what's your name by the way? I can't keep referring to you as kid all the time."

"It'll take however long it takes for her to agree to go out with me." He snarked back at me, looking at his tiny fingernails poshly like a little king. "And it's Drexel Lestrange to you. As for the deal, you'll be granted this armchair as permanent property for your remaining years at Hogwarts. Are those fair terms?"

A Lestrange. Oh, Merlin. What was I getting myself into? I remembered bits and pieces of when the elder Lestranges, Rodolphus and Rabastan, went to Hogwarts during my first year, and they were not pleasant. In fact, all that came to memory was an image of myself with smashed cupcakes all over my face. I could only hope that as the youngest brother he would be a bit nicer. If not, well, I had the size advantage this time.

"I swear you're not eleven," I muttered under my breath. "You're a bit freaky, Lestrange, especially for a niblet."

"Do we have a deal, Puff?" he demanded, holding out his hand as if he were already an international magical businessman.

"Deal." I shook his hand, encompassing his small, pale hand with mine. His handshake was firm, and I took that as a hopeful sign. Hopefully, he wouldn't screw me over, lie to me, steal from me, or in general, do any manipulation to me, myself, and I. Hopefully.

Yes, hopefully the eleven year-old wouldn't turn on me. I had wishful thinking.