Author's Note: Well, here it is, the very first chapter of the experimental story that never ends! :p Not quite as much scandal/drama/fashion/sex as I would've liked, but this is kind of an introductory chapter. The next three will be introductory as well, for the other houses, and the characters in them. Anyway, sick-atheartxx (Railey), you're in this one! Hope you don't mind the liberties I took with you. I'd love for you to PM me (or maybe I'll just PM you) so we can discuss what will happen with Railey the next time the Slytherins come around. Gryffindors up next! [PS, I'm in this as well. *blush*]

Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns most fictional characters and places. Any OCs are of a combined creation, by me and another author.

"Shit. Fuck. Goddamn it, fuck. Shit."

Kat Dubrovskiy cursed like a sailor as she stood, feet planted firmly on the very top step of the dormitory stairs, arms held taut in front of her as she struggled to keep hold of her Louis Vuitton luggage trunk. One finger less, and the full trunk would go tumbling down the stone steps and everyone in the dorm would know she was there. Which, really, was the last thing she wanted.

She gave a final tug and thought her arms had broken off at the elbow, already feeling a light sheen of sweat soaking through her James Perse grey v-neck. She sighed, pushing her loose chocolate curls over her shoulder. Great. She hadn't even met her roommate, and she already looked like absolute crap.

"Hi."

"Hey."

Railey Mortimer blinked, playing with the frayed hem of her Marc by Marc Jacobs graphic tee shirt. It was almost threadbare, she'd worn it so much; she wrapped a loose string around her pointer finger and tugged until it pulled off. "Hi Theo."

Theodore Nott sighed. His leg bounced a bit impatiently, a nervous habit she'd learned to look for. He sighed again. "Are we going to talk about it?," he asked gruffly, scratching distractedly at the stubble decorating his cheeks.

"Should we?," Railey asked, shrugging. She uncrossed her legs, recrossing them the opposite way, sitting Indian-style in the middle of her bed. Running long fingers through her ginger hair, she matched Theo's sigh with her own. "I don't really see what there is to talk about, Theo. You slept with Kenna. Full stop."

Theo bit the inside of his cheek obviously, staring at the stone floor of Railey's dorm room. "There's more to it than that, and you know it, Rai." Railey snorted with disgust, lip curling in a disheartened sneer.

"No, I don't know it, Theo. I only know what I saw, with my own eyes. And that would be you, and Kenna, fucking around in Astoria Greengrass's bed." Cheeks flushed red, Railey's hands were shaking and it took every last ounce of her strength to not jump up and either strangle Theo or kiss him. She missed him so much, even though it had only been three weeks since the Greengrass sister's end of summer party. Three weeks since she had caught him in bed with another girl. Three weeks since she'd had her heart ripped from her chest and thrown, still beating, to the ground.

Three beds, rather than two? That was the very first thing Kat noticed when the door marked 114 swung open, revealing her new home for the year. A dorm with three beds? So that meant she had…

Two roommates.

"You must be Katya." With honey blonde hair and painted pink lips, the girl in front of Kat couldn't have been more than five feet tall. She was slender with warm curves and a bright, misleading smile. "I'm Daphne Greengrass. You've probably heard of my father, Nathaniel Greengrass."

Kat gave the girl a blank look, even though she knew full well who Nathaniel Greengrass was. "Just Kat. And nope, can't say I've ever heard the name," she said lightly with a delicate shrug. Daphne pouted before flouncing over to her bed, lying down heavily with a sigh. "That's Pansy." She pointed a finger and manicured nail towards the other girl who sat on the windowsill, cigarette dangling between her pointer and middle fingers. Pansy cut her eyes at Kat boredly, exhaling a steady stream of smoke from her nostrils. Her bottle green eyes narrowed, cat-like, and she yawned, another physical representation of her nonchalance.

"At least she's not poor," Pansy drawled from the sill, giving Kat an appraising once-over. Kat was sure she'd seen Pansy's tall, thin figure somewhere in the pages of Vogue Italia. Maybe the Dolce and Gabbana advert of two seasons ago? Pansy tossed her cigarette out the window and slid from her seat with feline-like grace, gliding over to her own twin bed, sitting on it gracefully, crossing one cigarette-pant encased calf over the other. "So, do you want the rules?"

Kat kept a brave face, though she couldn't deny being intimidated by Pansy. Who wouldn't be? The girl practically reeked of sophistication and summer parties on the Riviera.

"Rule one," Pansy began without waiting for Kat's response. "Stay away from Draco Malfoy or I'll personally rip your eyes out. And I really hate getting my hands dirty. I paid £30 for this manicure, and I don't know when I'll be getting one next." Kat's eyebrows rose slightly and she reminded herself to breathe normally. No fear, right?

"Rule two: Don't talk to Harry Potter, Hermione Granger or Ronald Weasley. Really, I'm doing you the hugest favour by telling you this. They're all… well, just don't talk to them and you'll be much better off around here." Kat scowled slightly. Now this girl was dictating who she could talk to?

Pansy leaned back on her hands, seemingly not finished. "And lastly, we have rule three. Do not, under any circumstances, trust anyone here. We'll all throw you under the bus the soonest chance we get."

Kat gulped.

Draco Malfoy buried his head under his pillow, groaning loudly enough for Blaise Zabini to look up from his book.

"I can't do this, Blaise," Draco whined, his voice muffled by the obstructing cushion. "Four hours of football practice, and then seeing Pansy? Here, there's a gun in my beside drawer, if you'll just take it out and shoot me…"

"I saw Pansy and Daph's new roommate," Blaise said distractedly as he turned the page of his worn, dog-eared copy of Macbeth.

"Yeah?" Draco came out from under the pillow, his cheeks flushed pale red from the lack of air. His platinum hair stuck up in odd directions, and his grey eyes had widened in anticipation. Blaise said nothing in return, absentmindedly scratching his chest through his white tee shirt.

"Well?," Draco said impatiently and Blaise looked up at him with a dark, raised eyebrow.

"You're with Pansy, Draco. Need I remind you once again?" Draco rolled his eyes as he hopped out of bed, going over to the set of drawers he'd hastily shoved clothes into while unpacking a week ago. He dug through, looking for a clean shirt among the crumpled and balled masses.

"A man can look, can't he?," Draco murmured distractedly, sidetracked by his search. Blaise only chuckled in response. "Besides, I'd bet money that you checked her out, while visiting Daphne. Your girlfriend." Blaise shrugged.

"So what if I did?," he breathed through a yawn. "She was alright."

"Alright, meaning…?"

"She was no Pansy, or anything like that, but she wasn't bad-looking, by any means. Taller than Daph, with bigger tits. Brown hair, brown eyes. Kind of plain-looking. Pretty though, kind of… classic looks." Draco snorted at Blaise's obviously well-thought-over description.

"And you were worried about me straying. Sounds as if you had plenty of time to look," Draco drawled teasingly, looking over his shoulder to smirk at his best friend. Blaise tossed his book in the direction of Draco's head, clipping him in the air.

"Ow, fucker!," Draco yelped girlishly, grabbing at the wounded ear. "What if you'd taken off my fucking ear, you wanker?" Blaise laughed openly, throwing his head back.

"Then you'd be a one-eared freak, Pansy would leave you, and she and I could run off into the sunset together. Shagging wildly, and frequently."

"I saw Theo standing in our doorway, so I didn't come in," Flora Carrow said excitedly, sitting down next to Railey, their elbows bumping at the close proximity.

"Yeah…," Railey said slowly, not bothering to look at the nosy Carrow sister she was rooming with this year. She'd given up a while ago on trying to keep her and Theo's falling out a secret, but she didn't know people would be bringing it up so soon. She'd only just arrived back at school the day before.

"So, are you two back together? I wouldn't take him back if I were you, but that's my own opinion. I mean, he's super good-looking and he's set to inherit his mother's fortune, but that's not reason enough for me. I can't believe he had sex with Kenna. Honestly, if some boy tried to pull that on me…"

Railey subtly slid her hands over her ears, wanting nothing more than to block out Flora's high-pitched drone. She didn't want to be reminded of Theo. She didn't want to think about Theo. She almost wished she'd never met him at all.

"And to think, Kenna laughed about it to Hestia later," Flora said disapprovingly, shaking her head. "What a complete and utter bitch. I don't think I'd be handling this as well as you are. I probably would've slapped Kenna the first time I saw her. I would be absolutely livid. I admire you, you know, for being the bigger person…"

Railey stood up, nearly knocking the bench she had been sitting on over in her hurry. Lunch was nearly over anyway, and she had a lot to do before lessons began tomorrow. Like crying. Yeah, a lot of crying.

Someone rapped on the door and Kat jumped, dropping the shirt she was folding back into her trunk. She'd decided to unpack through dinner, since she'd arrived so late. Who else had decided to skip?

"The door's unlocked," Kat said against her better judgment; she'd grown up in New York City, and the last thing you'd ever do was openly invite someone into your house without knowing who they were first. The door opened and Kat looked over her shoulder, noticing a boy she hadn't seen yet, or been introduced to by Daphne, who seemed to know every boy over fourteen in the entire school.

"Hi, if you're here for Pansy or Daphne, they're both at dinner," Kat said, returning to her folding. She slid the shirt into its designated drawer.

"You're a yank," were the first words out of the boy's mouth, and she noticed his posh accent with a cringe. People always said money talks, and Kat agreed – she could tell by the way the boy spoke that his family probably had more money than they knew what to do with.

"Yeah, I just transferred from Salem. Or rather, I wasn't really invited back to Salem," Kat said as she faced the boy. "I'm Kat." She tucked a curl behind her ear. He made her nervous, even though she didn't know his name.

"Draco Malfoy," the boy said with a nod. Kat frowned. "Would you rather I'm Robert Pattinson?," Draco asked as he noticed her scowl. "I know all you American birds are crazy about him after that idiotic vampire film." Kat bit her lip to keep from chuckling.

"No, it's just… I'm afraid of having my eyes ripped out," Kat admitted with a small smile. This was the Draco she'd been warned away from? She was pretty sure he was the most attractive boy she'd ever met. Uncommonly pale, true, but very, very well-groomed. Kat wouldn't be surprised if he went for manicures with Pansy.

"So she used that line on you too?," Draco asked with a grimace. "Don't be afraid of Pans. She means well, she really does, she's just a bit… prickly, sometimes." Kat laughed at that, shaking her head. "A honey bee," Draco continued. "Aims to be sweet, but mostly ends up stinging anyone she comes into contact with."

Kat shook her head. "That's amazingly accurate, and I've only known the girl a few hours."

"You're a lucky one, then," Draco joked with a smile of perfect, white teeth. "I've known her since I was… three? Yeah, sounds about right." Kat raised an eyebrow, but didn't reply, plucking a Helmut Lang skirt from her trunk and hanging it in her armoire.

"Well, I'll leave you to unpack, then. Nice to meet you, kitten," Draco drawled, his smile charming, and Kat wanted to melt at his playful words.

When he was gone, she fell forward, her forehead leaning against the door of her armoire heavily. She sighed. Perfect. Lusting hard after the one boy she wasn't supposed to even talk to. Perfect.