Demitria could honestly never, in her entire life, remember a time where she was completely speechless. This- this- Bumpkin, asking her -Demitria Strelnikov- to the Yule Ball. Where had this idiot been for the past... oh, say six and a half years of his life? He was an obnoxious Gryffindor and she was the epitome of rational Slytherin. This could not be happening to her.

Oh, alright. She would be kind, it was in her nature to give them the benefit of the doubt. So where on the face of earth had Flanagan been for the past month? She was with Xavier Tawse: yes, the one accused of murder, yes the one who's uncle was the #1 wanted man in the country, yes the one who screams dangerous screw-up before you got within 100 feet of him. And that was being soft, Strellie knew. As much as she loved the boy, she knew all of it and more. And she was with him. Derry was risking more than a little pride offending the powerful Slytherins.

Then, Flanagan kissed her hand. He kissed it. Strellie could feel her internal Kitty rising up inside of her as her blood began to boil. No. This could not be happening. This child was a fool, and one that was risking his neck.

"Release me." Were the first words that flowed out of her mouth. Smoothly. Calmly. Perfectly sweet poison. Were she to talk any faster, it would all come out in Russian. And though it might terrify him, that was not her image.

"You have no business being here, or even being around us," She sent a soft glance at Kitty. She would not overreact. She would not. No. They would plan a humiliating demise later, but that would all come with time. No use in soiling her reputation in broad daylight. "You're only wasting both your time and ours."

Wrenching her hand out of his, she sent an iron-cold glare at Figaro and amped up her Veela Charm. She knew he was behind this somehow. The bastard.

"And if you know what's good for you, you'll start listening to what's going on outside of your foolish head. No, I will not go to the ball with you. Oh, and yes, you will kiss the ground at Kitty's feet and apologize for addressing her commonly." She smirked at Kitty and turned back to Flanagan, lifting his chin up with two perfectly manicured fingers. Looking him straight in the eye, she said "You should start now, Flanagan."         

Horrible of horribles, he kissed her!  Figaro was impressed and repulsed and horrified.  He winced and curled his lip.   Derry was mad! A genius, perhaps, a man with nothing left to live for, maybe, but mad. Mad, I tell you!  Fig never would have dared touch the beasties... just bother them.

He was still stood a bit behind Derry, like his second in a duel, and now looked from Derry on his knees up to Demitria and back again.   He knew that by not shrieking and speaking to them calmly they were probably worse off and he took a few steps back.  Would it be wand or wit...? Had they worn out their welcome?

But Merlin, she was pretty... Figaro paused.  And she did make a very good point.  That this was a waste of time, that they had no real reason to be bothering them, and that well, you know, they really should be more nice to Kitty who was wonderful.  But nearly as wonderful as Demitria.  Gosh, she was pretty.  Like with the hair and that collarbone, even her stockings were stunningly fitted... And what a good notion! Ground-kissing, what a lovely idea.

Figaro had got a dazy look on his face, his head cocked to the side, eyes half-lidded, jaw a little slack.  Then suddenly, a bit of something caught in his through and he coughed.  As he came recovered he shook his head free of the fog and was curling his lip again.

Ew! Demitria Strelnikov was not attractive - she was a spruced up, stuck up pratt! It was worth harassing her every moment they got just to knock her down a peg!  Nasty person!

"Derry!"

Before Derry had understood anything, anything at all, it was over.  He was charmed and sentenced to obey to Demitria's commands.  Derry was now a robot, ready and eager to grant any and all of Demitria's desires.  "Yes, good Madam!" he yelled happily, bowing deeply to the angered Slytherin girl. 

"Dearest Kitty, O Kitty, who I will now kiss the feet of!" he said, bending to the ground, slithering on the floor like a snake as he approached Demitria's friend.  He grabbed her leg violently - clumsily - nearly making her topple over.  He kissed her foot repeatedly, then worked  his way up, kissing her up until her knee.   Derry was sobbing with humiliation and sadness, as he was rejected from the Slytherin girl whom he now actually "loved" madly, due to the Veela charm.  His mucus-filled nose was sliming over his face and lips, so that his kisses were wet, slimy, and somewhat green-coloured. 

"I apologize for addressing you uh...commonly! So so so sorry," he said, repeating his apologies as he grabbed her hand, kissing her hand and then the other one.  "And will you, O will you, O Beautiful Slytherin Evil McEvil Slytherin Princess, go to the ball with me since Demitria broke my heart in pieces?" he asked, still soaking Kitty's hand with wet, snotty, deliciously yellow, green, and saliva-filled kisses. 

He then proceeded to pounce on Demitria's feet, sobbing with a heart-wrenching sadness, holding onto her leg with an iron-grip and lathering them with his kisses as well.  He then heard Fig's voice saying his name and - the spell broken - got up, wiping his face on his shirt. 

"...What the bloody hell..?"  he asked Demitria, wondering why in the world he was in front of two despicable, loathsome Slythering girls with his nose snotty and his eyes wet.  Understanding slowly dawned on him and then finally - remembering EVERYTHING - Derry bent down suddenly, vomitting on Demitria's shoes.  "Oh my God, I kissed Demitria and Kitty!!" he cried, his eyes wide with horror and disgust.  Vomit spilled out of his mouth a second time, splattering on Demitria's chest, a little bit ricocheting onto Kitty's hair and cheek.  "Oh...bloody...hell... Fig...What have I done?" 

He walked towards Fig , as if pleading for him to undo what had just happened.  "Give me some Butterbeer..something!  I need to wash out my mouth!!" he yelled, staggering from Fig to other astonished bystanders, desperate for something to undo this horrible nightmare. 

She really couldn't help it. Even though it was probably the most disgusting display she had ever seen in her entire life, Demitria couldn't help but smile softly. There weren't enough people around to actually have either her or Kitty be mortally embarrassed, only the other Monarchy girls (who though they may whisper, would know not to cross the duo) and a few low-lives that wouldn't dare comment. Inside her charm induced state of calm, Strellie knew that she was being gravely violated by the snotty-Gryffindor. And so was poor Kitty. Oh dear. Nothing that can't be fixed with a little magic. Anyway, it was too much fun to have so much power over the boys. 

As soon as Figaro realized what was going on, he cried out, and her concentration broke just enough for Derry to slip out of it and proceed to vomit... all over her shoes. Still in her state of utter calm, she looked at the mess and sprung her wand, cleaning up the mess. However, she simultaneously broke the charm. The moment it lifted, she felt dirty.

Extremely and utterly dirty. Ugh. Eww. Disgusting. Men. Eww. Animals. Gryffindors. Ugh.

Demitria needed a bath. Badly. And from the look of horror Kitty probably had, she needed one too.

However, the Russian was too committed to run away yet. With a flourish of her blood red wand, she conjured a cup and filled it with water, levitating it towards Derry. "Here you go." She smiled again, although revulsion was shining in her eyes. "And I suggest you leave us alone." 

"Merlin wept!" Kitty shrieked, the look of horror in her eyes rivalled only by that one instance Liviana looked better than she did. Derry's foul, snivelling kisses grazed every inch of Kitty's skin: every hair stood on end. It was revolting, depraved, and Kitty could feel the anger of a gorgon spill out from every pore. "What are you doing?! Get off me! Demitria!" It was a rare event when Kitty looked to her best friend for leadership; she was usually the driving force of their nastiness.

The residue of Derry's disgusting little mouth traced up her legs, and Kitty pushed a hand in Derry's face, anything to get him away. She hadn't realised it was the Veela charm - thought it was merely some nerd acting way above their station. The kisses crept up Kitty's hand. Enough was enough. Her leg kicked out like a mule, planting a dull thud on Derry's chest as he continued to embrace Demitria with affection. "Absolute... pig!"

And then the vomit came. And it all clicked. Strellie had used that special little power of hers and whilst it had worked in making Derry feel ill, it hadn't left the Slytherin harpies in the best of states. Kitty was always a little envious of Strellie's exoticism; part Veela, Eastern European, beautiful but not obviously so. Kitty's narrow eyes and youthful looks had to be accentuated with heaps and heaps of makeup, and she'd never possess the curves and fullness of girls like Demitria.

A strand of sick flecked against Kitty's hair and cheek. She wanted to admit herself into St. Mungo's, bleach every inch of her skin magically after what had just happened. Had it even really happened? The whole episode seemed far too bombastic. "You're going to regret this," she murmured, furious through gritted teeth. "You're going to regret this, troll."

Figaro about wretched himself, watching Derry getting sick all over Kitty.  He covered his mouth as he tried to decide if this was horrific or hilarious.  Kitty was shreiking, Demitria looked like she'd planned it, and now Derry was lurching towards him looking for a pint!

Demitria was levitating a glass of water their way, but perhaps it was well time to end this double-date.  Figaro grabbed Derry by the sleeve and batted down the glass of water - it hit the stones and shattered.

"Oh, look at the time!  It's been lovely, ladies, but we should be going," he said, already beginning to drag Derry off with a smirk.  Kitty's reaction had been exactly what he'd been expecting, but there was such a thing as too much of a good thing.  "We really should do this again, though!  Brunch? We'll cook.  Your favorites of course - rat entrails and the blood of innocent children.  Tata, then!  Come Derrald."

After Fig had grabbed Derry by the sleeve, the words coming out of his friend's mouth seemed to awaken Derry to the horrible, horror-filled hilarity of the situation.  He glanced back at the two Slytherin girls and their expressions of disgust and anger and Derry burst into a loud raucous of laughter. 

It was a good thing Fig was pulling Derry away as fast as possible, because the laughter wasn't stopping and Derry's belly hurt from the hilarity of it all.  "It's been a ball, sweethearts!" he shouted towards them, but the words were unintelligeable behind his obnoxious chuckling.  "Like Figaro said, we should really do this again!  Been a pleasure!" he said, managing to do a last bow and then a curtsy, just for laughs, before being swept away and out of sight by Fig.