Her question gave him pause, and the image of a dressed-up Sloane dancing with some thirty-something filled his head. It probably wouldn't bother him too much, but there was always that chance that the thirty-something gentleman was handsome, rich, a better dancer than him, and—for maximum annoyance—happened to be able to change his hair color at will, too. Oh, and if he also played quidditch. That would annoy him.

"Hmph. Maybe no debutante balls for us," he uttered, indignantly flipping the page of his textbook. He'd find some way to see her all prettied up; as long as they made it through the next few years without everyone finding out, he'd have the opportunity eventually. Even if she didn't think she'd debut, he'd always gotten the impression that Sloane's mother had been trying to tame her for years. "We'll see about that," he said, smiling up at her from his book.

"Maybe I should see if Professor Valenduris has any potions-related internships or extracurriculars over the summer. That way I might be able to convince him to keep me in his Potions class even if I flunk," he suggested. "I think Mr. Bell and my mother have been talking about moving closer to Hogsmeade, anyways. That's what it sounded like in her letter yesterday morning."

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