Disclaimer: I own nothing, if I did, I wouldn't need to take finals!
AN: 8/23/05. I am reposting this without the mistakes I made. First time around was finals week and this story was an annoying plot bunny that wouldn't get out of my head, so it was a quick break from studying. Looking back over it, it is painful about the grammar and spelling mistakes I made in the rush. Now on to the story.
Pop Goes the Weasel:
Ever since father was hauled off to Azkaban, I have found my true friends. Scratch that, true friends what a joke, people who don't mind being seen with the spawn of a death eater. Zabini is one of those few people who don't mind being seen with me. That is probably why I agreed to that stupid bet with him. I just could resist proving to him that I wasn't chicken, since he already proved that by associating with me. I should probably tell you what happen for you to understand why I am currently in the hospital wing thinking these meaningless thoughts.
It all started yesterday. The littlest Weasley was prancing down the hall, humming some random song. The song sounded familiar, but I couldn't place it. Once Zabini heard it, he got this annoying smirk on his face. I figured he remembered that ridiculous song and was going to tease the weasel. I was wrong, so wrong.
The next thing I know Zabini turned toward me and proposed to me the bet that got me here. I shouldn't blame him, but I do. I am in the bloody hospital wing because of him. Once he turned towards me, he opened that brash mouth of his and said he give me ten gallons to go up to the little weasel and touch her vile shoulder while saying, "tag, your it". Even thought it would have been very embarrassing if some one saw me, I wanted to show Zabini his little bet was stupid. Plus the halls were vacant of anyone but the Weasley girl and the boy who always carries the camera. I took that foolish bet. I figure no one would see me, right?
So I started walking over to the little redhead, when Zabini had to make the bet more interesting for him by yelling, "You better run Weasley before the big, bad Malfoy gets you." The startled girl looked up to see me closing in and started running as if her life depended on it. I had to run after he to prove to Zabini that this little bet was nothing. Very undignified, but I was caught in the moment. We started running all around the school, up and down stairs, through halls and secret passages ways. We even ended up running through the kitchens.
When I finally caught up to her, we were both panting. How we ended up in the charms corridor is beyond me. When I looked up and saw Zabini, I realized that we were in the same hall we started in. I walked over that the irritating little weasel and taped her sweaty shoulder. "Tag, your it." rang through the hall. I don't remember what happen next because it happen so fast. When regained my bearings, I was flat on my back with and aching eye.
"She hit me, the little weasel hit me. She slugged me." Kept running through my head. When I looked up again, the Weasley was charging at me. I got up as fast as I could and put Zabini between me and her. Since he didn't want a black eye like the one I could feel forming, he ran and I followed. No need to tempt a enraged redhead. He turned to go to the common room and I headed for the hospital wing. I am still waiting here for Madam Pomphry to come see me.
Once the nurse comes, she heals up me up. Then she gives me a disbelieving look when I tell her I fell down the stairs and happen to hit only my eye. Lame excuse, but I didn't have time to think up a good one. I am pulled out of my thoughts when she says, "Go to lunch Mr. Malfoy."
That is just what I did. I walk the lonely corridors to the hall from the hospital wing. Getting to the doors, I hear a familiar tune. It is the tune the weasel was humming. I push open the doors and I hear the Gryffindors sing,
"All through Hogwarts,
the ferret chases the weasel,
the snake thought it was all for fun.
Pop goes the weasel."
Looking at Zabini, I can tell it was him that modified that tune. I walk over to him, giving him a murderous glare. Once I take my place the at the Slytherin table, he slides over my hard earn 10 gallons.