"Malfoy."

The dusk of the charmed ceiling of the Great Hall was slowly fading into night. I sat there staring at the ceiling, waiting for the exact moment when the last ray of sunlight disappeared into nothingness.

Dinner at Hogwarts had never been a particularly exciting event. I sat with the same Ravenclaws, ate the same Shepard's Pie and treacle tart, and listened to the same chatter of my fellow Hogwartians (conversation revolved around studies, Quidditch, or romance) for six years straight. It had become a habit of mine in second year to record the moment when night was upon us. I spend hundreds of dinners staring up at the bewitched ceiling. Not because I was truly interested in the earth's rotation around the sun, but because I was bored.

Bored, bored, bored.

"MALFOY!"

I dropped the fork I had been holding mid-bite onto my plate. Shepard's Pie splattered onto the front of my robes and into the crotch region of my trousers. I turned and looked at my friend, Newland, who was looking as if he was trying hard to not start laughing.

"What is your problem?" I asked him, as I picked up a napkin and dabbed at the mess on my person.

A giggle escaped Newland before he could say anything. It took him a few moments before he could collect himself. "I was trying to tell you," Newland started, before he emitted another little giggle. He cleared his throat. "Ahem. As I was trying to say, I have tickets to the Quidditch World Finals in August."

I stopped dabbing at my robes and stared at my friend…my best friend for all intents and purposes. His eyes were gleaming, quite mischieviously. But I couldn't be bothered with that at the moment. "Are you serious? Tickets sold out before they went on sale. Not even my father could get tickets! How did you get your hands on some?"

"I have two tickets," Newland clarified, in his slow, meandering way. "My father won them in his weekly Muggle poker game. He won them off Arthur Weasley, the poor, old fool. He had enough for his whole family apparently but now two of those Weasels won't be able to go."

I rolled my eyes at Newland. Newland had an on going, one-sided competition with Louis Weasley, a seventh year Gryffindor who had beaten him out of the Head Boy position. I was pretty sure Louis Weasley didn't even know Newland Meyer existed. Anyway, his disgust for Louis has turned him against all of Hogwart's Weasleys. And there were a fair few of them. There were two Weasley girls in my year alone, not counting their Potter cousin.

"Well, my dad can't go to the game because he is going to be on a business trip in Calgary the whole month of August," Newland said. My interest was peaked at this statement. Of course, this was the moment Newland paused to take a bite of potato. After he finished his bite he continued with his news, "So, he is allowing me to choose one friend to come along."

I sat there waiting for an invitation to accompany him to the game but instead I watched as he took a sip from his goblet and ate a few more bites of potato.

"So…" I said, looking down at my plate. How do you beg for a ticket without making it seem like begging? "Who are you taking?"

Newland looked at me with a sly grin. "Well, there is the nut and crux of it all, huh? Who do I choose? This is a big decision, and I can't make it lightly. My father suggested William Tate," he said, looking over to the Hufflepuff table where a scrawny fourth year was watching us with great interest. "His father is my father's boss, and wouldn't it be just great if I could make little Willy Tate's dreams come true. You know, as a way to make my father's dream come true. Promotion."

"You are seriously thinking about taking Willy Tate?" I said, an unintentional level of disgust present in my voice as I spoke the name of my new enemy.

"Well, there are benefits to spending a few days with that loser," Newland said, as he waved at William with a smile. Newland once told me the Sorting Hat had initially considered placing him in Slytherin, but eventually decided on Ravenclaw. I think the Sorting Hat's first notion was the correct one.

"And the benefits are?"

"Dad gets his promotion. I get whatever I want because I was the good son who helped him climb the corporate ladder," Newland said, dreamily. I could only imagine the numerous overly priced items floating around in his brain at the moment.

"But," he said, looking at me. "Wouldn't it be a blast if I took my best friend, a one Scorpius Malfoy, and we had a superb time?"

I sighed a sigh of relief. He had only been leading me on, playing a cruel joke with my emotions. He knew how much I loved Quidditch, knew I would Avada Kedavra to get my hands on a ticket.

"Yes, it would be a blast," I said with a smile.

"Too bad my dad really wants me to choose Willy," Newland said with a shrug.

"What?" I shouted.

"Yes. My father wants me to take Willy. I want to take you. There are benefits to both choices. 'My mind is telling me no, but my body, my body is telling me yes'," he sang.

"What kind of cruel, heartless cad are you?" I asked, pushing my plate towards the center of the table. "Why would you dangle those damn tickets in front of me and then tell me you are taking fucking Willy Tate?"

"Well, I didn't say I was taking him for certain, did I?" asked Newland, a devilish grin present on his evil face. "No, the decision is just too much for me to take. You two have to fight for it."

"Fight for it? Like a duel?" I asked, incredulously. "Let's do it. After dinner." I could take that fourth year easily. I had top marks in DADA. My only rivals were Rose Weasley and Albus Potter.

"No, not a duel," said Newland. "I decided to throw a challenge to you both. You each have a different challenge, one that plays to your weaknesses. Are you game?"

Was I game? I sat and thought about it…for a second. Of course I was game. We were talking about the Quidditch World Finals! And what possible challenge could he give me that I couldn't accomplish? I strived for perfection in life, and I never failed. I was perfect…well, I thought.

"I'm game," I said, shaking Newland's outstretched hand. "What are the terms?"

"You must accomplish your challenge by the time of my graduation," he said. "You can do whatever you feel you need to do in order for that to happen."

"Easy," I said, with a laugh. No rules or restrictions? Was he kidding? That ticket was mine. "What's the challenge?"

"Make a girl of my choosing fall in love with you, without the use of Amortentia or any other love potion," he stated simply.

I laughed. I was the cream of the crop at Hogwarts. I had seventh year girls asking me to Hogsmeade when I was a fourth year. I was properly groomed, polite, fit, intelligent, and had a killer smile. Merlin, I had McGonagall wrapped around my pinky finger.

"Rose Weasley."

I stopped laughing.

"Rose Weasley?" I whispered, shocked. "Isn't she a lesbian? I mean, that's messing with nature, mate."

"I have it on good conscience that she isn't a lesbian. Just very hard to please," Newland said with a wicked grin. "I've taken notice of her recently. She is the only girl in this school who doesn't give you a second look when walking down the corridors. She never says hello to you like all the other birds. In fact, this whole week, she hasn't looked at you once. I chose your prey wisely."

"What is Willy's challenge?" I asked.

"Not saying," he said, shaking his head. "And he won't know yours. This is a fair match. Neither of you will be hindering each other's tasks or getting in the way. The only person to ruin this for you, Malfoy, is yourself." Newland took one last bite of his potatoes, wiped his mouth, and stood up.

"I'd get started if I were you," he said. He mimicked checking a watch on his wrist. "You have eight months to make the impossible…possible."

Bugger.