Disclaimer: Anything you recognize isn't mine, I'm just playing with it.


A/N: ...And... after over two years... I'm back to writing this! Be still my beating heart! :) I don't know how long the impetus I received at the gaming convention I recently attended will last, but let's hope it'll take me all the way through to the end, eh?

For those of you who still remember their guesses about their meeting Duke Devlin... sorry, no such luck. Mr. Devlin is currently enjoying the fruits of his very successful game designer career on a beachy island complete with palm trees, hammocks, and too much alcohol in girly drinks. He's that kind of man. ;)


Last time on Let the Games Begin:

They barely had a moment to take the casino room in before a shout made them turn their head sharply: "Finally! You're here! I was almost thinking you'd never make it!"


Their heads snapped to the right, to see a tall, mature woman jumping to her feet and slamming both her hands on the blackjack table before her with violence.

She was definitely beautiful, thought Terry, but about as different from Ms. Ishtar as it was possible without changing species.

She had long blonde hair, falling down her shoulders in a mane of sensuous waves, alluring purple eyes and a lovely face that looked attractive even though it was twisted into an irritated scowl. And her body... Terry gulped involuntarily. Well, he had only ever seen that kind of body on certain magazines that his mother was never, ever supposed to find out about...

It didn't help that she wore a white corset so tight her breasts seemed on the verge of bursting out of it, and which her gutsy purple jacket did a very poor job of concealing.

Terry swallowed drily.

"For Salazar's sake, woman! Cover yourself! Have you no shame?"

Startled by the outburst, Terry swirled to stare at Malfoy, who looked completely incensed and also faintly horrified. The others were gaping at him as well.

"Bah!" Four heads swivelled back to the stunning woman, who'd straightened and was now glaring at them above her impressive breasts, that seemed even bigger resting upon her crossed arms. "None of my former husbands ever had any complaints, brat," she told Malfoy. "Not my fault if you can't appreciate the beauty offered to your innocent kiddie's eyes!"

She threw her blond mane back dramatically, smoothing her hands down her side sensually and thrusting her breasts out.

Terry went red to the root of his hair and beside him, he heard Potter choke on his own sputtering.

"Your attire is utterly improper!" spat Malfoy back. "Clearly your husbands were a bunch of coarse goons!"

"H-husbands?" squeaked Hermione. "Plural?"

The woman sniffed haughtily: "Yes – three, to be precise. Well, four if you want to get technical but it really doesn't count..."

"Four..." repeated Hermione weakly.

"For Salzar's sake, put on some clothes!" Malfoy cried, stalking towards her. "It's positively indecent!"

She paid him no mind and raised a finger to tap her chin delicately, looking at the ceiling in a mock-thinking pose: "Of course, the count is soon to go up once more, but I'm not sure this newest one counts either..." it all depends on whether you count the men or the weddings, right?"

"Who cares, woman! Put this on!" snapped Malfoy in a very offended tone, thrusting at her his own cloak.

Terry found himself stifling incredulous laughter. "Let me get this straight," he said. "You're more freaked out by her attire than by the fact that she's about to marry her fifth man?"

Malfoy turned to look at him blankly: "What's so strange about her remarrying? Blaise Zabini's mother is on her seventh husband. My grandmother Druella buried two others before wedding my grandfather."

Terry stared at him, wide-eyed: "And that's ok?" Slowly, he started to walk towards the two blonds and the others moved with him.

"There's no point in widows just moping about for decades!" protested Malfoy with an unconcerned shrug. "Especially if there have been no children from the previous marriages. That would be a waste!"

"A waste!" exploded Hermione, who seemed to have suddenly recovered all her breath. "A waste! Are women nothing more than broodmares to you?"

"What are you talking about?"

"You stay there and talk as if the only reason for a woman to marry was to produce a child!" she shrieked.

Malfoy frowned: "Well. It is!"

Hermione swelled with indignation: "Why, you insufferable retrograde misogynist!"

"It's the duty of every pureblood to produce a magical child!" retorted Malfoy with purported dignity. "Witch or wizard, mind."

"What if the child isn't magical?" asked Terry, just because.

Malfoy looked at him strangely: "Excuse me?"

"Would it be ok to remarry if you'd had a child from your previous marriage, but he or she was non-magical?"

"Squibs don't count, obviously," Malfoy said dismissively. "They're completely worthless."

"Figures," muttered Terry darkly, glowering at the prejudice blond.

"You, you... loathsome... disgusting... aargh!" screeched Hermione, fumbling for her wand, fury in her eyes.

"Oi!" shouted Potter, hands raised in the sign for Quidditch time out. "This is neither the place nor the time for this discussion."

The following awkward silence was broken abruptly by the loud sound of a fist hitting the table. They turned to their latest adversary, only to find that she had come around the table to their side... and that she had an expression as dark as a summer storm.

"You," said the prosperous woman lividly, "are the rudest bunch of brats I've ever met. To ignore a lady so!"

She flounced her blond tresses loftily again, sharply turning her back on them.

Terry had a fleeting thought that she must be very used to her charm and appearance winning her favors – or at least attention – from men, before he caught a proper sight of her backside and promptly blushed at the purple mini-skirt, so short that a good portion of her long, long legs was left uncovered by her boots, despite them being knee-high. All thoughts, fleeting or not, promptly fled him.

"Ha!" spat Malfoy, sounding disgusted. "A lady wouldn't dress like a harlot!"

She pivoted instantly, eyes blazing in fury, and slapped Malfoy's face soundly: "How dare you!"

The Slytherin cried out in pain and shock and stumbled back, half-tripping on Neville, who steadied him only to be seized and jerked harshly between the two blonds. Clearly, Malfoy felt the need for a human shield between himself and the furious woman.

For her part, she stalked off, returning to her place behind the table, and tossed over her shoulder: "Time is money, brats! Come here and play already! Or are you too chicken?" She spun around and smirked at them: "I suppose you're just little kids after all... perhaps this is too much for you?" Suddenly, she laughed, and it was at once seductive and nasty: "If you're scared now, just wait till you lose!"

Terry exchanged helpless looks with his companions.

It seemed they were about to become gamblers.