Better Be Slytherin
XIX
Death Eater

Diagon Alley shone with sunlight. It was in the middle of August and everyone who did not want to stress had begun shopping for their children's returns to Hogwarts. The Malfoys were part of them. Draco was actually starting to feel like it could, possibly, be nice to go back to school – at least he would be quit his mother's crying and whining, and his father's absence wouldn't be as prominent. At Hogwarts he could finally start focusing on his task. The summer had been tough on him at home. His self-assertedness had been overshadowed by his newfound aunt and his mother's sorrow over Lucius. Every day his father spent in Azkaban motivated Draco to finish his task faster, but his mother's excessive worry only tired him.

The thought of returning to Hogwarts had him feeling on top of the world. It would be good to leave his mother who frantically and constantly worried about both Draco and his father; and Bellatrix who was slightly deranged and frightening, having him practising Unforgivable Curses all day, practically imprisoning him to the manor. He needed some space now and freedom to perform what he was meant to perform.

He would finish it easily. Easily. And he would show everyone that he had done it – his parents would be proud, and everyone at school would be impressed (especially Pansy) and the Dark Lord would favour him.

As Montague had told him a couple of weeks earlier at Bletchley's party, the cabinet at Hogwarts that was supposed to be the way Draco brought the Death Eaters into the castle, had a counterpart and that was placed in Borgin and Burkes. He had realised several days ago that he had to pay a visit to said shop, proclaiming the cabinet, making sure it would not be sold, making sure Borgin would be in on his plan, perhaps threaten him with his Dark Mark or pay him off – he had not decided yet.

As a part of her newly overprotective part, his mother had refused to let him go shopping for his new Hogwarts things by himself – no matter how much he had rolled his eyes and told her he was perfectly mature to handle himself; arguing that perhaps if he went with Theodore, or Crabbe and Goyle...?

Whatever he had tried, the answer had been no. Which was why he was currently browsing the shops of Diagon Alley with his mother, as if six years old. God, he just hoped no-one from Hogwarts saw him.

Their bickering continued, passing through Flourish & Blotts, the Apotechary and going robes-shopping in Madam Malkin's.

Narcissa had picked out a set of dark green robes and Madam Malkin began pinning the hems and edges. Draco was growing sick of it. He wanted it done so he could somehow escape his mother for Borgin and Burkes...

"That looks lovely, doesn't it, Drake?" Narcissa had lit up from behind him. He rolled his eyes, and then quickly felt guilty for resenting her so much this past summer.

"It's fine. And I'm not a child, in case you haven't noticed, mother. I am perfectly capable of doing my shopping alone."

Madam Malkin, the owner, chuckled and said, "Now, dear, your mother's quite right, none of us is supposed to go wandering around on our own anymore, it's nothing to do with being a child —"

"Watch where you're sticking that pin, will you!" Then, over his shoulder in the mirror, he saw Dumbledore's golden gang. Yawn. Potter, Weasley and Granger.

"If you're wondering what the smell is, Mother, a Mudblood just walked in. Who blacked your eye, Granger? I want to send them flowers."

Potter and Weasley angrily pointed their wands at him, and his mother stepped in, making him feel slightly embarrassed.

"I see that being Dumbledore's favourite has given you a false sense of security, Harry Potter. But Dumbledore won't always be there to protect you."

Potter looked mockingly all around the shop. "Wow... look at that... he's not here now! So why not have a go? They might be able to find you a double cell in Azkaban with your loser of a husband!"

Anger filled Draco – nobody spoke about his father like that! – and he lunged forward wanting to jump at Potter and punch him until his knuckles felt numb, but stumbled over his robe. King Weasley laughed loudly.

"Don't you dare talk to my mother like that, Potter!" Draco snarled.

"It's all right, Draco," said Narcissa, restraining him with a hand on his shoulder. "I expect Potter will be reunited with dear Sirius before I am reunited with Lucius." '

Potter raised his wand furiously, but suddenly Draco felt someone touching his arm. Sodding Madam Malkin. "I think this left sleeve could come up a little bit more, dear, let me just—"

Draco immediately panicked – it would not be good if Potter, Weasley and Granger saw what was on his left under-arm...

"Ouch! Watch where you're putting your pins, woman! Mother – I don't think I want these anymore..."

He pulled the robes over his head and threw them onto the floor at Madam Malkin's feet. The bint, she almost ruined everything. Draco made sure to bump into Weasley's shoulder as hard as he could on the way out.

Out on the dark cobbled street, Narcissa muttered something sourly that he could not apprehend, and then they went off for Twilfitt & Tattings and picked out a set of robes for Draco, bumping into Marcus Flint and his father on the way – Narcissa and Flint Sr spoke for a while, acquaintances of some sort, while Draco and Marcus stood there quite awkwardly.

After picking out a lovely set of dark green and black robes with golden details, he quickly made up a lie about meeting with Pansy to shake his mother off, and he was able to leave her and round a few buildings and corners, casting glances over his shoulder, and finally reaching the deserted Knockturn Alley where his business with Mr Borgin lay. The lot looked almost spooky – there weren't any shoppers neither out on the streets nor inside any of the shops. He himself would rather not have visited the place either – it could be seen as very suspicious to be buying Dark artefacts in these times, but his mission was pressing, and he knew he had no other option. He had pondered visiting the shop at night-time instead of in the clear daylight, but he had decided that that might seem even more suspicious than just having a stroll through it on a bright summer's day with lots of shoppers close by in Diagon Alley. And there was the inescapable fact that his mother rarely wanted him out at night-time anymore.

A door bell tinkled when he entered Borgin & Burkes' and Mr Borgin, a round-backed man with oily hair looked up at him from the show-case where he was standing polishing a silver spoon with a dirty cloth. Before Draco had even spoken, Mr Borgin looked startled.

He hastily put the silverware and rag down and said: "Mr Malfoy." He hurried forward and bowed deeply.

Draco cast a glance towards the show-cases around them, filled with skulls, dusty old bottles and battered old books. He wrinkled his nose – the air inside the store was stuffy and dusty and he wondered briefly how Borgin managed to work in there. That aside, he enjoyed being called Mr Malfoy and receiving enough respect to be bowed for, from someone more adult than himself.

"What can I do for you?" Borgin asked him and before Draco could answer, he went on, "I've just got this new set of bewitched cutlery, which poisons whoever eats with them, imported from Greece..."

"I'm not here to buy anything."

"No?" Borgin stopped moving and looked slightly surprised.

"That cabinet you have, by the window," Draco motioned towards it.

"Yes, yes," Mr Borgin nodded hastily. "What about it?"

"They're hard to find, Vanishing Cabinets, these days, are they not?"

"Well, yes, they had their finest days during the war. Many of them have become broken or people have plainly tossed them out. Don't have much use nowadays, do they..." Mr Borgin looked almost suspicious as to why Draco was asking about this.

Draco gave a short nod and said, "Does it work, this one?"

"Well, yes!" Borgin said, sounding almost insulted.

"Its twin is at Hogwarts."

Borgin quietened down and looked at him severely.

"I have a friend who got stuck in it earlier this year," Draco told him, "and he told me that he had been supposed to be transported here, to the shop, but had been stuck between the two locations."

"All right..." Borgin's eyes narrowed into slits of suspicion.

"That's the reason I'm here."

"Oh, yes, of course," Borgin began nodding, still looking like he was unsure of what Draco wanted.

"It's important that I know – are you absolutely sure this one is working?"

"Positive."

"Fine. I need to mend the one at Hogwarts because it's crucial I find a way to bring some people into Hogwarts, a way that isn't surveyed." Draco was saying this slowly so that Borgin, hopefully, would appreciate the severity and realise its importance. "When I am finished, I'll send message for you. Here is a list of the people you need to contact as soon as you hear from me." He laid forward, on the glass surface, a parchment containing the names of a few Death Eaters including his aunt. Borgin began frowning. "But I need your help with the cabinet. Do you know how to fix it?"

"Possibly," said Borgin, clearing his throat, in a tone that suggested he was unwilling to commit himself. "I'll need to see it, though. Why don't you bring it into the shop?"

"I can't," said Draco, feeling impatient. "It's got to stay put. I just need you to tell me how to do it."

Borgin licked his lips nervously.

"Well, without seeing it, I must say it will be a very difficult job, perhaps impossible. I couldn't guarantee anything."

"No?" Draco sneered. "Perhaps this will make you more confident."

He leaned forward and pulled up his left sleeve, for the first time showing anyone outside his family.

"Tell anyone and there will be retribution. You know Fenrir Greyback? He's a family friend. He'll be dropping in from time to time to make sure you're giving the problem your full attention."

"There will be no need for—"

"I'll decide that. Well, I'd better be off. And don't forget to keep that one safe, I'll need it."

"Perhaps you'd like to take it now?"

"No, of course I wouldn't, you stupid, little man, how would I look carrying that down the street? Just don't sell it."

"Of course not... sir."

Borgin bowed deeply again.

"Not a word to anyone, Borgin, and that includes my mother, understand?"

"Naturally, naturally," murmured Borgin, bowing yet again.

Draco went for the exit without another word, and the bell over the door tinkled loudly as he stalked out of the shop, feeling very pleased with himself. It had been a very successful trip to London today.


Walking down platform nine and three quarters, Draco felt looks burning him; countless people were making way for him and his mother, casting short glances and hastily looking away. Draco had never quite pictured himself as someone people feared – although he enjoyed it when first years did; but to see grown men turning their daughters away from the two of them, scolding, was something completely new. But what could he have expected? His fathers name amongst other Death Eaters' had covered the front pages of the Daily Prophet the entire summer. Not to mention how smug he was over losing his virginity a few days earlier – but perhaps that was not visible on him for everyone to see.

He glanced at his mother, who bore her usually expression that she had around people she valued lesser – frowning condescendingly, and walking in a haughty manner. The came to a halt further down the platform where it was not as crowded.

"Have you got everything, darling?" Narcissa asked in a low, chilly tone. Draco mumbled a "yes" yet she continued to insure everything he already knew.

"Be careful this year, Draco," she said, her eyes earnest and her tone softening. "You can talk to Severus if you have any sort of trouble, he'll help you."

"I know, mother."

"He's promised, and you can trust him," she went on anyway. "If there's anything, anything at all, go to him, because it may not be safe for you to send Hades..."

"I know, mother," said Draco exasperated. The gentle vision of his mother made him regret his tone, though.

"Don't get in trouble, Draco... Lay low."

"I always do," he said with a small crooked smile and a glance at his mother.

After a long, hard embrace which almost choked him, Draco jumped up onto the train, levitating his trunk along. He did not bother to wave goodbye, and he hastily made his way through the excited students in the corridor to find an empty compartment. He passed several students who did not even dare to look into his eyes – had people found out already? He was aware they knew about his father, but... He glanced down to chek that his left sleeve had not slid up, and was still hiding his skin.

He found Crabbe and Goyle, the former muttering bitterly about returning to Hogwarts and went to find a compartment. After a moment of brief catching up, Zabini had joined them, saying something about not managing to track down Nott. Draco had immediately, smirkingly, told them about the sex, practically bragging. Whatever – he knew they would all be jealous. He told them all about how Pansy was so into it, practically had begged for it, and had loved it. Well, at least the part about her being very horny was true, the rest a slight exaggeration. Yet the truth, in fact, was that she was more hormonal and sexual than him, thus hornier. And he purposely left out that their sex basically had consisted of little foreplay, and a hasty amateurish intercourse, going at it quickly in the missionary position for about ten minutes until he was finished. He still knew they were all worked up with jealousy.

Ah, the feeling was blissfull.

When Pansy arrived the atmosphere shifted at once. The boys hardly dared looking at her, and she gave a smirk before leaning in to kiss Draco slowly on the lips before sitting down close to him and putting her legs in his lap, clearly marking her territory. Not that he minded.

"Shouldn't you be doing prefect duty at the moment?" Zabini asked the two of them sharply.

Pansy glanced at him, and Draco rolled his eyes ostentatiously and with a smirk he said, "Can't be bothered with that anymore. Can we, Pans?"

It made her giggle as an answer.

They all continued catching up on summer fun (although most of it they had all done together) until the trolley lady came around wanting to sell them sweets.

"In the mood for anything off the trolley today, dears?" she asked them with a kind smile. Draco did not even look at her and Zabini gave a short shake of his head, but Crabbe stood up immediately, casting out a quick "yeah, might as well."

Pansy gave a slight snigger, and Crabbe ransacked the trolley for his favourites, finally beginning to load the small table by the window with various sweet things, such as pumpkin pasties and chocolate frogs.

"I wan' a packet of Droobles too, an' Fizzing Whizbees... and a few cauldron cakes. Oh, an' a packet of Bertie Bott's," Crabbe added hungrily.

"And some Liqorice Wands," Pansy threw in.

"And some Liqorice Wands for her," Crabbe repeated quickly.

"And I bet Malfoy'd want some Edible Dark Marks," Zabini muttered sarcastically, getting a dark glance from Draco. The saleswitch looked unsure.

Crabbe shook his head, rolling his eyes impatiently. "No Dark Marks," he muttered, and after receiving everything from the her, he balanced it all in his left arm while putting a large coin in the fat witch's wrinkly hand. "That's it. Now off you go," he ordered, and she did as she was told.

Draco was still glaring at Zabini, who looked slightly amused.

Pansy sniggered again.

"Oh, lovely. You bought sweets for our entire compartment, I see."

Everyone laughed but Crabbe who simply ignored them.

"Martin Miggs?" Draco was sneering at Goyle. "The Mad Muggle. You can't read about a ruddy Muggle, Goyle!"

Reprimanded, Goyle tried to defend himself. "But it's about how mental he is... Like all Muggles... innit?"

Draco rolled his eyes and glanced at Pansy, as Goyle looked down into his magazine again. It was getting darker outside the compartment windows and he and Pansy had just gotten back from their Prefect meeting, just as boring as usual. Draco moved closer to her and pecked her lips before moving to lie down on the seats with his head in her lap. She smirked slightly and adjusted to him, moving her hands from her lap and casually placing them on his head, stroking his hair slightly, while carrying on conversing with the group.

Later, as it was getting dark, Zabini came back from his meeting with Slughorn.

The idiot had trouble closing the door. The compartment door was finally pushed closed, and for a moment Draco imagined he saw the glimpse of something white next to Zabini's thick head, just momentarily. While Goyle and Zabini hissed at each other for Zabini had stumbled into his lap, an unpleasant feeling rushed through him. Potter in his invisibility cloak. He shook the feeling off and thought that perhaps he was only being paranoid; perhaps it had only been a reflection of light. After smashing the door closed, Goyle returned to his seat and Zabini landed on his own seat, Crabbe returned to Martin Miggs', and Draco lay back on Pansy's lap, and she resumed stroking his hair casually, smirking.

The lanterns swinging from the carriage ceiling cast a bright light over the scene.

"So, Zabini, what did Slughorn want?"

"Just trying to make up to well-connected people," said Zabini, still glowering at Goyle. "Not that he managed to find many."

Pansy snorted loudly. Draco frowned. "Who else had he invited?" he demanded.

"McLaggen from Gryffindor," said Zabini.

"Oh yeah, his uncle's big in the Ministry," Draco reminded himself.

"Someone else called Belby, from Ravenclaw—"

"Not him, he's a prat!" said Pansy.

"—And Longbottom, Potter, and that Weasley girl," finished Zabini.

Draco sat up very suddenly, knocking Pansy's hand aside. "He invited Longbottom?"

"Well, I assume so, as Longbottom was there," said Zabini indifferently.

"What's Longbottom got to interest Slughorn?" Draco pondered, shocked and slightly disgusted.

Zabini shrugged.

"Potter, precious Potter, obviously he wanted a look at 'the Chosen One,'" sneered Draco and actually hoped Potter was inside the compartment and that he hadn't just imagined it all, "but that Weasley girl! What's so special about her?"

"A lot of boys like her," said Pansy, glancing at Draco out of the corner of her eyes for his reaction. "Even you think she's good-looking, don't you, Blaise, and we all know how hard you are to please!"

"I wouldn't touch a filthy little blood traitor like her whatever she looked like," said Zabini coldly, and Pansy looked satisfied. Draco lay back down again, resting his head in her lap, and she continued stroking his hair.

"Well, I pity Slughorn's taste. Maybe he's going a bit senile. Shame, my father always said he was a good wizard in his day. My father used to be a bit of a favourite of his. Slughorn probably hasn't heard I'm on the train..."

"I wouldn't bank on an invitation," said Zabini. "He asked me about Nott's father when I first arrived. They used to be old friends, apparently, but when he heard he'd been caught at the Ministry he didn't look happy, and Nott didn't get an invitation, did he? I don't think Slughorn's interested in Death Eaters."

The statement aggravated Draco but he decided not to show it, so instead he pushed out a humourless laugh. "Well, who cares what he's interested in? What is he, when you come down to it? Just some stupid teacher." Draco yawned ostentatiously. "I mean, I might not even be at Hogwarts next year, what's it matter to me if some fat old has-been likes me or not?"

"What do you mean, you might not be at Hogwarts next year?" said Pansy indignantly, ceasing grooming Draco at once, expecting an answer immediately.

"Well, you never know," said Draco with the ghost of a smirk. "I might have – err – moved on to bigger and better things."

Even Zabini had allowed a look of curiosity to mar his haughty features. Pansy resumed the slow stroking of Draco's hair, looking dumbfounded. "Do you mean —"

Draco shrugged. "Mother wants me to complete my education, but personally, I don't see it as that important these days. I mean, think about it. ... When the Dark Lord takes over, is he going to care how many OWLs or N.E.W.T.S anyone's got? Of course he isn't? It'll be all about the kind of service he received, the level of devotion he was shown."

"And you think you'll be able to do something for him?" asked Zabini scathingly. "Sixteen years old and not even fully qualified yet?"

"I've just said, haven't I? Maybe he doesn't care if I'm qualified. Maybe the job he wants me to do isn't something that you need to be qualified for," said Draco quietly. Crabbe and Goyle were both sitting with their mouths open like gargoyles. Pansy was gazing down at him, looking fascinated.

"I can see Hogwarts," said Draco, relishing the effect he had created as he pointed out of the blackened window. "We'd better get our robes on."

The other began moving, and as Goyle was bringing his trunk down from the luggage rack, Draco heard a painful gasp from up there and his head jerked up at once, as he was putting his cloak on. He looked up there and frowned, and then he was sure – Potter was in there. Draco pretended like nothing was going on – he looked away from the luggage rack and put on his robes just like all of the others, and then locked his trunk. When the train slowed down to a tardy, jerky speed, he buttoned his new Twilfitt & Tating cloak around his neck. As the train came to a halt and the corridor outside already was beginning to fill with students, Goyle threw the door opened and muscled his way out into a crowd of younger students, pushing them aside; Crabbe and Zabini followed.

"You go on," Draco told Pansy who was waiting for him with her hand held out, for him to hold. "I just want to check on something."

Pansy left and Draco walked up to the compartment door and pulled the blind down. And then he bent over his trunk, just to fool Potter, and with a smirk on his face concealed from his enemy, he opened his trunk. He dug a little, just for show, and suddenly he swung around and pointed his wand at the luggage rack where Goyle's trunk had been, and exclaimed: "Petrificus Totalus!"

It was just as he had guessed! Harry Potter fell down onto the floor and his invisibility cloak fell off him. He lay in a ridiculous entagled position unable to move. Draco smiled widely, feeling very pleased. "I thought so," he said jubilantly, walking up to Potter's tangled and stiff body lying on the floor. "I heard Goyle's trunk hit you. And I thought I saw something white flash through the air after Zabini came back..."

His eyes lingered for a moment upon Potter's trainers, and then up again. He felt smug, being in total control. "You didn't hear anything I care about, Potter. But while I've got you here..." And he stamped, hard, on Potter's uglt face. Blood spurted everywhere – he probably broke Potter's nose. It felt good. "That's from my father. Now, let's see..."

Draco dragged the Invisibility cloak out from under Potter's immobilized body and threw it over him. "I don't reckon they'll find you till the trains back in London," he said. "See you around, Potter... or not."

And taking care to tread on Potter's fingers, Draco left the compartment, feeling oddly happy – more so than he had all summer. He came out on the platform with his trunk and was still smiling slyly.

Goyle was waiting a while away, by one of the carriages and Draco hastily wondered where Pansy was, while he made his way over there, to Goyle who was waving and calling out for him. Draco climbed into the compartment after Goyle, wherein Crabbe, Pansy, Zabini and Nott were sitting.

Draco shook hands with Nott, before sitting down.

"What took you so long?" Pansy immediately demanded, and Malfoy happily told everyone what had happened – that Potter had been there and that Malfoy had made mush of him. Crabbe and Goyle guffawed loudly, Pansy smirked weakly and put her arms around his neck.

There was a difference in the air between Malfoy and Pansy, Theodore briefly thought – it was as if it was written on their foreheads, so obvious. They shared their secret grins and seemed extra close all the time – just that. But that made it obvious for anyone to see there was something between them. Theodore guessed that they fancied each other and probably had a subcunscious urge to be near the other.

They came up to the castle and were all searched by Filch before they could come in – the safety had been sharpened loads, with new security spells around Hogwarts and new regulations about what were allowed to bring into the castle and what was not. They all sat down by the Slytherin table, filled with students, who were all cheerfully babbling on to each other about their summers and whatnot. The sorting and the dinner passed by, dreadfully slowly, and for pudding, Malfoy mimed a nose being crushed, to applause, appreciation and hysterical laughs of their Slytherin friends, just as Potter turned up.

"Well, look who's decided to show up!" Pansy yelled sarcastically as Potter walked by, with dried blood all over his face, still bleeding and looking quite shameful, led by professor Snape.

The rest of the Start of Year Feast went on as it always did – Crabbe stuffed his face with pudding and Pansy and Malfoy refused to listen to anything Dumbledore said. Although this year, he had something quite shocking to say – as he announced Snape as the new Defence teacher.

"Snape?" whispered what seemed like the entire Great Hall, dislikingly. Miles Bletchley applauded and cheered loudly down the table, and momentarily had every single pair of eyes on him, and Pansy looked at her classmates with a happy and surprised look on her face. Another Slytherin whistled loudly. Theodore simply observed.

To amusement of his fellow housemates, Draco levitated a fork while Dumbledore spoke, and mocked Harry Potter.

His spirits were high and he was excited for what was to come. Life felt surprisingly easy, despite his mission from the Dark Lord.

Yet, when he saw Dumbledore for the first time since he got his task, the shock of reality came over him and his mirth subsided greatly, at once. He swallowed it down quickly and went on joking around with his fellow Slytherins, and take the mickey out of Potter's broken nose.

He was really going to kill the old codger.

Not Pansy, not anyone of his friends, saw how serious he felt at that moment. They laughed together as reunited classmates in their teens should do.

Draco swallowed hastily once more, tore his eyes off Dumbledore and joined them all in conversation, putting on a casual face expression.


The common room looked as dungeon-like as ever, with its greenish lamps and chairs. The coldness hit them on the way in. The soft green tinge of the lake mesmerised Draco for a minute. Passing a couple dark wooden cupboards, he immediately went to sit down in one of the low backed black and dark green leather sofa with decorations of buttons and skulls. Ah, sinking down into the comfortable cushions, he looked out over the grand common room, with its tapestries all over the walls, featuring the adventures of famous medieval Slytherins. A large tentacle swished by the window, meaning the Giant Squid just had swam by. The sound of the water made him relaxed and tired, after a long day of travelling.

Pansy, Crabbe, Goyle, Nott and Zabini all joined him around the fireplace. He motioned for Pansy to come to him. He didn't know if they were friends or more – they hadn't spoken about being a couple, and they spent plenty time together as friends, but with a jolt through his stomach he remembered their bedtime activities, and as she sat down on his lap, he felt on top of the world. He would finish his mission without trouble, it seemed quite easily frankly – and he would have Pansy whenever he wanted.

Ah, life was good.

Crabbe and Goyle left for the kitchens to resume their hobby of begging the House-Elves for cupcakes and pastries. Draco managed to squeeze in a quick fingering session with Pansy in the dormitory before Crabbe and Goyle arrived back from the kitchens. Now that they had found this new sex thing, they were both obsessed. He loved making her come, it made him smirk.

After kissing Pansy goodbye and watching her saunter back to her dormitory, Draco strutted up the stairs to Goyle and Zabini who were occupying the sofas in the sitting room. He slung himself down in the sofa next to Goyle with a self-satisfied grin and reached out his fingers towards Goyle's face.

"Smell that, Greg," he grinned.

Goyle sniffed it and said:"Ugh, fuck's that?" He shrunk back.

"Well," smirked Draco, "I trust you not to know what it is."

"What is it then?" frowned Goyle.

Draco grinned. "Pansy."

Goyle looked confused. "Pans…" he paused, raising his eyebrows, suddenly understanding. "Ugh, Malfoy, that's disgustin'!"

He pushed Draco's hand away, and Draco laughed derisively, the flames from the fireplace dancing in his eyes.

A while later, Crabbe had come back from the toilet and Miles Bletchley, Warrington and Adrian Pucey had joined them. The four of them plus Draco and Goyle were the only ones left in the Quidditch team from last term. They had just heard the news, from Bletchley, that someone named Linus Urquhart was becoming team captain this year.

"He's coming in from out of nowhere – didn't even play last year for Merlin's sake, did he! And becomes captain." Miles shook his head bitterly.

"Unfair," mumbled Goyle and looked down into his lap, sprinkled with pink cupcakes.

"Who the bloody hell is he, even?" Crabbe grunted angrily.

"He's in Bletchley's year, one over us," Draco muttered, "I played with him in Junior Falcons... He's a selfish bastard."

Before they had all gone to Hogwarts, there had been Quidditch teams illegible for younger children, to have hobbies and something to pass the time with while their parents were at work and the House-Elves were too occupied to keep track of them. Draco had played in one of those, with their new team captain – most of the players in the school-teams had played in one of them before Hogwarts, to practice.

"There you go," Miles rolled his eyes. "It's a given, isn't it?"

"He probably bribed his way in," Pucey said, raising his voice, "how else would he get that title? Hasn't even played..."

"I don't feel like playing anymore," Goyle mumbled. All four of the other boys turned to look at him, jerking their heads his direction, with chilly eyes.

"What did you say?" Pucey said, raising his eyebrows sceptically.

"Of course you'll play," Bletchley said in a chilly tone, and did not even bother to look at Gregory.

"Perhaps I'll have a word with Snape..." Draco suggested before remembering that Narcissa had gone behind his back to speak to his head of house. It made him roll his eyes irritatedly and push the idea away.

Draco had a feeling their team-play would not be as motivated as previous years. Perhaps it would be for the best – if he did not have any feeling of loyalty and obligation towards the team (because it was lead by a cheater) he would certainly have more time to finish his task for the Dark Lord.

Later, they were all in bed in the dormitory, listening to Blaise Zabini bragging about his summer, when Crabbe interrupted him by loudly breaking wind, and Goyle erupted in laughter.