A/N: If you don't know (or can't guess :-P) the difference between Quidditch and QUIDDITCH, this chapter probably won't make much sense to you. But for all my girls, hope you enjoy. :-D
~ Chapter 5: Contact Sports ~
One by one, fifteen pairs of Slytherin eyes became glued to Pansy Parkinson's face. Her chewing slowed, and she looked back at them all with wide eyes. Shakily, she turned the half a biscuit left in her hand over, and the sight that made them all shudder inwardly: the four legs of a partially devoured spider. The blonde girl's face distorted violently, and it looked as though she would be sick. The house elves obviously noticed this as well, and they were suddenly nearby with a bucket and a good deal of Mrs. Scower's Magical Mess Remover.
Her housemates observed the girl as she quickly spit into a napkin with varying expressions: some of extreme amusement, some of total disgust, and some, like Draco's and Ravyn's across from the tormented girl, remained perfectly composed.
"Why, Pansy, dear," Ravyn asked with a serenely angelic expression, "what's wrong?"
Pansy had thus far tolerated all of the ongoing battles with Draco's girlfriend, but apparently the ingestion of arachnids was too much even for the strong-willed Slytherin. "You – you – " she spluttered incoherently, getting to her feet as if preparing to dive over the table at Ravyn. "You little whore!"
"My, my, Parkinson," Jeannie remarked from down the table a ways, "you've been drinking from the Malfoys' china with that mouth? It's bad enough that you're worth fewer Galleons than the sugar bowl…"
At this moment, Pansy bore striking resemblance to a basilisk – although any of those present would confirm that she lacked the proud dignity and dangerous beauty of the reptilian beast. Her vicious glare, however, seemed no less lethal. No one knew quite what to expect from her, and even Ravyn looked less than self-assured under the vile gaze. She instinctively reached for her wand, but before she could react, Pansy had already taken aim.
"Colligo adligamentum!"
There was a loud bang followed by a moment of stunned silence in which even Narcissa looked surprised. Pansy now lay on the floor several feet back from her chair bound in rope up to her mouth so that even if she'd been inclined to speak, it would have been quite impossible. But she, like the others, was too absorbed in staring at Draco in shock. Her gaze was less impressed and more of a 'How-dare-you-you-smarmy-little-prat' look, but she was absorbed in it nonetheless.
Pucey broke the silence with his simple comment, "Nice shot, Malfoy."
"Good instincts," Flint answered, the fact that a member of their house was tied up on the floor somewhere behind them apparently not of utmost importance to either of them. "That's why he's our Seeker."
"Really?" Warrington asked, and the conversation was beginning to sound more and more as if they were lounging about the leather furniture in the Slytherin common room than having tea at an aristocratic manor. "I thought he was our Seeker because his family has an embarrassing amount of money and they buy us new broomsticks every year."
Someone coughed pointedly, and the Chaser glanced up at the head of the table. Had Draco been paying attention, he would surely have been glaring furiously, but the Malfoy in question was Narcissa, who regarded her son's teammate with a raised eyebrow. "Bloody generous of you, by the way, Mrs. Malfoy," he added, still quite unashamed of his comment.
He got no reply other than the buzz of a small knife that went hurtling past his head, missing him by a mere centimeter. Across the table, Fallon was giving him a look that plainly said, 'I missed on purpose.' He only rolled his eyes, and her expression darkened.
"I apologize on his behalf for his uncouth and uncivilized behavior and speech, Mrs. Malfoy," the girl said to Narcissa. "I will make sure that from now on, not he, or ANY OF THE OTHERS, will cause you any more distress." The threat in Fallon's voice was quite plain, and, considering the revenge she and Ravyn had just exacted on Pansy, even these six Slytherin males were likely to heed the glare that swept over each of them.
"That's very kind of you, Miss Anderson," Narcissa replied. If Fallon's brazen glare did not alarm them, the subtle hint of amused approval in the older woman's voice would certainly make them think twice. "And now, if you'll all excuse me, I'm afraid I must be going. Miss Parkinson, I'd be glad to see you home as well…"
Narcissa rose gracefully; not even she seemed to care that Pansy was still bound from the nose down. "Lovely meeting you all." Her sweet tone could be accounted for by two things: either Narcissa was very, very good at being polite when it was called for, or she had actually enjoyed their company – in which case she was barking mad and Draco had just neglected to mention it. "Draco, darling, you know where your father and I will be. And, erm…" She hesitated for just a moment, casting a doubtful glance down the table at all the friends Draco had brought into her home. Her very large, very wealthy home.
"Try not to break anything too expensive."
With that, Narcissa was gone. She paused for a moment in the doorway, waiting for Pansy to catch up with her. The fact that Pansy was not walking but was being carried by several of the manor elves did not seem to dawn on her. Pansy, however, was quite expressly aware of the fact, but she seemed to also realize that at this point she didn't have a scrap of dignity left to protect, because she only struggled half-heartedly.
The remaining Slytherins retired to the Malfoys' main sitting room, having a laugh over Parkinson's grand exit.
"That was classic, really," Xanne chirped.
"I just want to imprint the look on her face in my mind," Ravyn said happily.
But, oddly enough, Fallon, who held Pansy in the highest contempt, looked less than enthusiastic.
"What's wrong?" the ever-observant Morrigun asked the girl, who lounged on the couch next to her with a decidedly decadent air.
"You're not on about that spider getting squished, are you?" Malice queried, her voice slightly disdainful. "I mean, I love magical creatures and all, but honestly…"
"No," Fallon replied, "it's just…"
"Yes?"
The dark-haired girl sighed, saying wistfully, "If only it had been more poisonous…" Her wistful air was broken by a grin, which, when paired with Ravyn's evil smirk, was almost frighteningly evil.
"She is quite an annoying bint, isn't she?" Pucey commented, taking a seat next to Malice on a cream-colored couch. His blatant attempt to put his arm around the girl was met with a raised eyebrow, and his arm fell promptly back into his lap.
"You think she's annoying," Draco said wryly. "Just think how I feel. I'm the one she's taken to stalking."
"Yes, Malfoy," Flint replied with just as much of a sarcastic edge as Malfoy would have pulled off himself. "You live in a mansion larger than Hogwarts castle, you're so rich you could live your entire life without ever lifting a finger and still have Galleons piled up to your knees, you've got two girls fighting over you – and at least one of them is quite pretty – and you're one of the top students in your year and you get away with everything at school because our head of house either likes you or is scared to death of your father… I have nothing but the greatest pity for you."
Draco seethed, but next to him Ravyn was beaming. She grinned at Akasha, saying brightly, "If he proposes, say yes."
Akasha smiled radiantly back. "I was planning on it."
Flint looked distinctly uneasy, but was saved by Derrick's comment. "It is quite annoying when that Parkinson girl follows us around."
"She's always at Quidditch practice," Draco added bitterly.
Morrigun glanced at Ravyn. "Does he mean Quidditch, or does he mean QUIDDITCH?" she inquired with a mischievous smile. The Quidditch team was looking at her curiously, but the girls all broke into wide grins.
"You must have noticed her there," Warrington said, not quite knowing what the girls were on about (it was a subject he was constantly confused about). "I mean, you're at all our practices, as well."
Persephone giggled. "Fallon, is it true that he needs practice?" This comment was followed by another outburst of feminine giggles.
The boys exchanged glances, thinking among themselves that perhaps Pansy wasn't the only one who'd been eating strange insects at tea. "We all practice," Flint said cautiously. "How else are we going to beat the Gryffindors?"
One of the cheerchics uttered something that sounded quite a bit like, "Kinky," but none of the boys were really sure what was said among the laughter.
"I don't know," Jeannie said. "I don't think these girls would be too happy about that." With a sweeping gesture, she indicated Persephone, Xanne, and Calypso.
"Well, we've got to have teams. What's the point if you can't play Quidditch in teams?" Pucey argued, but got the frustrating response of more giggling.
"I suppose that's better than playing by yourself," Ravyn said, which was met by more giggles.
"I don't know, you could play Quidditch by yourself." The girls paused to look at Warrington a bit skeptically. "I mean, if you really wanted to," he continued, slightly put off by the fact that he really had no clue where this discussion was going. "As long as you've got a broomstick and a couple of balls…"
"Oh. My. God." But Malice's exclamation dissolved into laughter, and the cheerchics all seemed helpless with mirth.
After the laughter had died down, another house elf (because they seemed quite busy with conveniently moving the plot along lately) announced that there were more guests waiting in the entrance hall. Draco muttered something about hexing Pansy Parkinson until her face stuck and rose to receive them. "I don't suppose anyone heard that this party was starting at four o'clock in the afternoon?" he asked dryly, checking the time on the rather imposing grandfather clock that stood against the wall nearby.
"Yeah, I think that's what he said," Flint supplied.
"Hmm… Maybe we should have actually been getting ready for it all this time," Pucey commented thoughtfully.
"Don't worry about that," Draco muttered. "Idiot time for a party, really, but then I suppose, coming from Pritchard, that shouldn't surprise me…" And then he was gone, leaving the others to wonder what other surprises the Manor held for a growing party of Slytherins.
Upon reaching the entrance hall, Draco found that the guests were Graham Pritchard and some other younger members of his house. "Pritchard," Draco greeted in his usual less-than-friendly manner. "I'm surprised you had the balls to show up, really. You should have known you'd just lose them."
The younger Slytherin only smirked. "You're in a sour mood today, Malfoy. Is something wrong?"
"Your concern's quite touching, but I'm fine, really. Just a bit of a headache from hearing Parkinson's voice too much today."
Graham's grin grew. "Ah, so Parkinson's here?"
Draco's eyes flashed in amusement. He had guessed that those two were plotting against him. They would soon know better. "No," he said matter-of-factly, "actually, she just left. I'm afraid the Manor food didn't agree with her," he added, smirking to himself. "You just missed her. Not that any of us have. But no matter. Come in, please. You can't miss the party. After all, there wouldn't be one without you."
Malfoy being nice was evidently quite a bit more nerve-wracking than Malfoy being his usual arrogant self, and Graham looked quite nervous as Draco gestured for them to follow him from the hall.
~^~~v~~^~~v~~^~~v~~^~~v~~^~
"Bugger."
The thought was running through most of their minds, but Flint was the first to voice it. Ravyn had just thrown open the second door in her attempt to find the room Draco was sure to have led the other guests to. However, as he and the house elves seemed to have vanished at quite an inconvenient time, the group wasn't having the best of luck finding it.
"All right," Ravyn sighed, "I know it's around here somewhere…"
A third door turned up no party room; however, they did find something of interest. Kevin Bole and Kate le Fay were snuggled comfortably in a closet, snogging as if their lives depended on it.
"Oh!" Kate exclaimed, drawing herself up. "Hello, everyone."
"What –? Never mind," Xanne said, obviously drawing her own conclusions about the situation.
"That's the spirit, Bole," Calypso said, punching his arm amiably. "It's Christmas break, and you're still busy with the Quidditch training."
As shadows of their former conversation reared their ugly, gutter-minded heads, the girls giggled, but any further comment was cut off by Ravyn's jubilant cry.
"I've found it!"
The door fell open to reveal a sight that certainly none of them had been expecting. The house elves must have been busy during their afternoon tea, and the room had been decorated brilliantly for the short amount of time. A blazing fire on the opposite wall burned green, casting eerie shadows of elegant furniture on the walls in the growing twilight let in by the windows. Tables scattered about the room were covered with trays and drinks, and music that seemed to have no source filled the air. As time went on, a steady flow of Slytherins began trickling in, gradually filling the room with their usual behavior. It was a whirlwind of innuendo, alcohol, and classical music, the perfect balance of aristocratic Malfoy elegance and brazen Slytherin debauchery.
For now. That would, of course, all change.
Draco was smiling faintly at Ravyn where she sat next to him on the couch. "What?" she asked lazily. Surrounded by her friends, who had all found many unique ways to enjoy themselves in this atmosphere, she was content, happy to lie in his arms in their private little corner of one of the couches gracing the room.
He shook his head faintly. "You belong here," he said faintly.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean you survived being caught by my mother, of all people, you certainly let Pansy know what happens to anyone who gets in your way, you fit in just as well here as you did at tea. You're a true aristocrat, but what's more, you're a true Slytherin. That's why my mother likes you more than that Parkinslut, and that's why I – "
Her eyes lit up, as if she knew exactly which words played on the tip of his tongue. "Yes?"
"That's why I think you belong here. You could be a Malfoy."
"That's not what you were going to say," she accused lightly. "But it was sweet enough that I'll let it stand."
For once, he had no sharp reply, but simply bent to kiss her forehead gently. She would have none of it, instead wrapping her arms around him for a proper SOBbing snog. She clung to him longer than she should have, feeling so warm with his lips on hers, until…
"Is that anything like a Dementor's Kiss?"
The two Slytherins broke apart to find Fred and George Weasley peering down at them over the back of the green velvet couch. Ravyn was faintly amused, but hid her smile as Draco glared death at the two of them.
"Just out of curiosity," Fred continued. "I mean, I would think it was quite the same…"
"What are you Gryffindors doing here?" Draco snapped. It was often said that one of the requirements to be Sorted into Slytherin House was the ability to say the other house names as though they were the greatest insults.
"Well, we heard you were having a party," Fred – or perhaps that one was George, most Slytherins really didn't bother trying to tell them apart (except Calypso, of course) – "and we noticed that we hadn't gotten our invitations."
"We knew that just couldn't be right," George continued with a mock frown, which quickly brightened into a smile. "So we figured you've been so busy with the planning that you'd forgotten ours. And of course, it'd be a shame to miss this party, especially after you'd spent so much time on it."
"So, here we are!" Fred finished happily. "And we've brought the rest of our Quidditch team with us."
"Great joy of joys." Draco's expression was such the opposite of this statement that it was amusing, and Ravyn was forced to smother another laugh.
"Awe, Fred," the twin now confirmed as George said with a false sigh. "Look how happy ickle Malfoy is."
"Yes," Fred agreed, "and we haven't even given him his present yet."
"Present?" There was true fear in that statement. Even Draco hesitated to deal with the Weasley's tricks.
"Well, of course!" Fred exclaimed. "It's
only proper, you know."
"Yes, we could hardly show up
without bringing you something…"
"What is it?" Draco demanded.
"Malfoy, may we introduce you to…"
"Little Draco," George finished. Over the back of the couch he hefted the furry form of a small, white ferret.
There was a moment of silence in which the twins' innocent smiles were countered by Draco's look of absolute disgust. When he finally did manage to speak, all he could say was, "That's not funny."
But, obviously of quite a different opinion of the gift, Ravyn burst out laughing.