Chapter Two: The Match

Staying at the Parkinsons' summer villa in Kyle was like being tied down to a desk, surrounded by knarks, while having teeth extracted manually by Filch. Except it was constant. The only time Draco was left to his own devices was when he took his room, which was then always interrupted by Pansy who insisted on sneaking in.

He reported the events of the evening at the Minister's in great detail for his father. He was intrigued, and after a very brief discussion he hurried off into another room; which Draco could only guess was Master Parkinson's private Floo room.

"Dumbledore will be distracted preparing forces, and protecting Potter." His father had said with geat contempt. "He had the girl removed off of the Muggle study because he didn't think she was protected, but if last night is any evidence. I believe your duties will be quite straightforward."

Of course they were straightforward. She had practically jumped into his bleeding arms. Well, maybe not to that exact extent. Upon returning from the Minister's house he had found that she was in fact, in a very odd way, almost intoxicating. Her all together goody-bloody-two shoes act she put on for the adults was revolting; but there in the time it had been just them, he had seen it. There was lonesomeness in her eyes, and strangely enough, he felt able to identify with it.

As Draco sat at the desk in his room he wondered briefly if that under different circumstances he would be attracted to her.. In more than a physical sense of course. She had proper lineage, from what his father had told him. Plenty of money as well, being the great granddaughter of a once Minister of magic. Lived in a manor until one day while she was visiting Dumbledore, her mother was set to death by the Dark Lord. The husband came home, found her dead and mangled corpse, and went completely mad. Been in St. Mungo's ever since, but she'd never gone to see him. He wondered how a person could go their entire life without wanting to meet their parents. Perhaps she didn't even know he was still-

There was a knock at his door, and he turned to face it. "Enter." He called to the visitor.

Sure enough, it was Pansy.

"We're going now."

"Alright." Draco replied and rose quickly.

"What were you doing in here?" She asked curiously, pushing her way into the room.

"Thinking." He replied blatantly, and after grabbing his cloak from his bed he ushered her out of the room. Unfortunately, as they made their way down the stairwell Pansy would not seem to let the topic go.

"About what?"

"Topics that don't concern you." He replied with a scowl.

"Do you think you could make them concern me?" She asked.

"I doubt it."

There was a silence between them, which Draco found very peculiar. Generally he could not get Pansy to shut her mouth, and on those rare occasions that she was quiet he had to physically force her away. One time, one single, never to occur again time he had taken her to a ball. And now the woman was mad, and he seemed to spend every waking moment he could trying to escape her. Well, sometimes she did have her purposes-but she was altogether too clingy. Not that he could blame her.

"Come along then Draco," His father drawled, watching him. "Do not dawdle."

"Yes father." Draco replied automatically. As he watched Pansy touch the portkey he mentally went over every possible situation that might arise at the match and how he would solve it. Reaching out the portkey he felt his adrenaline begin to rush.

*



"Deliberate blatching! Referee Dean Travers calls it-Yes it is-It's penalty to the Prides!" The announcer shouted excitedly into the magical megaphone. One hour into the game and there was still not a single sign of the snitch, Prides were leading 130 to 100.

Watching the magpies, who up until now Draco had thought of as a good team lose so poorly to those blundering gits; the Prides of Portree, he felt irritated. They were on Lightning Strikes for bleeding sake! It was the premiere of the latest in broom technology and they still weren't able to beat those prats! That and the constant hands of Pansy trying to grope his were about to send him off the far edge of the pitch. Draco silently cursed his parents for 'accidentally' running into Mcnair and had decided to go for lunch. The least his father could have done was take Pansy with them.

Pansy wrapped her hand around his again. He had tried to keep silent, pushing her away but it didn't seem to be working. Obnoxious little tart.

"Pansy-Pansy get off me-Listen to me-Go down-No let me finish my sentence- Go down and get me a bag of Bertie Bott's every flavored bean."

"But Draco," Pansy whined, attempting to bat her eyelashes. "I want to stay here."

"Go."

Pansy looked at him for a moment, her bottom lip sticking out in an attempt to pout. Unfortunately, her nose was taking away from the protruding lip, as always.

"Fine." She huffed. "I'll be right back."

Draco gave a sigh of relief as she walked out of the top box and down the stairs. Finally he was alone. He glanced around, well not really alone per say. But free of Pansy-unfortunately he knew it was only temporary. Holding up his omnioculars he searched the crowd for the Dumbledore girl, but saw her nowhere.

"I just thought I'd pop by and tell you that your impersonation of an inanimate object is really coming along." Said a voice. "When do you start transfiguring?"

Draco turned to speak; Skye Dumbledore sat behind him, her resting her arms on her legs and smiling amusedly.

"Oh really?" He remarked.

"Quite brilliant actually. And that lass-the one with the funny nose."

"Pansy." Draco suggested.

"Right, Pansy. The name fits her well doesn't it?"

"Why do you say that?" Draco asked curiously.

"Well she wilted when you sent her away." She replied bluntly.

"You're feeling rather cheeky today aren't you?"

She gave a lopsided smile, flashing her pearly whites. "I pride myself on my wit."

"So I've noticed." He paced himself through the line, and returned the grin loosely. Her cheeks flushed a little but she didn't seem to take it as an insult. "So where's your bodyguard?

He watched little creases from on her forehead. "What?"

"Wood." He replied simply.

"Ah. Oliver.." She looked over to the seeker still floating above the pitch and then let out a small laugh. "Well. He didn't try to curse you. You've got to admit that's progress."

"I wouldn't put it past him. He doesn't fancy me very much." Said Draco with a flick of his eyebrows; he too looked down the pitch.

"So he told me." Out of the corner of his eye, Draco watched her nod slightly.

"Ah." Anxiety grabbed a hold of him now, and was squeezing at the dry knot in his throat. Her _expression was unreadable, and once again he worried. If that bloody prat Wood ruined this he would-he would-he didn't know what he would do. No one ruins a Malfoy's plans and gets away with it.

Despite the tension spreading through his veins, as he sat in the top box with Dumbledore he felt comfortable. The wind blew faintly, and the scent of delicate lilacs drifted in his nose. He felt a curl land on his cloak but he didn't move.

"But that doesn't mean I think the same."

Draco blinked, registering her words. He turned slowly to look at her, and she shrugged her shoulders. "Oliver may have had an impact on my life before, but after this week. He's been a totally prat lately and-and I'm tired of it. And you.." Her voice trailed off and her forehead was scrunched up again, in deep thought.

"Me..?" Draco persisted.

"You're different-Don't look at me like that. All I mean is-You're different from everyone else in my life."

"What sort of different? Different like 'he's-a-nice-lad-but-I-don't-like- him-like-that', or 'he's-a-dreamy-Quidditch-playing-like-to-get-to-know- him' different?"

Dumbledore laughed. "How bout you just settle for 'mysteriously-charming- with-slightly-narcissistic-tendencies'?"

Malfoy smiled, although at the time he didn't even realize it. "Fine. I s'ppose that'll have to do."