Hey, guys! This chapter's a little shorter than the others, half because I'm experimenting and half because I'm not sure

what to do next. To be honest, I'm really not sure where this fic is going. Only updating on weekends is a drag, too. So,

I've decided - I'll need at least four reviews before I post any more chapters. Praises, flames, questions and complaints

all count. I just need to know that enough ppl are reading this on a regular basis to make it worthwhile. So if you love

me, let me know!

Thanks & Huggies,

Kitty.





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I leave lunch early on Friday, mentally calculating. I've already added everything up on parchment, but I need to

be SURE... By the time I reach the second floor, I'm positive. Positive and grinning.

Grand total: thirty-three Galleons, two sickles.

Life has never been better.

I cornered Parvati first thing after leaving the dorms on Wednesday, in the corridor outside the Common Room

entrance. I threatened her with telling her sister about her sharing Padma's Beauxbatons boyfriend. An old rumour,

I'm amazed I ever remembered it, but apparently it struck a nerve, because it sent her running to the girls toilet, and me

with four new Galleons. I still have my touch. Then I got ahold of Longbottom, on his way back from Herbology. I didn't

even have to say a word to the fat little wanker; I just glared, and got ten galleons, three sickles. His hag of a grand-

mother must be LOADED.

The rest was busy work, but easy enough: Brown, Finnigan, and both Creevey rats Thursday afternoon. Then Padma,

Bones, the youngest Creevey again, MacMillian, and Abbot before lunch today. I'm still a bit worried as to what this money's

actually going to be used for, but I don't allow myself to think about it. I'm still feeling great, and even think I feel a

bit of the old swagger coming back as I walk down the hall. Lunch hasn't let out yet, so the corridors are deserted. Well,

not quite.

That she-weasel is coming out of the toilet just ahead of me. She has to have seen me, but she just crosses to the

other side of the corridor and goes on with her head down. I'm amazed at myself for not stopping her. But for some reason,

I don't feel like berating her right now. It's not like I'd get any money off her. But she DOES need payback for

tripping me the other day - I'd almost forgotten. Almost. Still, it doesn't seem worth it just now. I'd rather just worry

about Azkaban. Maybe I'll get her after dinner. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe... not at all?

CLINK.

The tiny sound echoes in the empty corridor. I turn around to a sight I never thought I'd see. Ginny Weasley has

dropped a sickle. I can't stop myself.

"Well, WELL." I say, working on the drawl that used to come so easily. "Since when do you have money to throw away,

Weasley? Still, I expect it's a once in a lifetime opportunity for your family - I'll let you get on with it."

She turns but doesn't bend to pick it up. Her face is red already.

"Go stuff yourself, Malfoy. Weren't so smooth Wednesday, were you? Crawling around the corridors. What, did you

lose your last brain cell?"

Slowly, I head over to her. The swagger is definitely back now.

"I figured you would know, since you put me there. Or don't you recall? I've heard rodents have bad memories."

"I - what? I didn't push you."

"HUH."

"It's not like I wouldn't want to - someone must've gotten there before me."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night, you..." I trail off, and remember the expression on her face when she'd looked

back at me. She was really going to...? I snap back to the present. Weasley's staring at me expectantly. She doesn't

exactly LOOK helpful. I change tactics.

"Are you going to pick that up?" I ask, gesturing to the sickle on the floor between us. We're almost nose to nose.

She's taller than I thought. "Or shall we leave it there as an immortal tribute to the day a Weasley actually had some cash?"

"If you'd BACK UP, I might get it."

"Cocky little rodent, aren't we? I might be offended, if I didn't know how you'd been brought up. I doubt anyone

living in that cave you call a house would have very good manners."

"Well, it obviously didn't help you much, growing up in a... what was it, manor? It had some nice furniture, I'll

give you that. You know that portrait of your father in the green cloak? The one the Aurors confiscated? Dad keeps it in

his garage now. We played darts with it over the summer."

I'm red now, too. My ears are ringing like someone shot off a wand right by my head. I don't know whether to hurt

her or...

'Or WHAT?' Taunts a little voice in the back of my head. 'Cry? Or maybe just walk away? You're a disgrace to the

name of Malfoy. Would your father run away from a fight? Go on, WOULD HE?!'

I shake myself out of it. What am I DOING? Without any more hesitation, I reach for my wand.

-And realize it's being pointed at my chest.

"What IS it with you?" For some reason, Weasley doesn't look as pleased as I figured she would. She's staring at me

hard. "So, are you stoned, or what? Do you realize I just picked your pocket? You seriously DIDN'T NOTICE?"

I don't answer. I'm totally numb with a mix of shock and nerves about just what she's planning to do with me. Then,

for the second time in five minutes, something happens that I would never expect from a Weasley - or anyone else, for that

matter. She turns my wand around so that the handle's towards me, and gives it a little shove into my chest.

"Here," she says roughly, "that wasn't as much fun as it should have been." And then she starts walking away, just

like that. Almost. After a few steps, she stops for a second. With her back still turned, she says,

"You need to get a grip on yourself, Malfoy. You're not the only one with problems."

I watch her leave. Right on cue, I hear the noise of a crowd on the stairs - lunch is over. In a few seconds, a

flood of students have blocked my view of her completely. They haven't quite reached my part of the corridor when I look

down. Her sickle is still on the floor. I don't bother to pick it up. I just turn around, my full pockets feeling heavier

than they did before, and walk off, a little ahead of the crowd.