Summary: 14 lucky contestants will be locked into the Room of Requirement for 2 weeks. Who will be the last one remaining, winning 1,000,000 galleons? The rules are simple…

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling, Bunny Foo-Foo to SlytherinCreep.

A/N: Happy holidays to my beloved reviewers, this is my little gift to you: a full chapter just over 1,200 words. Muahahaha. Enjoy.

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"No, I don't want to play chess, you stupid ginger freak," Draco replied angrily. "I'm stuck in this room for the next two weeks to win a huge pile of cash, not to make friends with Gryffindors."

"That's right, Draco, just let it all out. Tell our readers how you feel," Rita said eagerly, pen poised over notepad.

"I helped you write nasty stories about Potter all fourth year, and now you're turning on me?" he asked incredulously. Unbelievable. Draco had always considered himself morally challenged, but this was just a whole new level of low.

The Gryffindors all glared at Draco for reminding them of this and they all began to talk at once. "Yes, and that was an appalling thing to do, you broke-" Hermione said, fuming.

"You made up half of the things-"

"-Completely unfounded lies, you disgusting-"

Harry, who had always been dreadful at concealing his emotions, let out a bellow, his fury apparently so great that it could not be expressed in words.

"30 points from Gryffindor!" Snape said with vindictive glee.

"What? But all we did was yell-"

"And another point off for each word you say in front of me," Snape added victoriously.

After a few seconds of trying to suppress an odd choking noise, Harry muttered something about 'blatant favoritism', but Snape had already stalked off to examine the "tiny" (according to Lucius) bathroom by then and never heard him.

"…Hey, the school year hasn't even star- SNAPE CAN'T TAKE POINTS OFF GRYFFINDOR!" Harry realized, outraged.

"Oh, go sulk around, you're good at that," Draco snapped.

To his immense surprise, Harry fell silent and did exactly that; brooding in an 'Oh-I'm-Such-A-Tragic-Hero' sort of way.

"Why are you so despicable?" Ron asked Draco exasperatedly.

Draco thought this was an excellent question. Why was he so mean? He was a Slytherin, but why did he have so much fun being one? After some time, Draco replied pensively, "I'm not sure, exactly. I suppose it just makes me happy." He smiled nastily.

"For all you know, what you consider 'happiness' could be what normal people consider 'guilt'," Ron informed him.

Draco rolled his eyes. "You nit. What do you call that warm and bubbly feeling inside, then?"

Ron mulled this over for a bit. "It could be gas," he suggested.

Draco tried very hard to suppress a disgusted groan. His left eye twitched.

It was going to be a very long two weeks.

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Around 10:00 that night, everyone began to drift off for bed. This led to a long and very heated argument about who was going to have to sleep next to Snape.

"No way," Fred shrugged.

George agreed. "Harry, you do it, you're the best at Defense Against the Dark Arts,"

Snape interrupted at this point. "MY HAIR IS NOT A FORM OF THE DARK ARTS!"

"I'm not sleeping anywhere near him, his grease might touch me and ruin my perfectly ruffled and messy hair," Harry said furiously. He patted his hair self-consciously.

Everyone looked at him, disturbed.

"You make yourself look like- like that- on purpose?" Draco asked weakly. "Why? To induce nausea?"

"I-I thought it looked good," Harry said uncertainly. "It's, uh, windswept and charming… right? My dad wore his hair like this too."

Lucius snorted in disbelief. "Potter, this looks good." He swung his head around, giving everyone a chance to witness his long, flowing, platinum blond locks form a halo around his head and settle back down in slow motion, as if in a shampoo commercial. Everyone clapped.

"That" –and he pointed at the porcupine-esque mess that sat upon Harry's head- "looks like a Pygmy Puff on crack."

Harry's eyes filled with tears.

"Well, that was uncalled for," Hermione said disapprovingly. "I mean, his hair isn't the neatest of sorts, but it's- it's got personality."

"I think it looks good," Ginny added.

Harry gave her a watery smile and thought to himself, remember, Harry, you are a tragic hero. It is your job to be brave and suffer from the cruel comments of others. They don't understand you… they never will. Because you are the tragic hero. "I am a tragic hero… I am a tragic hero…" he mumbled to himself.

Ron looked at him oddly. "Are you alright?"

"Who cares? Just decide where you're going to sleep," Lucius said brightly. Meanwhile, he had taken Dumbledore's advice and conjured himself a humongous, four-poster bed in the corner of the room, complete with green silk canopy and four green silk pillows, all embroidered with the Malfoy coat-of-arms. It was part of the room's magic that everyone was still able to fit even with the incredible largeness of Lucius Malfoy's ostentatious bed.

"It's just like the ones at home," Draco commented.

Trelawney sniffed dispassionately. "Yes, well, it doesn't matter where you put me. The Inner Eye knows where I will reside for the night."

"Okay! Everyone shut up!" Hermione snarled. "Malfoy… senior, you stay in your own little corner. Malfoy, you sleep next to him. You, tall guy in the cloak, go next to Malfoy junior. Professor Snape, go next to the guy in the cloak. Rita Skeeter, to the left of Snape. Then, Professor Trelawney, Fred, George, Ron, Harry, and Ginny, sleep in that order. And I'll stay next to Ginny." Her eyes glinted dangerously. "Go on, then, what are you waiting for?"

After much complaining, everyone finally got into his or her sleeping bags. And they fell asleep. Sort of.

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Voldemort had been relatively quiet this whole time, as to avoid suspicion. He had said a total of maybe fifty words so far, and they had all been things like "pass the salt, fool" (old habits die hard) or "knight to E3" (he'd helped Draco defeat Ron in wizard chess a few hours ago, much to Ron's chagrin. It had really been for the greater good because Weasley and Malfoy proceeded to have a shouting match about whether or not the latter had cheated).

But it was midnight, and sounds of nasal breathing (Snape) and loud snoring (Ron) filled the room. Voldemort was filled with questions: What was the real reason behind this contest? What was the significance of the fourteen selected contestants? How would he kill Harry Potter while stuck in a room with a dozen other people? And most importantly, what was up with this disturbingly feminine side of Lucius Malfoy and why had he never seen it before?

It was time for him to do some research.

Very, very quietly, Voldemort got out of his sleeping bag, careful not to wake the ferrety little brat to his right (who was mumbling something about the Mudbloods throwing punches and destroying hair products in his sleep). Then he tiptoed towards Lucius Malfoy's suitcase.

Dragging it into the bathroom, Voldemort flicked on the lights with his wand. He froze at the sight before him.

Then he screamed a very high, very shrill scream.

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A/N:So what did Voldemort see?

Thanks very much to the reviewers. (Adrianna Ashke, you're right, of course Harry/Ron won't find the bunny… As you said, it'd be too obvious. You'll find out soon though… And the people who commented on Draco/Lucius's femininity, well… yeah. I love to poke fun at the Malfoys.)

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