The following day, the same guys met up on the Quidditch pitch at approximately the same time. Draco split up the teams again, with slightly different pairings from the day before.

Midway through the game, he nearly tumbled off of his broom. Sitting on a stone wall that was approximately three feet high was the blue-haired girl. She was staring intently at him. Draco had had girls stare at him before. Lots of girls at Hogwarts flirted with him, following him through the hallways, giggling and driving him mad. But she wasn't staring at him as a girl with a crush on him. She was entranced, studying his every move in an almost academic manner.

She had her blue hair pulled back into a pony tail today. She was chewing gum, blowing large bubbles at intervals of a minute or two. Her legs were criss-crossed and encased in large bulky blue pants. A see-through black netted shirt with a black tank top underneath covered her upper body. A silver-studded black leather collar was around her neck and matching bracelets circled her wrists. She looked even more bizarre from the day before.

No, it wasn't what she was wearing or even what color her hair was that Draco found so disturbing. It was her presence, her posture, her attitude. She knew the effect her appearance had on everyone, and she sought the attention without recognizing it within herself. She held herself as if she didn't care what anyone thought about her. But Draco sensed that there was a little bit more to her than her ridiculous clothing and her crazy hair.

He heard a whizzing noise and ducked just in time. He shook himself. What was he doing? He was hanging twenty feet in the air, with bludgeors flying at him from every direction, and he was day-dreaming about some girl with blue hair and a bad-ass attitude to whom he had never spoken.

Angrily, he turned his attention back to the game but he couldn't shake the feeling that her eyes never left his form. Out of pure determination, he did not look her way for the rest of the game. As he landed next to his friends, he glanced in the direction of the stone wall.

It was empty. She was gone. But, for some reason, Draco knew she was going to be back again.

Draco flashed his ID at the bouncer at the door to the club. It was Friday night. It was the start of the weekend, and he was ready for some fun. He had been working part-time during the mornings, and this morning had not been a pleasant affair. He was ready to party for a bit, and this club, the Golden Snitch, was one of his favorite sports bars to go to.

In the front portion of the bar, tables and chairs filled the room, images of famous Quidditch players zooming on the walls. A long, narrow bar, with every imaginable liquor was lined up on the opposite wall. In the basement was a dance floor with a DJ. He rarely went down there, preferring the atmosphere upstairs more.

He headed straight for the bar and ordered a butterbeer. Flicking the bartender a coin, he turned and took a healthy chug from his bottle. He sauntered over to an empty stool and hitched himself up onto the seat. He was waiting for a friend from Durmstrang, a playmate from his years before Hogwarts. Duncan and he had played while in short pants together and had kept in touch through owl when they were at school on opposite sides of Europe.

Duncan rarely mixed with his friends from Hogwarts. It was almost as if there had been a non-verbal battle and the prize was Draco's attention. After many fruitless attempts to mix his friends, he decided it was probably best to keep his relationships separate.

Several minutes later, Duncan walked through the door. Seeing his friend, he wandered over to him, slapping him on the back in greeting.

Draco grinned. "Get yourself a butterbeer and sit your arse down," he said. Duncan flashed a cheeky grin at a waitress who was passing by. She stopped, despite the fact that they were not sitting in her section, and took his order. He patted her bottom as she passed by. She shook her head and mumbled something about handsome men who thought they could get away with any type of behavior.

"So, how's your summer been?" Duncan asked, turning his attention to Draco.

Draco shrugged. "It's been all right. The normal shit. I've been playing a couple rounds of Quidditch at the city park. Working crappy hours and spending a lot of time drinking." He took another swig of butterbeer. "You know, the usual."

Duncan grinned. "Sounds like mine. Only I've also met a nice, sweet girl to warm my nights as well."

Draco's eyebrows rose. "And she let you out tonight?"

"Hey, I just said that she was warming my bed. We're not exclusive!" he exclaimed.

Draco shook his head and finished off his beer. They grabbed another drink before heading downstairs at Duncan's suggestion.

Once downstairs, they started hashing out everything they had done that summer. Duncan ordered a shot of whiskey for each of them. Draco pounded it and ordered another. Two hours later, they were no longer sober. A pleasant haze altered their perceptions. Both were in exceedingly good spirits.

The bar had filled up while they had been drinking. Duncan took off to use the loo. Standing by the bar, Draco lit a cigarette and took a long drag. The music was deafening and smoke filled the alcoves of the room, seeping onto the dance floor. The whole scene was a blur; his senses were too overwhelmed for anything to be clear.

And that's when he saw her. She was unmistakable with that hair of hers. Only, she wasn't dressed in her usual garb. Tonight, her hair hung straight down her back, slightly damp from sweat, clinging to her exposed skin. It was twisted and tangled erotically around her face, sliding in between the curve of her breasts, around her neck. A piece had worked its way into her mouth, but she barely noticed.

Her eyes were closed and she tossed her head from side to side. Her body, her hips moved erotically, thrusting forward to the beat of the music. The tight tank top she wore exposed the majority of her flat, tight stomach. The mini leather skirt fit snugly on her hips and barely covered her ass.

And her legs. Shapely and long, covered with fishnets. They ended in three-inch heels. Draco had a sudden image of those legs wrapped around his waist.

He suddenly realized that his mouth was open. Hastily, he closed it and looked away. But then he had to look again. There she was, still completely oblivious to the fact that her erotic dancing was attracting half of the men on the dance floor. He had a bizarre thought that he ought to take off his shirt and cover her up.

He figured that he might as well stare along with the other dozen men gaping at her. He finally had a chance to observe her without her knowing. He realized that she was completely trapped within her mind. Her soul was exposed in her movements, and Draco felt the urge to go over and touch her. His feet started towards her, unwillingly.

"Malfoy! Did you see that crazy chick on the dance floor?" Duncan's voice brought him back to where he was.

"What?" Draco said, turning to Duncan.

"The blue-haired girl. I swear, she's got to be part veela with the way those men are ogling her." Duncan laughed, drunkenly. He stared appreciatively at the sight and grinned.

Draco fought the urge to slug his friend. In his altered state, he realized that his thoughts were completely irrational. He turned to the bar to collect himself. To distract himself, he ordered another butterbeer even though he didn't think he needed it. When he turned back to the scene in front of him, his eyes instinctively sought her out again.

She wasn't where he had seen her. Instead she was slumped against the opposite wall. A man, about ten years older than she, was holding her upper arm and talking sternly to her. Her head was bent, so he could not read her expression. She didn't seem happy, though. With a tug of her arm, the man led her away from the dance floor and up the stairs. Reluctantly she followed.

Draco watched her go, wondering once again who she was.