Severus Snape always had an aspect of Peter Pan to him - it lay in his childlike manner.
Or so Draco had always thought.
Oh, sure, Snape could scowl with the best of them... but his essential passion lay in secrets. In discovery, in curiosity. And he had a positively feral delight in sharing them with his friends.
Dumbledore had stood in the Great Hall and told everyone the rules for this Triwizard Tournament.
None of the Slytherins had been foolish enough to sign up then and there, not even the most ambitious among them.
They had tamely, and yet with great interest, gone back to their Common Room.
And waited.
Severus Snape alighted into the room with a most dramatic swirl of his cape. "Children, I bring news! Gossip! And perhaps an order or two..." One of his eyebrows lifted.
The entire room was silent and rapt.
"This Triwizard Tournament has killed many a young soul, in its time. There is a reason there hasn't been one in well over a hundred years."
Snape paused for effect, "BUT! Dumbledore will tell you he has taken precautions. I am here to tell you that the old fool doesn't know a precaution from a precondition. This is an exceedingly dangerous tournament, and there's little gain to be won, galleons or no."
A few of the poorer students shuffled at that. They undoubtedly knew what it was like to pinch ha'pennies (which Draco only knew about from his Mum).
"Slytherin House will sit this tournament out. We will not spill our own blood for public amusement." Snape smirked, "And when this tournament is nothing but a faded, tattered memory, we will stand tall, secure in our power."
"For we are Slytherin." Said the seventh year prefects.
"For we are Slytherin." Said the other two years prefects.
"For we are Slytherin." Said the entire room, and the rafters shook with the volume of precisely modulated speaking voices.
Draco Malfoy watched with increasing incredulity as the Weasley Twins kept trying to break the ageline. Those insane brothers! A part of him had to admire their determination, their all-consuming wish to be happy and make others happy through laughter.
The more cynical side of him remembered that there was a war on, and laughter didn't win wars.
When Potter's name came out of the Cup, Draco Malfoy knew what he had to do - he just didn't like it. Still, he girded his loins and stood. "Potter put his name in! Why bother with an ageline at all? Potter always gets what he wants!"
Snape had just enough time to shoot Draco a quelling look - else Draco would have cheerfully brought his father into the conversation. And that wouldn't have ended well for anyone.
Potter had also given Malfoy a deathglare, but that was both understandable and not unusual. Sup on hate, Gryffindor.
[a/n: Diggory doesn't get to be Hogwarts champion on his own merits. Review?]