Draco drinks in the fear and the adulation from the crowd, but mostly the fear. He is pleased to see Ginny so hot and bothered, he is delighted to see even his closest friend in Blaise, perturbed at his power, and he is smug that Dumbledore himself is in shock from his show of power. His brain foggy, his heart beating triple time, his body sluggish, and his lungs burning from his effort, Draco does his best to hide it all and keep up the façade that it was easy work. This is what he wanted, what he practiced for the moment he found out that the first test included dragons, a chance to prove himself, to cultivate fear from each and every person in the crowd, as they witnessed his power.

Time and planning and more…time is what allowed him this victory, along with a liberal use of his wires, a disillusionment charm, and a myriad of wands he procured to boost his magic. He was somewhat hesitant to use such methods, worried that Blaise or the old fossil of a headmaster would see through his trick, but given the looks on their faces, they know nothing. Draco takes the chance to smirk, first at Ginny and wink in her direction, and then towards the ancient wizard, the Chief of the Wizengamot, as he all but dares the old man to do his worst. Right now, Draco is untouchable.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Draco watches on with contempt at Potter's plan, scoffing at the cowardice of the Gryffindor boy. Imagine running from a dragon, using a broom. Couldn't be him. He looks around, bored by the high speed chase, even as the crowd oohs and awes, albeit quietly due to his own actions, when he sees her, the woman from the Daily Prophet. What was her name? Skitter? A grin forms on his face, as he remembers her many inflammatory articles filled with propaganda and slander. He can use her.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

It's five hours later, after a wild celebratory party in the Slytherin common room, that Draco finally finds himself alone with his two best mates: Nott and Blaise. Both seem to be coming down from a high, no doubt due to the…positive attention they received based simply on the strength of them being so close to the honored guest of the night, and they also seem so…calm. Accepting. And that bothers him.

"What, no questions on how I did it?" Draco asks in a taunting manner. Nott shrugs nonchalantly.

"I know what you have access to." Blaise glances between the two at that response, and promptly downs half a bottle of some of the strong stuff. He shakes his head to gather his bearings, a weary look on his face.

"Mate, you've always been terrifying. By now I'm used to it." His darker-skinned friend responds. He's lying…slightly. Draco can see it, he can smell it, but he's not going to complain about NOT being questioned, at least as long as the fear remains.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Walking, no strutting down the hallways of Hogwarts, Draco can come to only one conclusion: Ginny is avoiding him. It makes sense given how she went to Dumbledore about him, but really, Draco doesn't see the big deal. So he used some magic to seduce her, so what? Is it really so wrong to know what your date is thinking and how she feels? To…enhance her positive feelings towards him, and to dim the negative? It's not like he used a love potion, or worse, the Imperius, so really this whole thing is unfair to him.

Well, whatever. If she wants to play it that way, he can play. He grins as he snatches a newspaper from the nearest student and sees the headline he always envisioned. "Dragon Slayer Rises From The Flames." Skimming over the article, he can't help but to hum in approval as the reporter woman seems to have gone above and beyond his expectations. Her words make him look like a god, even if he was in actuality closer to a devil, and he will make sure she knows that he appreciates her hard work. She even slips in some lines about him and Ginny: a match made in heaven, a tale of forbidden love, held back only by their families' longtime feud, one destined to be broken by their fated entwinement.

Snorting, Draco shakes his head in disbelief. She's good. Real good. So good in fact…the King of Slytherin raises his head and makes eye contact with his fellow champion Fleur Delacour, the most beautiful woman he's ever laid eyes on. His previous thoughts forgotten, he turns his full attention to the Veela-descendant who stands before him, radiant and curious, and ripe for the picking.