"Playing With Fire"
Draco Malfoy woke up on Saturday morning feeling even sleepier than he had when he went to bed the night before. He had always been a restless sleeper, growing up in Malfoy Manor had taught him you are never always safe, least of all when asleep.
He had been kept awake most of the night by the immense load of homework that had been forced upon him by his cruel professors, who seemed quite keen on making his free time a living hell. But he could not simply refuse to do his homework; he had always gotten top marks, and his father would skin him alive dare he bring home a failing grade.
He performed his usual morning tasks that consisted of making himself the epitome of perfection and wealthiness. His hair was a fine blondish silver that he wore short, with strands of it falling in front of his stunning gray eyes. He had given up slicking his hair back at the end of his fifth year, and there was no dispute that the change was for the better.
Draco’s face was thin and pale, yet it had an elegance about it that made him look like a god. Tall and muscular, but not too much so, made him the desire of all the girls at Hogwarts, and the envy of all the boys. All in all, Draco was quite pleased with his appearance, and often used it to his advantage.
After dressing in his usual sleek black robes that had been custom made for him, Draco went to the Great Hall for breakfast. It was almost empty when he entered; evidence that he had indeed made up for sleep lost during the week. He took a seat at the Slytherin table next to Crabbe and Goyle, who always arrived early and stayed late to every meal.
He ignored their usual morning grunting, or what they considered conversation, and took to glancing around the Great Hall to watch its remaining occupants. Potter and his gang seemed to be off elsewhere along with most of the other Gryffindors, except for a group of fifth years girls, one he recognized as the Weasel’s younger sister, Ginny, and the other two dumb blondes that he had passed in the hallway.
He eyed Ginny curiously, she had certainly changed a lot during the summer. She looked more like a woman, and not at all like the little twat that used to follow King Weasel and idolize The-Boy-Who-Should-Have-Died. Aside from looking different, the littlest Weasley didn’t act like a little girl anymore, she acted as if any comment he could throw at her would make her see him as a bratty little boy. ‘Something I definitely do not want right now.’ He thought to himself, eyeing her curves and summer presents.
Draco watched as Potter stormed into the Great Hall up to where Ginny was chatting merrily and promptly dragged her off while scolding her profusely. Ginny seemed to be angered by his intrusion, however, because she shoved him away and strode out of the Great Hall by herself. Potter looked shocked by her telling-off, clearly he thought he was going to get over on her for something.
As Potter moved to follow her through the doors, he walked past the Slytherin table and Draco promptly called after him.
"You’re lucky, Potter, she looked pissed enough to bitch-slap you. Then you’d have a red hand print to match the gash on your face."
Harry glared at him but chose to say nothing, it was clear he was not having a good morning. Draco laughed and finished his breakfast, deciding to take a stroll around the grounds, Crabbe and Goyle in tow.
They walked around the lake, Draco leading their small group, enjoying the crisp autumn weather. Draco would never admit it to anyone, but his favorite season was when the leaves changed color and decorated the usually spotless grass. He enjoyed seeing things in disarray, rather than sickeningly neat and perfect. He supposed it was because he grew up in a mansion that was always sparkling neat and clean, along with everything he ever owned.
Draco was glad he wore his cloak; the air seemed to be getting colder by the day, something he did not like quite as much. He hated things that were cold, things and people alike. Many people describe Draco as cold, but that was another trait of his father’s that had rubbed off on him, not to the full extent of Lucius, as everyone assumed.
He sighed at the thought of his father. Lucius had shamed the family name by getting himself shipped off to Azkaban, and ruined any respect Draco had previously had for him. As far as he was concerned, his Father should not have gotten involved with the Dark Lord if it meant blatantly doing things that could easily get him arrested, no matter the cause.
Draco also thought the Dark Lord a fool for not being able to simply kill a person as dumb as Harry Potter at infancy. Draco was very surprised that Potter is still alive without Voldemort trying to kill him every few minutes; he gets himself into enough life-threatening situations to have died several times already.
He was glad that with his Father locked up in Azkaban he was free to do whatever he liked, so he wouldn’t have to become the next mindless henchman for an even more mindless freak that is bent on taking over the world. Draco hated being at anyone’s beck and call, and was disgusted at his father for being the lapdog of the Dark Lord.
As they approached the Quidditch Pitch, Draco could see the figures of people on broomsticks flying at fast speeds, clearly in the middle of a practice. As they drew closer he could also make out the scarlet color of their uniforms, which meant pothead was among team.
Draco watched as the team landed on the ground, looking tired and worked. He spotted the flaming red hair of the Weasel King bobbing next to the jet black mop of Potter’s.
The last person to exit the pitch, he noticed, was Ginny Weasley. Draco was shocked at how good she looked in Quidditch robes, or rather, how good she made them look. He commanded Crabbe and Goyle to wait as he walked up to her casually, watching her as she let her hair down from the tight bun it had been confined in.
Her hair fell down her back like a red waterfall, and he resisted the sudden urge to run his fingers through it. She turned to glance at him when he was about five feet away from her, and gave him a bored look.
"Well, if it isn’t the littlest Weasel, coming in from a tiring Quidditch practice. How is life under Potter’s reign of captaincy?" He asked with a smirk.
She glared at him coldly, but was surprised at how civil he was being.
"Well, Ferret boy, life was fine until you showed up. What do you want?" She responded coolly.
Draco refrained from answering the way he would have liked, as it probably would have earned him a slap in the face. Instead, he decided to be pleasant, or as pleasant as a Malfoy can be speaking to a Weasley.
"I saw you tell off Potter for grabbing you at breakfast. You were quite civil with him, I would have knocked him into next week."
Ginny quirked an eyebrow at this statement and smirked.
"Because we all want your level of self-control, right Malfoy? It must be hard for you, living with all of us lesser mortals."
Draco was angered that she dare mock him, but he held back. Why was he being so civil to a Weasel? Dirt poor, a muggle-lover, and a Weasley were not very endearing qualities. Yet here he was, letting her insult him. Oh, look, the little green men are helping Filch give out candy to students.
"What do you want anyway, Malfoy? There has to be some reason you’re speaking to me." Ginny said with annoyance. Draco smirked and decided to end in his favor.
"Just wanted to let you know," He said in an undertone, "Your thong is showing."
Sure enough, through the tight white pants of her Quidditch uniform, Draco could make out the distinct bright pinkness of the front of her thong. Ginny turned a bright shade of red at this statement, and tried to cover it with a uncaring comeback, ‘Thank you for noticing," but failed miserably.
Draco just smirked even wider and looked her over one last time before taking his leave.
He made his way back to the castle where he later ate dinner, and after back to the Slytherin common room. He entered his own private chambers, a gift from his father for becoming a prefect.
He was very grateful to have his own room, even though he is used to a much larger one at home. Decorated with the traditional Slytherin green, and the finest bed and couch he could smuggle into it, Draco’s room was enough to his liking as possible.
Remembering today is a Saturday, he promptly left his room and proceeded to a secret hallway known only to those worthy enough to be told its location. He opened a well-hidden door in a shadowy corner of the hall to reveal what seemed to be a rave-like party.
Stepping through the door, Draco was met by several of his Slytherin friends, most too drunk to have a intelligible conversation. They were inside a large room, which was quite dark but illuminated by flashing lights coming from various places around the room. In one corner there was a bar, where a beautiful seventh year girl was serving drinks to staggering Slytherins.
In the center of the room was a dance floor occupied by many drunk students grinding and freaking with each other, blissfully unaware of anything going on around them. In another corner there were several students smoking various wizard cigarettes, and throwing dice that turned different colors as you rolled.
After looking around the room for a few moments, Draco made his way over to the bar where he ordered a pint of Firewhiskey, and was soon in the middle of the dance floor partying hard with the rest.
It wasn’t until 3:00 a.m. that he began to feel tired, so he shouted good byes to the wasted occupants of the room and staggered back to the entrance of his common room, where he was met with a very unhappy Filch.
"What are you doing out this late, Malfoy?" He asked irritably. ‘The guy really needs to get laid’ Draco thought with amusement.
"I was doing some rounds for Prefect duties, you never know who might be prowling around at this time of night." He lied with ease.
It seemed Filch had smelt the alcohol on Draco’s breath, however, because he sent him to Snape’s office, where Draco was surprised to find his Head of house fully dressed and grading papers. Maybe the rumors about him being a vampire weren’t so far from the truth after all.
Draco took a seat in front of his desk and awaited for his presence to be addressed. Snape looked up at him coldly and sighed. The man really was a pain in the arse, couldn’t act pleasant for two seconds.
"Well, Mr. Malfoy, I believe this is a new record. It’s the first week back from summer break and you’ve already been caught drunk in the corridors many hours past curfew. Congratulations."
Draco just yawned and stared ahead of him groggily. It really was very late.
"Yes sir." He replied dully.
Snape just sighed yet again and stood up. He strode over to his supply cabinet and pulled out a small vial. He then walked back over to Draco and handed it to him.
"That hangover potion should suffice the sickness you will undoubtably feel when you wake up this afternoon. Let us hope that we will not meet again for the same reason next week. Good night, Mr. Malfoy." Snape said curtly.
"Thank you, sir." Draco said before standing and leaving Snape’s office. He walked back to his room where he collapsed on his bed, falling asleep instantly.
A/N: How’s my Slytherin Rave, lol. Please review I love to get reviews even if they’re one word, I love them all.
Draco Malfoy woke up on Saturday morning feeling even sleepier than he had when he went to bed the night before. He had always been a restless sleeper, growing up in Malfoy Manor had taught him you are never always safe, least of all when asleep.
He had been kept awake most of the night by the immense load of homework that had been forced upon him by his cruel professors, who seemed quite keen on making his free time a living hell. But he could not simply refuse to do his homework; he had always gotten top marks, and his father would skin him alive dare he bring home a failing grade.
He performed his usual morning tasks that consisted of making himself the epitome of perfection and wealthiness. His hair was a fine blondish silver that he wore short, with strands of it falling in front of his stunning gray eyes. He had given up slicking his hair back at the end of his fifth year, and there was no dispute that the change was for the better.
Draco’s face was thin and pale, yet it had an elegance about it that made him look like a god. Tall and muscular, but not too much so, made him the desire of all the girls at Hogwarts, and the envy of all the boys. All in all, Draco was quite pleased with his appearance, and often used it to his advantage.
After dressing in his usual sleek black robes that had been custom made for him, Draco went to the Great Hall for breakfast. It was almost empty when he entered; evidence that he had indeed made up for sleep lost during the week. He took a seat at the Slytherin table next to Crabbe and Goyle, who always arrived early and stayed late to every meal.
He ignored their usual morning grunting, or what they considered conversation, and took to glancing around the Great Hall to watch its remaining occupants. Potter and his gang seemed to be off elsewhere along with most of the other Gryffindors, except for a group of fifth years girls, one he recognized as the Weasel’s younger sister, Ginny, and the other two dumb blondes that he had passed in the hallway.
He eyed Ginny curiously, she had certainly changed a lot during the summer. She looked more like a woman, and not at all like the little twat that used to follow King Weasel and idolize The-Boy-Who-Should-Have-Died. Aside from looking different, the littlest Weasley didn’t act like a little girl anymore, she acted as if any comment he could throw at her would make her see him as a bratty little boy. ‘Something I definitely do not want right now.’ He thought to himself, eyeing her curves and summer presents.
Draco watched as Potter stormed into the Great Hall up to where Ginny was chatting merrily and promptly dragged her off while scolding her profusely. Ginny seemed to be angered by his intrusion, however, because she shoved him away and strode out of the Great Hall by herself. Potter looked shocked by her telling-off, clearly he thought he was going to get over on her for something.
As Potter moved to follow her through the doors, he walked past the Slytherin table and Draco promptly called after him.
"You’re lucky, Potter, she looked pissed enough to bitch-slap you. Then you’d have a red hand print to match the gash on your face."
Harry glared at him but chose to say nothing, it was clear he was not having a good morning. Draco laughed and finished his breakfast, deciding to take a stroll around the grounds, Crabbe and Goyle in tow.
They walked around the lake, Draco leading their small group, enjoying the crisp autumn weather. Draco would never admit it to anyone, but his favorite season was when the leaves changed color and decorated the usually spotless grass. He enjoyed seeing things in disarray, rather than sickeningly neat and perfect. He supposed it was because he grew up in a mansion that was always sparkling neat and clean, along with everything he ever owned.
Draco was glad he wore his cloak; the air seemed to be getting colder by the day, something he did not like quite as much. He hated things that were cold, things and people alike. Many people describe Draco as cold, but that was another trait of his father’s that had rubbed off on him, not to the full extent of Lucius, as everyone assumed.
He sighed at the thought of his father. Lucius had shamed the family name by getting himself shipped off to Azkaban, and ruined any respect Draco had previously had for him. As far as he was concerned, his Father should not have gotten involved with the Dark Lord if it meant blatantly doing things that could easily get him arrested, no matter the cause.
Draco also thought the Dark Lord a fool for not being able to simply kill a person as dumb as Harry Potter at infancy. Draco was very surprised that Potter is still alive without Voldemort trying to kill him every few minutes; he gets himself into enough life-threatening situations to have died several times already.
He was glad that with his Father locked up in Azkaban he was free to do whatever he liked, so he wouldn’t have to become the next mindless henchman for an even more mindless freak that is bent on taking over the world. Draco hated being at anyone’s beck and call, and was disgusted at his father for being the lapdog of the Dark Lord.
As they approached the Quidditch Pitch, Draco could see the figures of people on broomsticks flying at fast speeds, clearly in the middle of a practice. As they drew closer he could also make out the scarlet color of their uniforms, which meant pothead was among team.
Draco watched as the team landed on the ground, looking tired and worked. He spotted the flaming red hair of the Weasel King bobbing next to the jet black mop of Potter’s.
The last person to exit the pitch, he noticed, was Ginny Weasley. Draco was shocked at how good she looked in Quidditch robes, or rather, how good she made them look. He commanded Crabbe and Goyle to wait as he walked up to her casually, watching her as she let her hair down from the tight bun it had been confined in.
Her hair fell down her back like a red waterfall, and he resisted the sudden urge to run his fingers through it. She turned to glance at him when he was about five feet away from her, and gave him a bored look.
"Well, if it isn’t the littlest Weasel, coming in from a tiring Quidditch practice. How is life under Potter’s reign of captaincy?" He asked with a smirk.
She glared at him coldly, but was surprised at how civil he was being.
"Well, Ferret boy, life was fine until you showed up. What do you want?" She responded coolly.
Draco refrained from answering the way he would have liked, as it probably would have earned him a slap in the face. Instead, he decided to be pleasant, or as pleasant as a Malfoy can be speaking to a Weasley.
"I saw you tell off Potter for grabbing you at breakfast. You were quite civil with him, I would have knocked him into next week."
Ginny quirked an eyebrow at this statement and smirked.
"Because we all want your level of self-control, right Malfoy? It must be hard for you, living with all of us lesser mortals."
Draco was angered that she dare mock him, but he held back. Why was he being so civil to a Weasel? Dirt poor, a muggle-lover, and a Weasley were not very endearing qualities. Yet here he was, letting her insult him. Oh, look, the little green men are helping Filch give out candy to students.
"What do you want anyway, Malfoy? There has to be some reason you’re speaking to me." Ginny said with annoyance. Draco smirked and decided to end in his favor.
"Just wanted to let you know," He said in an undertone, "Your thong is showing."
Sure enough, through the tight white pants of her Quidditch uniform, Draco could make out the distinct bright pinkness of the front of her thong. Ginny turned a bright shade of red at this statement, and tried to cover it with a uncaring comeback, ‘Thank you for noticing," but failed miserably.
Draco just smirked even wider and looked her over one last time before taking his leave.
He made his way back to the castle where he later ate dinner, and after back to the Slytherin common room. He entered his own private chambers, a gift from his father for becoming a prefect.
He was very grateful to have his own room, even though he is used to a much larger one at home. Decorated with the traditional Slytherin green, and the finest bed and couch he could smuggle into it, Draco’s room was enough to his liking as possible.
Remembering today is a Saturday, he promptly left his room and proceeded to a secret hallway known only to those worthy enough to be told its location. He opened a well-hidden door in a shadowy corner of the hall to reveal what seemed to be a rave-like party.
Stepping through the door, Draco was met by several of his Slytherin friends, most too drunk to have a intelligible conversation. They were inside a large room, which was quite dark but illuminated by flashing lights coming from various places around the room. In one corner there was a bar, where a beautiful seventh year girl was serving drinks to staggering Slytherins.
In the center of the room was a dance floor occupied by many drunk students grinding and freaking with each other, blissfully unaware of anything going on around them. In another corner there were several students smoking various wizard cigarettes, and throwing dice that turned different colors as you rolled.
After looking around the room for a few moments, Draco made his way over to the bar where he ordered a pint of Firewhiskey, and was soon in the middle of the dance floor partying hard with the rest.
It wasn’t until 3:00 a.m. that he began to feel tired, so he shouted good byes to the wasted occupants of the room and staggered back to the entrance of his common room, where he was met with a very unhappy Filch.
"What are you doing out this late, Malfoy?" He asked irritably. ‘The guy really needs to get laid’ Draco thought with amusement.
"I was doing some rounds for Prefect duties, you never know who might be prowling around at this time of night." He lied with ease.
It seemed Filch had smelt the alcohol on Draco’s breath, however, because he sent him to Snape’s office, where Draco was surprised to find his Head of house fully dressed and grading papers. Maybe the rumors about him being a vampire weren’t so far from the truth after all.
Draco took a seat in front of his desk and awaited for his presence to be addressed. Snape looked up at him coldly and sighed. The man really was a pain in the arse, couldn’t act pleasant for two seconds.
"Well, Mr. Malfoy, I believe this is a new record. It’s the first week back from summer break and you’ve already been caught drunk in the corridors many hours past curfew. Congratulations."
Draco just yawned and stared ahead of him groggily. It really was very late.
"Yes sir." He replied dully.
Snape just sighed yet again and stood up. He strode over to his supply cabinet and pulled out a small vial. He then walked back over to Draco and handed it to him.
"That hangover potion should suffice the sickness you will undoubtably feel when you wake up this afternoon. Let us hope that we will not meet again for the same reason next week. Good night, Mr. Malfoy." Snape said curtly.
"Thank you, sir." Draco said before standing and leaving Snape’s office. He walked back to his room where he collapsed on his bed, falling asleep instantly.
A/N: How’s my Slytherin Rave, lol. Please review I love to get reviews even if they’re one word, I love them all.
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