Violence, Voices, and Blood...Who's Bringing The Chips?

Father

Draco Malfoy

Draco was sitting at his large oak desk trying to figure out a subtle way of asking Lucius what he new about Parkinson's death. When he finally gave up and put the parchment back in his desk. Draco glanced at the clock on the wall...it is way too late to be worrying about this...beside... Draco folded the envelope and shoved it in his desk. It's only a matter of time before he breaks out of Azkaban anyway.

"Being the spawn of Evil Incarnate does have its benefits," Draco said to himself as got up and looked around his private room. It wasn't exceptionally large, and it was shaped like a pointed hat, but it sufficed. There was a decent sized fire place in one wall; while on the other, his four poster bed and his large oak desk which Draco was personally very pleased with. From the beginning, Lucius had wanted Draco to have his own private floo connected to Malfoy Manor. Lucius wanted the ability to get into Hogwarts any time he wanted. He thought he was being so sneaky when he set it up, but Draco was pretty sure Dumbledore knew all about it, and if he didn't want Lucius in, Lucius wasn't getting in. Draco yawned and flopped onto his bed, his face buried in his pillow.

"Hey Malfoy, You still awake?"

Draco turned around to see Blaise Zabini leaning against the open door frame.

"Yeah, I'm awake...kind of. What the do you want?" Draco drawled. He wasn't really being mean. Blaise had been one of the only actual friends he ever had. The boy was tall and lanky, with short chestnut brown hair that never needed brushing, but always seemed to be in place. To match the hair he had a pair of hazel-green eyes the glittered with untold mischief.

"Nothing really, actually I'm just here for a smoke," Blaise said, as he casually strolled over to the bed and pulled pack of cigarettes out from under the mattress.

"Why are you always hiding your paraphernalia in my room?" Draco asked, as he watched Blaise walk over to the small window and light one of the cigarettes.

"Well, it's like this, D," Blaise said taking a puff, "No one would ever suspect it of you, while Snape has searched my dorm room about five times in the last month or so. That, and Crabbe and Goyle would find them eventually and think they were candy or something." Draco rolled his eyes and flopped onto his bed. There was no point arguing with Blaise.

"Hey, shouldn't you be asleep by now anyway?" Blaise asked, wafting the smoke out the window.

"Well, it's a good thing I'm not," Draco snapped, his face still buried in a pillow.

"It's just that you have that game with that hot little red headed Gryffindor tomorrow."

"Who," Draco asked.

"You know, that little red headed number," Blaise said.

"Oh, great use of adjectives there Blaise," Draco drawled, rolling over on his side to see Blaise attempting to draw things in the air with the smoke from his cigarette.

"You know, red hair, about oh, five-two, plays seeker for Gryffindor."

"Oh. Weasley's little sister, um... what's her name. Oh yeah, Cinny," Draco said.

"Cinny, boy I hope so," Blaise said with that oh-so-familiar glint in his eye.

"Geese Blaise, don't you have any moral fiber?"

"Hey! She's what, Fifteen? As far as I'm concerned that's fair game."

"Well, you go have your wet dreams and get the hell out of my room so I can sleep."

"Fine," Blaise said tossing the butt of his cigarette out the window. "Sweet dreams princess."

"Up yours Zabini," Draco retorted as the door closed.

***

It was one o'clock in the morning, exactly eleven hours to the first Quidditch match of the season, and once again the Gryffindor's seeker was up. Ginny was sitting on one of the large couches, a pile of assorted knitted hats next to here. Lately she had begun gathering up the clothes for Dobby, who in return had been telling her about all the secret places in the castle.

"Yes Miss, right there in the statue of the one eyed crone, on the north side of the castle. Just tap it once and say dissendium, and its hump opens up and a tunnel will lead you strait to Hogsmead," Dobby said sweeping up the cobblestone floor.

However, as use full as this information might have been Ginny wasn't paying attention. She was gazing intently into the fire place debating the merits of pretending she was sick tomorrow.

They wouldn't necessarily suspect anything. After all, they don't pay enough attention to me to notice if I was sick today or not," Virginia Weasley replied.

Pardon Miss?" Dobby asked pausing in his babble.

Oh, nothing Dobby, I was just thinking out loud," Ginny said, in a dazed state.

Ginny, is that you? Why are you still awake? Who are you talking to?" from the top of the boys' staircase came the voice of her, overbearing, brother, Ron. Dobby froze in place, not sure weather or not his new friend would get into trouble for being up helping him.

Hmm, What, Oh, couldn't sleep. And I was just thinking out loud," she told him, wishing both of them would just leave so she could decide what she wanted to do tomorrow.

Oh. Well, you should go to bed soon. After all, we can't have our seeker falling off her broom. What would it look like if we lost to Slytherin? Then we would loose all the respect Harry helped us win in never once loosing to them," Ron said. Virginia could tell that he was trying to encourage her, but the comment about Harry never loosing to Slytherin when her game tomorrow would probably be the first loss to Slytherin in three years just made her feel worse.

"Thanks Ron you always know exactly what to say," Virginia said, wishing for a nuclear holocaust.

"That's 'cause I'm you big brother Gin, now its late go to bed," Ron said completely ignoring his sister's sarcasm. Virginia heard Ron walk into his dorm room and shut the door.

Ginny slowly got up, "Goodnight Dobby," I really ought to be going anyway...

***

The next day the sky had turned that ominous gray that promised rain. This didn't help Virginia's dark mood, neither did the discouraging banner "Go Weasleys," over the Slytherin bleachers help her confidence. Of course the entire school was out there which was good because they almost drowned out the Slytherins singing "Weasley is out king," They could have at least thought up a new line over the summer Ginny thought to herself, despite her apprehension her sarcasm was still functional. Madam Hooch blew the whistle and both teams took their positions. Fudge was sitting in Dumbledore's seat with a happy look on his face, despite the fact that all the other teachers behind him looked like nothing would please them more then if he spontaneously combusted right there in the stands. Especially Snape, who after last years ordeal with Dolores Umbridge didn't have a very good opinion of Fudge and besides McGonagall had been one of the hardest teachers for Fudge to work with.

Fudge cleared his thought, and trying to act as casual as possible said, "You know I just can't seem to remember what the pass word to my office is. I could have sworn it was just my title "headmaster Fudge but the door just won't budge." On hearing this Snape got a strange expression on his face that could nearly have been called a smile, but was quickly turned back into his usual scowl as the captain approached to shank hands.

When Alicia and the Slytherin captain, Montague shook hands, Virginia was about ready to fake a heart attack, or maybe I won't even have to fake it, she thought gripping her broom tighter. Madam Hooch seemed to notice this and gave her a reassuring nod.

On the other side of the pitch Draco was desperately trying not to laugh at the way Montague and the Gryffindor captain were shaking hands. First off, they might not be able to fly since not one bit of circulation was getting to either of their hands, and they weren't blinking. Before he made a complete arse of himself, Draco decided to look intimidating and glower at the opposing team. Draco scanned them all with his eyes and then he spotted what he really wanted to look at. She was but a little mouse of a girl with the same unruly carrot colored hair that ran rampant in her family. She looked like she was going to bolt. As if she could feel someone staring at her, she lifted up her head and gave him a look that could have burned a whole through dragon's hide. She doesn't even know me and she hates me, I must be some type of ultimate evil to them Draco thought to himself. Thinking of all those red heads with crosses and Holy Water, Draco shuddered. That's the last time I let Zabini drag me into one of those Muggle Theater things, Draco thought, remembering the movie Blaise had taken him to with the vampires. What makes them think that crosses and Holy Water would do something anyway? But Drano had to crash that train of thought as Madam Hooch blew her whistle and they all took off.

Virginia heard the whistle and kicked off high into the sky. She flew above the game and caught her breath. Her heart was pounding and she was shaking. It wasn't that it was her first game, but this was the first against Slytherin. She looked around and saw a green speck on the other side of the field. Come on Virginia, you can't lose this to Malloy. Ignoring the pounding in her ears she began circling the field. She slowed down, her eyes looking for the tiniest bit of gold.

Meanwhile on the ground, Harry was sulking while, Hermione was cheering on Ron, who was trying desperately to keep the Slytherins from killing him, or his sister.

"If he would quit watching his sister, he would probably do a better job of watching the Quaffle," Harry commented morosely.

"He's just concerned," Hermione supposed, trying to keep Harry from running off. Ever since the beginning of summer, he had been exceptionally moody on account of, well, everything that had happened last year. And there was also the fact that the entire school thought he was responsible for a double homicide. This naturally wasn't doing well for his psyche and in Hermione's opinion he was spending far too much time alone, it wasn't healthy.

"Another ten points to Slytherin, the score: Slytherin fifty: Gryffindor thirty," Luna commented quite lazily, as if she couldn't care a wit who won. "Oh, look, Malfoy seems to have found the Snitch."

Harry looked up and sure enough there was a green streak shooting down the field. He is never going to let me live this down, Harry thought bitterly.

"Miss Weasley is diving through the game and is also after the Snitch."

Everyone stopped paying attention to the rest of the game as they saw the tiny red streak shoot through the game dodging all the players and balls as she went.

"She's miraculously gaining on Malfoy."

All was silent as the two players went neck and neck after the Snitch. Suddenly, the Snitch dived down and both shot after it, but while Virginia pulled up as they came up to the ground, Malfoy caught the bottom of the broom and slammed into the ground, landing on his arm.

"And Malfoy slams spectacularly into the turf. The Snitch is now... wait, what's that? Why, is that the Snitch Ginny's hold up? Yes, it is. Gryffindor wins 180 to fifty. Congratulations Gryffindor," and with that quiet unheard announcement, Luna regained her average composer, and, looking like she didn't know where she was, nor did she really care, she delicately jumped off the podium, and began skipping off towards the castle.

***

Ginny landed, still clutching the snitch as a group of Gryffindors came toward her. She was still in a daze when Ron slapped her on the back and said with a huge grin on his face, "Yep that's our little Ginny. Ginny's mid was racing a mile per minute, I won, I actually one...

On the opposite side of the field Draco was picking himself up off the ground. A burst of pain shot through his arm when he put pressure on it. Great, he thought, my house mates are going to kill me...

***

Draco slowly staggered into the Slytherin common room, caked in mud and a black eye forming and his arm still aching from where he fell. In other words, he wasn't at all in the mood for what awaited him. As he stepped inside the dark room, he was met with the gloomy and foreboding eyes of his house mates.

As if life didn't suck enough, Draco thought as his eyes wondered through the crowd.

"Wonderful, Malfoy," Draco turned around to see--of all people-- Tracey Davis. After Parkinson's death she had assumed the spot of smartest girl in Slytherin. And as far as Draco knew, or cared, for that matter, she was. "Terrific, stupendous, how do you do it?" she sneered.

" A lot of talent and a really nice health care plan, if you must know," Draco said through gritted teeth, feeling much like someone had shoved an ice pick though his skull, and hadn't bothered to remove it yet.

"Lets see, five out of six incredible losses Malfoy, now that is just skill right there," Tracey went on, oblivious to the fact that Draco's normally ice cold features were melting away to reveal one pissed off sixteen-year-old.

"Wow, astute observation, did you get Goyle to help you with that one?" Draco sneered, wondering if he could pull out the ice pick and stab her with it.

"Just quit, Malfoy. The entire house is sick of dealing with your aristocratic attitude," said a voice from the door. Draco turned around to see his captain, Montague, leaning against a chair giving him the same look all the others were doing. "Lets face it, you just can't do this," Montague continued, a slight edge of guilt in his voice. "You're an excellent flyer, just not when it comes to Quidditch. I'm holding a practice tomorrow and if any body is interested, please show up.

Draco didn't even hear the last part, his mind was reeling. THEY, get rid ME, they just can't do that. All of his life Draco had been the Slytherin poster child, and this bit of news was more than an already damaged Draco could stand.

Not even bothering to say a word he trudged out of the common room. This can't be happening to me, he kept repeating to himself as he walked into his bedroom.

"Damn man, you look like shit," a voice said from the bed.

Draco turned around to see Blaise lying on the bed reading one of his trashy magazines. "Thanks, mate; you always know just what to say," Draco said as he trudged into his bathroom. The Bathroom to say the least was worse than his room. It was small and cramped, but the alternative was sharing a shower with his other house mates. A knife seemed to enter Draco's stomach when he thought about the conversation he had just had in the common room.

"So, did they give you the boot?" Blaise asked not looking up from his magazine.

"You knew about that?" Draco yelled from the bathroom.

"Sure, everyone did, Tracey has it in for you man," Blaise said "That's just my life then," Draco said, picking up a towel.

"Come on D, it's not like you were good or anything, you just did it because you have Harry Potter envy, it can happen to the best of us.

"Mind if I bathe?" Draco said, choosing to ignore that last comment.

"Sure, you stink on ice," Blaise said through his magazine. "Oh and you may want to think about going to the nurse. I'm no doctor but I don't think your arm is supposed to bend that way."

What I wouldn't give for a private room, Draco thought as he took off his Quidditch robes.