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Descendants of the Death Eaters by Cariel
Chapter 17 : Gryffindor versus Ravenclaw
 
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It was finally Saturday and the game Gryffindor had been waiting for was finally taking place. The only thing they weren’t expecting was that the Slytherins were looking forward to this game as well. The Ravenclaw team had been out on the Quidditch pitch three hours prior to the start of the game and their captain had made sure every female member did their hair the same way.

Harry, Ron, Dean, and the rest of the Gryffindor team were listening to Seamus’ pre-game speech which ended with, “Now men …” He looked around, making eye contact with each and every one of them. “Do NOT under any circumstances think of the gorgeous Ravenclaw women as women! They are the ENEMY!” He said the last part specifically to Harry who couldn’t help but snigger. “I’m serious Potter!”

“I know Finnigan,” Harry said smiling.

They grabbed their brooms and headed out to the field where Madame Hooch began the game. Ron looked around whenever he had a spare second to scan the stands for any sign of Hermione, but he didn’t spot her. “Figures,” he muttered, striking the next Bludger so hard he nearly knocked a team-mate off their broom.

“Watch what your doin’, Wealsey!” Seamus yelled. “Eyes on the playing field!”

Within the first five minutes of the game, Draco and Laura finally found their place in the stands. “Aw sod it all!” Draco cursed after spotting his father and mother in the adjacent stands where Professors Snape, Wen, Flitwick, and Sprout sat.

Laura’s eyes went from the Malfoys to a tall shaded figure looming just behind the stands. The man stepped from the shadows and her eyes widened in horror.

If it wasn’t for her grip on Draco’s arm that was so tight she was starting to draw blood, he wouldn’t have noticed what she was looking at. “My father,” she breathed, just loud enough for Draco to hear.

“Things have gone from unpleasant to sod all to hell,” he said as Roger Marwood took a seat in the stands behind the Malfoys. “What the bloody hell’s he doing here?”

The two rivaling families were conversing in what seemed like pleasant conversation, but anyone with half a brain would know that it was all a hypocritical sham. The hostile undercurrents in their seemingly genial exchange were apparent from their facial expressions and body language even from kilometers away.

“I don’t know,” she answered, still staring at the stands. Quickly, she turned to face Draco, panicking. “We can’t let them see us here, like this…together!”

“What do you mean? Of course we can.” Draco pulled her closer to him, so he could tell her without anyone else hearing, “Keeping up appearances, remember, Riana. We can’t stop now before phase two is complete.”

Her furrowed brow softened as he called her Riana. No one ever called her that before, yet it sounded so familiar…so personal. “You’re right,” she exhaled. She couldn’t help but remain worried about what their parents would say when they found out about their little ruse.

The Ravenclaw Captain substituted for an injured Beater and all eyes were on her as she flew into position. The entire male portion of the Gryffindor team was enamored with her visage, so much so that they couldn’t peel their eyes from her, let alone concentrate of the game. The female members were so infuriated they wanted to call the game off so they could beat some sense into their team-mates. It appeared that Madame Hooch couldn’t care less about the boys going nutty over some girl and Andersson didn’t even notice. The Ravenclaw team felt the Quidditch Cup was in the bag.

“Funny what a simple intoxication spell can do,” Laura grinned impishly.

As long as Gryffindor didn’t win Quidditch Cup, Draco was satisfied with phase two. He caught his father looking over at the Slytherin stands, no doubt scanning the crowd for his son. With his slightly wounded arm now swung about Laura’s shoulders, he directed her attention to his injury. “I could have done without nails digging into my skin though,” he said slightly morose.

She didn’t know she had cut him. “I’m sorry, darling. Shall I kiss it?” she offered, but his lips were already devouring hers.

He knew very well his father was watching them at that very moment. It was as if he could feel his father’s eyes scorching holes into his back. When he broke away from a breathless Laura, he no longer saw his parents in the stands. “Pay-back time,” he mumbled.

“What?” she asked, once she had caught her breath. She prayed her father wouldn’t try to take her away from Hogwarts, especially after she and Draco had gone through so much trouble planning the downfall of Gryffindor House’s ego.

Without answering her, he deliberately left her alone in the stands so he could face his parents alone. She didn’t follow him, figuring what was happening and not wanting to leave the security of the Slytherin stands. With so many witnesses, he wouldn’t abduct her now…he couldn’t. Dumbledore was around somewhere too, right? Her heartbeat quickened and she suddenly felt cold, so she drew her cloak more tightly around her shoulders.

Around four in the afternoon, the spell on Andersson wore off and Harry caught the snitch. He was disappointed to find out that Ravenclaw had won, but thought it was odd that Gryffindor racked up about the same amount of points that Slytherin had in their game versus Ravenclaw. He shrugged it off as he went in to shower and change.

Ron was preoccupied wondering why Hermione hadn’t at least shown up to support them. Well, if not for him, for Harry at least. Weren’t they still chummy? He thought it was a best friend’s duty to support their friends at games. What was her problem? It was Saturday. Why would she be doing homework on a weekend? She was Hermione.

“Maybe she had other things to do,” Dean offered, knowing what was bothering Ron.

“Whatever,” was all that Ron could say in response. He didn’t want to talk about it anyhow.

Laura was shuffled along with the other Slytherins as they filed down from the stands. Before rounding the corner, she heard Draco and his parents conversing in a not-so-pleasant manner.

“I had nothing to do whatsoever with the death of Lucretia Marwood,” Lucius informed his son.

Draco was sceptical. His father had lied to him all his life. Why should he believe him now? “Right.”

“Why should you care?” his mother coldly questioned. “Have you started fancying that tart?”

“I told you already, mother, she’s a toy, a plaything. She doesn’t mean anything to me. As you suggested, father, I plan on breaking her heart. What better way to assure the family claims?” Draco claimed regally.

“You know we expect more than that from you,” Lucius drawled.

“You might as well get back with that Weasley girl than touch that whoreson’s daughter!” Narcissa seethed icily.

Before Laura could hear more, large hands gripped her shoulders. “It’s been awhile, Lauriana.”

“Father?”

“Roger, what brings you here,” Professor Dumbledore interceded.

“Visiting my daughter who has fascinatingly been able to avoid me for over a year, Albus,” Roger sneered. “Now she’s coming with me.”

“She’s not leaving.” Dumbledore stared at him assuredly. “But you are.” Dumbledore summoned Professor Snape and Wen to escort Marwood off the premises while Dumbledore ushered Laura inside the castle.



After showering and changing, Harry, Ron, and their male team-mates avoided the girls who would probably never forgive them for losing the game no matter how many butterbeers they bought for them at Honeydukes. They retired early after eating supper as there was no cause or reason to celebrate. “Bet you’re glad Hermione wasn’t there after all,” Dean commented to Ron as they entered through the Fat Lady.

Ron shrugged his shoulders without replying. He actually wanted her to be there even though he, along with the rest of his male team-mates had been captivated by the charming Ravenclaw Captain. He missed Hermione’s condescending glare and her clever remarks even if they were demeaning to him personally.

Ron found Hermione sitting at a table in the common room surrounded by books. He sat across from her with his own books and coursework as if she wasn’t even there. He knew she spotted him walk over, but went on with the ruse anyway.

Hermione refused to raise her head from the table. She was still angry with him for ignoring her, so now it was his turn to be ignored. She’d give him a taste of his own medicine!

Ron was impatient and frustrated with her arrogance. Why couldn’t she say some witty comment about how he was doing his coursework? She could demand to know why he had the nerve to sit across from her at least! But she wasn’t saying anything, let alone looking in his direction. He didn’t receive so much as an icy glare. It finally dawned on him that she was trying to get back at him for not speaking to her. So this was how she was going to play it! He wasn’t about to let her win, so he resorted to childish behaviour in order to make her speak to him.

Ron tapped his foot on the ground to provoke her, but it wasn’t working because the sound wasn’t loud enough. Once his foot tired, he started rapping the tip of his quill on a piece of parchment as if he was trying to get the ink to flow. He tapped again and again in rhythmic drumming, ardently staring at the parchment.

Hermione’s eyes darted from her own work to the incessantly tapping quill. She tried her best to ignore it, but the empty room magnified the annoying sound. “I know what you’re doing and it’s not going to work!”

He smiled because it already had. “What?” he asked, playing dumb.

“THAT!” She grabbed the quill out of his hands.

“I need that…” Ron said, trying to grab the quill back from her, but she held it out of his reach. “Give it here!”

“No!” she replied defiantly.

“Well I can’t very well finish my work if you don’t give it back.”

“And I can’t study with you tapping your quill on the desk.”

“The ink wasn’t flowing!”

“I don’t care! Just go someplace else to tap it then!” She threw the quill on the desk and closed two of the books she had been studying from.

Not wanting her to leave he said, “Just- stay here, I’ll go to the library and leave you in peace.” He got up from his seat and started packing up his things when Harry came over to them.

“You lot talking again?” Harry wondered aloud. “It’s about time.” He sat adjacent from them at the table with his own study materials.

“No!” they irately denied at the same time. They shot fierce glances at each other for speaking identically.

Harry smirked. Looks like things were looking up, or so he thought. “Why didn’t you come to the game, Hermione?”

“Oh, I’m sorry Harry! I just had so much to do…plus I started making outlines for the N.E.W.Ts…”

As Harry and Hermione friendly conversed, Ron remembered what Seamus had told him about Hermione and Harry in the library a few weeks ago. “I’ll just leave!” Ron declared. “Wouldn’t want to interrupt an intimate study session.”

“What do you mean by that?!” Hermione demanded indignantly.

“I heard about you throwing yourself at Harry-snoggin’ him in the library!” Ron shoved his books under one arm. “Don’t think you can deny it either!”

“I-” Hermione was at a loss for words. She looked to Harry for support, but he sat dumbly, pretending not to listen to their argument and wanting to stay the hell out of it. She closed her mouth and sat down without another word. What had she done?

Ron stood there a moment, waiting for a rebuttal that never came. So it was true. She wouldn’t even rebuff it? He stalked to his room and slammed the door. They were still fighting, but at least they were speaking to one another. That was a step forward, wasn’t it? But why had Hermione kissed Harry? The thought remained heavily on his mind and he thought it’d drive him mad. Why Harry? He shook his head. At least she didn’t fancy Malfoy.



Once alone, and back to Slytherin Tower, Draco lunged at Laura, causing her to fly into his room. Without speaking, he ravaged her lips, yanking at clothing. After while, she was moaning his name, begging, wishing he felt something for her, but knowing he didn’t. He was so forceful, it seemed as if she wasn’t really there and the tears streaming down her face were non-existent.

She felt his fingers clawing the back of her neck, but she would say nothing, save his name. Her head began to ache as fiercely as his kiss.

Draco seemed angry, resentful as if something dawned on him that had been until then inconceivable. It was as if he was trying to convince himself of something, but she couldn’t figure out what. When he tired of her, he commanded, “Get out.” He pushed her away from him.

“What?”

“I said, get out.”

Confused, she pulled her clothes on, but made no move to leave.

“GET OUT!” He went over to his door, pulling her with him. He thrust the door open, pushed her out, and slammed it.

She didn’t care that there were people in the common room as she yelled, “I’m not some cheap whore you can toss about! You can’t do something like this without explanation and think you can get away with it Draco Malfoy!” She banged her fists on his door, cursing that her wand was still in his room. Just one tiny hint…just an ounce of expression of true caring for her and she wouldn’t have rushed out of Slytherin Tower sobbing. He hadn’t a drop of caring in his being!

She didn’t notice the sun of late February was setting. She didn’t even notice it had started to rain a sleety shower which only enhanced her frosty mood. The rain poured down as she trudged around the grounds. Without knowing her destination, she finally fell to her knees in something between grass and gravel, grasping it in her hands. With grass and gravel in her hands, she hurled it in front of her, succumbing to wracking sobs. She felt like such a fool.



A/N: bwhahahaa, I like being evil, evil is fun…more manipulation and evilness headed your way…


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