potterstinks in nocturne_alley: No subject.

Picture this if you will: there I was, setting up my materials for Double Potions neatly this morning, as I always do: my cauldron, my ingredients, my quill, and, of course, my ink. And what should happen then, you ask? Nothing short of scapegoating. That's right, scapegoating. Weasley and Potter were sitting behind me, and when I turned around to ask Weasley a Potions related question, my bottle of ink turned over all on its own on Weasley's essay. Of course, it certainly wasn't my fault.

But did the Weasel see that? Of course not. In all of his impoverished, redheaded rage, he thought that I turned ink on his Charms essay on purpose. As though I, a Prefect, would sabotage someone's work!

Well, of course, he threw a frog's spleen at me, which was just unnecessary. An animal innard. I ask you, was that called for? Oh, but reason has no place with the Weasel!

Fortunately, Professor Snape arrived just in time to take points from Gryffindor for Weasley's uncouth display of immaturity, and from what I assumed, I could go on enjoying my day without any further disturbances. However, it seems that was not the case, which, in hindsight, I probably should have realised, given that Weasley has to rely on anger to get him through life instead of money.

After a dreary Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson, at lunch I was informing a third year Slytherin about my Andretti 2003, the racing broom My Father sent me ages ago. Of course, it's quite advanced in comparison to the Firebolt, which has far too many problems to even begin listing.

Weasley, of course, doesn't seem to have anything better to do with his time than to listen to my conversations, and I can't really blame him. I'm sure my conversations are more exciting than anything he's ever heard. I imagine the poor boy is simply jealous of me, so of course he has to act like a complete barbarian around me at all times to express his bottled up jealousy. So, he came over and challenged me! In the middle of lunch. You would think that one could have certain courtesies, such as leaving me alone when I'm trying to digest. But no, no, no courtesies for the Weasel.

He insulted my Quidditch abilities.

As though he would know anything about flying. He's just a Beater. All he does is hit a ball with a bat and hope he doesn't accidentally aim it at his own prickly head. As though I need to rely on a broomstick to win at Quidditch. Of course, I suppose he wouldn't know anything about flying a real broomstick. I suspect his is just a load of matchsticks pasted together with a bit of his sister's hair at the end. You know how coarse red hair can be.

Anyway, when I told him I could sweep the pitch with him without a broomstick, he challenged me to a Quidditch face-off. Again, I say, in the middle of lunch. Then, without further ado, Granger and Potter came over, and the Weasel suckered them into playing as well. Of course, I'd never seen the Mudblood on a broomstick, but there must be some reason the Weasel is dating her, so I thought it might get a bit interesting. Pansy and Millicent joined us, as I certainly wasn't going to play all three of them by myself. Of course, I could have easily beaten them, but I'd like to make them think it's at least a fair game.

As I'm the Slytherin captain and there was no captain to be seen amongst the Holy Trinity, I had to go get a Quaffle, Bludger, and, of course, the Snitch, while the rest sneaked out to the pitch. I'm surprised the entire Hall didn't join us en masse, as Potter's fans surely saw him leaving, but we were relatively alone. Of course, Weasley accused me of cursing the balls, as though I'd thought this was going to happen months in advance and had just been sitting around waiting for it to happen. Yes, Weasley, that's exactly what I do. This was all part of my grand scheme. I'm so disappointed that you caught on.

Meanwhile, Potter was conspicuously silent, which makes me wonder if he was trying to psych us out. Sorry, Potter, Slytherins don't fall that easily.

Anyway, eventually we got the little impromptu match started, Pansy and the Mudblood acting as Chasers. Millicent, of course, is a far better Beater than Weasley, so I almost felt sorry for the Gryffindors. Or rather, I would have, if they weren't so sorry already. So the teams were rather evenly matched, with a lack of Keepers, which should have made it easy for Pansy to score against the Gryffindors. But she kept dropping the bloody Quaffle, like it was a game of sodding Hot Potato. I had to stop and tell her she had to put it through the hoop. Of course, Granger wasn't doing well at all. She kept catching the Quaffle and holding onto it for dear life.

Once we got up into the air, though, Potter seemed much more active, as compared to the apathetic zombie he's become lately. Or rather, I shouldn't say apathetic, as he always seems fixed with a sour look, which perhaps comes from sitting on your wand. However, in the air, Potter was vicious, probably because I beat him at Quidditch last year. Were the memories too painful, Potter? He kept crashing into me, like he was trying to knock me off my bloody broom. Of course, I had no choice but to give as good as I got, or rather, better.

I saw Pansy got in a nice body slam to Granger, which I suppose I'll have to give her kudos for, despite the fact that she nearly hit me in the head when she dropped the Quaffle immediately after. Honestly, how hard is it to hold onto a sodding ball?

Anyway, I'm not sure what happened after that, as we were far too busy trying to murder each other on brooms (fortunately for him, I left my wand in my knapsack on the pitch), and then Professor Sinistra came out looking like she'd just rolled out of a hangover and screeching at us because, apparently, Millicent and Weasley broke their bats, they were aiming their bludgers at each other so hard, and Potter and I had no idea where the Snitch was.

Then Sinistra yelled something about us waking her up and using the Quidditch supplies unsolicited, and she gave all of us detention! I don't even know what we have to do yet, but Christ on a broomstick if this isn't Weasley's fault.

And the score at the end of the match? 0 - 0.

hannahabbott @ 2002-10-15 07:59 pm UTC

Oh, do dry up Malfoy.

And please refrain from calling Hermione the 'M' word. It is hardly suitable behaviour for a Prefect.

H. Abbott

potterstinks @ 2002-10-15 08:04 pm UTC

Please refrain from talking to me. It is hardly suitable behaviour for a nobody.

D. Malfoy