Tension was high in the halls come Friday, as everybody had something to say about which Quidditch team was to win on Saturday morning. The Slytherins were even more rowdy and I had to break up a shouting match in the entrance hall between a few students from my house and some Gryffindors.

Draco looked lost. Harry felt horrible for him, and had told me this many times. Though it felt like forever ago, it had only been about a week and a half since Draco had been terminated from the team, and I thought that a lot of the tension in the hallways was mostly due to the Slytherins' hope that their new seeker would be alright. Their new seeker did have experience, but they had taken a serious risk in throwing Draco off the team, and that I think was what bothered Draco most. He knew very well he was better, and understood that they must have had a hell of a lot against him if they were risking so much to be shot of him. I had asked him numerous times if he wanted me to do something about it. He had replied no every time and meant it, and I respected his decision. Yet still, I wished there was more I could do.

I noticed immediately (no no surprise on my part) that there was something peculiar about the way Draco was acting. I knew him, and I knew that he had a very slow fuse. He was Slytherin enough to do a lot of damage if he thought through his actions, and I hoped very much he would not do something to make things worse. The look in his eyes that I saw -that quiet feeling of injustice brewing in one's soul - is very dangerous in a Slytherin. Gryffindors do stupid things that are over quick. Ravenclaws in a few cases are intelligent enough to know revenge is not worth it, and if they aren't they do something that is clever and almost unnoticed except by the victims. Hufflepuffs are usually split into two types: the ones that go to authority and with their innocent, seemingly vulnerable nature, guarantee plenty of punishment for the one that wronged them; and the ones that gossip to undermine status. But Slytherins ... you can never know what a Slytherin will do. They are guarded, they are calm and collected on the outside, and then a storm is released with all the intelligence of a Ravenclaw's revenge, the destructiveness of a Hufflepuff's, the scale of a Gryffindor's and a twist uniquely their own. Years of observation had helped me to form these guidelines, and while there certainly were exceptions, they were often quite accurate. Still, with all my years of closely paying attention to the ways of my Slytherins, I had no idea what Draco would do, and quite frankly, I was nervous.

So naturally, when I awoke Saturday morning and went down to the Great Hall, I was even more nervous than Friday. This only escalated as Minerva and I discussed the possible outcomes of the match. The news by now was all over the school, or at least it had gone through the student population, so I was quite sure she knew why Draco had been replaced. I could see it in her eyes, and I knew very well that she was worried too. My suspicions were confirmed.

"This is one of those things that might just be better to let slide," she murmured to me as I spread marmalade on my toast. "I hope Draco sees that. Any action would be foolhardy in this situation."

"I quite agree," I said back, voice low. "I am not quite so worried about what the students can do to him, I worry more about their parents."

Minerva nodded curtly as Laura sat down next to her and poured herself a cup of coffee, no cream or sugar. That only irritated Minerva further.

"I wish you wouldn't drink so much of that horrid stuff," Minerva said, being a strong advocate of tea.

"If you slept as little as me you would drink this much coffee too," Laura scoffed before taking a sip. She sighed, immediately looking much more cheerful.

"Who are you supporting?" I asked her.

"Gryffindor I think," she said apologetically.

"Oh, I'm not offended," I assured her quite sincerely. "I thought I would never say this, but today I would much rather cheer for Gryffindor too."

"Slytherins been giving you a hard time?" she asked, amused.

"You could say that," I muttered, scanning the mass of green that was the Slytherin table.

Draco was nowhere to be seen. There was a gnawing feeling in my gut that I could not escape. The teams stood up, and amongst plenty of cheering they headed out the doors and off to the pitch. Harry glanced back at me as Gryffindor supporters, clad in red and gold, patted him on the back. I inclined my head slightly, as I always did to wish him luck, and even though I knew Draco's absence was bothering him, he smiled slightly. I ignored the fact that Minerva had been watching our silent display and now had the same look on her face as Albus did when he was handed a large bag of sweets. Women.

The walk out to the pitch was uneventful, and all the while I scanned the crowds. Still no Draco. By then I admit I was thinking that he had probably just stayed in bed, providing any of the Slytherins actually let him rather than make him come and suffer through the game.

The cold wind rattled through the stands as a brutal match began. The Gryffindor supporters roared loudly at the Slytherins, who were waving flags and booing. Meanwhile play continued. Ten minutes into the game and I still could not see Draco anywhere. I decided he had most definitely skipped the match.

"Well would you look at that folks!" cried the commentator, Zacharias Smith, into the megaphone. "Quite an interesting display over with the Gryffindors. Isn't that Draco Malfoy?"

I swore extremely colourfully, earning me sharp looks and scathing comments about ‘young professors' from the older staff members in the teachers' portion of the stands.

"Yes, that is definitely Malfoy. I wonder what the Slytherins think of that." The green clad supporters yelled in outrage. "Well, there you have it folks."

I had finally seen what Draco had been planning, and his plan had made play stall to a complete stop. He had showed up late to the game, and quite purposefully I imagined. His plan certainly did not have the trademark of a Slytherin, the intelligence of a Ravenclaw or the strangely biting quality of a Hufflepuff's. No, oh no ... his plan was extremely crazy, and very, very Gryffindor (in more ways than one), and I wondered immediately if he had even been placed in the right house, for his rash insanity astounded me.

Every bit of skin that was showing on Draco was painted gold and red, he was wearing a Gryffindor flag as a cape, and on his head was a tall crown that was flashing bright colours with Weasley painted upon it in bold letters that I could clearly make out across the stands. Harry, far above the crowd stayed hovering in the air on his broom, gaping down below him. Ron Weasley looked thunderstruck from where he was guarding the goalposts. But it was nothing compared to how the Slytherins looked. In their eyes, this was nothing short of treason. I had to sit down because I couldn't breathe amongst the profanities being screamed at Draco. Minerva asked me if I wasn't feeling well, and I asked her if the snitch was gold. She had finally caught sight of Draco, and she too sat down.

"Oh dear," she muttered. "They are going to kill him."

I nodded, watching Draco lead a rowdy chorus of Weasley is our King, the Gryffindors having gotten over the initial shock and now beginning to enjoy the general outrage of the Slytherin supporters.

"Merlin," I muttered breathlessly as he turned around, and standing stock still as he stared straight at the Slytherin captain. It was a very clear sign to all. He then grabbed something from his pocket and threw it down at his feet. The Gryffindor side erupted in smoke, and when it cleared he was gone. I pushed my way through the rows, ignoring the other staff protesting and I leaped down the stairs, faster than I ever thought possible. I arrived at the exit to the stadium and looked across the grounds just in time to see a streak of red and gold sprinting to the castle as though death himself was following close behind.

I leaned against the wooden walls of the pitch, legs wobbling from exertion, cold fear gripping my belly as I coughed violently. I spat crimson into the snow.

"What have you done Draco?" I whispered hoarsely as I watched him run.

Draco looked back as he neared the top of the slope. He faltered for a moment, looking straight at me. Then he looked away and kept running, like he feared me as much as any of the other Sytherins. I felt sicker than I had in a long time, and it was not because of any illness. It is a dangerous thing to show the enemy where your heart lies, and that was just what Draco had done.