More Than Just a Pureblood

Chapter Fifteen |Year Three|

Chapter Fifteen |Year Three|

A week later, Amelie was in the stands along with Draco and Daphne, watching the Quidditch game between Ravenclaw and Gryffindor. Draco was sitting on Amelie's left, muttering about how it was a waste of precious time to have came. Astoria was nowhere to be seen, as she had said to Amelie earlier that she didn't think she could take any of Draco then.

"Oh shush, Draco," Amelie told him lightly,but at the same time harshly. She didn't want him to get mad, but she did want him to stop whining like Camille that hadn't worn something designer in a week.

Draco shut up. He sat back into his seat, pondering his thoughts. He didn't get why Amelie tried to hook him up with all these friends of hers. He smiled faintly. He was just too bloody attractive, wan't he. The ladies just coudn't stay away.

Daphne meanwhile, tried getting closer to Draco. "So, you remember our last date? Do you wanna talk about us? I mean like, are we official yet?"

Obviously, Amelie had taken her matchmaking skills and played her piece on the game board of life. Now everything was just sitting on the table, waiting to be moved by the victim. Draco, of course.

Draco leaned over to Amelie and whispered, "I think I'm going to start calling you Cupid. Or Eros."If there hadn't been muggle studies, the young Malfoy wouldn't have known about all this. But he learned, called it stupid (as usual) and then reconciled with the information and was now teasing Amelie with it. How lovely.

Draco bit his lip as Daphne awaited his answer patiently. He saw Amelie's eyes glaring daggers at him, and his eyes dropped to the ground. Hmph. Since when was the great Draco Malfoy pushed around like this? What would his father say if he saw him like this?

"Well... I don't know. Maybe we should take it more slow, yeah?" he said tentatively. He had become nervous about outright rejecting Amelie's friends. Their talk on the train to Hogwarts was action-filled, with a slap and a crumpled cloak to prove it. Nevertheless, the two remained good friends. Draco shook his head undetectably. Daphne was a nice girl... but she wasn't a Malfoy's girl.

Daphne nodded, looking disappointed. Suddenly, the players walked out onto the pitch, and Draco mentally laughed with glee, thanking the heavens and the earth for letting the game start. Amelie had already jumped out to the railings and was doing some sort of funky celebration dance. She looked good doing anything, though, Draco had to admit.

"WOOOHH!! GO GRYFFINDOR! YEAH!! YOU CAN DO THIS, HARRY! CATCH THE SNITCH! OLIVER, YOU'RE MY SAVIOR! CHASERS RULE THOUGH, GO ALICIA AND KATIE! SCORE FOR ME, SPINNET! YOU TOO, BELL! DIDN'T FORGET YOU, ANGELINA!" then, Amelie took off her scarf and waved it in the air for good measure. Harry waved at her, and she grinned back. Harry and her had happily reconciled, to say the least. Ron still wasn't on speaking terms with the brunette Slytherin, though.

She sat back down in between her two friends and watched the game play.

"Wood, Davies, shake hands," Madam Hooch said briskly, watching as the burly Oliver Wood shook hands with Roger Davies, the Ravenclaws' captain. "Mount your brooms... on my whistle... three - two - one - "

Amelie watched in awe as Harry shot off the ground, being the first one in the air, admiring his new Firebolt's speed and desgin. It was sleek, smooth -

"He doesn't deserve the fucking broom," pouted Draco, looking jealous as Harry sped around the pitch. Amelie smiled at her friend. What could she say. The rivalry would always go on.

"And you do, wittle Dawako?" said Amelie, imitating his pout. Draco smirked a little.

"Sure, yeah. Also, you can't pull off the pout like I do."