Half Blood Royalty

Quidditch Gone Wrong

I had been awoken early on Saturday morning by a very overenthusiastic blonde rich boy leaning over my body as my eyes opened to the morning sunlight barely able to peak into my dorm.

"Last I checked," I spoke while rubbing my eyes, "This was supposed to be a Girls dormitory."

"Like that ever stopped anyone else."

I sat myself up, pushing my feet off the edge of my bed as I looked towards the blonde-haired boy all dressed already in his forest green Quidditch robes, "Their father isn't the head of our House, Malfoy."

"Snape won't-" He paused, "Please don't tell him."

"I wouldn't need too." A grin spread across my face, "My father's not my secret weapon."

"You wouldn't."

"Let's see," I jokingly put a finger to my chin, "How do you expect Lucius Malfoy would react if he knew where his son was standing right now?"

"He wouldn't-"

"He's here today, isn't he?" I smiled at him. "Maybe I could-"

Draco grabbed ahold of my arms, pulling me into his chest into a hug as the two of us began laughing loudly. "He'd probably just be thankful it's only you." Draco continued laughing, "I mustn't take away from my studies... He would say."

"God forbid I took you away from your studies." I told him. I always knew the Malfoys never exactly saw me as they saw themselves in the Wizarding World. To them, being Pureblood means everything to an excellent Witch or Wizard. I never seen them discuss my father's blood status much, but from the stories told about their own school days, Lucius and Narcissa were the closest my father had to parents. He still hadn't really told me much about my actual grandparents, even eleven years later. When I would ask him as a young'un, all my father would tell me was that I'd never get a chance to meet them. Like my mother. The only difference is that at least my father had mentioned about my grandparents in the past. He rarely mentions my mother, Lily Evans- or Potter I guess. I've tried to ask both Lucius and Narcissa in the past but that went nowhere. Either they hadn't known her, or they refused to. Her being Muggle-born and all. "Anyways," My gaze fell back onto Draco once more, "Today's your first Quidditch match. Why aren't you out at the field getting ready?"

"Like we need the practice." He bragged on.

You may need the practice. Gryffindor has been kicking butt at their practices. "Isn't Harry a great Seeker? You should probably-"

"I'm better than that Scarhead." He said automatically without thinking.

"Draco!"

"Sorry." He shrugged.

I brushed my bangs over own forehead scar as I got up and opened my trunk, pulling out my House robe and school uniform before shooting Draco a 'get out' type of look (to which he responded by throwing his hands up but telling me he'd be downstairs before exiting the room). My eyes scanned over the House robes in my hands. The Slytherin House Crest patch sat on the fabric as the robe reflected the colors of green and black. Harry, Ron, and Hermione all seem convinced that Draco was the Heir of Slytherin but what about the other Slytherin in their life? I mean... I already had more of a connection to The Dark Lord than Draco had. Technically. Harry got lucky. He made it into Gryffindor. People'll probably connect the dots to who I am, what house I'm in, and the fact that I was in the hallway when Mrs. Norris was found. Hell. Even I've been convinced that I'm the Heir of Slytherin.

**