Draco Malfoy was furious. The entire Slytherin House Common Room was silent as he ranted about the latest injustice that scar-head had heaped upon him.
"How dare that stupid half-blood try and take my prefect badge? Does he not know who he is dealing with? Stupid, jumped up mudblood lover. Wait until my father hears about this. He'll put a stop to all this."
The atmosphere in the Common Room as he continued to rant was a strained one. After all, the people there were divided in their opinions on the matter. Some were extremely happy to see Draco getting his comeuppance. These people were of the opinion that it was idiots like Draco who dragged the reputation of their House down. Slytherins were supposed to be cunning and ambitious, not petty little brats who went complaining to daddy when they didn't get their way. Draco and those like him didn't have a drop of cunning in their blood and while certainly ambitious, they merely thought that their ambitions would be achieved because of their family name.
Tracey, Daphne and Astoria were in this group.
Others, although happy that Draco was getting what he deserved could not get past the fact that it was Harry Potter who was the one behind his downfall. That just didn't sit right with them, either because he was a half-blood or because of his former association with Gryffindor House.
The last group consisted entirely of people who were on Draco's side in this. They would be ensuring that their own fathers heard of this latest injustice to the pure-blood way of life and, with any luck, their fathers would be able to assist Draco's father into restoring the status quo. It was, after all, how things were meant to be.
Not too far away from where Draco stood ranting, Pansy Parkinson was sitting in an armchair and staring at the orange flames that were crackling away merrily in the fire place. Draco's behaviour had her worried. She could tell that change was in the air and with the way that he was going Draco was unlikely to survive it.
Without Snape as their Head of House, Draco's behaviour would not be so readily overlooked as it had been before now and she had to wonder at the boy's ability to learn from his mistakes.
That day on the Hogwarts Express, Harry Potter had entered the prefects meeting and had told them exactly how things were now going to be. What he had told them had come straight from the Ministry itself but she and Draco had not paid attention to it. Then they and others had gotten themselves caught behaving in an unacceptable manner towards three of their fellow Slytherins. Potter had followed through on what he had told them would happen to any prefect found to be behaving inappropriately and she and Draco had both been reprimanded.
Pansy had kept her head down from then on, but Draco had pushed and pushed until his badge had been taken from him.
And yet, in his mind, it was the Board of Governors who were in the wrong. It was the Wizarding Examinations Authority. It was Harry Potter.
Not Draco. Never Draco.
"Father stepping down from the Board of Governors was the worst thing to ever happen to this place," Draco continued to rant "this place has been going to the dogs ever since."
Pansy got up and left the Common Room after that. She knew as well as anyone else that Daddy Malfoy had been forced to resign from the Board of Governors in disgrace at the end of their second year and she really couldn't listen to Draco prattle on about the injustice of that any more.
Up in her dormitory she sat down on her bed and leaned over to pull open the lid of her school trunk. It wasn't a standard school trunk, but one a charmed one which opened to reveal different contents depending on which lock you undid. Several of the compartments were empty, but she had one compartment for her school books and parchment, another two for her clothes, one for things that held value, such as jewellery or letters from home, and one that contained nothing but bottles of butterbeer.
It was this last compartment which she opened now. She took out a chilled bottle and popped open the top before pausing to look at the label on the side.
At the bottom of the label, in small, golden writing, were the words "Brewed by PBP Breweries Ltd."
Pansy knew full well what the PBP stood for – Potter, Bones and Parkinson. She did not know the specifics about how that brewery came into being; all she knew was that her father, like his father before him, refused to have anything to do with the company. Her grandfather's brother maintained control over the Parkinson family's interests in the company, but her father refused to take any money from what as obviously a highly profitable business venture.
Not for the first time in her life, Pansy wondered if this was utterly foolish of her father. The entire wealth that their family possessed likely originated from this company, but her father and grandfather had turned their backs on it rather than work with the Potter and Bones families.
She took a long drink from the bottle before swinging her legs up onto the bed and leaning against the pillows.
She had to wonder, if the time ever came, would she be able to look past all their differences and work with the last members of the Potter and Bones families? It was slowly looking like she would have to.
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