Disclaimer: All due credit to J.K. Rowling for creating such a wonderful world and characters for me to play with.

– CHAPTER 3 –

The Golden Ticket

The Saturday of the match between the Falcons and the Canons rolled around very quickly for the ticketholders of VIP box number four, too quickly for some. Excitement was in the air as the match promised to be quite the spectacle. The outcome wasn't in question; the Canons never won, but many bets had been placed on the final score and the number of game or career-ending injuries that would be sustained before the snitch was caught.

"I wonder if Red will show?" Adrian Pucey asked in a conversational tone, taking delight in the way that Draco Malfoy's head snapped up.

"The piccola strega will be here," Blaise Zabini informed the group confidently. (1)

His statement was met with a bevy of carefully disguised reactions of surprise and several raised eyebrows. The Italian wizard still didn't feel the need to elaborate, however.

"Perhaps we should have arranged to meet her before coming to the stadium?" Gregory Goyle mused thoughtfully.

"It would have been the polite thing to do," agreed Adrian.

"She's a Gryffindor; she can take care of herself," interjected Theodore Nott.

"True, but I think we're drifting off topic," drawled Draco. "How do you know she's coming, Zabini?"

"Jealous, Malfoy?" a feminine voice queried from the doorway, her amusement evident.

The six wizards quickly turned to the doorway, although their years as members of Slytherin house had trained them not to betray too great an interest in the newcomer. Uncharacteristically, none of the young men tried to hide their appreciate appraisal of the witch's attire. The redhead was wearing a long, fitted Falmouth Falcons jersey which was shocking enough without adding the tiny black shorts and patterned Knee-hi socks that she had paired with some plain black flats.

"I've never seen a Quidditch jersey look so... delectable," Blaise purred as he rose and carefully directed the witch into a seat between Draco and himself.

"I take it you haven't mentioned running into me in Diagon Alley last Sunday?" Ginny Weasley asked, unable to stop the blush the crept up her face.

"No, he didn't," confirmed Draco, shooting a covert glare in the Italian's direction that was summarily ignored.

"Far more fun this way, we got to enjoy their shock," Blaise winked conspiratorially.

"It's not that surprising," Ginny defended. "There are only two teams playing, so that significantly limited my choices. It would hardly be appropriate to wear a Hollyhead Harpies jersey."

"Interesting definition of appropriate," muttered Graham Montague, giving Adrian a nudge and throwing a playful leer in the redhead's direction. His voice wasn't low enough though, and his words carried to Ginny's ears.

"What, you've never seen a witch's knees before?" Ginny asked in her most innocent voice. The reactions of the six wizards in the VIP box were amusing her greatly; her clothing was hardly scandalous.

As Blaise had commented on Sunday, Ginny had purchased a wizard sized jersey, so it was hardly form-fitting or low cut. Plus, the witch had hardly altered it, only bringing it in a little at her waist so that it didn't look like she was wearing an oversized potato sack. Her black shorts were tight, but not obscenely so, and they weren't that short. Ginny Weasley had actually managed to obscure a commendable portion of her body when one took into account her knee-hi socks. You could only see her head, hands, knees and her lower thigh. Hardly salacious, unless you were a Pureblood wizard and accustomed to floor-length gowns, of course. Draco Malfoy snorted from his seat behind the witch, and Montague's smile turned lecherous while the other four wizards politely contained their reactions to her words.

"You've a lot to learn little one," Adrian told her with a shake of his head. Draco gave another snort.

Before the redhead could begin her angry tirade against being called little one, another witch appeared at the door. She had flawless skin, artfully curled blonde hair and stood over six feet tall in her strappy stiletto sandals. The absurdly tight Falcons t-shirt that she wore left less than nothing to the imagination, but it was still positively decent when compared with the denim mini skirt that the witch had squeezed into. Ginny had stopped and admired how her legs appeared to be lengthened by her casual outfit before she left her cottage, but when compared with the statuesque blonde, she thought her legs must look positively stumpy.

"Case in point," Ginny muttered under her breath.

"What was that?" questioned the blonde witch, who, unlike the wizards present, hadn't heard the snide comment.

"Time for introductions!" Ginny exclaimed brightly without missing a beat. The wizards chuckled over her flawless cover while the blonde assumed they were amused by the redhead's enthusiasm.

"What a brilliant idea," the blonde witch agreed, determined not to be outdone by the redhead.

Adrian stood and politely guided the witch into the one remaining seat directly between himself and Montague and conveniently located so that the two witches could easily converse despite being seated in different rows.

"Everyone, please allow me to introduce Miss Ophelia Yaxley," Adrian intoned. "She's the daughter of the friend of a friend of my mother's, Mrs. Constance Yaxley, who is on the committee for this year's St. Mungo's Children's Ward benefit organised by the Daughters of Avalonian Decent." (2)

The tall wizard paused, as though to allow the other occupants to absorb this vital information and presumably suppress an eye roll, before continuing the introductions.

"Ophelia, these are Graham Montague, Theodore Nott, Gregory Goyle, Miss Ginevra Weasley, Lord Blaise Zabini and, of course, Lord Draco Malfoy," Adrian concluded the obligatory introductions.

"Adrian, how do you know Miss Weasley?" asked the simpering blonde as she firmly attached herself to Adrian's arm.

To the wizard's credit, none of the box's other occupants were able to discern his disgust at the witch's actions, but no one missed the calculating look that the blonde witch levelled at the redhead.

"Please, Miss Yaxley, you simply must call me Ginny," the witch interjected before Adrian could even begin to formulate a response. "And I'm afraid that I don't know Adrian or Montague at all well; they were several years ahead of me at Hogwarts, and I graduated the year after the others."

"Of course, but only if you agree to call me Ophelia," the blonde witch replied happily, far more relaxed now that she had been satisfied by Ginny's fleeting acquaintance with Adrian.

The six wizards inwardly sighed with relief once it was apparent that the blonde society witch appeared satisfied that Ginny wasn't a threat to her. The four younger wizards were even fortunate enough to discover that Ophelia had lost interest in them entirely upon discovering that the younger witch was closer to their age. Blaise and Draco still took note of the fleeting look of longing the witch gave them before turning back to Adrian; they would have to keep their guard up around this one.

"Making friends?" Blaise asked slyly.

"Of course, I'm extremely affable," Ginny agreed before her attention was drawn to the pitch as the players from both teams took to the air.

Marcus Flint nodded to them all as he led the Falcons on a warm up lap of the stadium, leering playfully at Ginny after narrowly hiding his double take at her clothing. Ronald Weasley wasn't anywhere near as composed. His eyes were automatically drawn to his sister's red hair and his face coloured to match when he realised she was wearing his opposition's colours, not to mention she was sitting in a private box reserved for friends and family of Falcons players.

"You're going to be in trouble after the match," Draco commented.

"I've already tried to point that out to her," Blaise agreed.

Ginny just shrugged and settled in to enjoy the match.

Two hours later and everyone, save Ophelia, was deeply engrossed in the surprisingly close match. The Falcons' keeper was putting in a routinely strong performance only having allowed the Canons' chasers to squeak six goals past him the entire match. However, to the entire stadium's shock, Ron, who was at best an average keeper, saved everything bar nine of the Falcons' attempts at the goals, and Flint's irritation was quickly mounting. The match was shaping up to be a real contest.

Aside from the Quidditch match, the young wizards were amusing themselves with the dichotomy that was the attitudes of their two female companions' reactions to the match. On the one hand, it would be extremely difficult for Ophelia to care any less about the goings on of the match, and the witch had instead been doing her best to commandeer Adrian's attention, practically resorting to rubbing herself against the wizard in an effort to draw his eyes away from the Quaffle. On the other hand, Ginny's attention had been wholly focused on the match. She appeared to live and breathe each moment with the players, much to the wizards' amusement, routinely jumping to her feet and having difficulty sitting still for any length of time. Draco and Blaise had even made several attempts to engage the redhead in conversation, all of which had ended in failure. Eventually, after exchanging amused glances and a covert shrug, the pair of wizards had given up.

Another hour or so later, the blonde witch, completely disgusted by her inability to engage Adrian's attention, decided to strike up a conversation with Ginny during a timeout.

"The orange player who just flies in front of the circle on the sticks keeps looking at you," Ophelia commented slyly, giving an exaggerated nod in Ron's direction.

"Really?" Ginny asked, feigning surprise while Draco hid his smile in his drink and the other wizards became very interested in the temporarily vacant pitch.

"Mmm, he keeps giving you these really intense looks; I think he might fancy you," the blonde continued, completely oblivious to her folly.

"Me?" Ginny exclaimed, clearly to everyone other than the blonde, forcing incredulity into her voice.

"Yeah, don't be surprised; you're a beautiful witch," Ophelia gushed. "You should go speak to him after the match."

"I don't know if that's a good idea," Ginny disagreed, trying not to laugh.

"Why ever not?" Ophelia pressed. "He's a good looking wizard and a Quidditch star."

"Good looking?" Ginny snorted. "He ties with Percy for the honour of ugliest older brother."

"Brother?" squeaked Ophelia.

"Afraid so," Ginny confirmed with a grin. "I certainly hope he isn't leering at me."

"Eww, that's just gross," Ophelia agreed, before becoming consumed by her own thoughts.

The box was enveloped by silence for a few minutes before Ginny finally broke the tension.

"I'm sorry," she said softly but sincerely, looking directly at Ophelia.

"Whatever for?" the older witch asked, genuinely perplexed by Ginny's apology.

"That was incredibly unkind of me," Ginny explained. "I should have corrected your mistake rather than embarrassing you like that."

"That's okay," Ophelia accepted the younger witch's apology, clearly not realising that the redhead had been toying with her ignorance.

"Daft bint," Draco muttered, receiving several grunts of agreement from the other wizards present.

"So, if your brother plays for the orange team, why are you supporting the grey team?" Ophelia asked.

"Well, Marcus gave me the ticket, not Ron, so it would be rude to support his opponents after he was so generous," Ginny explained her reasoning. The six Slytherin wizards quietly noted that the redhead was clearly avoiding the main reason that had influenced her decision, filing the information away to be analysed later.

"That makes sense," Ophelia happily agreed.

The timeout stretched on as the Canons also claimed the additional time allotted to a medical timeout as a Mediwizard attended to an injury sustained by one of their chasers who had strayed too close to Marcus during one of their plays.

"So are you also a member of DAD?" Ginny asked in an attempt to restart the conversation.

"Not yet, but I'm joining soon," Ophelia gushed enthusiastically. "It's great that you call it DAD too; Daughters of Avalonian Decent is such a long name."

"Quite the mouthful," Montague agreed. "You might be onto something there, Red."

"Are you joining with this year's new inductions?" Ophelia asked. "Weasleys are Pureblood aren't they? It will be nice to have a friend there for a change."

"No, I'm not joining," Ginny told the excitable witch, sending a quick glare at the wizards for making fun of Ophelia. "My mother isn't even a member."

"What's your mother's maiden name?" Ophelia asked, seemingly determined to get Ginny to join the group.

"Prewitt," Ginny told her, rolling her eyes at everyone's obvious interest in her Pureblood pedigree.

"Prewitt and Weasley!" Ophelia exclaimed. "Those are two old pureblood lines; I'm sure my mother will be happy to sponsor your membership application after I tell her all about you."

"Great," Ginny responded unenthusiastically, secretly relieved that the players were taking to the field again.

"You going to join DAD then?" Draco asked, leaning into her personal space to whisper the question to her.

"I don't know," Ginny answered honestly. "You don't have to make it sound so disgusting."

"Hmm, now that you mention it, it is a bit suggestive," Blaise agreed, waggling his eyebrows.

"Ignore them," Greg advised the young witch, speaking for possibly the first time throughout the match.

Mere minutes later, the Falcons' Seeker captured the Snitch, besting a lacklustre pursuit from the Canons' seeker after performing a rather pedestrian dive.

"I could have done better than that," Draco groused.

"That was incredibly anticlimactic," agreed Theo.

"My Aunt Myrtle could have done a better job than that," Ginny agreed with a shake of her head.

"Oh, is it finished? I thought it was going to last forever," Ophelia commented as the rest of the box's occupants turned to look at her in disbelief.

"Yes, it has, the game ends as soon as one of the team's Seekers catches the Snitch, the little golden ball," Blaise told the oblivious witch before any of the other wizards could make a snide comment. Adrian shot him a thankful look. "Shall we go see if we can catch Flint on his way out of the locker rooms?"

"I'll meet you there; I have to swing past the bookies," Ginny told them to go ahead without her, surprising the wizards when she pulled a blue betting parchment out of her pocket.

"She bet that the Weasel would have his nose broken three times," Draco announced after snatching the slip of parchment from Ginny.

"So what if I did?" Ginny retorted before snatching the parchment back and walking quickly past a collection of stunned wizards and out of the luxurious VIP box.

"The witch just won one hundred Galleons from her brother's injuries," Draco chuckled.

"Yeah, well stop aggravating her," Blaise hissed. "We haven't gotten any information from her yet."

"Relax, Zabini, we'll invite her out for a celebratory drink," Adrian ended the brewing argument before it could get started. "And try to tone it down a bit, Malfoy; we all want to know what happened."

It didn't take long for the group to make their way out of the stands and then through security to wait for Flint to finish showering and for Ginny to join them. Standing not too far away from them was a crowd of overexcited fans whose excitement only surged again each time a photographer snapped a photo of them. Through the security barriers, but still not too far away from the group of fans, stood a few Quidditch reporters waiting for the opportunity to fling inane questions at the exhausted players.

As though it had been choreographed, or at the very least a few secret signals exchanged, the doors of both the home and away players' rooms were flung open at the same time, and a small army of freshly showered Quidditch players filed out. Marcus Flint and a few other Falcons players strode towards their group while Ronald Weasley made a bee line for the reporters and started preening in front of the photographers.

"We off then?" Marcus' gruff voice asked.

"No, we're still waiting on Red," Adrian told him.

"We'll catch you up then, Flint," a few equally gruff voices said before Flint was slapped on the back a half dozen times and a group of Falcons players strode away.

The group didn't have to wait long for the redheaded witch to reappear. However, Ronald Weasley also spotted her pushing through the crowd at the exact same time and quickly intercepted her before she could rejoin them.

"What the bloody hell do you think you're doing?" the irate Quidditch player bellowed at his younger sister.

"Nothing that concerns you," the witch snapped in reply, attempting to step around her brother.

"Nothing that concerns me?" he yelled angrily, roughly grabbing Ginny's arm, causing her to cry out in pain. "You've shown up at my match wearing the enemy's colours!"

Before any of the gobsmacked bystanders could intervene and pull the furious wizard away from his sister, a well aimed hex sailed through the air. The hex hit Ronald Weasley dead on and startled him enough that he loosened his grip on Ginny, allowing her to pull herself free of his grasp. Everyone waited with baited breath as the Canons keeper straightened up just in time for his face and neck to erupt into a profusion of boils and pustules of assorted colours. His enraged gaze followed the hex's path to rest on the very smug looking caster.

"No one speaks to my friends like that," Ophelia declared, slipping her wand back down the front of her t-shirt.

A/N: Well, I did say the updating would be sporadic at best, but I really didn't think it would take me this long to sit down and write the next chapter. Sorry for that. That's all for now, leave me a review and share your thoughts, I love hearing from readers :)

Notes:
(1) Italian translation: Piccola strega = little witch
(2) Daughters of Avalonian Descent (DAD) is a play on the Daughters of the American Revolution (DAR).

(25 July, 2011) Beta'd chapter uploaded