Prologue

Aubrianna sat in her private box at the Quidditch World Cup. She sighed as she stared glumly down at the other spectators of the game. At least they seemed to be having fun. She shook her head and returned her attention to her current task. She was carefully shredding a pamphlet into thousands of minute pieces, which were collecting in a pile at her feet. Once the pamphlet was completely gone she collected the pieces, tossing the multi-colored shreds into the air. She watched as they filtered through the air and flew down over the spectators, not that they noticed.

All of a sudden she felt a tap on her shoulder. She shrieked and leapt back, almost toppling over the rail. Nick Claremont stood glowering at her. "Geez, could you be more of a spazz? Sit." She obeyed her fiancé's demand. He sat down heavily next to her and she flinched. His very presence intimidated her to the point she couldn't speak. Of course their engagement wasn't their choice, it was something their family's had decided. Still, he could treat her more civilly. "Oi, squib, you got any food?" "Don't call me that!" she hissed. "What?" he growled angrily as he turned to glare at her. She was especially aware of how much larger he was than her. "No, nothing." She whispered.

She pulled a slightly mashed meat pie out of her pocket. He snatched it from her grasp and began to devour it without as much as a thank you. When he had finished he tore her scarf from around her neck and used it to wipe his mouth before tossing the soiled garment to the floor. Aubrianna clasped her shaking hands together. How she hated him! He burped loudly and then crossed his arms over his chest. "Damn, can't believe I'm stuck watching the match with you. I mean, I even got an invitation from Allison Sheppard but I had to turn her down, for you!" He spat at her feet. "Hope you're happy runt!"

Aubrianna bowed her head further, wishing for the entire world that he had accepted that girl's offer. He was courteous to women in general, just not her. It seemed to be his singular joy in life to torment her. "Look at me when I'm talking to you!" he said roughly grabbing her chin and forcing her to face him. She took in his features. He was handsome, but uninteresting. Not her type at all. Then again, she was a loner, was she allowed a type? As if to enforce his already supreme domination over her he caught her mouth in a cold harsh kiss.

Aubrianna fought but couldn't break away. His lips crushed hers, bruising them. Finally, he released. "Remember." He said with a nasty smirk. "I can make your life very hard." Aubrianna had to fight not to roll her eyes, like it wasn't hard enough already. Thankfully, it was at that moment that the Bulgarian team mascots, the veela, began to sing. A transformation slowly happened to Nick's face. His eyes took on this dazed look and he began to drool from the left corner of his mouth. His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides as he watched the creatures' parade around the grounds. She watched some men leap from their boxes as if they could fly. She had a moment of extreme hope that Nick would do the same. Her wish was dashed when the song abruptly ended.

Angry shouts rang out in the stadium, the loudest of which probably came from Nick. Aubrianna blushed embarrassed at his raucous behavior. Next came the Irish mascots. This display was more to her liking, aesthetically pleasing and vibrant. She watched with pity as Nick scrounged around the box for leprechaun gold. He clearly didn't realize that leprechaun gold disappears. After the crowd had died down the announcer, Ludo Bagman if she was not mistaken began to announce the Bulgarian National Quidditch team.

She lifted her omnioculars to get a better look at the players. They were all strong and handsome, in a sort of sullen way. He had gone through all the players except for the keeper and the seeker. She knew the seeker well, as did most people who knew the first thing about quidditch, and easily identified Viktor Krum as he soared out into the stadium. What surprised her was the keeper, Ivanova. He was massive! Not fat of course, but big boned, she estimated at least six and a half feet tall, probably more. She was shocked that the broom he rode on didn't snap. It looked like he was riding on a toothpick!

She studied his movements with interest. He was incredibly graceful despite his bulk and appeared to be gliding over the air even at his incredible speed. She studied his face. He had the same pale ivory skin and dark hair that seemed to characterize all of the Bulgarian team members but his hair was lightly waved and his eyes were a piercing, icy blue. He glanced her way and she felt her heart skip a beat. He smiled warmly at her and she put her omnioculars down and glanced away, blushing.

Nick seemed to notice and growled. "What's this? Taken a liking to one of the Bulgarians, have we?" She gasped as his fingers closed discreetly around her neck. He constricted his hold, disguising it with a kiss. She spluttered, she couldn't breathe! She clawed at his hands. "I will not tolerate infidelity!" he hissed, tightening his grip further.

Desperately she sank her teeth into his arm. He yelped and released her. She quickly scurried to the opposite end of the box. Her breathing was heavy and she rubbed her neck, watching him fearfully. "Damn it, what did you do that for? I was just kidding!" He yelled at her. He cursed at her and violently sat down, turning his attention to the game. She sat as far away from him as possible, her evening ruined at her near death experience.

She spent the whole evening watching Nick warily. She barely registered the match ending with Ireland victorious. As soon as the whistle was blown she sped out of the box. She practically ran as she fled the stadium. It wasn't long before the masses also began to leave. She easily blended in and was sure Nick could no longer find her. She was now, however, presented with a new problem. She was incredibly petit, only four foot ten and a half, and slender hence was easily jostled by the rowdy crowds.

All of a sudden someone slammed into her. She went toppling backwards and hit something warm. She felt the breath get knocked out of her and she swayed dizzily. Strong arms steadied her. "Are you alright?" It was a rich, pleasing voice. It reminded her of aged Bordeaux on a cold winter's night. She opened her eyes to view her rescuer. She froze. It was the Bulgarian keeper.

Comprehension dawned on his features. "Ah, you're that girl from earlier! It seems luck is in my faffor, I vanted to speak vith you." He smiled warmly at her and righted her, setting her on her feet. His eyes then fell on her neck and the smile disappeared. "Vot are these marks?" Her hands flew to her neck in an attempt to cover the darks bruises in the distinct shape of fingers.

"Vos it that man? The one in your box?" There was rage in his tone. He reached out to move her hands away and she flinched back. "I'm fine!" she snapped. "Thanks." With that she once again slipped away into the crowd. Once outside she considered where to go. She could go back to her tent, but more than likely Nick was already there waiting for her. She sighed sadly. She would have to go home, entailing she sacrifice the rest of her summer.