Brooklyn POV

I am freaking out. Walking through the aisles of the quidditch world cup with your best friend tends to make you do those things.

"GO IRISH!" I yell, my face painted in the green and white colors of the team.

"I love their accents," Astrid mutters, grinning at my enthusiasm. "I think the Bulgarians are going to win though, so let's see my dear Brooklyn!" My best friend then starts screaming, "BULGARIANS!"

The people around us whistle and cheer, but I drown them out with my booing. The Irish are MUCH cooler. I mean, come on: leprechauns!

As we trudge our way through the seats, I see something - or rather someone - approaching us. Sleek blond hair, a suit, and intense gray eyes. This boy is, and forever will be, my worst enemy. Rage boils up inside me as soon as I spot him.

As he gets closer, Astrid sees him too.

"Draco!" she yelps, crashing into him for a hug. "It's been so long!"

Draco smiles, though it looks more like an evil smirk that's aimed in my direction, and hugs Astrid back.

"Hey!" he laughs. "Long time on see!" Lately, Astrid's been acting ... weird around him. I mean, wasn't that hug a little too close? They reluctantly pull apart, and Draco decides to address me.

"Brooklyn."

That's it. No hug for me. Not even a smile. Not that I want either of those; I mean, I would punch his jaw if he even tried to smile in my direction. Need I say that I hate him?

I try to smile at him, for Astrid's sake, but it turns into a painful grimace. Since Astrid is with us, Malfoy isn't calling me any of the things he normally does, like "filthy" or "mudblood." The stupid blonde charmed Astrid, and in turn became charmed by her. It's easy to see they like each other (a lot), and I swear I'm going to rip my hair out if they don't get together this year. But then again, I'll rip my hair out if they do, because I would lose my friend to my enemy.

"A lot of hair loss this year," I mumble to myself.

Malfoy returns his attention to Astrid, who's decided that it's absolutely necessary to be as close to him as possible. I'm kind of awkwardly standing to the side, inspecting that mysterious patch of mud on my hiking boots. I try talking to the patch of mud, so that I won't be eavesdropping, but heck, the conversation doesn't work out. Something about dirt going out with mud. I eventually give up and listen in on Astrid and Draco's conversation.

"- so yeah, I think Bulgarians are going to win this year," Astrid is saying. There's an edge to her voice, as if she's nervous. I roll my eyes. How obvious can you get?

"You're rooting for the Bulgarians? Me too!" exclaims that greasy haired brat.

"Then why do you have a green and white scarf?" asks Astrid. I bite my check until it bleeds to keep from laughing.

"Well, two reasons. One, it's similar to the Slytherin colors, and two, my dad likes the Irish."

Smooth liar, aren't you?

Nevertheless, Astrid goes along with it.

"Cool!" she cries.

"So uh ... I was - ah ... wondering if you would like to maybe ... sit in the minister's box with me and my father?" Draco stammers. I have tears in my eyes, and it's taking all my willpower to keep from laughing. Draco is stammering. Ha.

"Of course!" Astrid replies cheerfully. My heart sinks as I piece things together: Draco + Astrid + minister's box = I'm not invited.

Astrid turns to face me, and the wind makes her long, brown hair whip her face.

"Brooklyn, would it be okay if I, uh..." Astrid begins.

I cut her off, and snap, "Do whatever you want Astrid. Just leave."

Astrid's expression shows that she's hurt, but she leaves with Draco anyway. I watch their backs as they fade, and Draco's hand keeps twitching towards Astrid's, as if he wants to hold it but is afraid.

I smile. As mad as I am at Astrid for ditching me, this is cute.