Book 4
Chapter 1
They were plotting again, but I guess, what else did evil wizards do in the summer holidays? They were plotting, and so they sent me to the Malfoys' for the summer. The Malfoys', however were going out for the summer, and therefore took me along. If I weren't terrified that my brother and friends would find out anything—anything more—about my life outside Hogwarts, I would have sent them an owl immediately.
I was going to the Quidditch World Cup! The World Cup!
So, normally Quidditch isn't my thing, but this was a big thing, and Draco's excitement was not only palpable—it was infectious.
So that's how Draco and I were walking through a forest, along a lantern-lit trail, towards a huge golden stadium. Up ahead, his parents were walking sedately, and all around us we could hear the sounds of hundreds—if not thousands of other witches and wizards talking excitedly. Draco was grinning so exuberantly I couldn't resist a smile myself. He was like an excited little boy, which I guess wasn't such a bad description.
Spark decided he didn't like it, and stayed back at the Malfoy manor. Doing dragon-lizard-y things, I guessed. He'd seemed distant lately, I must remember to look up more about dragon-lizard growing processes, and when they left the nest, or whatever happened.
As the edge of the forest came into sight, Draco caught my hand, squeezing it slightly and interrupting my thoughts. Surprised, I almost dropped it, but thought better of it.
"Evening, Lucius." The Ministry witch at the entrance greeted Mr. Malfoy, giving us our position for seating. "Straight upstairs, to the Top Box!"
The stairs were carpeted richly, and there were several doors per level, which others filtered out of, leaving us climbing the staircase relatively alone. Reaching the top; the box had a marvelous view over the entire pitch, exactly halfway and almost eye-level with the 50-foot high golden hoops. Opposite the box was a huge billboard, which was displaying advertisements.
"... ah, and here's Lucius!" the man from the hospital wing at the end of last year was saying. I looked around the box for the first time; there were approximately twenty purple and gold gilt chairs, a few of which were already filled. At the front of the box there were seven unmistakable red heads (even though I'd only ever met four of them), a distinctive head full of bushy, brown hair, and a head with black spiky hair, not dissimilar to my own. Now I dropped Draco's hand, self consciously taking a step back as not to be seen. Not that is really worked, in such a confined and brightly lit space. As one, Harry, Ron and Hermione turned around, looking at Fudge, who was shaking Mr. Malfoys hand, then his wife, then Draco … and me …
Harry and Ron's eyes widened predictably, but Hermione's narrowed. I could swear her eyes travelled to my arm, my left, marked arm; covered by the long sleeve of my shirt.
"Ah, Fudge." Mr Malfoy said, holding out his hand. "How are you? I don't think you've met my wife, Narcissa? Or our son, Draco? This is his friend, Amy."
I blushed, trying to look anywhere but at my brother and his friends, and now the entire Weasley family, which was watching me.
The whole match was like this. Having come for Draco, I couldn't tell you what happened, other than the green team seemed pretty happy, though the other guy caught the ball. The really small one. Way over my head. I spent it staring intently at the pitch. Or the floor. Avoiding the occasional glance that Harry, Hermione and the Weasleys sent me. When it was over I was relieved, being swooshed out the top box along with the Malfoy family, back down to where we were staying in a huge luxury tent. Well, tent being more technical than descriptive. Having money, the Malfoys tent looked nothing like a tent, instead appearing to be quite like a mansion inside, coming with five bedrooms (though we were using only three), which two of had ensuites. Plus a bathroom, and a large dining, though no kitchen was immediately apparent. And we were only here for one night? Two nights? I wasn't sure about this, either.
Sitting on my bed, I fiddled with the down comforter spread smoothing out the emerald fabric. There was a slight knock on my door, before Draco entered, still grinning widely, excited for the already-passed match. I smiled back, and his faltered a bit.
"Funny seeing Potter, and the Weasleys in the most expensive seats, don't you think?" his smile slid into a smirk at the thought of that. "Wonder what they sold. Or do you reckon Potter shouted them?"
I kept my mouth shut, I knew Ron wouldn't accept Harry's charity, but wasn't going to rise to the bait. Even at a time like now, he couldn't resist taunting them. I sighed a tad at this, and he dropped down next to me, bouncing me a bit on the mattress.
"That was cool though, wasn't it?" his grin came back, and I managed to summon one equally bright, nodding enthusiastically for him.
"It's late, isn't it?" I hinted, not wanting him to stay forever talking. Seeing my brother and friends made Draco a harsh reminder of my less-than-perfect life.
"Not too late, though." Draco agreed, ignoring my silent plea. "Besides, father hasn't gone to bed yet."
His sentence was followed with a scream, coming from outside.