Folding her clothes gently, Beatrice carefully placed them into her suitcase which, presently, sat half-full upon her bed. She moved to set another folded garment into the bag when the sound of voices reached her ears, pulling her briefly from her task. Peering through the small crack in her door, she could barely make out the figure of Mrs. Hurst. She was lounging in a rocking chair, humming pleasantly as she knitted what appeared to be a pair of baby stockings, the toes brushing her large protruding abdomen. Despite the fact that it was so early that the sun had not risen yet, Mrs. Hurst still managed to have a merry expression upon her face. Ever since she had entered her second trimester and the baby had become 'more active' she had taken to waking up at the crack of dawn. "If it should be a girl, Duncan, I do like the name Jane...or Anne, something simple and classic. What do you think of that, darling?"

Beatrice sighed, deciding that she didn't care to hear his response, his groggy voice sounding more like a moan than proper words. Ever since they had received news about the baby, she had felt like a stranger it what had once been her home. Not that either Mrs. or Mr. Hurst had ever been unkind to her or her brother, but it was not very pleasant being ignored. All their waking time had been spent preparing the nursery, picking out names, and reading pregnancy books, that their foster children had simply become a second priority. Although she didn't want to admit it to herself, she knew the signs. Soon, they would be happy with their own child and have no further need of them...and that meant returning back to the foster system, as she doubted her brother would be able to get custody of her without delay.

In an effort to distract herself from the inevitable, she and Jude spent minimal time at home and the majority of the time elsewhere. Since Cedric and Jude's friendship was not as solid as it once was, Oliver Wood was the company of choice, not that Beatrice minded in the least. Oliver had never given her any reason to dislike him and treated her as much as a friend as he did Jude. If anything, he was like a second older brother, which was, although a nuisance at times, a very welcome addition. On one such occasion when the three of them had gone to the cinema, he had told a group of boys making eyes at her to 'Piss off' before threatening to blacken their eye if they didn't leave her alone. It was rather flattering, she had to admit.

When she hadn't been with Jude and Oliver, she often found herself in the company of either Hermione or Ginny. Hermione, because she lived so close, she had the luxury if seeing nearly everyday when she couldn't manage to get her foster parent's permission to go away for awhile. On most occasions, they would go to the park and for once, just do nothing as the world whirled past all around them. Conversely, when she visited Ginny had her home lovingly referred to as 'The Burrow', she was welcomed by the hustled and bustle of the large Weasley family and the kindly Mrs. Weasley who always fussed about her as if she were one of their own. She explained that with so many boys running about the Burrow, it was refreshing to have another little girl to dote upon. During these visits she and Ginny went to great lengths to remain isolated from her brothers (with the exception of Ron, who was also one of Beatrice's dear friends), there was always the unavoidable complication...Fred.

Ever since the previous school year had ended, things had been awkward between them. She loved visiting the Burrow, but it was hard not to avoid him when he slept one floor above her and Ginny. Each time they happened to cross paths, they would smile at each other awkwardly whilst searching for an escape route, which, to Beatrice's gratitude, often came from Ginny who would drag her into her room, slamming the door in Fred's face, insisting that he was interrupting their 'girl time'.

Ginny was the only Weasley (excluding George, who was Fred's closest confidant) who knew about Fred and Beatrice's complicated relationship. It was quite difficult for Ginny to come to terms with it at first, him being her brother, but even she couldn't deny the obvious chemistry that lingered between them. Both she and George secretly wished the two would both get over themselves and get together, but then there was always the matter of Cedric Diggory. He had won her over already and she did truly care about him...should she cast him aside so fleetingly? Would she?

The thoughts overwhelming her the majority of the summer, Beatrice was happy to push them to the back of her mind when she received an invitation from Cedric to join him at the Quidditch World Cup. At first she had been nervous to ask Jude's permission, but because Oliver had invited him to go as well, he agreed to let her go with Cedric, under the condition that she would sleep with him and the Woods during the duration of their stay.

Emerging from her room with her suitcase in tow, Beatrice glanced once more into the sitting room where the Hursts still chatted happily about possible names. She considered interrupting to say her good-byes, but, thinking better of it, knowing that they probably wouldn't respond anyways, she continued on to the parlor setting her suitcase in the fireplace before she began to rummage into her pockets. Eventually she produced a small package of floo powder which she held aloft in her hand as she stepped upon the charred coals in the hearth. Taking her bag in her hand, she clearly stated the name of Cedric's home before hurling the powder upon the ground and disappearing in a flurry of green flames.

"You're beautiful, you know that?" Cedric leaned back as far as he could without losing his balance on the tree limb in which they lay in order to get a better view of her. Tracing his fingers over her soft skin, he brushed a stray strand of her hair behind her ear, his lips curling into a giddy grin as he admired her from his vantage point.

Beatrice rolled her eyes, grateful for that the early morning darkness still lingered to mask her blush. "Yeah, I'm sure the bags under my eyes and morning breath really suits the tasseled hair-do, huh?" She shook her head dismissively, shifting so she could better see the horizon through the thin branches of the tree, the sun barely having risen enough to paint the sky with thin strokes of dull purple and pink.

He chuckled, tightening his grip around her waist. "I was just trying to give you a compliment!"

Laughing softly, she shifted her gaze to him, moving closer so she could rest her head upon his chest. "I know." She assured him, lacing her fingers with his. "Thank you." She watched him curiously as he thumbed a leaf which hung limply on a branch above their heads. Retrieving his wand from his pocket, he wordlessly transfigured the dying leaf into a blossoming spring of baby's breath. Plucking the delicate flower from the branch, he placed it in her hair. "You are quite the show off now that you can do magic at home, aren't you?" She teased.

He shrugged nonchalantly. "I have to do something to impress you every now and again." He reasoned. "I can't rely on my devilish good looks for everything."

She hit him playfully, settling herself comfortably within his warm embrace, watching him curiously as his eyes searched her. "You're too sly for your own good." She declared.

"Am I?"

Unable to contain himself, Cedric grabbed her by the chin and claimed her lips with his before she could properly comprehend what was happening. Her heart raced wildly in her chest, but it did not skip and flutter the same way it had when Fred had kissed her, nor did she feel the butterflies in her stomach or the pleasant warmth radiating from her head down to the tips of her toes like she had before. Before she could form a proper thought on the matter, the moment had already come and gone, she left gaping and dumbfounded, and he grinning like a fool.

"Sorry..." He mumbled, suddenly, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "I-I couldn't help myself."

"Sorry, indeed." She rolled her eyes teasingly. "I'm appalled at you, the least you could've done was ask my permission! Maybe then I could've had the opportunity to properly partake. That was quite selfish of you, Mr. Diggory."

His mouth curled into a smirk. "So...you wouldn't mind if I did it again?"

Beatrice grinned, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Just kiss me already."

Eagerly, his arms moved to her waist and he adjusted himself in order to bring himself closer to her. Cupping her cheek in his hand, he steadied her with his other as he bent down to capture her lips once more when the sound of his father's voice traveled up to them from the forest floor.

"Oi!" He called, the urgency and insistence in his tone not going unnoticed by the pair of them. "They've arrived now, you can come down now."

Cedric shrugged, making certain that she was properly steady before making his decent, pausing every so often to assist her down after him. She blushed every time she met his gaze on the way down, a mischievous glint in his eye any time he would touch her waist or they would brush hands. Once her feet were firmly on the ground, she found it difficult to take her eyes off of him, so many thoughts were massing about in her mind, namely, about their kiss and her lack of sensation, that she failed to notice the approaching party until Mr. Diggory chortled in greeting.

Her eyes widened as she unintentionally squeezed Cedric's hand in her surprise. Her breath caught sharply in her throat and she suddenly found it very difficult to breathe as he stared at her. If her heart were to race and wilder, she was certain that it would pound clear out of her chest. Smiling uneasily at her near the rear of the group was Fred Weasley.

And so he stood there like a fool, just staring at her. Nerves did that to a person. Git. Do something! So he decided to smile and wave discretely, but she merely stood there like a frightened puppy, cowering behind the great stocky bear that was Cedric Diggory. She seemed oddly uncomfortable, and most definitely indifferent about seeing him.

Sighing with defeat, Fred watched as she made a direct path to Hermione and his sister, the three of them immediately falling into a fit of giggles, the gentle buzz of their constant chatter a harsh reminder of the hollow silence that had settled between them since she had begun avoiding him. His father, on the other hand, was in conversation with Amos, who seemed to be boasting his son, as any proud parent. He also couldn't help but notice the girls sneaking glances over at Cedric who stood, ever resolute a few paces away, giggling and blushing whilst, no doubt, gossiping about him.

The girls would have carried on in a similar fashion if it weren't for Harry and Ron who Beatrice briskly went to, jumping into their open arms and allowing them to smother her in a tight and rather exaggerated embrace which made Fred twinge with envy. He watched as the three of them chatted happily, wishing desperately that he could be a part of it, but reminded himself that he was stupid to even hope.

As if things couldn't get any worse, Fred was tortured the next two miles or so by Cedric and Beatrice being the annoying couple they were. When they weren't holding hands, they were making eyes at each other, and when they weren't doing that, they were doting on each other. It was obvious that they were in love, which made Fred hated it all the more. He knew that it was as it should be, but at the same time he couldn't help feeling...no, he wasn't jealous. Jealous was something that he would never stoop to feel. Convincing himself that he was merely suffering from a damaged ego, he managed to push the ridiculous thoughts from his mind...for a time.

Somewhere along his thought train, he had been diverted to thinking of Beatrice again. Gosh, she was so...no, she wasn't pretty, she had bypassed that word long ago. It didn't do her justice anymore. Pretty was a word for a little girl who was easy on the eyes, which she wasn't anymore. She was nearly grown now, pretty was too simple of a word and didn't come close to adequately depicting her. No, she was beautiful, in the way that it mattered. She was incredibly intelligent and wise beyond her years. Maybe even more so that Hermione, not that Fred would ever admit that to the bushy-haired witch, but she was always so timid about it, which was another thing he admired about her. She excelled at nearly everything she did, but he'd never once heard her brag about it, yet if anyone ever challenged her, she was quick to defend herself. She was kind, but knew her boundaries and would never allow herself to be taken advantage of. It amazed him that such a small and seemingly insignificant little girl could be so captivating.

However, his favorite attribute about her would have to be her smile. She had the kind of smile that warmed and radiated inside of you until you were so overwhelmed with joy just at the mere sight of it that you couldn't help but grin yourself. Fred would argue that there was nothing in the world that could compare that smile, but if anything could, it would be her laugh, her contagious laugh. It began on her lips and quickly set her eyes ablaze with joy and merriment that consumed and infected any who had the pleasure of savoring the sweet sound.

"Yes, it's just over there." Announced the chipper voice of Mr. Diggory, extracting Fred from his thoughts as he waved his walking stick above his head, gesturing to the hilltop before them were a seemingly insignificant old boot sat limply among the tall blades of meadow grass. "Shall we?"

"Oh, yes!" Agreed his father, hurrying over to stand beside him. "We don't want to be late!"

Mr. Diggory turned around, smiling brightly at the kids. "Come on!" He urged, urging them to stand about the old boot. "Nearly there now! Get yourself in a good position."

Approaching the boot reluctantly, the majority of the party hurriedly picked a spot and made no hesitation before lying down on their stomachs and grabbing a hold of the boot. Conversely, Harry and Beatrice stood back, watching the others in bewilderment. "Why are they all standing around that manky old boot?" Harry wondered aloud, looking at Beatrice questioningly, but receiving no more than a shrug.

Fred chuckled, slapping Harry on the back as he made his way around the pair. "That isn't just any manky old boot."

George grinned, following his twin to an open spot between their father and Ron. "It's a Portkey." He explained, settling himself on his stomach before extending his hand to touch the shabby looking boot.

Beatrice shrugged, accepting the answer he offered them and proceeded to place herself beside Hermione, laying on her stomach and reaching out to grab the old boot. Harry, however, didn't appear as satisfied and only went so far as to reluctantly sit on his knees. "What is a Portkey?" He demanded, but nobody appeared to have heard him or, rather, didn't care to answer.

"Ready?" Asked Mr. Diggory, completely oblivious to Harry. "After three. One, two..."

"Harry!" Mr. Weasley shouted urgently. "Grab on!"

Caught off guard, Harry quickly dived for the boot, squeezing himself between Beatrice and Ron less than a second before Mr. Diggory shouted 'Three!' and the Portkey took off with a deafening WHOOSH! With a mighty gust of wind, the boot lifted off of the ground, spinning the group round and round like a merry-go-round, higher and higher the climbed, shooting up into the clouds, their ears popping due to the quick rise in altitude. Lighting cracked around them as they were cast into a tube of gray thunderheads. Wind whipped at them threateningly, tossing their bodies about like rag dolls, but no matter how hard they were jostled, their hands were held firmly to the boot by some type of force like magic super glue.

Arthur and Amos whooped and hollered like it was some type of joy ride. Fred was pretty sure they would've high-fived each other as well if it wasn't for Cedric squished uncomfortably in between the two older wizards. Fred couldn't disagree with them more. He couldn't wait until he had his feet back on the ground, the constant gushing of wind in his ears was starting to make his head ache.

"Right!" Said his father, after a short time being whirled around in the air. "Let go, kids!"

The rest of them, minus the Diggorys eyed him wildly, as if he had just told them that they were going to plummet to the ground to an almost certain death...which, he sort of had. "What?!" Hermione shrieked, eyeing him wildly.

"Let go!"

Hesitantly, all of them broke their hold with the Portkey and found themselves at the mercy of the wind, their bodies spinning around at odd angles, their fingers clawing at the air desperately, as if expect to find some type of invisible hand hold to stabilize them. Somewhere in the distance, Fred could hear Ginny and Hermione screaming for dear life and his little brother Ron yelping like a fool, flailing his arms wildly as his plummeted to the ground. As if by instinct, his eyes began searching for Beatrice, but no matter where he looked, he couldn't spot her. Nor his father, nor the Diggorys, all four of them where nowhere to be-

THUD

Ow. That bloody hurt.

Groaning, he sat up, rubbing his back gingerly. Beside him his twin did the same, massaging his head, muttering curses under his breath. "I knew I bloody well didn't like Portkeys." He grumbled, straightening his clothes before he began to push himself off the ground and to his feet.

Their eyes were averted sky ward upon hearing the sound of Arthur Weasley's laughter. He, Mr. Diggory, and Cedric, his arm wrapped tightly about Beatrice's waist, seemingly glided to the ground, smiling at them with a glint of amusement in their eyes, with the exception of Beatrice, who looked like she had just experienced a tea party with the Bloody Baron.

"I'll bet that cleared your sinuses, eh?" Mr. Wealsey said with a hearty chuckle.

Mr. Diggory laughed in agreement as the rest of them struggled onto their feet, dusting off their clothes and double checking that nothing was broken or severely damaged. "Total shambles, as per usual."

Continuing up a small incline they came upon a glorious sight. Rows upon rows of canvas tents were pitched up in the valley that seemed to extend for ages to the horizon, decorated in either Irish green or Bulgarian black and red; clouds of smoke drifting in delicate swirls from campfires and bar-b-ques; people darted about in all directions on broomsticks of every kind, some models Fred had only dreamed of seeing in person.

"Well, kids!" Mr. Weasley gestured theatrically. "Welcome to the Quidditch World Cup!"

Beatrice beamed with amazement as she attempted to soak in every ounce of the camp-grounds, staring in awe at everything she saw whether it be brooms, or moving posters of Viktor Krum or Aidan Lynch, or push carts full of strange things like luminous rosettes-both for Ireland and Bulgaria (which yelled the names of the players), green hats decorated with dancing shamrocks, Bulgarian scarves with lions that really roared, banners of both Bulgaria and Ireland that sang the national anthem when they waved, and tiny models of brooms and figures of players. With so much to see, it was difficult to decide what to look at and when. Hermione and Ginny kept pointing out things as well, like musicians with enchanted leprechaun figures dancing about their campsite, all the while trying to dodge people who were flying their brooms low among the crowd.

"Beatrice!"

She whirled around at the sound of her name, her eyes combing the bustling crowd for a familiar face. Her lips curled into a grin when her eyes fell upon her brother, Jude, who waved his hand frantically above his head as he jogged over to her, Oliver Wood furiously trying to keep up with him as he cut recklessly through the crowd.

"Ah, there you are!" He said, pulling her into a tight hug. "I hope the Portkey wasn't too bad?"

She shrugged, grinning up at him. "If you consider a massive headache not too bad, then yeah."

Jude laughed, shaking Mr. Diggory's hand, thanking him for looking after his little sister. "Not a problem." He insisted. "The missus was happy to have her around for the short time being, it really was no trouble at all. Got to love the Floo network, eh? Not hardly a bit a soot in the parlor either! Early morning travel is always the clearest."

"Good. Well, I hate to drop in so suddenly then take off, but we better get going, Oliver's dad let us walk around a bit, but we'll need to be putting up your bag and getting you settled before the match." Jude explained, taking her bag from her and shouldering it.

Beatrice nodded, offering Cedric a quick hug, setting about giving everyone a brief good-bye.

"We'll see you at the match." said Hermione, hugging her quickly before turning to follow after Mr. Weasley.

Beatrice waved to her friends, watching as they quickly disappeared behind the crowd.

"So," said Jude, "Have you gotten any souvenirs yet?"

She shook her head. "Literally just dropped in."

Jude chuckled, draping his arm over her shoulders. "Good, because Oliver and I intend to scour every souvenir stand until we are the proudest Irish fans at the Pitch!"

By the time they were headed to the Quidditch Pitch, Jude, Beatrice, and Oliver were clad from head to toe in Irish merchandise. Beatrice, had bought a green and white scarf with a shamrock on it, that was charmed to dance an Irish jig, along with a pair of Omnioculars, an instrument that much resembled binoculars, but had all sorts of knobs and dials about it that could 'replay action, slow everything down, and flash up play-by-play breakdowns if needed' as the salesman had explained. Jude, had only enough money to buy a shamrock hat and and a rosette, having spent the majority of his money on food. Oliver, who had saved up all of his pocket money purely for the World Cup bought not only a pair of Omnioculars, but a small green bowler hat with a shamrock in the rim and a small figure of the Irish Keeper, Barry Ryan, whom he idolized ever since he had been assigned to play Keeper for Gryffindor House during his years at Hogwarts. Pleased with their purchases, they met up with the Wealseys and Diggorys to go to their seats which were located on the very top level of the stadium, which, unfortunately, meant a lot of walking.

"Blimey, Dad..." Ron gasped, gaping at massive the amount of staircases beneath them. "How far up are we?"

"Well, put it this way," Beatrice cringed at the sound of the arrogant, honeyed voice. The sound of it sent unpleasant shivers down her spin as she shrunk from the railing, wanting to be as far from its owner as possible. "If it rains, you'll be the first to know."

Lucius Malfoy grinned maliciously up at them from the level beneath. Beside him was his pompous of a son, Draco, who had given each of them their own share of misery at school. In addition to her immense displeasure, their presence gave her the awful reminder that, after much correspondence with her newly discovered uncle, Sirius Black, Beatrice had learned that she was distantly related to them. Narcissa, Draco's mother, was a cousin to her mother, making him her cousin. Just thinking about it made her skin crawl.

"Father and I are going to be sitting in the Minister's box, by personal invitation of Cornelius Fudge, himself!" He continued to boast, grinning at them smugly, his smile broadening as his eyes fell upon Jude and Beatrice as if to say 'Look what you could have had if it wasn't for your Muggle-loving mother.'

His father, however, frowned, and drove the butt of his cane into his son's gut, earning a stout 'oof' from Draco, who cowered beneath his father's intimidating stare. "Don't boast, Draco. There's no need with these people."

Jude rolled his eyes as he, Harry, and Mr. Weasley began herding the rest of their group away from the Malfoys. Before they got very far, Lucius thrust his cane onto the railing, the teeth of the basilisk on the hilt sinking ever so slightly into the wooden railing, snagging their attention so he could have one final word. "Do enjoy yourself, won't you?" He added, with a fake disposition of genuine well-wishing. "While you can."

He turned and flashed his venomous smirk directly at Jude and Beatrice, who returned his stare with equal distaste. "Good to see you too, cousins." He said with a curt nod of his head. "Do give my regards to your dear mother."

Beatrice and Oliver struggled with all their might to prevent Jude from lunging at him. Lucius merely laughed at the spectacle and strode a way, pleased with the rouse he had earned from Jude. "Git!" He called after him, straightening his jacket with an aggressive huff before he turned back to his sister. His face softened as he took her hand, feeling foolish for allowing Lucius to rouse him like he had. "Come on." He said softly, guiding her away from the railing. "Let's get out of here."

Once they were at there seats, they had a brilliant time. Jude, along with the twins were in an uproar as soon as they entered the stadium, whooping and hollering as the players set off fireworks that shaped into a gigantic leprechaun, which made Hermione and Beatrice snicker at the irony of the display. They had all cheered when the large figure had begin dancing a jig, only to be extinguished by the Bulgarians and their charming Veela. Beatrice was quite sure the boys would have climbed, if not jumped to the field, which lay miles below, just to be within a foot of one. Their magic must be intended purely to entice men, because she, Hermione and Ginny weren't affected in the slightest. In fact, it took all three of them to keep the males at bay.

The match, as a whole was exciting. Viktor Krum, much to Ron's disappointment, ended the game with the Irish in the lead 170-10 by catching the golden snitch, whilst battling a badly bloodied nose, earning Bulgaria an extra 150 points, but still left them ten points shy of claiming the championship title. The entire way back to the campsite Ron boasted continuously about how fantastic Krum was, determined that if the entire Bulgarian team was at the caliber of Krum that heart breaking defeat the Bulgarians had just suffered would have never happened.

Though it was late when they had reached their tent, people still had continued to party well into the night all over the campsite with no indication of stopping anytime soon. Music wafted enticingly through the thin canvas as the gentle glow of fires painted odd designs on the plain fabric as Beatrice tried, with little success, to settle down for the night. She had attempted, once or twice, to convince Jude to allow her to stay awake a bit longer so they could continue to partake in the festivities, but despite Beatrice's protests, Jude had insisted that she try to sleep.

They had only just begun to prepare for bed when the ruckus outside seemed to get wilder and more apprehensive than before. Beatrice shifted under her sheets nervously, a sense of discomfort coming over her as she looked across the room to her brother who sat alert in his cot. "You don't suppose that's more...celebrations, do you?" She asked, hopefully.

Not bothering to give her an answer, Jude threw aside his covers and quickly slipped on his shoes before venturing towards the front door to investigate, ordering her to stay put as he disappeared behind the corner. He had only been gone a few minutes before he dashed back in, grabbing wildly for her hand.

"What is it?" She demanded, her heart racing with apprehension of the unknown as he drug her out of the room, nearly barreling into Oliver and his father when they had entered the common room of the tent.

"We need to get out of here as quickly as possible." Mr. Wood declared, his eyes darting persistently between them, as if accounting for each of them. He held his wand aloft as he addressed her brother. "Jude, can you Apparate with your sister?"

He nodded quickly in rapid response.

"Good." He stated, looking briefly to Oliver before returning his eyes to Jude. "Go home now, it's not safe here. Don't bother with anything else other than your wands, leave everything." He ordered with such severe authority that it frightened Beatrice. "Contact us when you reach safety." With two ear splitting CRACKs, Oliver and his father disappeared in thin air.

Beatrice looked wildly at her brother. "Jude, what is going on? Why aren't you telling me-"

"No time to explain," he said quickly, extending his arm to her. "Quick, take my hand." Pursing her lips, she did as she was told and with a similar CRACK sound, the tent and the World Cup disappeared in a flash.