The campsite reserved for the Duncans is a perfect spot, in Darcy's opinion. A few rustling trees surround the area, giving them enough shade to keep them cool and comfortable in the rippling grass just outside the tent, and they're close enough to the water pump to not have to worry about making a journey to and from every time they're in need. When Mrs. Duncan and her friend from work, Faye, set up the tent with a few lazy motions with their wands and much laughter, Emily scouts the area for people they know and Darcy lounges in a camp chair, dark sunglasses on her face, long legs stretched out in front of her. It's relaxing—the buzz of conversation all around, the smell of breakfasts cooking over fires, small demonstrations of magic (despite the rules stating clearly that magic should be kept to an absolute minimum).

"Come check out this tent, Darcy," Emily urges with raised eyebrows, disappearing through the flaps.

Darcy reluctantly gets to her feet and follows Emily inside, stopping with one foot over the tent's threshold. Lowering her sunglasses, her eyebrows raised nearly to her hairline, Darcy looks around, dumbfounded. The tent is much, much bigger on the inside and is much, much nicer. Mrs. Duncan is in the kitchen—a full kitchen complete with a table to eat around and several dining chairs, one of which is taken by Faye, an older woman with gray hair and a young face. To Darcy's left is another flap tied open for the moment, leading to a modest bathroom, and to her right, half concealed by more flaps of canvas, are three bunkbeds. Behind the bunkbeds is yet another flap of canvas that leads to another small area where there's a much larger bed. In the middle of the tent are several armchairs and an aged loveseat, a long and low wooden table, and a large and beautiful carpet underneath the furniture.

"You could pitch it in the Dursleys' backyard," Emily jokes, but Darcy seriously considers it for a moment. "Or anywhere, really."

"What do you think?" Mrs. Duncan asks, a playful smile upon her face as she looks over her shoulder at Darcy. "My husband looked much like you, Darcy, when he first saw the inside. It was adorable when he set it up without any magic."

"I think it's wonderful," Darcy says truthfully. She turns to Emily. "Why haven't we gone camping more often? With a tent like this, I would have been a little more willing."

Emily laughs. "Camping is vile. All the dirt, you know?"

Glancing at her watch, Darcy looks back up at Emily. "Let's go see if we can find Harry."

"Sure," Emily says, grabbing her own sunglasses off a nearby table and making for the tent entrance. Darcy leads her back out into the bright sunlight. "Gemma and Carla should be here somewhere. They came together, and I think they took a Portkey. Should've arrived by now." At the entrance, she turns back towards the kitchen. "We'll be back, mum!"

Mrs. Duncan waves a flippant hand at them, speaking to Faye without really hearing them.

They wander the area for a while, running into old friends and having quick conversations before moving on again. They meet Robert, Gemma's ex-boyfriend, skulking around his extravagant tent a little ways away from Mrs. Duncan's ("Do you know if she's seeing anyone? Tell her I've asked about her, all right?"), their old roommates from Hogwarts (they end up all taking a shot of firewhisky in the comfort of Julia's tent), two Gryffindor boys in Harry's year—Dean Thomas and Seamus Finngean—who eagerly wave hello to Darcy, and even Oliver Wood, who seems positively thrilled to be at the World Cup.

"Well, it's official," he tells them excitedly. "Just got signed to Puddlemere United reserve team a few weeks ago."

This means nothing to Darcy, who smiles enthusiastically all the same, but Emily seems to know exactly what he's talking about and looks mildly impressed. They don't stay long to chat, but Darcy gives Oliver a half-hearted promise that they'll stop by to chat after the game ends. When Darcy and Emily walk away, well out of earshot, they both giggle and weave a little faster through the large amount of people laughing with friends and family.

"Hey! Darcy! Emily!"

Darcy looks over quickly, her red hair flicking Emily across the face as she turns her head. Sure enough, Gemma and Carla, typically inseparable, are running towards them, smiling as Gemma pulls Carla along by the hand.

Carla looks a different person without the stress of school weighing her down—traveling definitely suits her. Her dark cheeks appear flushed in the best way possible, giving life to her face and smile and eyes, her curls bounce dramatically with each step she takes, and she seems much fitter and much more toned than the last time Darcy had seen her just a few weeks ago.

Gemma, while still beautiful and clever-looking, does look a bit more tired than usual, and a bit older. Her dark hair is pulled back into a short ponytail, and she still walks with an elegance that has always inspired Darcy. But up close, Darcy notes the shadows under Gemma's eyes that she usually associates with Lupin, a tiredness that Darcy's never seen Gemma wear before.

"Robert was asking about you," Emily tells Gemma, as they all exchange hugs. "Ran into him just a little bit ago."

"What did he ask?" Gemma inquired, cocking a thin eyebrow. Before Emily can answer, Gemma quickly rearranges her features. "Never mind, I don't really think I want to know."

"He wanted to know if you were seeing anyone," Emily says, looking around with her hand above her eyes to shield them from the sun. "Darcy told him you were seeing some tall, strapping gentleman."

Gemma snickers.

"Rumor has it you've been quite successful with a certain boy this summer, Darcy," Carla adds, grinning from ear and ear and giving herself away by looking at Gemma. "Did you really visit Professor Lupin? At his own house? How was it? What was it like? What did you do?"

"Yeah," Gemma teases, drawing out the word and looking at Darcy with a greedy expression, hungry for details. "You never told me much about it. Suppose your privacy speaks volumes. Did you fuck like rabbits? That's what I got out of it."

Emily chokes, her cheeks turning pinker than Darcy's. "Gemma!"

"Look, I'm not getting any," Gemma replies calmly, placing a hand on Darcy's shoulder and looking at Emily, "so I have to live vicariously through Darcy until I am getting some. Darcy's pretty and Lupin's good-looking enough . . . it's not so bad to hear about." Gemma lowers her voice, looking Darcy in the face with a small smile as Emily scoffs and starts talking to Carla, likely to distract herself. "Did you though? Fuck like rabbits?"

Darcy still blushes, smiling slyly, but doesn't answer.

"You naughty, naughty girl. You'll tell me later, won't you? After we get rid of Emily?" Gemma laughs, and Darcy can't suppress her smile. "Speaking of Lupin—when's the next time you'll see him? I'm sorry I didn't answer your last letter, but I do have a lot to go over and I'd much rather do it in person. Did he seem hesitant? Reluctant at all?"

"Yes, but I told him I trust you," Darcy answers, and Gemma places a hand to her heart. "And he was all right with that. As long as I trust you, he trusts you. You've done nothing to hurt him, so he's no reason to be suspicious."

"That's sweet of you," Gemma chuckles. "I assumed he'd be a little nervous, and that's why I want to meet with you first, to go over everything. It's only natural, his reservation, but I think he'll feel better about it once—"

"Are you two done scheming over there?" Carla asks suddenly, and both Darcy and Gemma jump. Both Carla and Emily look slightly impatient, their arms crossed over their chests, waiting for their friends to rejoin the conversation. "There's so much I want to tell you about Borneo—you wouldn't believe half of what we did there. Elena knew where the bigger Wizarding communities are, seeing as she's bounced around them for a little while now. You know the Wizarding population in Asia is more than triple the size of Britain's?"

"Oh—that reminds me," Emily interrupts, earning herself an annoyed look from Carla, whose mouth is still half-open, prepared to continue. "Do you know a girl named Nymphadora Tonks? We work together at the Ministry, and she said she was friends with your sister."

"Tonks?" Carla repeats, her annoyance suddenly vanished from her face. Instead, her face lights up, and Darcy feels a churning in her stomach, inching closer to Gemma. "Yeah—Nymphadora Tonks! She used to come round our house sometimes during the summers. She was great fun. She and Elena were always making mum and dad laugh. Oh, she always did those funny faces—does she still do the different noses? How is she? I'll have to write Elena and tell her that you work with her! She'll be delighted!"

"She's doing really well," Emily says. "Almost done with her Auror training. Another year, I think, and they're pushing her from the nest."

"Does she still have pink hair?"

"Yeah," Emily laughs. "Most days. Mad-Eye says it's too conspicuous, but he's got a soft spot for her, I think."

"I was always partial to her purple hair," Carla replies quietly, and Darcy narrows her eyes as she thinks she sees a faint blush creep up onto her face, coloring her cheeks. "Not that she looks ugly with her pink hair, I just—I wish my hair was purple—"

"Is this Darcy Potter?"

Darcy recognizes Ludo's voice without having to look at him. She wishes in that moment, despite hating herself for it, that she was Nymphadora Tonks instead, able to change her appearance at will. What a relief it would be to look incredibly plain—what a relief it would be for eyes to wash right over her, not even giving her a second look. But she can feel Ludo's eyes on the back of her head now and her friends fall silent as Darcy turns on her heels and gives Ludo Bagman a charming smile, feeling foolish and embarrassed with her friends watching on. Darcy falters at the sight of him wearing his old Quidditch robes, which seem to hang off his shoulders as if he was once much bigger and stockier. It's a wonderful sight to see him so enthused, however, something that can't be said for many Ministry workers patrolling the area.

"I've just met your brother," Ludo smiles, and Darcy opens her mouth to speak, but he continues without letting her get a word in. "We didn't necessarily speak much—not like you and I, Darcy! I've been dying to ask you—what do you think of it all?" He opens his arms wide and gestures towards all the tents and people.

Darcy smiles at him wider, glad he's asked her a question to which she can reply honestly. "It's amazing," she gushes, looking around them at all of the campsites. "I've never been to something like this."

"Well, the best part is yet to come! Would you like to possibly place a wager on the game, Darcy? You strike me as a Bulgarian supporter—fan of Viktor Krum's, are you? I don't know . . . you could be Irish . . . green would suit you . . . but the Irish don't have Krum!"

She blinks, gives him a blank look, and Gemma leans in, whispering in Darcy's ear, "Bulgarian Seeker. Young, very handsome, very good."

"Oh—well, I don't really know who I'll be supporting," Darcy admits sheepishly, glancing at Gemma, who seems to be fingering her money bag, tucked away in her sweater pocket. She looks desperately at Gemma for a hint. Gemma smiles at her, and Ludo's eyes land on Gemma for a brief moment, looking her up and down.

"Friends of yours, Darcy? Please—introduce us! I would hate to be rude to friends of Darcy Potter's!"

Glad to get off the subject of the match, Darcy starts with Gemma, who's nearest. "Everyone, this is Ludo Bagman. He's the Head of Magical Games and Sports at the Ministry. Mr. Weasley introduced us," she says, and Ludo nods eagerly in agreement with her. "Mr. Bagman, this is Gemma—she's been working at St Mungo's since June—and Emily—she was at the Ministry with me the other day when we met, training to be an Auror—and this is Carla. She's going back to Hogwarts for her seventh year this September."

Ludo gives Darcy a very knowing and excited look, and Darcy knows he's thinking of the Triwizard Tournament. "Glad to meet you all," he tells them. "Now Darcy, I must be off, but come and find me after the match and we can talk more, yes?"

"Mr. Bagman," Darcy starts before Ludo can walk away. He turns around, looking very pleased with himself. "Could you point us in the direction of Harry and the Weasleys?"

Winking at her, Ludo shows her the general direction of her brother and his friends, and Darcy leads her own friends towards the area after receiving a chaste kiss to her knuckles from Ludo himself. Carla walks at Darcy's side while Emily and Gemma walk behind them.

"Since when are you on knuckle-kissing terms with Ludo Bagman?" Carla asks, perplexed. "Not that I'm jealous . . ."

"Should we curtsey when you pass us?" Gemma asks, bowing low. Darcy turns and rolls her eyes. "Your Majesty?"

"Shut up. It's a long story," Darcy sighs, laughing nervously and slapping Gemma's shoulder as she pretends to grovel at their feet. Gemma cackles and slows her pace, resuming her conversation with Emily. "Mr. Weasley brought me to the Ministry a little while ago and I met him there . . . he's all right, I think, just a little . . . look, I'll tell you everything once we're alone again, yeah?"

"Plenty of time to update me come September," Carla says with a grin. "You really stayed with Lupin this summer? That's the truth?"

"Yeah, for a week," Darcy answers bashfully. She sneaks a glance at Emily and Gemma, still deep in what seems a serious conversation. "He didn't even kiss me until I'd been there a few days. It was . . ." Darcy sighs happily at the memory of Lupin kissing her deeply in the pouring rain, kissing up and down her body, the scratch of beard against her thighs—

"Hey, Darcy!"

Darcy clears her throat, looking sideways at Carla as a lanky red-headed boy runs up to her, followed by Harry and Hermione. "Hi, Ron," Darcy says, wrapping an arm around his shoulders with one arm, and draping the other around Harry's. "You guys get here okay?"

"Took a Portkey," Ron explains.

"How was it?" Darcy asks both of them. "I've never used one."

"Extremely suffocating, confusing, and it made me really dizzy," Harry answers for Ron, and the three of them laugh.

"Thought you'd seen the last of me, did you, Hermione?" Gemma teases, giving Hermione a toothy grin. Hermione gives a small shrug, looking slightly abashed. "Did Darcy tell you what I'm going to be researching this year?"

Hermione narrows her eyes, and Gemma grins wickedly.

Fred and George, seemingly having appeared out of nowhere, are talking quietly with Emily and Carla, their heads bowed together. The corner of Emily's lips quirk upwards, and Carla listens with her eyebrows furrowed. Harry opens his mouth to speak to Darcy, but Hermione swats her arm hard, distracting Darcy completely.

"You volunteered Professor Lupin to be an experiment?" Hermione snaps and Gemma howls with laughter, winking at Darcy over Hermione's bushy hair. "I would have thought you, of all people, would know how werewolves are seen and treated already and to—"

"I didn't volunteer him!" Darcy retorts, giving Gemma a withering stare that has no effect on her. "Gemma offered and he accepted—Gemma, what are you saying to Hermione? You're going to get me in trouble."

"He's not an animal to be tested on!" Hermione hisses. "He's a human being that deserves better than to be treated as a guinea pig for your friend!"

Darcy can't help but to smile at Hermione. "You don't have to tell me that, Hermione," she says kindly. "I think I know very well that he's not an animal." Darcy and Gemma meet eyes for a split second, and Gemma seems to be bursting to say something, her eyebrows raised, teeth bared in a wicked smile, but Darcy shakes her head. "I know what you're going to say, and don't say it."

Gemma keeps quiet, but continues to beam at Darcy knowingly. Harry, Hermione, and Ron all exchange looks and scrunch their noses. Ron shakes his head. "Ew."

"Shut up, Ron." Darcy flushes a deep red. "Is your dad around?"

"In the tent," Ron says, throwing his thumb over his shoulder at it. "Hurry up. We want to get some souvenirs before they sell out."

Darcy enters the Weasley's larger tent, grinning around at the inside. This tent is just like Mrs. Duncan's—bigger on the inside, with a small kitchen, bathroom, and plenty of sleeping space for the boys. Their rucksacks have been thrown unceremoniously onto the bunk beds, and there are a few empty or half-empty cups littering the small tables around the tent. Mr. Weasley is talking with two other red-headed boys in the kitchen area—two red-headed boys that she doesn't recognize at first. At the sight of Darcy approached, they break off their conversation, and Mr. Weasley pulls her into a tight hug.

"Darcy, these are my eldest sons," Mr. Weasley says, releasing Darcy and placing either of his hands on his sons' shoulders. "This is Bill—my oldest. You might remember him a little bit . . ."

Bill reaches out for Darcy's hand and they shake. His grip is firm, and Darcy looks him over, admiring his individuality, especially among a large family of boys. Bill's hair is just as red as the rest of his siblings, but longer (Darcy wonders how he gets away with that around Mrs. Weasley), and it's tied back in a ponytail at the base of his neck. Dangling from one of his ears is an earring that looks suspiciously like a fang. Darcy briefly remembers seeing him around Hogwarts, but as he'd been much older, they hadn't been friends. However, Darcy doesn't recall him having long hair or a fang earring while a student at Hogwarts. "Nice to meet you—officially, I suppose," Bill says politely. "Dad said you'd be here."

Mr. Weasley continues when Bill and Darcy let go of each other's hands. "And Darcy, this is Charlie. You probably saw each other around school more often."

Darcy and Charlie smile at each other and shake hands without saying much. She does remember seeing him around Hogwarts when she was younger, but as she hadn't been introduced to the Weasleys, they hadn't really had a relationship between them. His hands are calloused and burned—his arms scarred and freckled. While she's never actually talked to Charlie, nor have they really corresponded directly, Darcy remembers back to her fifth year, when Charlie had helped them make arrangements to get Hagrid's baby dragon away from Hogwarts. "Pleasure to formally meet you at last, Darcy," Charlie says after a moment's silence. "You look much more grown up than the last time I saw you."

"Make the trip all right?" Mr. Weasley asks, turning his back to her and tapping a kettle with his wand until it begins to screech. "You didn't take a Portkey, did you?"

"No," Darcy answers. "We Apparated with Emily's mum and her friend. Mr. Weasley—could I talk to you? In private?"

"Sure," Mr. Weasley says, frowning. "Is everything all right?"

Darcy nods and Bill and Charlie take their leave quickly, leaving she and Mr. Weasley quite alone in the tent. She hesitates for a moment, looking towards the entrance. Everything has been going so well—surely something would have happened already? But what if it's yet to come? "Mr. Weasley, if I tell you this, I need you to promise that—"

"Darcy, are you ready?"

She sighs and closes her eyes for a moment before turning around. Harry's head is sticking through the tent's entrance flaps, and judging by the look on his face, Harry knows exactly what Darcy's up to. "Yes, I'm coming."

As Darcy turns away, Mr. Weasley stops her, looking utterly confused. "Wait—! What did you want to tell me?"

Darcy looks from Harry to Mr. Weasley, clearing her throat as Harry narrows his eyes at her, his body following his head into the tent. "I just wanted to tell you that—" She sighs heavily again. "I saw Ludo Bagman."

"Did he weasel money out of you, as well?" Mr. Weasley asks exasperatedly, punching the bridge of his nose. "He already convinced Fred and George to hand over their entire savings to bet on the match."

"No, I—I didn't bet anything."

"Good girl. Keep your money close."

As soon as Darcy reaches Harry's side and they exit the tent together, he hisses, "What were you going to tell Mr. Weasley for?"

"Because someone needs to know!" Darcy hisses right back. "If something happens tonight and people are hurt—"

"Nothing is going to happen," Harry asserts, with a confidence that surprises Darcy. "We don't even know if Voldemort is planning something—you just heard me say the word 'Quidditch' and your brain started turning. I can almost hear it now."

"Harry, maybe it's nothing, but don't you think—"

"I think you're overthinking—not like it's the first time—"

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means that you—"

"Years I've been hearing you two bicker, and you know what?" Gemma's voice shuts both Harry and Darcy up immediately. Their friends are all standing together, watching them carefully, almost amused. "It makes me extremely glad that mum and dad didn't pop out another little shit like me."