Disclaimer: Much as I'd like to, I don't own Draco Malfoy, or any part of the magical world that J.K. Rowling has all the copyrights to ... please don't sue me. There are some parts of this story that are quotes from the book - it can't be helped - events are the same as in the book, but Draco's opinion of these events may vary from Harry's.
Author's Notes: Longish chapter. Although, in my opinion it's just returning my fic to a civilised chapter-length after far too many short chapters.
dragonsprincess: Yeah, he said the 's' word - it's a miracle! ... and what do you mean by changing the subject? He THINKS he loves her ... it's just a crush ... he'll probably (maybe) get over her. It actually depends on what happens in the next two real books ... the suspense is killing me! As for the spontaneous kiss thing ... I might do it, I might not - it doesn't depend on the books, I just don't wanna tell you which one I'm planning ... then the suspense can get you too *evil cackle ... cough cough* yeah. And your argument about why she'd not tell them is pretty close to my opinion of the situation.
Caz Malfoy: Glad you enjoyed it.
LenaLovely12: Well, it was one of my favourite BtVS quotes, I couldn't not use it. And I think I told you, Draco'd rather tell his father he was dating Theo than admit to liking Hermione.
Rain10: If you're reading this, you've found out I've already started it.
Starre: I've never heard of Teen Titans. Sorry.
HiBob: *blink blink* you're reading my fics? Cooli - did I mention I really like your Malcolm in the Middle crossover fics? As for "Karaoke Night at Malfoy Manor", don't worry, it was a one-off occurrence *glares at Imperia, as in to say she can take that as her final warning*.
Elizabeth: Thanks - I was going for strange - the funny was a bonus.
angelkas: It makes for good plot-lines in fics, if the guys want the girl they can't have. That and I just like the pairing (D/Hr). I'm pretty sure I've told you you're weird ... not that that's a bad thing, though. I really don't know anything about bands - I either like the song or I don't, I don't care who plays/sings it. There's two messages in the dream - the obvious one (Draco subconsciously thinks Hermione can help him get away from his "destiny") and the not so obvious one (something to do with the essays she mentioned ... I ain't tellin' ya what, tho *evil grin*).
Devi: Um ... I don't think the D/Hr thing will get very far ... but I may change my mind - you never know. Actually, he kinda was a bit stalkerish, wasn't he? Hehe - good. Let's just hope for his sake she never finds out he was watching her like that *evil grin*. And I've still got writer's block on ATHSS - sorry.
Loony Lunas: We don't know ANYTHING about Hermione except her mother and father are dentists ... why shouldn't she have a little brother we don't know about? *blink blink ... confused look* you think he's nice in this? Huh? *panics* where did I go wrong?! I was trying to make him not nice! I got loads of people complaining about how horrible he was feeding that live rat to Crookshanks, and you think he's being too nice? *dramatic sigh* I guess I can't please 'em all - sorry.
Exodia Himself: Thanks - I will.
Roxie: Ok, hold on a minute ... if you have to ask those questions, I'm guessing you haven't read the first three parts of this series - they're on my author page - they're numbered "one", "two", and "three" - you can't miss them. Sorry if I sound patronising, but really, I thought it was obvious.
Bob: Sorry to keep you waiting, but I did need to edit the other three books. But let's face it, this fic needed Luna Lovegood - please tell me you at least re-read "Crookshanks and the Great Rubber Duck Conspiracy"? It's got a whole new scene - which by definition, is something new from me :P ... and I have no clue what a 14-year-old boy might do in his bed after a dream like that (note, I just took sarcasm to new levels) *faux innocent look to go with it*.
snape's kidney: Nice penname - really, I love it.
duochang97: Glad you like it - I plan to leave the little-brother thing at that, and he'll never be mentioned again, probably ... unless JKR says she has a little brother. As for Draco acting on his attraction ... you'll have to wait and see if it happens or not.
Druscilla Black: Uh huh ... if you didn't already know that the most noticeable ship in this fic is D/Hr, you probably haven't read the first three parts of this series ... if you don't like it, too bad. And this whole chapter was a D/Hr ship, how'd you think it was a good chapter if you don't like that pairing?
Princess of Darkness6: I know what you mean about not liking to review older stories ... I don't do it either. As for ATHSS, I've found better things than the first book I wrote of it in my cat's litter tray - it does get better as it goes along, but I really like this story better - if you want to try to read it again, it's up to you - I'd actually advise against it. Yes, Skeeter does write about H/Hr ... and I have plans for the Yule Ball, don't worry *evil grin*. Although I doubt Draco'll be jealous about the Triwizard thing ... I have it on good authority that Draco isn't suicidal. Well, the thing about the snakes singing - it says in Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, that a Runespoor's three heads have three different personalities - Crucia is the logical thinker/planner, Avada is the critic, and Imperia is a daydreamer - I figured it's not a great leap from daydreaming to singing.
fcuking cathy: Glad you liked.
Whew, that was a lot of reviews - keep 'em coming! I put them at the start of the chapter, so as not to give you any delusions about the chapter's length.
Riot at a sporting event ... who'd have thought?
Chapter 2 - Quidditch Hooligans
I think I'm obsessed. Maybe I'm cursed. Why can't I get that Mudblood out of my head for even a minute?
"Draco! Hurry up or you'll miss the start of the match!" Mother's voice broke my train of thought, thankfully. I put down my quill, glared at my still unfinished Potions homework, and bolted from the room, down the stairs, to the fireplace in the hall. I had been ready to go for the last hour, and the attempted Potions homework had just been to try to get Hermione out of my mind ... it didn't work.
As soon as I got there, my father produced a piece of stone from a pocket, "This is the last Portkey to the World Cup - which means we won't have to wait around like idiots. And of course, we have seats in the Top Box." he said, smiling smugly - he was still in a good mood - who'd have thought?
Mother put her hand on the Portkey, and I then did the same ... ten seconds passed before we found ourselves transported to the edge of a forest, beyond which was the stadium for the World Cup. I was really looking forward to this.
"Hurry up, we don't want to be late." Father snapped, before leading us through a lit up path, to the stadium - it was bigger than a standard professional stadium - I've been to enough professional games to know that - but it'd take more than that to really impress me.
We climbed up to the Top Box, which was already almost full, mostly with Bulgarian Ministry delegates here for the match, but ... the front row was full of unmistakable red hair - Weasleys. Mother scowled, on seeing the Weasleys there, "Oh no, we don't have to share a box with them, do we?" she muttered, seemingly revolted.
Father pointed to the empty seats at the end of the second row, and started to edge past the other people already in their seats. Public events - splendid, marvellous, so ... public.
"And here's Lucius!" oh piss off, Fudge. The Minister was standing in the front row, and had been yammering to some Bulgarian man, and ... oh shit ... Potter. Well how was I to know it was him, until he turned around to glare at me? Unlike the Weasleys, random kids with black hair aren't instantly identifiable, unless the git is looking at you. You guessed it - I still hate him.
"Ah, Fudge, how are you?" Father said, pausing at the point where he could talk to the Minister, easily, "I don't think you've met my wife, Narcissa? or our son, Draco?"
I gave Fudge a brief fake-smile, when my name was mentioned, and proceeded to ignore the man as he bowed and babbled at my father. I scanned the group of Weasleys - five of them, I had the misfortune of knowing from school ... plus the father ... there were two others I couldn't have named if I'd felt like it, though ... Potter was there, obviously, and he was currently glaring at my father ... and Hermione was there, as well - I carefully avoided looking at her. I could feel Hermione staring at me, with what I knew without looking was her McGonagall impersonation, but I just glared at Potter, trying to pretend Hermione wasn't there.
A few mild insults were exchanged, and then we took our seats ... I was right behind Hermione - great, just great. And there was a house elf three seats down from us, adamantly declaring to a couple of Bulgarian delegates that the seat at the end of the row was "... being kept for Bartemius Crouch, yes it is!" those creatures are annoying.
Then the voice of the commentator boomed out over the whole stadium, "Ladies and gentlemen ... welcome! Welcome to the final of the four hundred and twenty-second Quidditch World Cup!" loud cheers prevented the introduction from continuing for a moment, but when the noise level dropped a little, he did, "And now, without further ado, allow me to introduce ... the Bulgarian team mascots!"
I heard the Weasleys' father saying something about Veela, and I could see the beautiful creatures - in human form, but they weren't human - floating onto the field. I had never seen a Veela before, but I had read about them ... it's not really possible to describe just how drop-dead-gorgeous they were.
Mother twirled her hair nervously, and didn't bother to look at the Veela, as they started to sing and dance. I felt a little light-headed, as I watched them - so beautiful. But after a minute, I shook my head, and looked at them with a more critical eye - what was that I had felt? Hypnosis? Something akin to Imperius? Well whatever it was, it was affecting everyone. The twins were doing synchronised drooling - and Potter and his pet Weasley were out of their seats, and looked like they were going to jump out of the box ... until Hermione stopped them.
"Damnit," my father muttered, very quietly, so only I could hear, "Why did she have to stop him?" I assumed he was referring to Potter, rather than the Weasley-sidekick. I sniggered a little, but didn't respond ... I could probably have given too good an answer, and that would not have been good for Father's temper.
"And now, kindly put your wands in the air ... for the Irish National Team Mascots!" the announcer declared, a fairly impressive green-and-gold light-show ensued, including a rainbow, and a rain of gold coins ... Leprechauns. It was kind of amusing the way the Weasley-sidekick dived on the small piles of Leprechaun-gold ... he obviously didn't know that it only lasts for a few hours before vanishing into thin air. After the crowd had calmed down again, and both sets of mascots were settled on either side of the pitch to watch the match, the announcer continued, "And now, ladies and gentlemen, kindly welcome - the Bulgarian National Quidditch Team! I give you - Dimitrov! Ivanova! Zograf! Levski! Vulchanov! Aaaaaaand - Krum!"
As their names were called, each member of the Bulgarian team shot out onto the pitch, and once they were all out, they started performing some minor aerobatic stunts, just for the sake of showing off.
"And now, please greet - the Irish National Quidditch Team! Presenting - Connolly! Ryan! Troy! Mullet! Moran! Quigley! Aaaaaand - Lynch!"
As soon as the green-clad team shot onto the pitch, they started flying circles around the red team, even before the match began.
"And here, all the way from Egypt, our referee, acclaimed Chairwizard of the International Association of Quidditch, Hassan Mostafa!" the referee was wearing gold robes, the exact same shade as the stadium itself.
"Gold is such a gawdy colour." Mother muttered very quietly. I nodded slightly, to show my agreement, but I'm not sure if she saw me or not.
"Theeeeeeeey're OFF!" the commentator yelled ... then it all blurred together. I could follow which team had the Quaffle at any given time, but beyond that there was just a red-and-green blur in the air. Except the two Seekers. They were both circling above the fray. This is why I'm not a Chaser - I'd never be able to fly like those Chasers (mostly because I'd never be able to work in a team) ... Seeker is much easier, I think.
My interest was only really caught when Krum pulled a Wrongski Feint on Lynch, and ran him into the ground. Now that was cool. In spite of the fact I was rooting for Ireland, it was still a neat trick Krum had just pulled - Lynch needed medical attention.
After a while, an argument erupted on the pitch, between the two sets of mascots. I stood up, staring with fascination at what the Veela now looked like - vicious part-bird like creatures, almost like vultures. And throwing fireballs - really cool. In a way, I was more intrigued by them in this form that their beautiful image.
"And that, boys, is why you should never go for looks alone!" the Weasleys' father yelled, so Potter and friends could hear him over the noise of the crowd. For once, I'd have to say, he's right - not that I would admit that out loud - but first impressions are usually misleading.
I was now ignoring the game overhead to watch the fight down below. Now that's entertainment. Ministry wizards were now trying to separate the fighting mascots, with next-to-no success. One Veela set a wizard's robes on fire (by accident, I'm sure ... you decide if I'm being sarcastic or not), and a pair of leprechauns were pulling at another Veela's hair. There were stunning spells flying all over the ground, and a fireball went soaring up to hit the tail of the referee's broom.
I only looked back up at the game in the air when I saw something red that turned out to be blood falling from the sky ... Krum had taken a Bludger to the face. Still, when Potter yelled that Lynch had seen the Snitch, I saw that both Seekers were actually after it ... in spite of his obvious injury, Krum was catching up with Lynch really really fast, and before anyone really knew what was happening, Krum had the Snitch, and Lynch was run into the ground for a second time.
The Veela swarmed around the Irish Seeker, most probably clawing at him with they're unnaturally sharp fingernails. I watched the carnage on the ground for a moment, until I heard a yell of, "IRELAND WIN!" what the -? But Krum got the Snitch! "KRUM GETS THE SNITCH - BUT IRELAND WIN - good Lord, I don't think any of us were expecting that!" I felt my right eye twitch - ok, so the team I was rooting for won, but still, something was irritating about the end to that match ... it might have been the jubilant whoops and cheers from the Weasley twins that clearly said they were delighted with something.
As they realised their team had lost, the Veela reverted to their human-esque forms, looking miserable, and shooting death-glares at the celebrating Leprechauns.
"And as the Irish team perform a lap of honour, flanked by their mascots, the Quidditch World Cup itself is brought into the Top Box!" the announcer called, over the almost deafening cheers. And the Top Box suddenly lit up, so everyone could see inside - I winced at the sudden light, and blinked a few times, before looking up to see a huge golden trophy being hauled into the box by two out-of-breath wizards, who then passed it to a rather disgruntled Fudge. "Let's have a really loud hand for the gallant losers - Bulgaria!" I watched as the Bulgarian team trudge into the box, via the stairway, behind our seats, and shook hands with their Minister, and Fudge. Then the Irish team were awarded the Cup, and flew around the stadium with it. I lost interest, here - the exciting part was over, and I was bored now.
Hermione was jumping up and down, cheering ... I had to force myself not to look at her ... I know I would have stared at her, if I hadn't refocused my attention on glaring at Potter. Staring at the Mudblood, in that way, in the presence of my father, could only lead to trouble ... thank every god there is that Father isn't a Legilimens.
Oh, I almost forgot, since Ireland won, I owe Cat five Galleons. I must remember never to make a bet with a Seer again. Except Trelawney, but she doesn't count as a real Seer.
And in spite of the elf's protestations of being "... under orders, sir!" the seat it had been reserving had remained empty for the entire match. I didn't think Crouch liked Quidditch, anyway. He's more of a Quodpot supporter.
Odd.
* * *
"Are you sure you don't want me to stay, Lucius?" Mother asked.
"Certain. I can keep an eye on Draco, until the first Portkey home." Father replied coolly.
"That's not until four in the morning, dear." Mother noted.
"I know that ... it's not as if Draco is too young to stay up late, anymore." Father said, in a condescending tone.
Mother sighed, and muttered about stupid officious bureaucrats being put in charge of the Portkeys, before shrugging, "Fine, I shall see you both at home, then?"
Father nodded, and kissed her on the cheek. I made a point of not looking at them, at that moment.
"What is the matter, Draco, darling?" Mother asked, in a faux-innocent tone that implied she knew exactly why I was avoiding looking at them.
"Nothing." I muttered.
Father rolled his eyes, "Look at us when you speak to us, Draco." he snapped.
I looked up, and said, "Sorry, Father."
He glanced at me, with an obvious malicious glint in his eye, before turning back to Mother, and kissing her quite thoroughly, on the lips. I very quickly proceeded to stare at the ground, and tried not to let the mental images of myself doing just that to Hermione associate themselves with what I had just seen.
About a minute later, he let her go, and she gave me a brief hug, before Disapparating into thin air.
All right, that was embarrassing.
"Follow me, Draco." Father said, starting to walk off, across the edge of the field, carefully avoiding the tents that were set up in the field itself. I followed, and soon we came to a small and obviously relatively isolated village, less than a mile from the campsite everyone else was using until the Portkeys could take them home. The village was literally a few houses, a tiny shop (which was closed right now) and a pub. And it was a Muggle village, at that.
Father led me into the pub, and I sat in a corner, watching as he and several of his friend (Death Eaters) drank some very expensive whiskey, and talked loudly about the match.
I tried to stay as far away from them as possible ... there were more and more of them gathering, now - I was vaguely surprised that many people could fit into the small pub, since there were no Tardis charms on the non-magical building. I stared out the window, for ages - we were too far from the magical campsite to see it, but I could quite clearly see that a few Muggles were out, and talking among themselves - I occasionally saw flashes of green-and-gold over the direction of the campsite - the Leprechauns were probably still celebrating.
Suddenly, there was a loud crashing noise, and I looked round to see the Muggle barman had been thrown across the room by Herman Crabbe (Vincent's father), and most of the Death Eaters there were cheering that action. They all seemed quite drunk ... this could get ugly. I glanced at the door, and saw I had a clear route of escape, should any duelling break out ... that was a good sign, at least. Then Father made the quite loud suggestion that they could go out and have some fun with the Muggles at the campsite.
The ensuing cheers left me with an opportunity to slip out, before they got too violent, and I never give up a good opportunity. I was out of the pub, and no one seemed to notice my absence. Best not to get in the middle of whatever they were planning ... also best not to be anywhere near my father when he's that drunk. I ran down the pathetic excuse for a street, and around the edge of the campsite - the Irish supporters were still celebrating, I noticed. I stopped at the edge of the forest, just as a loud explosion heralded the start of the 'games' as Father and his friends would call them.
* * *
I leaned against a tree, just inside the forest, where I should be concealed, and squinted to see the small stone house at the edge of the campsite explode, and four unidentified figures floated into the air. It didn't take me long to figure out that they were Muggles, being levitated above the small crowd that was gathered around the smoking ruin of their home. At this distance, I couldn't see much, but the group of Death Eaters was definitely growing ... that somehow didn't surprise me - once someone starts something like this, anyone even vaguely inclined towards violence will undoubtedly join in. I would take great pleasure in noting the similarity between this incident, and what I have read in Muggle Studies books about soccer hooligans ... but that would not do me any good, so I won't say it.
People were now running away, as well - towards the forest, probably because it is the best place to hide.
"Hello, child." a female voice said behind me. I turned around to see three Veela in their beautiful human form, standing there.
"Er ... hello." I said, a little uncertain about these creatures. I had to make a conscious effort to keep my composure.
"You do not look afraid of the attackers?" one of them asked me, with curiosity.
"Why should I be?" I asked.
"They are burning and hurting anything they can." another of them said - all three looked almost identical, and I couldn't have told them apart any easier than I could the Weasley twins ... these were much better looking, though. I didn't just think that - the Weasley twins don't deserve to be compared to these gorgeous creatures, at all.
"Yes, but they won't hurt me." I said, truthfully - they're only out to hurt Muggles and Mudbloods.
"You are quite an attractive young man." one of the Veela - the one standing in the middle, who I don't think had spoken yet - said.
I couldn't help but blush at this, and for some reason I couldn't look away from her. "Thank you." I managed to say, weakly.
"What is your name?" she asked.
"Draco Malfoy." I answered immediately.
She looked up at the crowd of Death Eaters, and then back to me, "So that is why you are not afraid of them." she said softly, "You do not deserve the way he has treated you, you know?" she asked.
"How - how do you know?" I asked, half-dazed, and not thinking straight enough to argue.
"Veela have a mild degree of Sight, and I can sense your past and future. You must make a choice, soon." she said simply.
"Why are you telling me this?" I asked.
"Because you did not lie to us, as so many stupid boys do to gain our favours." she answered.
"I don't lie, if I can avoid it ... twisting the truth is easier." I said, almost distantly.
"I like you, boy. Be careful what you choose." she said, smiling faintly, "The right way or the easy way ... you may not know which is which, yet, but you will when the choice comes."
"I hate vague prophecies." I muttered.
"It is the only way that fortune can be told." she answered, shrugging.
Then a loud explosion sounded, behind me. "We should go - you may not fear them, but we would rather not take the risk." one of the other two Veela said almost nervously.
And they left, together, as if of one mind. It took me about five minutes to tear my gaze away from the place where they had been standing.
* * *
The explosions were growing louder, and screams could clearly be heard from the campsite. They were getting closer, now.
I heard a familiar voice yell out - sounded like they'd fallen flat on their face, and if it was who it sounded like, then good.
"Ron, where are you?" another familiar voice - Hermione - naming the voice I had heard a moment ago, called, "Oh, this is stupid - Lumos!" and the faint wand-light appeared a few feet away, illuminating the offending Weasley.
"Tripped over a tree root." Weasley said grouchily, picking himself up.
"Well, with feet that size, hard not to." I noted, unable to resist the easy insult he'd left an opening for.
Weasley and Hermione turned to glare at me, and Weasley retorted angrily, "Go take a flying f***, with that Nimbus 2001 you love so much."
"Language, Weasley." I tried to look relaxed, as I glanced out at the chaos - they were getting closer all the time - I turned my head quickly to the Gryffindors, "Hadn't you better be hurrying along, now? You wouldn't like her spotted, would you?" I said, nodding to Hermione, to indicate that I was referring to her.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Hermione snapped back at me.
"Granger, they're after Muggles. D'you want to be showing off your knickers in mid-air? Because if you do, hang around ... they're moving this way, and it would give us all a laugh."
"Hermione's a witch." Potter ... since when did he take to skulking in shadows? Oh, wait, since second year.
"Have it your own way, Potter. If you think they can't spot a Mudblood, stay where you are."
"You watch your mouth!" this from the Weasel that just made obscene references to broomsticks?!
Hermione quickly grabbed her pet Weasel's arm, to stop him trying to punch me, "Never mind, Ron." she said quietly.
An explosion and a few screams emanated from not very far away. From where I was watching, I saw that the people screaming were boys from Beauxbatons ... yet they screamed like girls. I sniggered faintly at that, "Scare easily, don't they?" I then looked back at the Gryffindors, again, "I suppose your parents told you all to hide? What's he up to - trying to rescue the Muggles?" fat chance - they'll kill their toys before they let the Ministry rescue them.
"Where're your parents? Out there wearing masks, are they?" Potter retorted, sounding like he might try to throw a punch too, any minute now.
I looked straight at him. I'll bet he thinks I'm only hiding here because I'm too young to join in ... little do they know the reason Crabbe and Goyle aren't here to back me up is because they're out 'playing', too. That glare of Potter's could almost rival Snape's. It felt like he was trying to get an answer out of my eyes rather than my mouth, "Well ..." shit, stop staring at me like that! "If they were, I wouldn't be likely to tell you, would I, Potter?"
Hermione shot me a revolted look, "Oh, come on. Let's go and find the others." she said, tugging on Weasley's arm as if to try to drag him away from the potential fight.
"Keep that big bushy head down, Granger." I said, in a tone I hoped sounded scathing ... I hoped she did keep out of the Death Eaters' way.
"Come on." she repeated to her boyfriends, pulling them both away, further along the darkened path into the forest.
I glanced after them for a minute, but then shook my head and quickly returned my attention to the scene at the campsite ... she'd be fine ... much as I hate to admit it, those three could survive an apocalypse, so I shouldn't worry about her. So why do I keep getting this feeling like I should be protecting her? Shit. Stop thinking about her - now!
"Winky is not wanting to stay here! Winky is not staying where there is danger!" I glanced at the house elf - the same elf I had seen in the top box - hurrying down the path in the same direction as Potter and his girlfriends (I'm counting Weasley as a girl, there, just in case you missed the joke) had gone. It looked like it was trying to drag something invisible. Hmmm. I stuck out my foot, but the elf jumped over it ... the something invisible did not. I backed away quickly, and watched the elf fuss over thin air for a minute, not noticing me, and then it resumed dragging the invisible something (someone?) deeper into the forest.
Odd.
Memo to me - want Invisibility Cloak for Christmas.
* * *
[A/N: for those of you who don't know, Quodpot is an American game, similar to Quidditch, mentioned in Quidditch Through The Ages. And a Legilimens is basically a more accurate Wizarding term for a mind-reader - according to OotP, anyway.]
End of chapter 2
Author's Notes: Longish chapter. Although, in my opinion it's just returning my fic to a civilised chapter-length after far too many short chapters.
dragonsprincess: Yeah, he said the 's' word - it's a miracle! ... and what do you mean by changing the subject? He THINKS he loves her ... it's just a crush ... he'll probably (maybe) get over her. It actually depends on what happens in the next two real books ... the suspense is killing me! As for the spontaneous kiss thing ... I might do it, I might not - it doesn't depend on the books, I just don't wanna tell you which one I'm planning ... then the suspense can get you too *evil cackle ... cough cough* yeah. And your argument about why she'd not tell them is pretty close to my opinion of the situation.
Caz Malfoy: Glad you enjoyed it.
LenaLovely12: Well, it was one of my favourite BtVS quotes, I couldn't not use it. And I think I told you, Draco'd rather tell his father he was dating Theo than admit to liking Hermione.
Rain10: If you're reading this, you've found out I've already started it.
Starre: I've never heard of Teen Titans. Sorry.
HiBob: *blink blink* you're reading my fics? Cooli - did I mention I really like your Malcolm in the Middle crossover fics? As for "Karaoke Night at Malfoy Manor", don't worry, it was a one-off occurrence *glares at Imperia, as in to say she can take that as her final warning*.
Elizabeth: Thanks - I was going for strange - the funny was a bonus.
angelkas: It makes for good plot-lines in fics, if the guys want the girl they can't have. That and I just like the pairing (D/Hr). I'm pretty sure I've told you you're weird ... not that that's a bad thing, though. I really don't know anything about bands - I either like the song or I don't, I don't care who plays/sings it. There's two messages in the dream - the obvious one (Draco subconsciously thinks Hermione can help him get away from his "destiny") and the not so obvious one (something to do with the essays she mentioned ... I ain't tellin' ya what, tho *evil grin*).
Devi: Um ... I don't think the D/Hr thing will get very far ... but I may change my mind - you never know. Actually, he kinda was a bit stalkerish, wasn't he? Hehe - good. Let's just hope for his sake she never finds out he was watching her like that *evil grin*. And I've still got writer's block on ATHSS - sorry.
Loony Lunas: We don't know ANYTHING about Hermione except her mother and father are dentists ... why shouldn't she have a little brother we don't know about? *blink blink ... confused look* you think he's nice in this? Huh? *panics* where did I go wrong?! I was trying to make him not nice! I got loads of people complaining about how horrible he was feeding that live rat to Crookshanks, and you think he's being too nice? *dramatic sigh* I guess I can't please 'em all - sorry.
Exodia Himself: Thanks - I will.
Roxie: Ok, hold on a minute ... if you have to ask those questions, I'm guessing you haven't read the first three parts of this series - they're on my author page - they're numbered "one", "two", and "three" - you can't miss them. Sorry if I sound patronising, but really, I thought it was obvious.
Bob: Sorry to keep you waiting, but I did need to edit the other three books. But let's face it, this fic needed Luna Lovegood - please tell me you at least re-read "Crookshanks and the Great Rubber Duck Conspiracy"? It's got a whole new scene - which by definition, is something new from me :P ... and I have no clue what a 14-year-old boy might do in his bed after a dream like that (note, I just took sarcasm to new levels) *faux innocent look to go with it*.
snape's kidney: Nice penname - really, I love it.
duochang97: Glad you like it - I plan to leave the little-brother thing at that, and he'll never be mentioned again, probably ... unless JKR says she has a little brother. As for Draco acting on his attraction ... you'll have to wait and see if it happens or not.
Druscilla Black: Uh huh ... if you didn't already know that the most noticeable ship in this fic is D/Hr, you probably haven't read the first three parts of this series ... if you don't like it, too bad. And this whole chapter was a D/Hr ship, how'd you think it was a good chapter if you don't like that pairing?
Princess of Darkness6: I know what you mean about not liking to review older stories ... I don't do it either. As for ATHSS, I've found better things than the first book I wrote of it in my cat's litter tray - it does get better as it goes along, but I really like this story better - if you want to try to read it again, it's up to you - I'd actually advise against it. Yes, Skeeter does write about H/Hr ... and I have plans for the Yule Ball, don't worry *evil grin*. Although I doubt Draco'll be jealous about the Triwizard thing ... I have it on good authority that Draco isn't suicidal. Well, the thing about the snakes singing - it says in Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, that a Runespoor's three heads have three different personalities - Crucia is the logical thinker/planner, Avada is the critic, and Imperia is a daydreamer - I figured it's not a great leap from daydreaming to singing.
fcuking cathy: Glad you liked.
Whew, that was a lot of reviews - keep 'em coming! I put them at the start of the chapter, so as not to give you any delusions about the chapter's length.
Riot at a sporting event ... who'd have thought?
Chapter 2 - Quidditch Hooligans
I think I'm obsessed. Maybe I'm cursed. Why can't I get that Mudblood out of my head for even a minute?
"Draco! Hurry up or you'll miss the start of the match!" Mother's voice broke my train of thought, thankfully. I put down my quill, glared at my still unfinished Potions homework, and bolted from the room, down the stairs, to the fireplace in the hall. I had been ready to go for the last hour, and the attempted Potions homework had just been to try to get Hermione out of my mind ... it didn't work.
As soon as I got there, my father produced a piece of stone from a pocket, "This is the last Portkey to the World Cup - which means we won't have to wait around like idiots. And of course, we have seats in the Top Box." he said, smiling smugly - he was still in a good mood - who'd have thought?
Mother put her hand on the Portkey, and I then did the same ... ten seconds passed before we found ourselves transported to the edge of a forest, beyond which was the stadium for the World Cup. I was really looking forward to this.
"Hurry up, we don't want to be late." Father snapped, before leading us through a lit up path, to the stadium - it was bigger than a standard professional stadium - I've been to enough professional games to know that - but it'd take more than that to really impress me.
We climbed up to the Top Box, which was already almost full, mostly with Bulgarian Ministry delegates here for the match, but ... the front row was full of unmistakable red hair - Weasleys. Mother scowled, on seeing the Weasleys there, "Oh no, we don't have to share a box with them, do we?" she muttered, seemingly revolted.
Father pointed to the empty seats at the end of the second row, and started to edge past the other people already in their seats. Public events - splendid, marvellous, so ... public.
"And here's Lucius!" oh piss off, Fudge. The Minister was standing in the front row, and had been yammering to some Bulgarian man, and ... oh shit ... Potter. Well how was I to know it was him, until he turned around to glare at me? Unlike the Weasleys, random kids with black hair aren't instantly identifiable, unless the git is looking at you. You guessed it - I still hate him.
"Ah, Fudge, how are you?" Father said, pausing at the point where he could talk to the Minister, easily, "I don't think you've met my wife, Narcissa? or our son, Draco?"
I gave Fudge a brief fake-smile, when my name was mentioned, and proceeded to ignore the man as he bowed and babbled at my father. I scanned the group of Weasleys - five of them, I had the misfortune of knowing from school ... plus the father ... there were two others I couldn't have named if I'd felt like it, though ... Potter was there, obviously, and he was currently glaring at my father ... and Hermione was there, as well - I carefully avoided looking at her. I could feel Hermione staring at me, with what I knew without looking was her McGonagall impersonation, but I just glared at Potter, trying to pretend Hermione wasn't there.
A few mild insults were exchanged, and then we took our seats ... I was right behind Hermione - great, just great. And there was a house elf three seats down from us, adamantly declaring to a couple of Bulgarian delegates that the seat at the end of the row was "... being kept for Bartemius Crouch, yes it is!" those creatures are annoying.
Then the voice of the commentator boomed out over the whole stadium, "Ladies and gentlemen ... welcome! Welcome to the final of the four hundred and twenty-second Quidditch World Cup!" loud cheers prevented the introduction from continuing for a moment, but when the noise level dropped a little, he did, "And now, without further ado, allow me to introduce ... the Bulgarian team mascots!"
I heard the Weasleys' father saying something about Veela, and I could see the beautiful creatures - in human form, but they weren't human - floating onto the field. I had never seen a Veela before, but I had read about them ... it's not really possible to describe just how drop-dead-gorgeous they were.
Mother twirled her hair nervously, and didn't bother to look at the Veela, as they started to sing and dance. I felt a little light-headed, as I watched them - so beautiful. But after a minute, I shook my head, and looked at them with a more critical eye - what was that I had felt? Hypnosis? Something akin to Imperius? Well whatever it was, it was affecting everyone. The twins were doing synchronised drooling - and Potter and his pet Weasley were out of their seats, and looked like they were going to jump out of the box ... until Hermione stopped them.
"Damnit," my father muttered, very quietly, so only I could hear, "Why did she have to stop him?" I assumed he was referring to Potter, rather than the Weasley-sidekick. I sniggered a little, but didn't respond ... I could probably have given too good an answer, and that would not have been good for Father's temper.
"And now, kindly put your wands in the air ... for the Irish National Team Mascots!" the announcer declared, a fairly impressive green-and-gold light-show ensued, including a rainbow, and a rain of gold coins ... Leprechauns. It was kind of amusing the way the Weasley-sidekick dived on the small piles of Leprechaun-gold ... he obviously didn't know that it only lasts for a few hours before vanishing into thin air. After the crowd had calmed down again, and both sets of mascots were settled on either side of the pitch to watch the match, the announcer continued, "And now, ladies and gentlemen, kindly welcome - the Bulgarian National Quidditch Team! I give you - Dimitrov! Ivanova! Zograf! Levski! Vulchanov! Aaaaaaand - Krum!"
As their names were called, each member of the Bulgarian team shot out onto the pitch, and once they were all out, they started performing some minor aerobatic stunts, just for the sake of showing off.
"And now, please greet - the Irish National Quidditch Team! Presenting - Connolly! Ryan! Troy! Mullet! Moran! Quigley! Aaaaaand - Lynch!"
As soon as the green-clad team shot onto the pitch, they started flying circles around the red team, even before the match began.
"And here, all the way from Egypt, our referee, acclaimed Chairwizard of the International Association of Quidditch, Hassan Mostafa!" the referee was wearing gold robes, the exact same shade as the stadium itself.
"Gold is such a gawdy colour." Mother muttered very quietly. I nodded slightly, to show my agreement, but I'm not sure if she saw me or not.
"Theeeeeeeey're OFF!" the commentator yelled ... then it all blurred together. I could follow which team had the Quaffle at any given time, but beyond that there was just a red-and-green blur in the air. Except the two Seekers. They were both circling above the fray. This is why I'm not a Chaser - I'd never be able to fly like those Chasers (mostly because I'd never be able to work in a team) ... Seeker is much easier, I think.
My interest was only really caught when Krum pulled a Wrongski Feint on Lynch, and ran him into the ground. Now that was cool. In spite of the fact I was rooting for Ireland, it was still a neat trick Krum had just pulled - Lynch needed medical attention.
After a while, an argument erupted on the pitch, between the two sets of mascots. I stood up, staring with fascination at what the Veela now looked like - vicious part-bird like creatures, almost like vultures. And throwing fireballs - really cool. In a way, I was more intrigued by them in this form that their beautiful image.
"And that, boys, is why you should never go for looks alone!" the Weasleys' father yelled, so Potter and friends could hear him over the noise of the crowd. For once, I'd have to say, he's right - not that I would admit that out loud - but first impressions are usually misleading.
I was now ignoring the game overhead to watch the fight down below. Now that's entertainment. Ministry wizards were now trying to separate the fighting mascots, with next-to-no success. One Veela set a wizard's robes on fire (by accident, I'm sure ... you decide if I'm being sarcastic or not), and a pair of leprechauns were pulling at another Veela's hair. There were stunning spells flying all over the ground, and a fireball went soaring up to hit the tail of the referee's broom.
I only looked back up at the game in the air when I saw something red that turned out to be blood falling from the sky ... Krum had taken a Bludger to the face. Still, when Potter yelled that Lynch had seen the Snitch, I saw that both Seekers were actually after it ... in spite of his obvious injury, Krum was catching up with Lynch really really fast, and before anyone really knew what was happening, Krum had the Snitch, and Lynch was run into the ground for a second time.
The Veela swarmed around the Irish Seeker, most probably clawing at him with they're unnaturally sharp fingernails. I watched the carnage on the ground for a moment, until I heard a yell of, "IRELAND WIN!" what the -? But Krum got the Snitch! "KRUM GETS THE SNITCH - BUT IRELAND WIN - good Lord, I don't think any of us were expecting that!" I felt my right eye twitch - ok, so the team I was rooting for won, but still, something was irritating about the end to that match ... it might have been the jubilant whoops and cheers from the Weasley twins that clearly said they were delighted with something.
As they realised their team had lost, the Veela reverted to their human-esque forms, looking miserable, and shooting death-glares at the celebrating Leprechauns.
"And as the Irish team perform a lap of honour, flanked by their mascots, the Quidditch World Cup itself is brought into the Top Box!" the announcer called, over the almost deafening cheers. And the Top Box suddenly lit up, so everyone could see inside - I winced at the sudden light, and blinked a few times, before looking up to see a huge golden trophy being hauled into the box by two out-of-breath wizards, who then passed it to a rather disgruntled Fudge. "Let's have a really loud hand for the gallant losers - Bulgaria!" I watched as the Bulgarian team trudge into the box, via the stairway, behind our seats, and shook hands with their Minister, and Fudge. Then the Irish team were awarded the Cup, and flew around the stadium with it. I lost interest, here - the exciting part was over, and I was bored now.
Hermione was jumping up and down, cheering ... I had to force myself not to look at her ... I know I would have stared at her, if I hadn't refocused my attention on glaring at Potter. Staring at the Mudblood, in that way, in the presence of my father, could only lead to trouble ... thank every god there is that Father isn't a Legilimens.
Oh, I almost forgot, since Ireland won, I owe Cat five Galleons. I must remember never to make a bet with a Seer again. Except Trelawney, but she doesn't count as a real Seer.
And in spite of the elf's protestations of being "... under orders, sir!" the seat it had been reserving had remained empty for the entire match. I didn't think Crouch liked Quidditch, anyway. He's more of a Quodpot supporter.
Odd.
* * *
"Are you sure you don't want me to stay, Lucius?" Mother asked.
"Certain. I can keep an eye on Draco, until the first Portkey home." Father replied coolly.
"That's not until four in the morning, dear." Mother noted.
"I know that ... it's not as if Draco is too young to stay up late, anymore." Father said, in a condescending tone.
Mother sighed, and muttered about stupid officious bureaucrats being put in charge of the Portkeys, before shrugging, "Fine, I shall see you both at home, then?"
Father nodded, and kissed her on the cheek. I made a point of not looking at them, at that moment.
"What is the matter, Draco, darling?" Mother asked, in a faux-innocent tone that implied she knew exactly why I was avoiding looking at them.
"Nothing." I muttered.
Father rolled his eyes, "Look at us when you speak to us, Draco." he snapped.
I looked up, and said, "Sorry, Father."
He glanced at me, with an obvious malicious glint in his eye, before turning back to Mother, and kissing her quite thoroughly, on the lips. I very quickly proceeded to stare at the ground, and tried not to let the mental images of myself doing just that to Hermione associate themselves with what I had just seen.
About a minute later, he let her go, and she gave me a brief hug, before Disapparating into thin air.
All right, that was embarrassing.
"Follow me, Draco." Father said, starting to walk off, across the edge of the field, carefully avoiding the tents that were set up in the field itself. I followed, and soon we came to a small and obviously relatively isolated village, less than a mile from the campsite everyone else was using until the Portkeys could take them home. The village was literally a few houses, a tiny shop (which was closed right now) and a pub. And it was a Muggle village, at that.
Father led me into the pub, and I sat in a corner, watching as he and several of his friend (Death Eaters) drank some very expensive whiskey, and talked loudly about the match.
I tried to stay as far away from them as possible ... there were more and more of them gathering, now - I was vaguely surprised that many people could fit into the small pub, since there were no Tardis charms on the non-magical building. I stared out the window, for ages - we were too far from the magical campsite to see it, but I could quite clearly see that a few Muggles were out, and talking among themselves - I occasionally saw flashes of green-and-gold over the direction of the campsite - the Leprechauns were probably still celebrating.
Suddenly, there was a loud crashing noise, and I looked round to see the Muggle barman had been thrown across the room by Herman Crabbe (Vincent's father), and most of the Death Eaters there were cheering that action. They all seemed quite drunk ... this could get ugly. I glanced at the door, and saw I had a clear route of escape, should any duelling break out ... that was a good sign, at least. Then Father made the quite loud suggestion that they could go out and have some fun with the Muggles at the campsite.
The ensuing cheers left me with an opportunity to slip out, before they got too violent, and I never give up a good opportunity. I was out of the pub, and no one seemed to notice my absence. Best not to get in the middle of whatever they were planning ... also best not to be anywhere near my father when he's that drunk. I ran down the pathetic excuse for a street, and around the edge of the campsite - the Irish supporters were still celebrating, I noticed. I stopped at the edge of the forest, just as a loud explosion heralded the start of the 'games' as Father and his friends would call them.
* * *
I leaned against a tree, just inside the forest, where I should be concealed, and squinted to see the small stone house at the edge of the campsite explode, and four unidentified figures floated into the air. It didn't take me long to figure out that they were Muggles, being levitated above the small crowd that was gathered around the smoking ruin of their home. At this distance, I couldn't see much, but the group of Death Eaters was definitely growing ... that somehow didn't surprise me - once someone starts something like this, anyone even vaguely inclined towards violence will undoubtedly join in. I would take great pleasure in noting the similarity between this incident, and what I have read in Muggle Studies books about soccer hooligans ... but that would not do me any good, so I won't say it.
People were now running away, as well - towards the forest, probably because it is the best place to hide.
"Hello, child." a female voice said behind me. I turned around to see three Veela in their beautiful human form, standing there.
"Er ... hello." I said, a little uncertain about these creatures. I had to make a conscious effort to keep my composure.
"You do not look afraid of the attackers?" one of them asked me, with curiosity.
"Why should I be?" I asked.
"They are burning and hurting anything they can." another of them said - all three looked almost identical, and I couldn't have told them apart any easier than I could the Weasley twins ... these were much better looking, though. I didn't just think that - the Weasley twins don't deserve to be compared to these gorgeous creatures, at all.
"Yes, but they won't hurt me." I said, truthfully - they're only out to hurt Muggles and Mudbloods.
"You are quite an attractive young man." one of the Veela - the one standing in the middle, who I don't think had spoken yet - said.
I couldn't help but blush at this, and for some reason I couldn't look away from her. "Thank you." I managed to say, weakly.
"What is your name?" she asked.
"Draco Malfoy." I answered immediately.
She looked up at the crowd of Death Eaters, and then back to me, "So that is why you are not afraid of them." she said softly, "You do not deserve the way he has treated you, you know?" she asked.
"How - how do you know?" I asked, half-dazed, and not thinking straight enough to argue.
"Veela have a mild degree of Sight, and I can sense your past and future. You must make a choice, soon." she said simply.
"Why are you telling me this?" I asked.
"Because you did not lie to us, as so many stupid boys do to gain our favours." she answered.
"I don't lie, if I can avoid it ... twisting the truth is easier." I said, almost distantly.
"I like you, boy. Be careful what you choose." she said, smiling faintly, "The right way or the easy way ... you may not know which is which, yet, but you will when the choice comes."
"I hate vague prophecies." I muttered.
"It is the only way that fortune can be told." she answered, shrugging.
Then a loud explosion sounded, behind me. "We should go - you may not fear them, but we would rather not take the risk." one of the other two Veela said almost nervously.
And they left, together, as if of one mind. It took me about five minutes to tear my gaze away from the place where they had been standing.
* * *
The explosions were growing louder, and screams could clearly be heard from the campsite. They were getting closer, now.
I heard a familiar voice yell out - sounded like they'd fallen flat on their face, and if it was who it sounded like, then good.
"Ron, where are you?" another familiar voice - Hermione - naming the voice I had heard a moment ago, called, "Oh, this is stupid - Lumos!" and the faint wand-light appeared a few feet away, illuminating the offending Weasley.
"Tripped over a tree root." Weasley said grouchily, picking himself up.
"Well, with feet that size, hard not to." I noted, unable to resist the easy insult he'd left an opening for.
Weasley and Hermione turned to glare at me, and Weasley retorted angrily, "Go take a flying f***, with that Nimbus 2001 you love so much."
"Language, Weasley." I tried to look relaxed, as I glanced out at the chaos - they were getting closer all the time - I turned my head quickly to the Gryffindors, "Hadn't you better be hurrying along, now? You wouldn't like her spotted, would you?" I said, nodding to Hermione, to indicate that I was referring to her.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Hermione snapped back at me.
"Granger, they're after Muggles. D'you want to be showing off your knickers in mid-air? Because if you do, hang around ... they're moving this way, and it would give us all a laugh."
"Hermione's a witch." Potter ... since when did he take to skulking in shadows? Oh, wait, since second year.
"Have it your own way, Potter. If you think they can't spot a Mudblood, stay where you are."
"You watch your mouth!" this from the Weasel that just made obscene references to broomsticks?!
Hermione quickly grabbed her pet Weasel's arm, to stop him trying to punch me, "Never mind, Ron." she said quietly.
An explosion and a few screams emanated from not very far away. From where I was watching, I saw that the people screaming were boys from Beauxbatons ... yet they screamed like girls. I sniggered faintly at that, "Scare easily, don't they?" I then looked back at the Gryffindors, again, "I suppose your parents told you all to hide? What's he up to - trying to rescue the Muggles?" fat chance - they'll kill their toys before they let the Ministry rescue them.
"Where're your parents? Out there wearing masks, are they?" Potter retorted, sounding like he might try to throw a punch too, any minute now.
I looked straight at him. I'll bet he thinks I'm only hiding here because I'm too young to join in ... little do they know the reason Crabbe and Goyle aren't here to back me up is because they're out 'playing', too. That glare of Potter's could almost rival Snape's. It felt like he was trying to get an answer out of my eyes rather than my mouth, "Well ..." shit, stop staring at me like that! "If they were, I wouldn't be likely to tell you, would I, Potter?"
Hermione shot me a revolted look, "Oh, come on. Let's go and find the others." she said, tugging on Weasley's arm as if to try to drag him away from the potential fight.
"Keep that big bushy head down, Granger." I said, in a tone I hoped sounded scathing ... I hoped she did keep out of the Death Eaters' way.
"Come on." she repeated to her boyfriends, pulling them both away, further along the darkened path into the forest.
I glanced after them for a minute, but then shook my head and quickly returned my attention to the scene at the campsite ... she'd be fine ... much as I hate to admit it, those three could survive an apocalypse, so I shouldn't worry about her. So why do I keep getting this feeling like I should be protecting her? Shit. Stop thinking about her - now!
"Winky is not wanting to stay here! Winky is not staying where there is danger!" I glanced at the house elf - the same elf I had seen in the top box - hurrying down the path in the same direction as Potter and his girlfriends (I'm counting Weasley as a girl, there, just in case you missed the joke) had gone. It looked like it was trying to drag something invisible. Hmmm. I stuck out my foot, but the elf jumped over it ... the something invisible did not. I backed away quickly, and watched the elf fuss over thin air for a minute, not noticing me, and then it resumed dragging the invisible something (someone?) deeper into the forest.
Odd.
Memo to me - want Invisibility Cloak for Christmas.
* * *
[A/N: for those of you who don't know, Quodpot is an American game, similar to Quidditch, mentioned in Quidditch Through The Ages. And a Legilimens is basically a more accurate Wizarding term for a mind-reader - according to OotP, anyway.]
End of chapter 2