The Portkey
Draco had already packed his bag with the necessities that he would need for the short trip to the Quidditch World Cup. To anyone else who looked at him, they wouldn't know that he was excited to attend it.
A Malfoy never shows his true emotions. Lucius had told Draco repeatedly since he was a boy. It was why Draco's face was impassive as he stood in front of the large mirror in his bedroom, looking at his reflection in the mirror. Draco's grey eyes were full of self-loathing as he looked at himself. His pale skin, his lips, his pointed chin—everything, he hated it all. He wasn't good enough to be a Malfoy as Lucius liked to point out whenever Draco didn't live up to his expectations.
The longer he looked at himself, the more his emotions surfaced. His lip curled slightly. His arms hung loosely at his sides as he slowly curled them into fists. Pathetic. You can't even control your emotions for five seconds, Draco. He rolled his eyes and buttoned his blazer closed, smoothing it out. He turned away from the mirror and grabbed his bag, slinging it over his shoulder.
"Draco! Get down here before we're late!" Lucius hollered from downstairs.
"Yes, Father." Draco slipped the rings on his fingers, adjusting them as he headed out of his room, into the corridor, and down the large staircase that led to the front of the hall where his father and mother were waiting. Narcissa wasn't going with them because she was well aware of what Lucius and his fellow Death Eaters were planning. She hadn't wanted Draco to go, but Lucius convinced her that he would be safe. Draco scoffed inwardly. His father only wanted Draco there because it would be a good excuse if anyone accused Lucius. Plus, Lucius liked to show Draco off like some sort of show animal. Look at my son. Look at how well the Malfoys are doing. Despite Draco's shortcoming, Lucius loved to brag, making it even harder for Draco to live up to the insurmountable expectations that his father had of him.
Draco said goodbye to his mother, then he and his father were off. There was a portkey somewhere in the Wizarding community that they could drive to—Lucius had hired the black car to take them to it. Apparently, other families had to walk. Imagine that. Some, like the Weasleys would have to walk for hours. Draco was glad that they had the car, it meant that they could get there sooner and he could go for a walk around the campground's forest and check out the Quidditch Pitch. He also debated getting some souvenirs, but he would play that by ear in case someone he knew saw him. Merlin, forbid.
The entire car ride, Lucius was whispering to Draco about the plan, ensuring that Draco knew when to take off and hide so that it didn't look suspicious.
"Are you listening?" Lucius hissed.
"Yes, Father," Draco replied without tearing his gaze away from the window as he looked out, watching the scenery quickly pass, his face reflected in the glass of the window. He could see his father watching him, assessing him with cold eyes and a look of disappointment and annoyance.
It was a day unlike any other for Mizuki Saito, a fourth-year transfer student from Mahoutokoro. She had spent the last few days staying at the Leaky Cauldron while her new home in London was prepared for her to live in, but today was the day that she would be attending the most exciting event of the year—and attending her first day at Hogwarts would be a close second—she was attending the Quidditch World Cup where she would finally get to see her favorite Quidditch player Viktor Krum. Mizuki adored Quidditch and she had always wanted to be a Seeker herself. Unfortunately, she was never given the chance. Mizuki was most excited to see Viktor do the move that he was most famous for called the Wronski Feint.
As Mizuki double-checked her cream-colored Prada backpack, her black cat, Kuro-chan, flicked his tail as he sat on her bed. His tail swished back and forth as he watched her with his large green eyes. He was wearing a little golden cape that Mizuki had sewn for him as he refused to leave Mizuki's room without wearing something around him—it made him feel safer. Mizuki nodded her head once she was certain that she had everything.
"Let's go, Kuro-chan," she said softly to her cat. Kuro-chan meowed and jumped off the bed, trotting beside her as they made their way down the corridor. The house had been furnished with Western-styled furniture, something that Mizuki was not quite used to as she had grown up in a traditional Japanese home where she usually sat on the floor on cushions and ate at a kotatsu table. The sound of her shoes echoed in the otherwise empty house—her parents were barely ever home because they were always traveling for their business, which was how her parents had made their fortune. They owned and operated their own onsen (hot springs) in Japan and had eventually been able to open their Japanese-styled hot springs all over the world. Currently, they were in the process of opening two in the United Kingdom, which was why they had decided to transfer Mizuki to Hogwarts.
They went out the front door of the estate house, walking down the cobblestoned pathway, through the large garden full of lush and thick-leaved trees that surrounded the estate, passing the pond full of lilies. The summer air was cool and smelled wet and fecund, the top of the grass and leaves covered in little droplets of dew. The sun wasn't out yet, and they had a long journey through the forest to get to the portkey point that would allow her to transport to the location of the Quidditch World Cup. For that very reason, Mizuki had settled on comfortable clothing: black jeggings, a loose white blouse, a long beige opened styled cashmere cardigan with pockets that stopped at her knees, and her light beige-colored flats. She completed the look by wearing the cherry blossom necklace that she had inherited from her mother—something that had been passed down from generation to generation from her mother's side of the family. It was the only connection she had of either side of her parents' family, that and her lavender-colored eyes, which, her father had told her, she inherited from her great-great-grandfather who had been French.
They headed deep into the forest, following the map that her parents had given her earlier via owl. She opened it up to look at it to make sure that she was still headed in the right direction. They wandered through the thick foliage of the forest, the sweet scent of wildflowers filling the air the deeper they went. Mizuki was used to walking long distances as she often did in Japan when she went exploring in Nara or Osaka, so she wasn't tired after they spent two hours walking.
Eventually, as the sun came up and shone through the trees, they came to a small little clearing where she spotted something glinting in the sunlight. That must be the portkey, she thought. They made their way across the grass, the tops of her feet wet from the dew, and approached the portkey. It was an old and broken goblet that looked like it was a prop rather than a real medieval goblet. She knew that there was another family coming, so she waited patiently as she checked her small silver watch. They still had ten minutes before the portkey was set to transport them, but she heard voices in the forest from in front of her, indicating that the other family was already here.
A tall balding man came through with his wife and two children. His wife was shorter than he was with golden hair, and the boys also had the same hair, but they had their father's eyes—bright blue. They smiled at her as they approached, and Mizuki quickly looked at their clothing, noting that they had dressed appropriately to mingle with muggles. Many wizards didn't know how to dress properly in muggle clothing as they were always wearing robes. However, they were going to a campground owned by a muggle, so they needed to dress accordingly.
"Morning," the man greeted looking around as if he were looking for her parents. "Are you alone, then?" he asked curiously, looking at her. Mizuki nodded her head. It wasn't unusual for Mizuki to be without her parents, she was quite used to it. Kuro-chan hopped inside of Mizuki's bag, and she closed the top flap of the bag, fastening the clasp over it so he wouldn't fall out.
"Well, then, let's get ready, shall we?" the man said. Again, Mizuki nodded her head, smiling at his two boys who looked to be about ten years old. The boys smiled back at her and everyone grabbed onto a portion of the portkey as the man looked at his watch and began counting down. "Three…two…one!" She felt something in the pit of her stomach, like something yanking at her. The forest around them spun and slowly became a different forest as they came to the campground. The man's boys landed with a thud on the ground, but the man, his wife, and Mizuki landed on their feet. The boys were giggling madly. Mizuki went over to help one of them up, the boy's mother helped the other up.
Mizuki bowed her head slightly at them with a smile, excusing herself to find her tent. Her parents had already gotten someone to pay the campground owner and set up her tent. She pulled out her map again and found the location of her tent, then turned toward the campground, slowly lifting her eyes from the parchment. She gazed in amazement at all the tents that were already set up. Some of them had elaborate decorations outside with chairs and tables for tea, one of the tents even had two peacocks chained to the outside. Poor things, Mizuki thought as she let Kuro-chan out of her bag. He kept close to her heels as they weaved through the tents. The families that had arrived earlier were out and talking to their neighbors or meeting new people—she thought she heard French and Bulgarian as they walked.
They passed the tap for fresh water, and she made a mental note to return there for water after they settled themselves in the tent. She wanted to buy some souvenirs before the match started, which was set for later that evening after the sun went down. Mizuki headed toward the middle of the campground where her tent was and saw her last name printed in English on a little slip of paper that was clipped to the wooden stake in the ground.
The tent was circular and beige in color, outside it looked very plain, nothing special. However, as they went inside the tent, she saw a cherry blossom tree in the center of it. Tatami mats were on the floor of the tent, and there was a futon neatly folded at the far end of the tent. A kotatsu table was against the wall to her right with two small cushions to sit on. On the left side was a small kitchen where she could cook her meals, a little fridge near the stove, and a small sink to wash dishes. She didn't need to use the tap, after all, she thought as she set her bag down on the floor. She slipped off her shoes, turning them so that they pointed toward the door, and she walked across the tatami mats, heading straight for the futon. Carefully, she unfolded it and the sheets, spreading it out across the tatami mat so she could take a quick nap.
After her nap, she looked in the fridge and found some sandwiches and cat food for Kuro-chan. She padded over to her bag, taking out Kuro's dishes, filling them with water and food, and served Kuro-chan first. She then ate a quick brunch, cleaned up, and headed toward the vendor selling all sorts of souvenirs. There were so many that she didn't know what to get, but her eyes were naturally drawn to Bulgaria's colors. She bought a Bulgarian scarf, Omnioculars, a little figurine of Krum that walked across her hands, and a pin. They were also selling books, and she bought one called Fantastic Quidditch Moves Every Player Needs in Their Arsenal. Mizuki took her purchases back to her tent and made herself some Gyokuro tea, which she had tucked into her bag. Mizuki passed the next few hours playing with Kuro-chan and finished reading Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice—one of her favorite novels.
Lucius had Draco store his bag in the tent. He followed his father around the campground as they did their rounds speaking to the people that mattered: Barty Crouch, Cornelius Fudge—the Minister of Magic, as well as the other families from the Sacred 28—other Death Eaters like Crabbe and Goyle's fathers. Draco's face remained unreadable as Lucius and the others whispered quietly, stopping when other people passed them by, judging them coolly. Draco just wanted to take off and go exploring the forest on his own—close by, of course, lest he run into any sort of wild animals or something. He shuddered at the thought. Wouldn't want to have to face a bear or anything. Draco also eyed the souvenir stand's general direction, wishing that he could step away for a few minutes to see what they had; but he didn't want to get reprimanded by his father. He didn't want to get smacked in the chest by Lucius' cane.
They spent all afternoon in the company of people of importance. Draco exchanged pleasantries and was polite when he needed to be to appease his father, but he was bored out of his mind. There was no one there that was his age that he could speak to—no one that his father approved of anyway. He saw plenty of other people his age that he didn't know that were French and Bulgarian from the sounds of it, but Lucius would never permit Draco to speak to them. Just look at how they dressed. He suppressed a sigh as he stood with his father. Draco had one hand holding onto his wrist, his fingers playing with one of the rings on his finger. Draco stifled a yawn, averting his gaze so his father wouldn't see the aftermath of the yawn—how his eyes watered.
Merlin, please don't let the entire evening be like this. Draco silently pleaded. If it was, he was going to lose his mind. He wanted to have fun—something that he had never been allowed to do. The only 'fun' he was allowed to have was going to Crabbe and Goyle's houses to plan how they were going to wreak havoc on Potter, Weasley, and Granger's lives the coming term; but Draco preferred spending most of his time alone in the garden when his father was at work. It was the only place he could imagine himself free from being a Malfoy, free from the expectations, from his father's disappointment, and where he could imagine that he lived in a completely different world where he had friends that liked him for him rather than because of his name. But those dreams only lasted mere seconds before the reality of just how much of a coward he really was.
They either like you because you're a Malfoy, or they hate you for the same reason. There are no in-betweens. You can never show anyone who you really are—they would take one look at you and see you for who you really are: a coward. You don't even deserve to be alive. Bet Father would prefer a son like that prat Potter.
Draco felt the all-too-familiar pang of loneliness strike him. It hit him hard just like Lucius' cane when he struck Draco's hands, chest, or back. The cane was sharp, and sometimes it cut the backs of his hands open. Draco was expected to shut up and accept it, but he always felt his eyes watering with tears that he had to force away and the sobs he had to choke back. What did it mean to be loved and accepted by someone unconditionally? It was like a fairy tale to Draco, something he knew that he didn't deserve—something that didn't exist.