Chapter 8

I stood upon a high place,
And saw, below, many devils
Running, leaping,
and carousing in sin.
One looked up, grinning,
And said, 'Comrade! Brother!'

- Stephen Crane [I Stood Upon a High Place]

Rose raised her eyebrows at the massive two-story tent, trying not to slap her palm to her forehead at the live peacocks that had been tethered outside of it in a small plot of land surrounded by an intricate hip high iron fence. The land around the tent contained a small garden and a large stone firepit. Why did her family have to be so over the top? It wasn't as if there weren't other tents that looked just as ostentatious. But to bring some of their peacocks along… really? The sky was still gray in the early dawn light, the smallest sliver of sun beginning to creep over the horizon. Walking up to the tent flap that was painted to look like a castle drawbridge, Rose drew the fabric aside and walked in. The interior of the tent was even larger than the exterior with a living space almost as large as their drawing room at home and various bedrooms connected to it.

"Rose!" Mariko's familiar squeal of excitement preceded the embrace she threw around her. The redhead stumbled a bit upon being embraced so forcefully by her friend.

"Hello Mari. Hello Parker," she added when she saw the lanky brunette walk into the main room from one of the many hallways. He waved at her with a small smile, looking at his fiancée and her enthusiasm a bit tiredly.

"Roselin, nice to see you again."

"Hello Mr. Smythe," Rose greeted Parker's father when he strolled into the room after him.

"Please, call me Cyrus, Merlin knows you're old enough now," he said. The tall widower with his steel gray hair and pointed chin cast an imposing figure anywhere he went. His face was lightly lined with signs of age, but he still bore signs of the waning handsomeness once abundant in his youth. Rose pried Mari off of herself and shook his offered hand. The last time she'd seen Mr. Smythe—albeit briefly—had been at last year's Christmas party.

"Are you joining us for the Cup as well, Cyrus?" The name rolled a bit awkwardly off her tongue, but his gray eyes gave her an approving look.

"Your parents were kind enough to offer us accommodations."

"We'll be glad to have you," she said in her most generous tone of voice. "Will your other sons be joining us as well?"

"They are spending the match with their mother's families," he answered simply.

"Are your parents here, Mari," she asked, turning to her friend who was grinning at her with a hazy look in her eye. Had she been drinking already?

"They're arriving later, I came with Parker," she said, wrapping her arm around his and grinning up at the man. "Isn't he cuuuute?"

"He's fucking adorable, Mari," Rose answered dryly. A cough that sounded suspiciously like a laugh came from her side. She glanced up to see Mr. Smythe hiding a smirk behind his hand.

"Rose, dearest!" She had barely turned at the exclamation before Stefan's hands were on her face and his lips pressed to hers.

She stiffened at the unexpected display of affection before relaxing and returning the kiss. He drew her into his arms and held her there for a moment. Rose knew that the public display of affection could only mean one thing. It took her only a moment of glancing over his shoulder to see the source of his distress. Margot Dolohov and her husband were emerging from a side room as well. Margot's customary fan was obscuring half of her face, but Rose could still catch a glimpse of the blood red lipstick painted across her thin lips as she fluttered the ornament. Rose was so focused on the woman that she missed the calculating look Mr. Smythe was leveling at the pair of them.

"Daughter," Fabian said magnanimously, opening his arms to her. Rose allowed herself to be embraced by him and tried not to squirm at the kiss he placed on her temple.

"Father, mother," she greeted. The pair had insisted she use the familiar titles now that she was officially married into their family.

"How was your party m'dear," Fabian asked, while Margot fluttered her fan disapprovingly. Trying not to think too much about Cillian Troy and their locker room tryst, Rose smiled.

"It was very enjoyable. We were able to meet some of the Irish and Bulgarian team, and I was introduced to Ludo Bagman."

"And you attended this party with your… foreign friend," Margot said so quietly that it barely carried. Rose locked eyes with Margot's grayish-green ones. She glared at the woman but ultimately decided to pretend she hadn't heard the remark. Rose turned back to Fabian.

"How was your trip? I had hoped to get here in time to help pitch the tent, but you all arrived earlier than I anticipated."

"Not to worry, we got in alright. Had a bit of a hang-up with the owner of the campsite… he's a muggle you see," Fabian explained, obvious derision in his voice. Rose smiled uncomfortably at this.

"Rose, you must try this vintage," Mari stumbled over and shoved a glass of wine into her hand. Rose helped to steady her friend before accepting the drink.

"Mari, I think you need to drink some water," Rose told her, giving Parker a significant look. He scratched his head sheepishly.

"We just arrived from a party as well," he explained. Rose nodded in understanding and carefully sipped the red wine. It was, she had to admit, very good.

"Should you be drinking," Margot asked loud enough that Rose could not ignore her this time. Rose met her gaze curiously before realizing that her mother-in-law was under the impression that she and Stefan were trying to conceive. Rose smiled icily at the woman and took another larger sip of wine.

"I'm on my period," she lied. Fabian looked around the tent awkwardly, and Margot's eyes narrowed. Stefan grabbed her hand and pulled her away hastily.

"Rose, finally," Draco's voice interrupted as the young man walked in, glancing over at Mari with a mixture of interest and disgust.

"Hello baby brother," Rose grinned, sipping her glass of wine and smiling down at the blonde.

"Dracooo," Mari crooned, wrapping her arms around his head in what was meant as an affectionate hug. This brought her breasts into contact with his face, and Rose watched in amusement when his cheeks lit up bright red. Draco pushed her away from him quickly, glaring daggers at both of them.

"Get me out of here," he mumbled to his sister.

"Sure, let's go get some water for the campfire," Rose laughed, then glanced over at Stefan and raised her eyebrows. He nodded gratefully and followed the pair out. Rose handed her wine glass off to Parker. "We'll be back soon Mari. Drink water."

Many of the tents—like the Asare's whom she'd stayed with the previous night—had been erected nearly a week or more ago. This morning, however, witches and wizards were beginning to arrive in earnest whether through apparition or portkeys. Both Bulgarian and Irish supporters had bedecked their tents in a variety of colors and images to show their support for their preferred team. Ministry officials were running around looking haggard, and when they finally reached the front of the queue for water, Rose was careful to hide her wand while she conjured a couple large buckets for them to fill.

"Rose!" She glanced up and smiled at Alex who was walking over to her, balancing Kwesi on his hip.

"Morning Alex," she responded leaning in to accept the kiss he planted on her cheek.

"I see you found your family," he smiled. Draco looked at the man uncomfortably, and Rose felt a cold sweat break out over her body. There was no reason for him to suspect that the man was a muggle with everyone dressed in muggle attire that day.

"Alex, this is my brother Draco, and my husband, Stefan," she introduced. Alex wiggled his long magenta nails at the pair.

"Lovely to meet you dears. Rose has told us so much about you."

"Are Sam and Ebo up," Rose asked when neither Stefan nor Draco responded to the man.

"Not yet. This little rascal here wouldn't stop crying, so I decided to take him on a walk," Alex smiled a bit tensely at the small boy.

"I hope he settles down so you have time to sleep before the match," Rose said, bidding them both goodbye and heading back to their tent.

"Rose…" Draco said slowly, glancing at her with narrowed eyes. "Was that man… a muggle?"

"Hey, isn't that Patsy," Rose asked, pointing over his shoulder. The arrival of Draco's girlfriend effectively distracted Draco from his line of inquiry. It wasn't long before Draco had wandered off with her, and Rose and Stefan were left alone. Rose glanced sidelong at her still silent husband.

"What's wrong with you," she asked.

"Nothing," he said quickly, keeping his eyes fixed on the ground. Rose paused and put her hand on her hip, glaring daggers at him.

"Don't start hiding things from me now," she said irritably. He glanced up at her with the gray-green eyes that were so alike and yet so different from his mother's.

"My parents have… reminded me," he began in a low voice. "Of my responsibility to produce an heir."

"Already? We are only just married," Rose said with surprised disbelief in her voice. "We've barely had time to—"

"I know, Rose," he soothed her. "It's nothing you need to worry about yet."

Rose gave him a scathing look, pulled the water bucket out of his hand and hurried back to the tent. It was all well and good for him to tell her not to worry when he wasn't the one with the responsibility of bearing a child. She arrived back to see Cyrus Smythe sitting out front around a fire that he was slowly adding logs to. He looked up at her and quirked a heavy brow at the expression on her face.

"Lover's quarrel?" he asked nonchalantly, taking the water jugs from her and pouring some of the liquid into a large pot he'd set over the flames. She gave him a rueful grin and conjured a chair, sitting beside him.

"How could you tell," she asked, watching Stefan walk back into the tent without looking at her.

"Three sons, three wives. I know what an angry spouse looks like," he said, his lips tugging back in a doleful smirk, and he chuckled. She couldn't help the dark chuckle that escaped her own lips.

"Tea," he asked when the water began to boil. Rose nodded and accepted a cup from him.

"It can't be Roselin Malfoy," a voice called to her, and Rose looked up to see a man stopping just outside the decorative fence. Rose nearly dropped her tea when she saw who was calling to her.

"L—Liam," she stuttered as he let himself into the front yard and walked over to the pair. Liam Burke cut quite as dashing a figure as always with his chocolate brown hair slicked back from his face and amber-brown eyes looking at her piercingly from beneath well-groomed eyebrows. He was dressed formally in a black suit, and Rose who was wearing jean cutoffs and a baggy t-shirt felt quite underdressed in comparison.

"Are you back in the country for the Cup," she asked and immediately wished she hadn't. He quirked his brow and made a sweeping gesture with his arm at himself and the grounds around them in answer to the question as if to say, 'isn't it obvious?' He'd always had the uncanny ability to make her feel incredibly stupid.

"How have your travels been," she tried again.

"Wonderful, I've just done the Americas and will be heading east after the match," he told her. "I believe I should be congratulating you. I still take the Prophet and saw the announcement in the papers. Stefan Dolohov—a good match all things considered."

Rose matched Liam's wolfish smile with an icy one of her own. She knew that 'all things considered' meant her being a halfblood and the Dolohov family—though a wealthy and powerful one—not being one of the twenty-eight families in England who could claim a completely pureblood lineage. Stepping forward, he took one of her hands in both of his and grinned down at her.

"You know, if you get bored tonight, I'll be just down the row here. Feel free to visit whenever you'd like."

Rose oscillated between the desire to slap the man for propositioning her so shamelessly in front of another person and the bitter awareness that she did not want to make an enemy of the Burke family. Smiling up at him, she carefully pulled her hand out of his.

"I'll keep that in mind. It was nice seeing you again Liam." Her ex-schoolmate gave her a short bow, nodded to Cyrus Smythe who had been watching the entire interaction with raised eyebrows, and headed off. 'He is just pompous enough to believe that I really did enjoyed seeing him again,' she thought. Rose huffed irritably, resisted the urge to throw her tea at the man's retreating back and instead sat down.

"Old friend of yours," Cyrus asked. Rose gave him a dark look and he chuckled. "Perhaps my soon to be daughter-in-law had the right idea about how to start off the day. Whiskey?"

Against her better judgement, Rose allowed Mr. Smythe to pour a heavy shot of whiskey into her tea from a small flask he pulled from his suit jacket. It was the Quidditch Cup though, so why not?

"I'm afraid that article Skeeter wrote on you didn't do you any favors," Cyrus told her, sipping his green tea and whiskey cocktail casually. "Or… depending on your preferences, she did you a very big favor."

"I didn't think it was that bad of an article," Rose flushed, picking up on what the man was implying.

"As I said, it all depends on what you want."

Rose sipped her drink silently. She supposed that Rita Skeeter's portrayal of her as a heartbreaker would send out signals that she was open for sex with anyone who had the gall to try. Skeeter claiming that Rose had truly fallen in love with Stefan would be easily overlooked by many. She wondered briefly whether that was why Cillian Troy had sought her out specifically the night before, but he hadn't seemed to know who she was. Deciding it didn't matter, she then wondered if the article was what was making Margot and Fabian so anxious. Were they worried that if Stefan didn't hurry up and knock her up that someone else might? The thought suddenly crossed her mind that sitting out here alone with another man was probably not going to help assuage their worries.

"If you'll excuse me, Mr. Smythe."

"Cyrus."

"Cyrus," she agreed and hurried in to find Stefan.

Most of the day was spent lounging around drinking and getting Mari to sober up. Both of the Arai's and joined them before long. Lucius and Narcissa returned from their walk around the camp that morning to say hello to various important officials. Before long they were all lounging out in the yard around the fire, watching as people passed by and calling out to those they knew. Rose saw a variety of familiar faces pass them over the course of the day from Oliver Wood to Harry, Hermione, and the Weasley family. She didn't dare acknowledge that she'd seen them but did introduce Ludo Bagman to her friends and family when he wandered by.

Before she knew it, the morning had turned into a pleasant evening and the group was heading towards the Quidditch stadium with thousands of other spectators. Rose had changed into a short silver dress but had the good sense to wear black ballet flats rather than heels. The Malfoys, Stefan, Parker, his father, and Mariko headed towards the top box—a location where one had to receive personal tickets from the Ministry in order to sit. The others headed off to their almost as illustrious seats. It had been the generous donation Lucius had made to Rose's research at St. Mungo's that had allowed him to receive the special tickets, and she was beyond grateful that they would not be sitting with Margot and Fabian. She was not entirely sure how Mr. Smythe had received an invitation, but he was high up in the Department of Magical Law and worked closely with Cornelius Fudge.

"Ah, and here's Lucius," Cornelius Fudge said, turning from his conversation with none other than Harry Potter to greet the Malfoy family. Rose was a bit shocked to see the Weasleys, Harry, and Hermione in the top box but recovered from her surprise quickly. Rose watched her mother's nose wrinkle in disgust at the sight of them.

"Ah, Fudge," Lucius said, extending his hand. "I don't think you've met my wife, Narcissa, or our son, Draco. I believe you are, however, familiar with our daughter Rose, and her husband Stefan."

"How do you do," he said with a grin and a small smile. "Mr. and Mrs. Dolohov, a pleasure to see you both again. And allow me to introduce you to Mr. Oblansk… Obalalansk… Mr… well, he's the Bulgarian Minister of Magic and he can't understand a word of what I'm saying anyway so never mind. And let's see, who else? You know Arthur Weasley, I dare say?"

Rose could feel the tension radiating between the two men as they looked each other over.

"Good lord Arthur, what did you have to sell to get seats in the top box? Surely your house would not have fetched this much," Lucius commented snidely when Fudge was not paying attention.

"Lucius has just given a very generous contribution to St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, Arthur. He and his family are here as my guests."

"How—how nice," Arthur Weasley said from behind gritted teeth. Rose tried to ignore the curling sneer her father was now giving Hermione and couldn't help admire the fact that she was unwilling to drop his gaze.

"Slimy gits," she heard Ron mutter while they made their way to their seats. She couldn't help the flush that came across her face—half in embarrassment over her own family and half in irritation at Ron's snide remark. She took her seat between Stefan and Cyrus, looking out over the stadium in growing anticipation.

"Everyone ready," Ludo Bagman called as he hurried into the box excitedly and pointed his wand at his throat. "Ladies and gentlemen welcome! Welcome to the final of the 422nd Quidditch World Cup! And now, without further ado, kindly put your wands in the air for the Bulgarian and Irish National Team Mascots!"

The crowd cheered as the Veela and Leprechauns did their introductory rounds of the stadium before falling silent in preparation for the teams to take the field.

"And now, ladies and gentlemen, kindly welcome the Bulgarian National Team! I give you… Dimitrov, Ivanova, Zograf, Levski, Vulchanov, Volkov, and Krum! And now, please greet the Irish National Quidditch Team! Presenting… Connolly, Ryan, Troy, Mullet, Moran, Quigley, and Lynch!"

Rose cheered loudly for each player that flew onto the field, but especially for Troy who passed mere feet from their seats on his lap of the field. It was with an adolescent sense of satisfaction that she shouted along with the other Ireland supporters when he scored the first points of the game. Troy, Mullet, and Moran truly made a fantastic team that Rose couldn't help admiring. She slammed her hands down on the armrests of her seat in concern when a bludger nearly smashed into Cillian's face. Realizing that she had gripped Cyrus Smythe's wrist, she looked up at him apologetically, but he only patted her hand unconcernedly.

As the game progressed and the Irish chasers began to rack up goal after goal over the Bulgarian team, the Bulgarians began to fight dirty. It was almost like watching a strategy out of Marcus Flint's playbook as the Bulgarians took unnecessary risks and awarded the Irish free penalty shots. The mascots of each team soon devolved into their own battle on the field far below where Rose had walked the previous night. Almost before she knew what had happened, Viktor Krum had sped after Lynch in a steep dive towards the field and pulled up at the last moment with snitch in hand.

In minutes, the enormous golden cup was brought into the top box and given to Fudge.

"Let's give a hand to our gallant losers, Bulgaria!" Ludo called, and she clapped along with everyone else while the Bulgarian National Team filed into the box and shook hands with their own Minister of Magic and Cornelius Fudge. Rose stared unabashedly at Viktor Krum along with everyone else in the box when he walked by. His face was a complete mess and the grace he displayed in the air on a broomstick did not quite translate to walking around on the ground.

Then it was time for the Irish team to come into the box. Rose cheered loudly while Ludo Bagman called out their names and Troy and Quigley lifted the Quidditch World Cup into the air to thunderous applause. Cillian Troy had eyes only for the cup and his teammates and didn't see her. Rose could not blame him. It was only after he had passed the cup to one of his teammates and that he glanced around the box and saw Rose. His blue eyes widened comically at seeing her, and she couldn't help the smirk that played across her face. It was somehow comforting to know that he hadn't had any idea who she was last night. Between Severus and Remus and even her own marriage, Rose was sick of things happening to her because she was a Malfoy or a Potter.

Cillian recovered from his surprise quickly and grinned at her. He lifted his eyebrows suggestively and surreptitiously flashed her the number two with his fingers from beneath hem of his sleeve. Rose smiled but subtly shook her head. As nice as a round two with Cillian Troy sounded—especially after he had just won the Quidditch World Cup—there was no way she'd be able to sneak away under Margot Dolohov's watchful eyes. Troy shrugged, smiled, and turned back to his teammates not looking too put out. After all, there were hundreds of beautiful witches and wizards he could pick from who'd happily warm his bed tonight.