"It would help-" Ron yawned into his sleeve. "-if we knew what we were looking for…" Harry nodded, scanning the damp grass half-heartedly; his eyes weren't all that good in the daylight, let alone the dimness of the early morning countryside. Hermione seemed to have recovered from from the climb up Stoatshead Hill - she was quiet now, and so still Harry half wondered if she'd dozed off standing up. A sleepy looking Ginny nudged her, and she twitched and joined the search.
"Aha!" Fred called, hoisting an empty beer bottle into the air. "Found it!"
"Brilliant!" George went to join him. Before Harry could take more than a few steps in their direction, Fred made a revolted sound and flung the bottle away, while George doubled over, laughing.
"False alarm," Fred sighed. "Keep looking, everyone."
"Over here, Ced, I've found it!" a man's voice called from somewhere beyond the crest of the hill.
"Amos?" Mr Weasley adjusted his pack and waved at everyone to follow.
"Morning, Arthur!" Two tall figures joined them atop the hill, wearing - as Harry, Hermione, and the Weasleys did, rucksacks. As they drew nearer, Harry recognised Cedric first, then his father. Mr Diggory was holding a worn boot in one hand and reached out to shake Mr Weasley's hand with his other when he was near enough. Over his shoulder, Cedric smiled at Harry and gave a small wave. "Long walk for you lot?"
"Not too far, thankfully," Mr Weasley said. "We're just over that way."
"We've been up since two," Mr Diggory said. "I'll be glad once Ced can apparate, but I suppose the early start's all part of the experience."
"Everyone," Mr Weasley said, "this is Amos Diggory, from the Department of Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures." Mr Diggory, who Harry had met the year before when he came to collect Winky the house elf from Hogwarts, nodded and smiled around at them all. "And you must be Cedric?" Mr Weasley offered Cedric his hand, then gestured to the others. Fred and George gave Cedric rather brittle smiles - they'd held a grudge for a while after Hufflepuff beat Gryffindor in a Quidditch match last year, but Cedric was rather difficult to dislike, and Fred and George had both had opportunities to get even with him in Moody's duelling club. "I imagine you already know this lot. Amos, this is Fred, George, Ron, Ginny, Harry, and Hermione."
"Well, I know Harry Potter, of course-"
"Doesn't everyone?" George muttered. Ginny elbowed him.
"-we had a bit of a house elf situation last year, didn't we?" Mr Diggory continued, not seeming to have heard. "And, of course, you play Seeker against my Cedric. Give him a bit of a run for his money, or so I've heard."
"Er, yeah," Harry said.
"But less so at duelling club; even being raised by an Auror's not quite enough to top natural ability-"
"So that's the portkey is it, Amos?" Mr Weasley interjected. Harry shot him a grateful look and got a small smile in return.
"Oh- yes," Mr Diggory said, lifting the boot. "We're not waiting on anyone else, I don't think...?"
"The Lovegoods?"
"They're already there," Ginny said, through a yawn.
"And the Fawcetts aren't coming at all. If there are any others in the area, I don't know of them, and they're going to miss it anyway." Amos checked his watch, nodded, and held the portkey out. They squeezed in, with a lot of apologies and getting tangled in the loose straps of each other's rucksacks. Harry ended up between Cedric and Mr Weasley.
"Sorry about dad," Cedric muttered. "He's a bit…"
"It's fine," Harry said back. "Good summer?" He wriggled further forward and managed to get a finger on the boot. Fred and George reached in at the same time, knocked their heads together, and swore.
"Boys!"
"Spent it doing homework, mostly," Cedric said with a grimace. He stretched his arm out and pinched one of the boot's laces. "Got N.E.W.T.s coming up, so I thought I'd get a head start. You?"
"Bit of homework, bit of flying," Harry said. "Lots of time with my family and friends, too-"
"Fourth years," Cedric said, with a wistful shake of his head. Harry grinned.
"Three," Mr Weasley said, peering awkwardly into the middle of everyone to try to read his watch. "...two… one."
And Harry was yanked away.
He lost his footing at the other end, landing sprawled on the grass by Fred, and Cedric's trainers. He, Mr Diggory, and Mr Weasley all managed to keep their feet. Ron almost did, until Hermione toppled into him and the pair of them toppled onto George.
"Seven past five from Stoatshead Hill," a voice announced.
He'd expected Potter to be much harder to find, so, when less than an hour after he'd finished setting up, a flash caught his eyes and he looked over to see Potter, glasses glinting in the sunrise, walking between a lanky redhead and a girl trying to coax her mass of brown hair into a braid, Dmitri could barely believe his good luck.
He stood, stretched, pulled his old Dumstrang jumper on over his head, then headed after Potter.
"What in Merlin's name are you doing?" a familiar voice said, and Harry spun, already smiling before he'd even worked out where Padfoot was. He was dressed in his official Auror robes, and had a bemused sort of look on his face. His eyes were on the pot in Harry's hands, then on the battered kettle in Ron's, and then the small pile of firewood Hermione was holding.
"Water," Harry said.
"Yes, Harry, I can see that," Padfoot said, coming close enough to ruffle Harry's hair, clap Ron on the back, and give Hermione's shoulders a squeeze. "But why are you lugging it across the campsite when you've got a perfectly good wand?"
"Because using his perfectly good wand would be breaching the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery." Robards stepped up beside Padfoot and gave him an exasperated look. "And as an Auror, you should not be endorsing that."
"I'm not endorsing it, it was a test," Padfoot said. "And you passed, Harry, well done." Robards snorted. "Moony and Dora here yet?"
"They weren't when we left," Harry said.
"Ma-" Robards nudged Padfoot and tilted his head to the side; Harry followed the gesture and saw a pair of witches making some sort of trade, in a manner they obviously thought was covert; one took a small phial of silvery pink liquid, and the other took a small purse. Padfoot and Robards exchanged a look. "I'll get the dealer." Robards slipped away, after the witch who'd taken the phial. "Fourth bloody love potion we've seen this morning," Padfoot said, already drawing his wand and backing up. "Whereabouts are you set up - I'll see if I can drop by before the match-"
"Back across the field," Harry said. Ron pointed.
"Sites 4C and 4D," Hermione said, shuffling the bundle in her arms so she could show Padfoot the map. "Just there."
"Brilliant." Padfoot backed up a little further, lifting his wand. "Oi! You in the Bulgaria scarf! No, not you, mate, her- yes, madam, you!"
Harry hefted hefted his pot and he, Ron, and Hermione continued on their way.
They made it across the field, but only just; they lost Ron for a few minutes when he was swept up by a rowdy bunch of equally red-headed Ireland supporters, then, there was the beater's bat incident; a woman was trying to explain to her children that they were dangerous and not toys and almost made her point a little too well when she almost took Hermione's head off with it.
Then, Harry was recognised by a Witch Weekly reporter who wanted a photo and to ask him "just a few questions, love". Thankfully, Ron's quick thinking saved Harry from having to sit through either of those things:
"What's Viktor Krum doing over there?" he said, pointing to a dark-haired man murmuring to a woman beside a simple canvas tent. "Shouldn't he be at the pitch already?"
"Who's Viktor Krum?" Hermione asked, stepping out of the way of the reporter as she took off.
"Bloody hell, Hermione, he's only one of the best Quidditch players in the world!" Ron said. His outrage was somewhat muted by his obvious satisfaction as he watched the reporter charge away.
"Hermione's not the only one who doesn't know who he is, at least," Harry said; the reporter was now talking to the couple - both of whom looked rather confused.
Ron sniggered, then gave Harry a nudge: "Come on, before she comes back."
They'd barely gone another row when Hermione stopped. Her hands were full, but she flared her elbows in a warning sort of way. Harry stumbled a little and the water in the pot he was carrying sloshed around, some spilling down the front of his jumper and into his trainers, some splashing onto Hermione's back. She didn't even flinch. Ron, thankfully, managed to stop before he ploughed into the both of them. A few people muttered, annoyed that they were in the way, but most just squeezed around.
"Hermione-?"
"Look who it is," she said darkly. Harry followed her nod to the carefully styled blond head in front of them, groaned, and shuffled back a few steps; Hydrus was standing outside an enormous, overly extravagant striped silk tent with his back to them. He was still, staring around at the busy campsite, and it was possible he was just taking it all in - the red and the green of the tents and the flags and the general bustle of the morning - but Harry thought it more likely that he was waiting for an opportunity to be rude to some undeserving passersby.
"Peacocks?" Ron muttered in disgust; there were three of them tethered to the entrance of the tent, and as Harry looked, Hydrus waved a hand to shoo one that had taken an interest in his shoelace. "Still, if he's there, our Malfoy probably can't be far, right?"
"Right," Harry said. He eyed the tent. "D'you reckon we could just poke our heads in and see if he's there?" It probably wouldn't end well, but they hadn't seen Draco all summer. If he was in there...
"Here lies Harry," Ron said in a grave voice. "It wasn't V-Voldemort that got him in the end, it was three albino peacocks…" Hermione snorted a laugh.
Either Hydrus heard her, or it was just bad luck that he turned when he did. Harry scowled - an automatic response - but only for about a second before he properly looked at him and realised-
"Draco?!" Hermione was the first of them to recover, dropped her firewood, and rushed forward to throw her arms around him. One of the peacocks hissed - knowing the Malfoys, it could probably smell that Hermione was muggleborn - and Draco half-lifted, half-dragged her out of its reach. "It's so good to see you!"
"Why are you all wet?" he asked, releasing her, and wiping his hands on his trousers. "And why were you two scowling instead of throwing yourselves at me too - haven't you missed me?" His voice was playful, but there was genuine hurt in his scent, and… anxiety?
"We saw the hair and thought you were Hydrus," Harry said, grimacing. "Sorry." He hugged Draco as best he could around the pot, and Draco's scent settled.
"I suppose that's your excuse too, Weasley?" he said, arching an eyebrow.
"Nah," Ron said. "I just needed Hermione to hold this-" He passed her the kettle and got a confused look in return. "-so I could throw myself on you properly." He lunged forward. Draco had grown that summer - he was roughly of a height with Harry - but still several inches shorter than Ron, and Harry saw him realise that; his expression went from lofty and playful to vaguely panicked.
Ron, who hadn't taken any steps other than that single, dramatic one, laughed at the look on his face.
"Hilarious," Draco muttered, as Ron stepped forward - calmly - and hugged him.
"How's your summer been?" Hermione passed Ron the kettle and bent to gather up the firewood she'd dropped.
"Fine," Draco said, shrugging. It wasn't a lie, but he was leaving something out; Harry could smell it. Draco's eyes flicked to Harry, as if he'd realised the same. He looked away again, kneeling to help Hermione.
"I know we've been writing, but it's not the same," Hermione was saying. "We've been so worried about you-"
"If we need to worry about anyone, Granger, it'd be you…" Draco's tone was exasperated, but his scent was worried. "But I'm hoping the fact that you're here means your parents are going to let you come back to school?"
"I think so," Hermione said, and pursed her lips. Her scent clearly said she wasn't keen to talk about it, and her expression was rather foreboding too.
"Well, well." Hydrus - and it was actually him this time - stepped out of the tent and took in the sight of Draco and Hermione kneeling on the ground. "Collecting twigs for your new dam, Granger?" He pushed his teeth forward over his lip, apparently wanting to be sure he'd made his point.
Much as Harry didn't want to see Mr Malfoy, it was probably a good thing he stepped out when he did; if he'd taken even a moment longer, Harry thought Ron would have thrown his kettle at Hydrus. Hermione straightened, and her expression, which had been furious and a little hurt after Hydrus' comment, turned stony. Ron was openly scowling, knuckles white around the handle of the kettle. Draco hadn't moved from the ground, his expression defiant, scent nervous. Hydrus' scent turned gleeful.
A look passed between Draco and his father, then, Draco stiffened, glanced at Harry, and stood.
"I'll see you at the match," he said, and pushed past his father and brother into the tent. Harry smelled panic in his wake. Harry took a step after him without thinking, but one of the peacocks tried to peck him and he didn't think Mr Malfoy was likely to let him past anyway. Mr Malfoy's lips thinned, and he turned without saying anything, and strode after Draco. Harry set his jaw.
"Off you go," Ron said to Hydrus, nodding at the tent.
"I don't take instructions from your sort, Weasley," Hydrus said. "Why don't you leave."
"All right," Ron said. "Come on Harry, Hermione." And he left, with far more dignity than Hermione, who gave Hydrus a withering look, then turned on her heel, or Harry, who ignored Hydrus in favour of looking at the tent flap and wondering what had frightened Draco. Hydrus' comment clearly had the effect he wanted; when Harry left to trail after the other two, Hydrus was sulking and surrounded by peacocks.
The Weasleys' campsite was far busier than when they'd left it; Bill, Charlie and Percy had arrived, Ginny and the twins were properly awake, and between them, they'd pitched the tents, and put benches up around the large pile of wood Mr Weasley was trying unsuccessfully to light. He had a small pile of smoldering matches beside him, but neither that, Fred and George's sniggers, or Percy's sighs seemed able to diminish his enthusiasm.
"Are you sure you don't just want me to light it, Dad?" Charlie asked, showing Hermione where to put her firewood, as Bill got up to relieve Harry of his pot. "It'd be a lot faster-"
"No," Mr Weasley said. "Thank you, Charlie, but you boys did the tents, Percy's done the benches, and Fred and George and Ginny did the wood, so this can be my contribution." He struck a match, and then dropped it in surprise when a loud voice called out:
"Wotcher!"
"Tonks!"
"That's Lupin to you, Weasley," Dora said. She was dressed all in green for Ireland - her skin even had a green glow to it - although her hair was a sandy brown. Moony - carrying both of their rucksacks - was walking along in the wake she and her enormous belly had made. He had a green scarf on, but otherwise was dressed normally.
"You're glowing," Bill said, looking uncertain. Dora scowled, but Moony grinned.
"For three days, now," he said. "Although she was glowing yellow and not green until this morning."
"The baby's been making it a harder to control everything," Dora said, holding up one faintly luminescent hand. "My hair's been like this for weeks." Percy shuffled along the bench to make room for her beside Charlie.
"She had webbed fingers and toes one day last week," Harry said, grinning. "And then on Friday-"
"Not another word, Harry," she said warningly, "unless you want- Oof!" She pressed a hand to her stomach, and gave it an accusatory look. "And you can shut up too," she told it, with a good natured scowl. "It's got Remus' sense of humour - I swear the kid spends its whole time laughing in there." She and Moony shared a soft look.
"Have you thought about names?" Arthur asked, still struggling with the fire.
"A bit," Moony said. "But we haven't decided on anything…"
"Well," Fred said, "if you're looking for suggestions, Fred's good for a boy. And there's Georgia, or Georgina for a girl…" Moony chuckled.
"What about Arnold?" Ginny said. "I've always liked that." Harry snorted at the same time as Bill, Ron, and Percy did. Dora's eyes widened and Harry saw her hands spread protectively over her stomach, as if to shield the baby inside from Ginny's suggestion.
"It's better than Elvendork," Harry said, glancing at Moony. "Padfoot's suggestion," Harry explained, for the others' benefit. Hermione mouthed 'Elvendork' with a disbelieving look on her face. Ginny looked alarmingly thoughtful.
"It's unisex," Moony muttered, without much enthusiasm, and he and Dora shared a long suffering look.
