"...bloody incredible, Krum is!" Ron said passionately. Harry caught Hermione's eye and grinned at the affectionately exasperated look on her face. She rolled her eyes, smiled slightly, and went back to her conversation with Marlene, Percy, and Mr Weasley.

"Krum?" Fred asked. "Isn't he that quodpot player?"

"Nah, Quidditch," Harry said, glancing sideways at Ron. "Irish, I think." Ron pulled a face at him. "Or maybe Danish."

"Name rings a bell," George said, pausing in his efforts to steal Bill's hipflask from where it rested against his leg, to pretend to think about it. "You know about him, Harry?"

"Yeah, I reckon I've heard him mentioned once or twice," Harry said, grinning.

"In the last minute," Fred said, turning to give Ron an accusing look. "And then half-a-hundred times before that."

"Shut up," Ron said, ears going red as he looked between Harry and the twins.

"Leave him alone," Ginny said, when George opened his mouth to retaliate. "He can't help that he's in love." Fred and George chortled, and the sound made Bill - who'd been talking with Moony, Dora, and Charlie - glance around. George yanked back his hand and sat still and innocent until Bill turned back around.

The fire they'd cooked breakfast on that morning had tripled in size - Charlie's handiwork - and they were all clustered around it now, listening to the Irish music that was playing loudly a few rows over. It was the perfect way to celebrate, really; warm by the fire, but still able to see the celebratory fireworks the Irish supporters were sending up into the sky. And, as an added bonus, over the course of the evening, the fire had drawn a number of people to the Weasleys' little pocket of the campsite:

"Wasted affection, Ron," Seamus said; he and Dean had wandered over about an hour ago. "You know who was really incredible… Ireland!"

"Not that you're biased or anything, Seamus," Harry teased; Seamus' face was painted green and yellow, and he wore an Irish flag around his shoulders like a cloak.

"Seamus, biased toward Ireland?" Dean asked, pressing a hand to his heart and making Ginny laugh. "Never!"

"I'm an Irish fan too, Seamus," Ron said, "but you've got to admit, Krum was-"

"Krum was okaaay," Seamus said, clearly reluctant to praise the enemy, "but if you ask me-" A dreamy look crossed his face. "-Bulgaria's real stars were the veela."

"Oh, yes," Luna said, with a happy sigh, looking up from her seat next to Ginny, "weren't they wonderful?"

"Budge up, Potter, Weasley." Draco seemed to materialise out of the darkness beyond the fire's light, and, despite his rather forceful words, seemed uncertain.

"Draco," Harry said, surprised, sliding over to make room for him on the log. "Butterbeer?"

"All right," Draco said, squeezing down between them. Harry reached over to grab one from the crate beside Moony and passed it to him.

"I thought you said you wouldn't come by," Ron said, bumping his shoulders to Draco's, which resulted in Draco - less deliberately - bumping his shoulders into Harry's. It was a gentle bump, but still almost enough to push Harry off the log; it didn't seat three anywhere near as comfortably as it had seated two.

"I didn't think I'd be allowed to," Draco said, seeming pleased by the greeting. He opened his butterbeer and took a sip. "And technically, I'm probably not, but Hydrus is over at Goyle's tent, and Mother and Father have turned in for the night, so I figured what they don't know won't hurt them."

"That's the spirit!" Fred said. Beside him, George had finally managed to sneak Bill's hipflask away without him noticing.

"Hey, Malfoy," Dean said. "How's-"

"Sit still, would you?!" They all turned to look at Dora, who was leaning against Moony, with a hand pressed to her bulging stomach. "Irish supporter, this one, apparently." She stretched out a little, then kicked off her boots and put her feet up in Charlie's lap. "Ah, that's much better..."

"Anything else, M'Lady?" Charlie asked with a laugh.

"Well, I'd love a firewhiskey, but I'm not allowed," she said mournfully. "So no, thank you."


The curtain that separated the main room of the pavilion from the master bedroom swished as Narcissa let herself in.

"Unflattering things," Narcissa murmured, eyeing Lucius up and down.

"They're not supposed to be flattering," Lucius replied, smoothing the black fabric of his robes. It had been almost thirteen years since he last wore them, and they felt loose and ungainly, but then, that was the point; loose robes hid the shape of the person wearing them, and also disguised the way they moved, to a certain extent.

Lucius had no shame in his allegiance, but he would be prosecuted for it if he was discovered, so it was for the best if there was nothing to give him away tonight. And on that note… he bound his hair with a black ribbon, and tucked it into the neck of his robes, out of sight. Then, he pulled on a pair of black gloves.

"Good thing it's not any warmer," Narcissa said.

"Indeed." She came to stand behind him, and smoothed the shoulders of his robes, eyes on his in the dressing table mirror. He caught her hand and brought it to his mouth so he could brush a kiss along her knuckles. Her lips curved ever so slightly upward, but then she pulled her hand away, gently, and was serious again.

"How do I look?"

Lucius knew immediately what she meant, and reached for the bone-white mask on the dressing table in answer. He lifted it up over his face, and as he did, Narcissa took on a pale blue glow.

"Perfect," he said, lowering it, then added, "As always." She favoured him with another faint smile.

"I'll see to Draco once you're gone," she said. "And Hydrus-"

"Ought to have been done already, by Goyle." He stood, and brushed a gloved hand over her cheek. "There's nothing to worry about."

"Half the Ministry's out there," Narcissa countered. "Along with whoever else they've brought in for security."

"No one particularly intimidating, according to Crouch's information," Lucius said. There were a handful of international Aurors, and a few Bulgarian Ministry staff, and he wasn't particularly worried about either. "And the worst they'll be expecting is some mischief from disgruntled Bulgarian supporters. We're organised, and we've been practicing to ensure we're not too rusty, and even if that weren't the case, the Dark Lord personally requested our presence tonight, as proof of our loyalty. This is not a test I can fail."

"No," she said quietly, drawing back. "It's not."

Narcissa, in his opinion, was by far the best of the Black sisters, embodying all of their best qualities and very few of their less desirable ones. It wasn't often that he compared her unfavourably to Bellatrix, but on nights like these where he was to do his Lord's bidding, he would have preferred Bellatrix and her eager, contagious energy, to Narcissa, who was unsettled in a way that Lucius found draining.

He pulled his mask on, lifted his hood and secured it with a charm, then slid his wand into his sleeve to rest just above his Mark. He could feel the pull of it, not to the Dark Lord, but to where Wormtail was waiting to meet them all.

"I'll see you later," he said to his blue, glowing wife, then pressed his wand-tip down and let the Mark pull him away.


Draco was been... off - distant or nervous or… something. Harry'd been able to smell it, and he was sure Draco knew; Harry'd caught him glancing his way several times now, with pursed lips and a tense little frown.

"Everything okay?" It was late by the time Harry had him alone enough to be able to ask about it; Dean and Seamus had been collected by Mrs Finnegan, and Moony, Dora, and Marlene had excused themselves to their own tents, dropping Luna back to her father on the way. Ginny and Hermione were sitting on one side of what remained of the fire, giggling as Mr Weasley and all of the Weasley brothers put their heads together to make plans for Mrs Weasley's upcoming birthday; while it wasn't until later in the year, they intended to celebrate while Bill and Charlie were still around.

"Fine," Draco said. "Why wouldn't it be?" There was tension in his scent, again, and Harry frowned. Draco seemed to realise it too, because he sighed. "Your sense of smell is incredibly inconvenient, you know."

"Sorry?"

"I didn't mean- never mind." Draco tossed a bit of wood into the dying fire.

"No, Fred," Bill, Mr Weasley, and Ginny all said together, and Harry glanced over for long enough to watch Fred straighten, indignant, then turned back to Draco.

"So what's wrong?" Draco waved a hand, as if to shoo the question away.

"Right. Sorry. Did I do something? I can go, if you want, or-" Harry gestured to the cluster of Weasleys on the other side of the fire. "-send one of the others over, or if you want to be on your own…"

"No," Draco said. "No, I've been alone quite enough these holidays. Stay."

"All right." Harry shifted on the log, uncomfortably aware that Draco hadn't denied his problem was with Harry. He thought hard, for a moment, about something else to say, something to change the topic. "Snape never brought you to visit this summer." Draco's absence had been unfortunate, but Harry had been rather glad for the lack of Snape after what had happened at the end of term.

At the mention of Snape, Draco's expression twisted, and Harry winced.

"He's been busy," Draco said, before Harry could decide whether to apologise or simply flee across the fire or into the nearest tent. "Apparently." Draco was silent for a moment. "I think he's upset with me."

"Oh." When nothing more was forthcoming - either to change the subject or expand on it - Harry decided to push his luck. "What'd you do?"

"Nothing bad," Draco said quickly. "We're just… having a difference in opinion at the moment. Or- at least I think that's what it must be. We haven't really been able to talk about it."

"Right," Harry said uncertainly. "Well, er… at least your parents have been better lately?"

"What do you mean?" Draco's voice was sharp.

"Just that they've let you write this summer," Harry said hastily, putting his hands up in a gesture of apology. "Merlin."

"Sorry," Draco said, and seemed genuine. "I'm just a bit- Father's been talking a lot about the-" Draco pressed his lips together into a thin line, then sighed. "-about the Dark Lord this summer."

"How so?" Harry asked, immediately alert.

"Just about how it's only a matter of time until he's back, and how it's time for me to remember that I'm a Malfoy, and give some serious thought to where my loyalties truly lie…" Draco pulled a face, but his scent was uncomfortable, and his eyes stayed on the fire, or perhaps on the laughing Weasleys; anywhere but Harry.

"You mean…"

"They want me to be a Death Eater, Potter."

"... Oh."

"Yes," Draco said, kicking an empty butterbeer bottle into the coals - all that was really left of the fire now - where it began to glow red hot. "'Oh' sums it up quite well."

"If- if you need to get away, we've got rooms at Grimmauld. They wouldn't be able to get to you there." Harry looked at Draco's face, which was troubled, and swallowed. "Or- if you don't- I mean, if it's what you want, to- I'd rather you didn't, but it's up to you, so-"

"Well," Draco muttered, "let's both be thankful I've already made my decision, and wasn't waiting for you to convince me… 'I'd rather you didn't'. Honestly." He was still rather tense, but amusement had slipped into his scent, and Harry thought that was a good thing.

"Then- like I said, if your family… Grimmauld's always open-"

"I'm hoping it won't come to that," Draco said, twirling a butterbeer cap between his fingers, before tossing that into the fire as well. "But thanks."

"And if you need to talk… Padfoot's family were the same. He'd understand. Obviously you can talk to me or Ron or Hermione or anyone else, but-"

"Yes, thank you, Potter." Draco's tone was dry, and a little condescending, but his scent was fond.

There was a boom and a several startled screams echoed over the music that had been playing a few rows of tents away.

Harry glanced in the direction of the noise, amused; doubtless, someone had had a bit much firewhiskey and tried to set a firework off inside their tent. If Padfoot's stories from when he'd dropped by earlier were to be believed, they wouldn't be the first to have done so that night.

"Well, the Irish haven't settled any-" Bill stood, stretched, and yawned. "-but I reckon I'm done for the night."

"It's barely one!" George protested.

"Yeah, but I'm old and boring these days," Bill said, winking, as he leaned down to ruffle George's hair.

"Thank Merlin," Percy said, getting to his feet. "I was worried everyone would give me a hard time if I was the first to go, but I've been wanting my bed for about an hour." He rubbed his eyes and stumbled toward the tent. "Good night, everyone."

"Night, Perce," Fred said, then looked at Bill. "Traitor."

There was still a bit of distant screaming and carrying on, and Harry found himself a unsettled by the fact that it hadn't stopped yet.

You're being silly, he told himself. He was just a bit on edge because Draco had put thoughts of Voldemort into his head. It's just someone that's had a bit much to drink, or is trying to impress a veela or something. Before he could convince himself of that, though, the music cut off sharply.

Harry was on his feet with his wand out before he was conscious of having moved. If he'd been in his wolf form, he'd have had his ears back, and hackles up. As it was, his ears were straining, and he was beginning to realise why he'd been so unsettled by the continued screaming; there was no laughter mixed in with it anymore.

Mr Weasley made an odd sound. Harry looked around and saw Draco, Hermione, and Ron had all got to their feet and drawn their wands as well, and even as he watched, Fred, George and Ginny exchanged serious looks and stood. Charlie and Mr Weasley were both still seated, and Percy and Bill had paused by the entrance to the tent. All four of them looked bewildered.

"Ron," Mr Weasley said, "what-?"

"Harry?" Ron asked. Beside Harry, Draco shifted, and there was something warily expectant in his scent, but none of the worry Harry himself was feeling. It occurred to him that they hadn't heard what he had, only seen him react and reacted accordingly. He swallowed.

"The music's stopped," Harry said. "But the screaming hasn't."

A brief pause followed, then:

"Blimey," Charlie said, getting to his feet. "You must have ears like a bat, Harry." Despite how tense the situation was, Harry saw an amused look pass between Ron and Draco, though neither corrected Charlie with 'wolf' like Harry suspected they would have liked to. "Bill, want to come and check it out?"

"I want to sleep," Bill muttered, but he rubbed his eyes and shuffled over to Charlie's side.

The next scream was closer, and they all froze.

"It might not be anything to worry about," Mr Weasley said, though Harry didn't think he believed his own words. "Might just be that someone's got a bit rowdy…" Hermione, Ron, Draco, and Ginny all looked to Harry, as if waiting to hear what he thought. The unsettled feeling in Harry's stomach was telling him Voldemort, but was that instinct, or was that just what he'd come to expect?

"One way to find out," he said, with forced calm. "My mirror's in my bag." He ducked past Bill and Percy into the tent, and headed straight for the bunk room. His mirror was sitting on top of his bag, and already shouting at him:

"Harry! Harry Potter!" It was Padfoot's voice, sharp with worry, and Harry knew. He snatched up the mirror and Padfoot's face appeared. "Harry! Are you all right?"

"Fine! Voldemort-?"

"Death Eaters," Padfoot said, speaking quickly. Harry could see people rushing around in the dark behind him, and it was almost hard to hear him over the noise. "They've got Anti-Apparition wards up-"

"It was planned," Harry said, swallowing. He could hear more voices than just those belonging to Hermione, Draco and the Weasleys outside the tent, and the dull thuds of lots of feet on the grass outside.

"Where are you?" Padfoot's clipped tone was confirmation enough. "I'm sending Kreacher to come and get you."

"No," Harry said.

"Yes." Padfoot seemed to glance over Harry's shoulder. "Are you in the tent?"

"If Kreacher takes me away, I'm coming right back," Harry said, hurrying back out into the main part of the tent.

"No," Padfoot snapped, "you're not. They're not out there celebrating Ireland's win, Harry, they're probably here to finish what Wormtail started in June, which is to-"

"Get me," Harry said. "Yeah, I'd figured." Padfoot gave him a look. "But they'll tear the campsite apart looking for me if they don't see Kreacher take me-"

Padfoot growled at him, and Harry didn't know if it was a concession or disagreement.

"Fred, George, go - take care of Ginny!" Mr Weasley said loudly from outside the tent. "You three as well!"

"But Harry-!" Harry heard Ron say.

"He'll be right behind you," Mr Weasley said. His pale face was suddenly peering in through the entry flaps. "Harry! Out! Quickly!"

"What's happening?" Padfoot demanded from inside the mirror. Harry burst out of the tent and into utter chaos. "Harry?!"

"It's fine," Harry said distractedly, but it was not; people were rushing about in various stages of panic - some were sobbing, some screaming, others were silent, or talking anxiously amongst themselves - and several tents had been trampled in the process, Hermione's and Ginny's included.

Both girls were gone, as were Ron. Draco, and the twins, or at least he thought so, until he heard Hermione shouting at him:

"Harry!"

"Hurry up!" That was Draco. Harry spotted them trying and failing to stand against the mob rushing toward the woods, waiting for him. He'd barely taken a step toward them when they were swallowed by the chaos. Even Ron, who was tall and had bright hair and was therefore usually easy to spot in crowds, was out of sight.

"... on my way; stay wherever you are-" Padfoot was saying from inside the mirror, but Harry lost track of that when a spell whizzed past his face.

Mr Weasley shouted something to or about Charlie, and then he, Bill, and Percy were running away, toward where Harry could see spells flashing brightly in the dark night.

A hand descended on Harry's shoulder.

He spun, wand coming up, but it was only Charlie. They stared at each other for a moment - Charlie taken aback by the wand at his chest, Harry apologetic - and then Charlie recovered himself.

"Dad said to get you to the others," he yelled over the noise. "He and Bill and Perce have gone to help the Aurors!" He gave Harry a nudge. "Let's go!"

"We're heading to the woods!" Harry said, looking down at the mirror, but Padfoot said nothing; the glass had gone dark and silent.


"Harry!" People buffeted Hermione on all sides, rough in their haste to get away from the campsite. She caught a glimpse of Harry, stepping out of the boys' tent: "Harry!" She'd have lifted a hand to wave at him, but she was holding onto Ron and Draco, so as not to lose them in the crowd. Harry, though, had obviously heard her, and turned-

Someone barrelled into Hermione, knocking her back a few steps, and Ron's hand was pulled from hers.

"Ron!?" Her hand tightened on Draco's, and she risked a quick hop on the spot to try to make herself tall enough to see either of the other two, but couldn't.

"Where's Weasley?!" Draco shouted, stopping, and she had to pull him out of the way of a large wizard that would otherwise have trampled him.

"I don't know!" she shouted back, trying to find him amongst all the dark, panicked shapes. She pulled her wand out, now that her hand was free. "Ron!" Draco repaid her earlier favour a moment later, and yanked her roughly to the side... not out of the way of a panicked World-Cup-goer, but out of the way of a silvery spell. The screaming around them got louder, the movements more frantic. The spell that followed the first one hit the ground between her and Draco with a tiny explosion of indigo sparks.

The startled expression on Draco's face was such a contrast to his usual, neutral expression that it would have been funny under just about any other circumstances, but Hermione was too busy shoving him out of the way of the third spell to be amused.

Ron probably would have found time to do both, she thought, sending a Stunner off in the direction the most recent spell had come from. Merlin, but she hoped he and Harry were okay, and hoped they'd managed to find each other.

"Protego!" she said blocking an orange jet of light. Draco sent a neat Stunner over the top of her shield. It hit someone in dark robes, and they toppled backward, silent.

Hermione looked up at Draco approvingly.

"Yes, yes," he said, "I'm brilliant. Let's go." He pulled on her hand. "Now."