DISCLAIMER – I own nothing, I'm merely borrowing for the duration of this story.
SUMMARY – 'Now that he had been gone for almost a year, supposedly vanquished by an infant whose parents had sacrificed their lives in a desperate attempt to save his, she and her husband had come to an agreement. It was time for them to begin anew, without the pressures and expectations put on them not only by their family but by the Wizarding Community at large. They had their son, their little dragon, to think of now.'
WARNINGS – Alternate Universe, Alternate Timeline (tiny little tweaks only), Slash, Canon-Typical Violence, Coming Out, First Time, Underage (nothing graphic), Homophobia
A/N – Please be aware that in some places I will be utilising some of the original material, although it has all been adapted and altered to fit with my changes to the overall storyline. None of it is literally copy/pasted as I consider that to be cheating (and borderline plagiarism which is not acceptable in my book.) As the story progresses this will happen less and less but in this first chapter, particularly in the very first section where the "scene is being set", I struggled not to include some aspects. Just wanted to warn you.
'My Champion, My Dragon'
Chapter Four. 1994.
Helping himself to a healthy portion of scrambled eggs on toast Harry settled down on the long wooden bench beside Ron and opposite Hermione. The first year Gryffindor on his other side gave a little "eep" of excitement before leaning in to whisper in his friend's ear.
The Great Hall was buzzing with the usual amount of activity for the time of day although the presence of the Durmstrang and Beauxbatons students had evidently caused there to be slightly more excited chattering than they were all accustomed to. Harry suspected that this might be due to the "unusual" breakfasts which the House Elves had been all too happy to prepare from them; at the Slytherin table the Durmstrang students helped themselves to steaming mugs of coffee, a variety of porridges to which some of them added jam and/or cream or to a towering plate of what appeared to Harry to be doorstop sandwiches whilst at the Ravenclaw table the Beauxbatons students feasted on everything from an array of delicate pastries with glasses of freshly squeezed juice to churros with thick hot chocolate or even cold cuts of meat, cheeses and freshly baked bread. It was vastly different to the milk and cereals, toast or "full English breakfasts" that the Hogwarts students were devouring.
Perhaps this was one of the reasons why he was able to pick Draco Malfoy out of the crowd of Beauxbatons students so easily, the other being his platinum blonde hair, of course, as the older strident had opted to have what appeared to be marmalade on toast for breakfast as opposite did to the pastries and churros his friends had chosen. As Harry watched a large drop of marmalade dropped onto Draco's chin as he took a bite, prompting him to chuckle as he hurriedly brought his napkin up to catch the droplet before it could touch his uniform.
"Ron?"
Typically his friend responded with a grunt as he popped half a sausage into his mouth.
"What do you know about the Malfoy family? Are they really related to the DeLacour's?"
"Yeah, Draco and Fleur are definitely cousins," Ron explained around his mouthful of food. Hermione grimaced. "Their mums are sisters, I think, and the Malfoy's were linked to the Dark Lord and his followers during the war, just like the DeLacour's were…are. Although the Malfoy's fled the country in the immediate aftermath, supposedly to escape prosecution."
"Oh…"
"Dad says that you will never find one at the scene of the crime, though their fingerprints might be all over the guilty wand," Ron continued after swallowing his food, focusing on scooping up some of his scrambled eggs which were covered in beans. "Mum says they're disgustingly rich and think themselves above working for a living. She says that Lucius Malfoy was always happy for others to do the hard work and then take the credit for it even when they were at school. And supposedly they were only allowed to leave the country after they bribed the judge presiding over their case with an obscene amount of money."
"Ron, that's just hearsay and…and utter nonsense," Hermione snapped disapprovingly. "If you're going to give information to others at least make sure that it is factually correct first."
"What? It's not like you could do any better…"
"Actually, I can," she countered primly, setting aside the spoon she had been using to eat her own breakfast of muggle coco-pops and retrieving a heavy tome from her school bag. "It just so happens that I was curious about Fleur's relatives and decided to check out a book about 'Pureblood Families and their Peerages.' I found the relevant information last night."
Ron gaped at her, "Of course you did…"
Opening the thick book to the page she had marked with what appeared to be a handmade cross-stitched bookmark with simple flowers around a Capitol 'H' their clever friend trailed her fingertip down the page until she reached the point where she wanted to read from.
"The Malfoy name comes from old French and translates as 'bad faith'," Hermione began to recite the words on the page, taking her reading as seriously as she did the readings she was called upon to perform in several of their classes. "Like many other progenitors of noble English families, the wizard Armand Malfoy arrived in Britain with William the Conqueror as part of the invading Norman army. Having rendered unknown (and almost certainly magical) services to King William I, Lord Malfoy was given a prime piece of land in Wiltshire, seized from local landowners, upon which his descendants lived for ten consecutive centuries. Over hundreds of years, they have managed to add to their lands in Wiltshire by annexing those of neighbouring Muggles, and the favour they curried with royalty added Muggle treasures and works of art to an ever-expanding collection. Until the imposition of the Statute of Secrecy in 1692, the Malfoy family was active within high-born Muggle circles, and it is said that their fervent opposition to the imposition of the Statute was due, in part, to the fact that they would have to withdraw from this enjoyable sphere of social life. Though hotly denied by subsequent generations, there is ample evidence to suggest that the first Lucius Malfoy was an unsuccessful aspirant to the hand of Elizabeth I, and some wizarding historians allege that the Queen's subsequent opposition to marriage was due to a jinx placed upon her by the thwarted Malfoy. With that healthy degree of self-preservation that has characterised most of their actions over the centuries, once the Statute of Secrecy had passed into law the Malfoys ceased fraternising with Muggles, however well-born, and accepted that further opposition and protests could only distance them from the new heart of power: the newly created Ministry of Magic. They performed an abrupt volte-face, and became as vocally supportive of the Statute as any of those who had championed it from the beginning, hastening to deny that they had ever been on speaking (or marrying) terms with Muggles."
"Couldn't you have, you know, simplified this for us?" Ron enquired, sounding somewhat pained as he loaded his plate up for a second time. "Seriously, this is worse than Binns…"
Hermione shot him a glare before continuing.
"The Malfoy family continues to be one of the richest wizarding families in Britain, and it has been rumoured for many years (though never proven) that over the centuries the family has dabbled successfully in Muggle currency and assets. The substantial wealth at their disposal ensured them considerable (and much resented) influence at the Ministry for generations to come, though no Malfoy has ever aspired to the role of Minister for Magic. The Malfoys' unfeigned contempt for all Muggles who could not offer them jewels or influence, and for the majority of their fellow wizards, drew them naturally towards the pure-blood doctrine, which seemed for several years in the twentieth century to be their likeliest source of untrammelled power. From the imposition of the Statute of Secrecy onwards, no Malfoy has married a Muggle or Muggle-born," Hermione recited clearly and of all things it was this piece of information which caused him to frown. He didn't like the idea that there were witches and wizards who would hold someone's magical status against them when searching for a potential husband or wife. "The family has, however, eschewed the somewhat dangerous practice of inter-marrying within such a small pool of pure-bloods that they become enfeebled or unstable, unlike a small minority of fanatic families such as the Gaunts and Lestranges, and many a half-blood appears on the Malfoy family tree."
At this point Hermione turned the book so that the boys could see the simple family tree which was printed on a portion of the page which had to be unfolded so as to view it all.
"This is Draco, here," she pointed out the name that Harry had been searching for. "And it's through his mother, Narcissa, that he is related to the DeLacour's. Narcissa Malfoy was born Narcissa Black and, yes, Ron, you were correct, her older sister Apolline is Fleur's mother."
Ron shot her a smug look as she turned to book around so that she could continue reading.
"Notable Malfoy's of past generations include the fourteenth-century Nicholas Malfoy, who is believed to have dispatched many a fractious Muggle tenant under the guise of the Black Death, though escaping censure by the Wizards' Council; Septimus Malfoy, who was greatly influential at the Ministry in the late eighteenth century, many claiming that Minister for Magic, Unctuous Osbert, was little more than his puppet; and Abraxas Malfoy, who was widely believed to be part of the shady plot that saw the first Muggle-born Minister (Nobby Leach) leave his post prematurely in 1968 although nothing was ever proven against him."
Harry sighed, grimacing slightly, "They sound…lovely…"
"I know but trust me the description of Fleur's family is significantly worse," Hermione explained. "I can show you that later, if you're interested. And the Black and Lestrange families which they're also both linked to. Their histories are even darker than the Malfoy's. Now, in terms of recent history for the Malfoy's this is all that the book has to say. Abraxas's son, Lucius, achieved notoriety as one of Lord Voldemort's infamous Death Eaters during the Wizarding War (1970 to 1981, although he successfully evaded prison after the downfall of Lord Voldemort by claiming to have been acting under the Imperius Curse though many believe that he called in favours from high-placed Ministry officials to escape incarceration. Following his trial Lucius and his family, with Narcissa and son Draco, emigrated to Europe."
"Huh…" Harry mumbled softly, returning his gaze to the wizard he now knew significantly more about. "That's…good to know…and somewhat concerning…do you think he's…dark?"
Hermione sighed.
"He didn't seem to approve of Fleur," she pointed out, thinking back to the confrontation. Harry nodded, agreeing with her statement as he recalled the blonde's words and actions to his nemesis. "And just because his family history is a little bit...dark…doesn't mean he is."
Ron scoffed, "He probably is, though."
A bell chimed signalling the end of breakfast and as one the student body rose from their seats, most of them abandoning whatever food they hadn't managed to eat in favour of making it to their first class on time. Some, such as Ron, gathered up whatever they still wanted to eat and took it with them, stuffing the buttered toast into his mouth as they hurried down to the dungeons for their first class of the day; Potions with Professor Snape.
Sadly they were a fraction late due to an unhelpful moving staircase.
"10 points from Gryffindor, Mr Potter, Mr Weasley and Miss Granger, for your tardiness," the notoriously strict Potions Master drawled as they hurriedly took their seats. "Each."
Well, at least the day could only get better…
"Te está mirando de nuevo…" ("He's watching you again…")
Draco looked up from the essay he had been working on in the library at Ramona's teasing announcement, following her gaze across to the desk opposite there's where he caught sight a familiar messy haired boy who glanced away as soon as grey eyes met green.
"Pienso que le gustas…" (I think he likes you…")
"Ramona," Draco all but purred his name as his brain switched to her native language which he had spent the last six years learning. "Por favor deja de intentar ponerme con un chico de catorce años." ("Ramona, please stop trying to set me up with a fourteen year old boy.")
"¡No estoy tratando de preparte!" she responded, smiling as innocently as she possibly could. None of them were fooled in the slightest; they'd seen that smile too often. "Sólo estoy señalando un hecho." ("I'm not trying to set you up! I'm just pointing out a fact.")
Claude, the only one of their group not actually working on his schoolwork as he had already finished everything he needed to and was now just keeping them company, huffed loudly.
"¿Podemos hablar en inglés o francés, por favour?" he requested, his accent truly horrific. He had been learning Spanish as long as Draco had but he didn't share the blonde's talent for languages so for him it was hard going. "No todos somos…somos fluidos en estañol." ("Could we speak in English or French, please? Not all of us are…are fluent in Spanish.")
His boyfriend chuckled, leaning over to rest his head on the Frenchman's shoulder,
"La práctica te hará bien, mi amor." ("The practice will do you good, my love.")
"Et qu'en est-il de votre français, mon amour?" Claude responded, his voice as smooth as silk. Draco couldn't contain his smirk as he and Ramona watched the couple bickering with each other as they so often did, particularly when their grasp of each other's language was concerned. Javier's French was better than Claude's Spanish buy he was by no means fluent. Not yet, anyway, but Draco knew they would be one day. "Est-ce que cela ne pourrait-il pas être utile?" ("And what about your French, my love? Couldn't that use some practice?")
Ramona snorted loudly,
"Y…te está mirando otra vez…" ("And…he's watching you again…")
A quick glance confirmed that she was right.
He was cute, in an adolescent kind of way, with his jet-black hair which appeared to be completely untameable, his emerald green eyes and his lithe physique. If he were being honest the as yet unidentified boy was pretty much his type personified were it not for his age, easily identified by the classes they'd seen him entering or exiting; three years might not sound like such a big deal but when one of the couple was legally an adult in the eyes of the Wizarding World and the other was still legally underage it became something of an uncomfortable grey area. It wasn't against the law, per se, but it wasn't encouraged, either.
"Y ahora lo estás mirando fijamente…" ("And now you're staring at him…")
Snapping his gaze away from the boy Draco shot his friend a glare as she giggle knowingly at him and began packing up his things, rolling his parchment carefully before placing both it and his books in his stylish messenger bag. His quill, made of fwooper feathers, and bottle of ink were stored in the specially designed wooden box his mother had gotten for Christmas when he was fourteen before being placed inside the front pocket of the messenger bag.
"I'm going to head back to the carriage where I can study in peace," he announced, glaring pointedly at Ramona who huffed theatrically, throwing a screwed up piece of parchment at his head much to the annoyance of the school's vulture-like librarian. "Au revoir mes amis."
"Au revoir, Draco!"
Draco fled the library mere seconds before the irate librarian de ended on his friends to give them a lecture on proper library etiquette. He could feel the boys gaze upon him right until the moment he slipped out into the corridor which made him smile to himself and shake his head as he began traversing the corridors which would take him to the nearest exit to their carriage; the boy was obviously inexperienced in dealing with whatever feelings he had as his attentions were more than obvious. In fact Draco would go so far as to say they were positively blatant. Whereas Draco had purposefully allowed the other boy to catch him staring he knew that him noticing the Hogwarts student hadn't been part of the plan.
As he was making his way across the freshly cut grass between the stone courtyard and the carriage he was joined by two of his fellow Beauxbatons students, Odette and Yvette. He doubted very much that they had been studying as Draco and his friends had been, that wasn't really their style. Oh, they were bright enough pupils and would graduate in the top third of their class but they wouldn't put an ounce more effort into their education than was absolutely necessary. For them the real challenge was in their search for a suitable husband.
Thankfully his openness about his sexuality kept him safe from their flirtations.
"Bonjour, Mademoiselles," he greeted them politely, reaching out to open the door of the carriage before stepping out of the way so that they could enter first. "After you."
"Merci beaucoup, Draco," they responded together, their voices perfectly synchronised down to the littlest inflection as they strode past him, alighting the steps to enter the carriage. His nose scrunched up as he caught a whiff of their strong perfume, leaving him with the horrible sensation that he wanted to sneeze but physically couldn't as he followed them inside. They had already dropped down onto a chez-lounge each when he stepped into the common room, carefully closing the door behind him. Odette smiled up at him, flicking her long auburn curls over her shoulder as she spoke, "Are you excited for tonight?"
"Of course," Draco responded as he made his way across the common room. "Who isn't?"
Tonight the Champions would be selected by the Goblet of Fire following the evening meal. Anyone who had entered their name was on tenterhooks as to whether or not the honour and pressure would fall upon them and Draco was certainly no exception. Bidding the girls farewell he exited to common room and headed straight for his bedroom, nodding to JJ as he passed the other boy in the corridor, and then once he was alone in the privacy of his room he dropped his bag down onto his desk, shrugged off his uniform jacket which went over the back of his chair, loosened his tie, popped open the top few buttons of his shirt.
Lastly he kicked off his shoes, leaving him in just his socks as he took a seat at his desk.
Mercifully he only had the conclusion of his essay to finish and he completed it in no time at all, ending the piece of work with his usual signature, a somewhat dramatic version of his name which he'd perfected over the last few months after signing forms had become more commonplace once he'd turned seventeen. Whereas before he'd come of age he'd had to get his parents signatures on everything he was now allowed to sign them himself which was both exciting and terrifying all at once. Finished with his homework he put everything away properly, securing the three rolls of parchment with different coloured ribbons for each class to make identifying them easier, and brought out a smaller piece of parchment.
He'd received a letter from his mother almost a week ago and had yet to reply.
Dearest Mother,
I apologise for time it has taken me to respond to your letter.
I hope you are both well.
I have found Hogwarts to be almost exactly as I expected following the things you told me about your old school. The building is impressive in a medieval castle sort of way although I have found the climate to be less than favourable. I know winter is approaching but must it rain quite so often? I miss the sun. I'm certainly glad we are staying in our carriage rather than inside the school itself as I fear the dormitories must be awfully cold and draughty.
Earlier this week I had my first run in with Fleur DeLacour and even I have to admit that the resemblance is rather uncanny. Her personality was everything you had warned me it would be and as such we didn't get on well at all. In fact I rather embarrassed her in front of several of her peers for calling her out for her foul behaviour towards another couple of students.
I haven't met young Gabrielle yet but if she's anything like her sister I have no desire to.
I'm afraid I shall have to end my letter here. Tonight is the night that the Goblet of Fire will select the three Champions and I want to have a shower before dinner to ensure that I'm at my best just in case. I doubt my name shall be chosen but I'd like to be prepared just in case.
I shall write again soon to let you know who the Champions are.
Your loving son,
Draco
Blowing on the ink to dry it he carefully folded the sheet in half and then in half again so that it would fit into one of the envelopes he's brought with him. Sealing it shut with a droplet of wax, pressing his signet ring into it as his father had taught him to, he quickly scribbled his home address on the front of the envelope and moved across to the cage hanging from a delicate chain in the corner of his room. Auctus, his owl, hopped obediently onto his left arm when he opened the cage, taking the letter carefully with his sharp beak.
"Take this to my mother, please, Auctus."
As soon as he'd opened the simple window his eagle owl was gone, the back draft caused by his powerful wings ruffling Draco's hair even more than the breeze from outside had done.
It was a good thing he was planning to have a shower of he'd have been annoyed that his carefully styled haired had been easily messed up on such an important day. As it was once he'd shut and secured the window her stripped out of his clothes, wrapped his towel about his waist, slipped his feet into the simple flip-flops he wore solely to walk to and from the bathroom, grabbed his wash bag from where it hung on the back of his bedroom door and made his way along the L-shaped corridor towards the carriages unisex student bathroom.
He found Lara at one of the four sinks to the left of the bathroom door, dressed in a fluffy white bathrobe with her hair secured in an elegant towel-twist on top of her head, carefully applying a lightly scented moisturiser to her face. They smiled at one another in greeting but, as was the unwritten rule in the unisex bathroom, didn't stop to chat with each other.
To the right of the door the long thin room which effectively ran the full length of the magical interior of the carriage was split up into two types of cubicles; the ones nearest the door were the toilets and the ones furthest away were the showers. There were six of each.
"Désolé, Draco, pardon!" Thierry's voice came from immediately behind him and Draco had no sooner stepped to the side when the other boy hurried past, his expression pained as he dove into a cubicle. "C'esr une urgence!" ("Sorry, Draco, excuse me! This is an emergency!")
Draco chuckled softly, shaking his head as he continued on his way to the shower cubicles,
"Je ne veux même pas savoir…" ("I don't even want to know…")
"Un trop grand nombre de cafés!" Thierry announced from inside the cubicle, an unpleasant sound accompanying his voice. "Je devrais vraiment savoir ma limite maintenant…mais je ne le fais pas!" ("One too many coffees! I really should know my limit by now…but I don't.")
Lara muttered something in her native Luxembourgish before calling out, "That's disgusting, Thierry. For future reference please, please keep the movements of your bowel to yourself."
There was a pause during which Draco let himself into the furthest shower stall from the door and then Thierry's voice called out, "Sorry, Lara, I didn't realise you were in here."
Continuing to chuckle to himself Draco hung his towel up on the hook provided, kicked off his awful footwear and turned on the shower to get the water heating up. Whilst he waited for it to reach the temperature he personally preferred he unpacked his wash bag, placing everything with easy reach of the stream of steaming water; shampoo, conditioner, body wash, natural sea sponge and a body moisturiser designed to be applied in the shower.
Continuing to chuckle to himself Draco hung his towel up on the hook provided, kicked off his awful footwear and turned on the shower to get the water heating up. Whilst he waited for it to reach the temperature he personally preferred he unpacked his wash bag, placing everything with easy reach of the stream of steaming water; shampoo, conditioner, body wash, a natural sea sponge and a body moisturiser designed to be applied in the shower.
Testing the cascade of water with his left hand he smiled, finding it just shy of unbearably hot as he liked it, and moved so that his entire body was underneath the powerful spray. For a moment he simply stood there, face tilted up into the cascading water, and allowed the heat to relax his muscles and joints until his fingers actually began to tingle with numbness.
This was his standard cue to begin his ablutions; firstly he used a tiny amount of body wash to scrub his face clean with his hands, next he shampooed his blonde locks twice and put in a decent amount of conditioner which he left to do its job as he took the sea sponge to his body, creating a remarkable amount of bubbles with the body wash as he scrubbed every inch of his skin with particular attention being paid to his underarms and the soles of his feet. Only once all of the scented body wash had been rinsed off did he set about washing the conditioner out of his hair, combing through the luxuriously soft locks with his fingers.
It wasn't until he was massaging his moisturiser into his pale skin that his thoughts strayed from the actions he was completely purely on autopilot, his mind taking him back to one of the many times that he had his ex-boyfriend, Dieter, had showered together. Dieter had always been amused by how complicated Draco's shower routine was but had delighted in "helping" him to apply his moisturiser as it had regularly led to something more pleasurable.
Without a single ounce of conscious thought his hand, slick with moisturiser, moved down to stroke at the hardness growing rapidly between his legs. A soft gasp escaped him when a jolt of pleasure alerted him to what he had done, drawing his attention down to his waist.
"I thought we agreed that we wouldn't think of him in that way anymore," Draco grumbled at the offending part of his body which only caused it to pulse wildly. "Ugh. Fine. Last time.
Dieter had been just a fraction taller than Draco and had had a habit of crowding him in when they were together, be it in a bed or in a shower stall, so it wasn't surprising that he quickly found himself wedged into the corner of the stall, the tiles surprisingly cool on his skin. As his hands moved, one working to bring himself to completion whilst the other stroked across the curve of his thigh, the plane of his stomach, his pectorals, all the places that Dieter had liked to touch and fondle when they'd been together, his mind effortlessly pictured his ex-boyfriend standing before him, his trademark smile on his handsome face.
But then, as his pleasure began to peak, the image his mind was supplying for him changed.
Gone were the sun-kissed honey blonde curls, replaced by a mess of jet-black hair which was just a fraction too long. Tanned skin became almost painfully pale. Soft, plump cheeks became hollowed, more angular but not quite as sharp as Draco's own deadly cheekbones.
And most importantly as the figure in his mind shrank from 6'1 to 5'7 at the most the baby blue eyes which had always sparkled with self-assuredness transformed into a mesmerising pair of emerald green orbs concealed behind thin panes of glass surrounded by a wire rim.
Draco's eyes flew open as he climaxed with a shocked grunt, only just catching himself in time to stop a loud cry bursting forth from his mouth and revealing what he had been doing.
Chest heaving as his body trembled through the aftershocks of pleasure Draco moved back under the hot spray of the water, rinsing away the evidence of his pleasure as he frowned.
"…huh…" he muttered as he finally turned off the water, stepping out to grab his towel. Patting himself dry quickly he secured the rectangle of cloth around his waist, collected his shower things and headed back to his private bedroom. "…well that was…unexpected…"
No, it wasn't the first time his subconscious had decided who he would picture whilst pleasuring himself but it was the first time it had decided upon the as yet unidentified Hogwarts student whose crush was becoming so obvious to him. Normally it was a celebrity, a Quidditch player or a male model, not someone whom he had resolved to be careful with due to the complications which could arise should he decide to pursue the younger student.
Putting it from his mind until he had more time to ponder on what his subconscious had done he set about getting himself ready for the evening meal and the ceremony which would follow as quickly as possible. He selected a fresh uniform, unaired that his hair was completely dry with a quick flick of his wand and styled to hang artfully around his face.
A knock preceded his door opening by mere seconds just as he was tying his shoes laces, admitting his three best friends into the room. They too had changed into fresh uniforms and Ramona had secured her hair into an elegant twist rather than leave it in the two braids she had been sporting all day, braids which made her look years younger than she truly was.
"Ready?"
He nodded, suddenly overcome with an unpleasant feeling of nervousness.
What if his name was selected?
Did he really want to compete in the Triwizard Tournament?
No, not really. Oh, his reasons for entering still stood, but now that the moment was almost upon them he realised that he would be infinitely happier if someone else were selected.
He kept his thoughts to himself, however.
Dinner was a tense affair, everyone anxious about the ceremony that was too follow, and Draco wasn't the only one left with little to no appetite. Javier hardly ate any of his main meal but polished off his desert in record time whilst Claude was the opposite, skipping the sweet treat entirely. Of their group only Ramona seemed in fine appetite, even going so far as to help herself to Draco's leftover desert after he'd picked out the bits that he fancied.
At long last the tables were cleared, causing an excited murmur to spread through the younger students, and the three Headteachers took their places around the Goblet of Fire.
"Well, the Goblet is almost ready to make its decision," Professor Dumbledore announced after taking a moment to assess the blue flame flickering within the Goblet. Beside him Madame Maxime smiled, nodding in agreement, and Headmaster Karkaroff fixed his cold gaze upon his students waiting in silence. "I estimate that it requires one more minute."
"I feel sick…" Claude murmured, clearly distressed. "Ugh. Can't they hurry this up?"
"Now, when the Champions names are called, I would ask them please to come up to the top of the Hall, walk along the staff table, and go through into the next chamber," Professor Dumbledore continued, indicating the door behind the staff table. It swung open of its own accord, revealing a candlelit passage. "Where they will be receiving their first instructions."
The Hogwarts Headmaster took out his wand and gave a great sweeping wave with it, extinguishing all of the candles except those inside the carved pumpkins and plunging the Great Hall into a state of semi-darkness. The Goblet of Fire now shone more brightly than anything in the entire room, the bright, bluey-whiteness of the flames painful of the eyes.
Everyone watched, waiting to see what would happened next.
Josephine squealed sharply, clapping her hands together,
"Somethings happening!"
The excitable young woman was correct.
As her voice trailed off the flames inside the Goblet of Fire suddenly turned a vivid red colour, spitting and writhing as though it had suddenly been turned into the gates of hell.
Every single occupant of the room including the three Headteachers standing closest to the Goblet let out a sharp gasp when a burst of flame shot into the air, spitting out a charred piece of parchment which slowly fluttered down until it was at just the right height for Professor Dumbledore to reach out and snatch it out of the air, holding it at arm's length so that he could read it by the light of the flames which had returned to the vivid blue white.
"The Champion for Durmstrang," he read, in a strong, clear voice. "Will be Viktor Krum."
"Bravo, Viktor!" Professor Karkaroff boomed unpleasantly. "Knew you had it in you!"
A good third of the room's occupants visibly swooned as a storm of applause and cheering swept through the Great Hall. They watched as Viktor Krum, his normally apathetic expression replaced with a confident smile, rose from his seat at the Slytherin table amidst his friends congratulations and made his way up towards Dumbledore. Nodding to all three of the Headteachers he followed the instruction the Hogwarts Headmaster had given, turning right and walking along the staff table before disappearing through the open door.
Shortly thereafter the clapping and chatting died down, everyone's attention returning to Goblet of Fire as its flames once again turned red. Draco felt his breath seize in his chest as a slightly charred circular piece of blue parchment was thrown up into the air by the flames.
Dumbledore caught it, turning it over in his hands before announcing grandly,
"The Champion for Beauxbatons is Draco Malfoy!"
"…merde…"
A/N Sorry for the delay – had a bit of writers block which was firmly dealt with my taking my five Godchildren to the Harry Potter Studio Tour a couple of weeks ago. I think it's safe to say that they loved it and I loved seeing how much they enjoyed it. So, hopefully I can churn out a few more chapters before I get stalled again. Lol. Comments/Suggestions welcome. X