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 Five
"It's him, Ron!" Harry couldn't stop himself from gasping sharply as the Beauxbatons student who had caught his attention rose gracefully from his seat, smoothed out his uniform and swept up between the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables. His sharply defined features gave nothing away in regards to his feelings about being chosen, unlike Krum who's joy had been clearly evident. Draco Malfoy was all about refined composure. "It's him..."
"Something tells me his classmates aren't too thrilled by the Goblets decision," Hermione murmured from where she was observing the rest of the Beauxbatons students. Somewhat reluctantly Harry drew his attention away from Draco Malfoy's pert bottom…back! You were looking at his back, Harry snapped set himself silently as his cheeks flushed so deeply that they dynasties red and went straight to purple. Mercifully no one seemed to have noticed, either where he had accidentally been staring or his reaction, everyone too engrossed in making their own reactions and opinions regarding the selection plain to hear. Even Ron, sat beside him, didn't notice although that was more likely due to the fact that he was sneaking sweet out a bag he'd hidden in the pocket of his robe. "Some of them seem to be taking it rather…badly…although I suppose it's understandable that they're a little bit disappointed."
'Disappointed' appeared to be something of an understatement.
Two of the girls who had not been selected had dissolved into rather ugly tears, their caterwauling reminding Harry his Aunt Petunia when she pretended to be upset about something in order to convince her husband to see things her way, and were sobbing with their heads on their arms. One of the boys was shaking his head in such a way that it was obvious he had no idea he was performing such an obvious display of disapproval whilst another had slammed his clenched fist down onto the tabletop with enough for to make the poor Ravenclaw girl sitting to his left jump almost out of her seat. Finally there was one particular girl, sitting with the two crying their eyes out, who had the expression of someone who'd inadvertently swallowed a particularly sharp piece of lemon and couldn't spit it out.
In fact only the three students who Harry had come to assume were Draco's friends seemed to be celebrating at all, applauding wildly as beaming smiles all but split their cheeks open.
Once Draco Malfoy had followed Krum into the side chamber silence was called for once more only this time when it fell it was different, the level of tension and anticipation rising with each passing second as the gathered students waited for the final draw to happen.
It was time to find out who the Hogwarts Champion would be…
For what was to be the final time the flames inside the Goblet of Fire turned red, wild sparks showering out of it for a long moment before the tongue of flame they had all been waiting for shot his into the air in order to deposit the last slip of parchment in Dumbledore's hand.
He unfolded the piece of parchment slowly and carefully.
Around Harry people were leaning forwards in their seats with anticipation.
Finally, after a seemingly agonising wait, Dumbledore made the important announcement,
"The Hogwarts champion is Cedric Diggory!"
Ron's cry of dismay was completely drowned out by the uproar of approval which came from the Hufflepuff table as every single member of the friendliest house jumped to their feet, screaming and stamping, as Cedric made his way past them, grinning broadly, and followed the previous Champions down to the side chamber behind the teachers table.
It wasn't all that surprising that the applause lasted for almost a full five minutes before Professor Dumbledore was finally able to restore order to the excited Hufflepuff students.
"Excellent!" the highly respected headmaster called out happily once an infinitely more cheerful silence had fallen. Ron was certainly in a minority, thinking that Cedric wasn't a suitable Champion for Hogwarts. In fact the only people who seemed to share his opinion were the Slytherin's. Harry decided it was probably best not to point out that particular fact. "Well, we now have our three champions. I am sure I can count upon all of you, including the remaining students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, to give your Champions every ounce of support you can muster. By cheering your champion on, you will contribute in a–"
Dumbledore cut himself off, frowning deeply as the flames in the Goblet turned red again.
A first year Gryffindor piped up, saying exactly what everyone was thinking,
"But I thought there were only supposed to be three Champions…"
Sparks began to burst out from the Goblet once more as the Great Hall descended into confused murmurs and then suddenly a fourth piece of parchment was expelled into the air.
Acting solely on instinct Dumbledore reached out a long hand and seized the parchment.
He unfolded it slowly and held it out in front of him, staring at the name written upon it.
"…what's going on?"
No one could answer the understandably confused first year.
No one but Professor Dumbledore who, after a long pause during which he did nothing but stare at the parchment in his hands, looked up at the students, cleared his throat and read,
"Harry Potter."
As one the entire student body, including their guests from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, turned to stare at him whilst up on the teachers table Professor McGonagall hurried across to snatch the piece of parchment from Dumbledore, checking it herself before beginning to whisper urgently in his ear. The other teachers looked equally as surprised as their students.
"I didn't put my name in," Harry found himself mumbling, glancing back and forth between Ron and Hermione as he begged them to believe him. He felt numb. His fellow Gryffindor's looked so betrayed, particularly Ron. "You know I didn't. I couldn't have…I wouldn't have…"
"Harry Potter!" Dumbledore's called out stilly. "Harry! Up here, if you please!"
He didn't realise he was shaking his head until Hermione gave him a little nudge, hissing,
"Go on."
Getting to his feet was difficult, his body feeling equally as numb as his brain, and his foot caught the hem of his robes which caused him to stumble as he set off along the gap between the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables. His fellow students gazed up at him, slack jawed, as he passed them by although as more time passed by some of them recovered their senses enough to adopt looks of pure envy and in some cases disgust and annoyance.
Did they honestly think that he wanted this? He was fourteen-years-old, for crying out loud, and he had been looking forwards to someone else being the centre of attention for once.
Fleur DeLacour in particular, sat in her usual spot on the Slytherin table with her cronies surrounding her, looked ready to spit out nails as Harry stumbled up onto the raised dais.
"Well…" Dumbledore sighed as Harry came to stand directly in front of the headmaster, his face devoid of his usual smile. In fact, Harry thought he looked pained. "Through the door."
The silence continued as Harry walked along the teachers table, none of them saying a word to him, not even Hagrid who was usually so friendly with him, and he disappeared through the door. He found himself not in an antechamber a he'd expected but at the top of a thin winding staircase and so, as the others must have done, he followed it down until he finally reached the bottom and stepped out into what appeared to be the trophy room; there were trophies on every available surface leaving only a couple of spots on the walls available for a few portraits of wizards and witches who looked to be former Headteachers of the school.
Victor Krum, Cedric Diggory and Draco Malfoy were all stood in front of the truly enormous fireplace, the only source of light in the room, creating a trio of impressive silhouettes; Krum was by far the most muscular but the other two weren't lacking in the muscles department.
"Potter?" Cedric frowned when he realised who had joined them, stepping slightly away from the fireplace as he turned to face the younger boy. Krum's frown was even more prominent as he too turned to face the newest arrival. Draco, on the other hand, kept his face almost completely expressionless with only a hint of a frown. "Is something wrong?"
All three of them looked across at him expectantly then.
They thought he'd been sent down with a message, he realised suddenly but what could he say? How could he explain to the three rightful Champions what had happened just now?
He couldn't.
The words died in his throat before he could even open his mouth, almost choking him, and he was almost grateful when Ludo Bagman all but tumbled down the stairs in his haste to reach him, taking him by the arm and physically drawing him over to stand with the others.
"Extraordinary!" he muttered, squeezing Harry's arm almost tight enough to be considered painful in his obvious excitement. "Truly! Gentlemen, may I introduce to you, incredible though it may seem, the fourth Triwizard Champion in this years competition; Harry Potter!"
All three of them had vastly different reactions.
Krum straightened up from his previously hunched position, making his impressive height even more obvious as he blatantly looked Harry up and down, judging him, before smirking and looking away. Cedric looked back and forth between Bagman and Harry, his expression making it clear that he'd assumed that he had misheard something. And Draco looked, if only briefly, truly worried. This expression was quickly covered up with a charming smile.
"Is this meant to be a joke, Mr Bagman?"
"A joke?" Bagman repeated, obviously bewildered, before he forced out a high laugh as he smiled at the group. "No, no, not at all! Harry's name just came out of the Goblet of Fire!"
"But he can't compete," Draco pointed out, shaking his head as Krum frowned deeply. Cedric was frowning now as well. "He's what, a Fourth Year? He's far too young for this."
"Well…it is amazing," Bagman began, his voice shaking as he rubbed at his smooth chin, all the while smiling down at Harry. It made Harry feel particularly uncomfortable, like a pawn in a game of chess. Sadly, this wasn't an altogether new feeling for 'The Chosen One.' "But, as you know, the age restriction was only imposed this year as an extra safety measure. And as his names come out of the Goblet…I mean, I don't think there can be any ducking out at this stage…its down in the rules, you're obliged…Harry will just have to do the best he –"
The arrival of Professor Dumbledore, Mr Crouch, Professor Karkaroff, Madame Maxime, Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape drowned out whatever else the man had to say.
"Madame Maxime!" Draco called out as soon as he saw them, moving across to stand beside his giant of a headmistress. "They can't really let a fourteen-year-old compete…"
Drawing herself up to her full height the foreign Headmistress turned to face Dumbledore.
"What is ze meaning of zis, Dumbly-dorr?"
"I'd rather like to know that myself, Dumbledore," said Professor Karkaroff, moving to stand by Viktor Krum. Harry did not like the way his blue eyes had all but frozen over, a feeling of lead polling in his stomach. "Two Hogwarts champions? I don't remember anyone telling me the host school is allowed two champions – or have I not read the rules carefully enough?"
"C'est impossible," Madame Maxime agreed, throwing her truly massive hands up into the air with an overly-dramatic flair. "'Ogwarts cannot 'ave two champions. It is most unjust."
"We were under the impression that your Age Line would keep out younger contestants, Dumbledore," Karkaroff added imperiously. "Otherwise, we would, of course, have brought along a wider selection of candidates from our own schools. I know several who would…"
"It's no one's fault but Potter's, Karkaroff," Snape positively delighted in placing the blame exactly where he thought it should go. Typical. "Don't go blaming Dumbledore for Potter's determination to break rules. He has been crossing lines ever since he arrived here –"
"Thank you, Severus," Dumbledore cut him off, his voice sharper than Harry had ever heard him before, before he turned to face Harry himself. His expression softened, pure worry filling his eyes as he asked calmly, "Did you put your name in the Goblet of Fire, Harry?"
Harry shook his head, "No."
He hated the fact that, yet again, everyone was staring at him.
"Did you ask an older student to put it into the Goblet of Fire for you?"
"No."
Madame Maxime scoffed loudly,
"Ah, but of course 'e is lying!"
"He could not have crossed the Age Line," McGonagall, his wonderful Head of House, came to his defence. She pulled him away from Bagman. "I am sure we are all agreed on that –"
"Dumbly-dorr must 'ave made a mistake wiz ze line."
"It is possible," Dumbledore conceded, his eyes never leaving Harry's. "Of course."
"Dumbledore, you know perfectly well that you did not make a mistake!" McGonagall snapped, her hands coming to rest gently on Harry's trembling shoulders. It was comforting, to know that she would stand by him always. "Really, what nonsense! Harry could not have crossed the line himself, and as Professor Dumbledore believes that he did not persuade an older student to do it for him, I'm sure that should be good enough for everybody else!"
"Mr Crouch. Mr Bagman," Professor Karkaroff called out, his voice sharp as a knife. "You are supposed to be our…er…objective judges. Surely you will agree that this is most irregular?"
Harry noticed that no one had, as of yet, asked him if he actually wanted to compete.
Because he didn't.
He hadn't put his name into the Goblet of Fire and, were he to actually be consulted, he would happily drop out of the dangerous tournament and leave it up to the older students.
But they didn't and Harry suspected that they souls to be any time soon.
"We must follow the rules," Mr Crouch announced calmly from where he stood apart from the group, his face half concealed in shadow. "And the rules clearly state that those people whose names come out of the Goblet of Fire are bound to compete in the Tournament."
Harry let out a deep sigh of disappointment.
Of course they do, he thought to himself, why would my life be simple for once?
Bagman was, predictably, thrilled with this announcement,
"Well, Barty knows the rule book back to front."
Another sigh, this one of defeated frustration, escaped Harry as allowed his head to fall back, leaving him gazing up at the intricate moulding of the ceiling high above them for a long moment before he closed his eyes, took a deep breath and returned to facing them.
"I insist upon resubmitting the names of the rest of my students," Karkaroff all but sneered, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. In that moment Harry was reminded of a character from a cartoon Dudley had watched once, Harry catching parts of it as he'd completed his chores; when he was angry the Durmstrang headmaster looked an awful lot like Rasputin from Anastasia. "You will set up the Goblet of Fire once more, and we will continue adding names until each school has two champions. It's only fair, Dumbledore."
"But, Professor Karkaroff, it doesn't work like that," Mr Bagman attempted to laugh it off. "The Goblet of Fire's just cone out. It won't reignite until the start of the next Tournament–"
"–in which Durmstrang will most certainly not be competing!" Karkaroff spat vehemently at head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports, a globule of spittle actually bursting from the Professors lips and landing on Bagman's lapel. Harry wasn't the only one to openly grimace. "After all our many meetings and negotiations and compromises, I little expected something of this nature to occur! I have half a mind to leave now! At once! Immediately!"
"Empty threat, Karkaroff," growled the now familiar voice of Professor Moody as the older man limped into the room, his metal leg thinking loudly with each step. Out of the corner of his eye Harry registered Draco taking a seemingly involuntary step backwards in response to the teachers sudden appearance, his right hand moving to take hold of his wand where it was tucked into the inside pocket of his smart jacket. His expression was one of concern, of wariness. That was odd… "Your champion can't go anywhere. He's got to compete. They've all got to compete. Binding magical contract, like Dumbledore said. Bit convenient, eh?"
"Convenient?" Karkaroff repeated. "I'm afraid I don't understand you, Moody."
Harry did.
He'd had too many "near death" experiences in his short life not to understand exactly what the former Auror was implying; someone had orchestrated his participation in the infamous Triwizard Tournament with the hopes that he would be badly injured or possibly even killed.
Judging by the expressions the people around them wore they had all figured it out too.
"Don't you?" Moody enquired softly. "It's very simple, Karkaroff. Someone put Potter's name in that Goblet knowing that he'd have to compete if, or perhaps when came out."
Harry couldn't help but let out a dejected sigh.
Why did this kind of thing always happen to him?
Draco couldn't believe what was happening.
First the Goblet of Fire had spat out a fourth name, something it had never done before on the history of the Tournament. Then that name turned out to be none other than Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, and, as if to make matters worse, it turned out that the cute fourteen-year-old student who had been semi-stalking Draco and who had begun to feature in his fantasies whether he planned it or not was none other than Harry Potter. And now they were actually debating as to whether or not he should be allowed/forced to compete.
"They can't…they can't seriously be thinking of letting him compete," he found himself muttering in disbelief, his fellow Champions turning to face him. "He's…he's too young…"
"Evidently, someone 'oo wished to give 'Ogwarts two bites at ze apple!"
He flinched as his Headmistress added her voice to the argument once more.
"I quite agree, Madame Maxime," Karkaroff crowed triumphantly. "I shall be lodging complaints with the Ministry of Magic and the International Confederation of Wizards – "
"If anyone's got reason to complain, it's Potter," Moody growled, his voice sending an unpleasant shiver down Draco's spine; he'd heard all too many tales about the infamous Auror and his methods of catching Death Eaters, or more often than not suspected Death Eaters and his treatment of them. He was on the side of the Light, yes, but he had always operated in the grey area. "But you don't hear him saying a word, do you? How odd…"
Odd?
Not really, Draco reasoned, given that the boy in question appeared to still be in shock.
"Why should 'e complain?" Madame Maxime scoffed loudly, folding her arms across her broad chest as she fixed a glare on the subject of their discussion. Draco couldn't blame him for flinching. "'E 'as been given ze chance to compete, 'as the 'e? My students 'ave all been 'oping to be chosen for weeks and this…this little boy usurps them like zis? It is completely unfair! I demand, demand zat a second student from my school be permitted to compete."
"As I explained to Professor Karkaroff it simply doesn't work like that, Madame…"
"Vell perhaps it should!" Madame Maxime snapped at Bagman who had the good sense to back down from the Giantess. "Zere is the honour of our schools at stake! 'Ogwarts now 'as an unfair advantage! And ze prize money; a thousand Galleons! Zis is a chance many would die for and it is most unfair zat one of your students 'as seen fit to cheat, Dumbly-dorr…"
"Maybe someone's hoping that Potter is going to die for it."
Draco felt the bottom drop out of his stomach as he, along with everyone else in the room, turned to stare at Professor Moody in shock following the sour faced man's statement.
He'd done a fair amount of research into the Triwizard Tournament after it had first been announced, sharing what he learned with his best friends who were less inclined towards research projects that they weren't assigned in class, and so he was well aware of the high mortality rate which had caused the original Tournament to be discontinued. The danger was the main reason for the new age limit which had been implemented, a simple way to ensure that those entering had had enough time to learn the skills that they would need.
It made a sickening amount of sense that, if someone had indeed entered Harry Potters name into the Goblet of Fire without his knowledge, it was done so with malicious intent.
Even if the Goblet hadn't been fixed to spit out his name which now seemed rather unlikely.
"Moody, old man," Bagman stuttered, his expression green. "What a thing to say!"
"We all know Professor Moody considers the morning wasted if he hasn't discovered six plots to murder him before lunchtime," Karkaroff sneered, showing off his yellowed teeth. "Apparently he is now teaching his students to fear assassination, too. An odd quality in a Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, Dumbledore, but no doubt you had your reasons."
Draco had never been more relieved to learn that Madame Maxine would be personally overseeing their lessons for the duration of the Tournament than when he'd found out who the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher was at Hogwarts. She was an excellent teacher, strict but still fair, who encouraged her students to learn as much as they possibly could; he was confident that when he sat his final exams after the Triwizard Tournament had finished.
Attending classes at Hogwarts would not only have been unpleasant on a personal level but detrimental to his overall education which, given his chosen profession, wasn't acceptable.
He wanted to become a Healer, a difficult task in of itself, but as he wanted to specialise in Mind Healing he needed to achieve top grades in order to get onto the courses he needed.
"Imagining things, am I? Seeing things, eh?" Moody growled, shifting his stance so that his artificial leg thudded loudly on the stone slab beneath their feet, the noise causing most of them to flinch. "It was a skilled witch or wizard who put the boy's name in that Goblet…"
Madame Maxime scoffed loudly,
"What evidence is zere of zat?"
"Because they hoodwinked a very powerful magical object! It would have needed an exceptionally strong Confundus Charm to bamboozle the Goblet into forgetting that only three schools compete in the Tournament," Moody explained. "I'm guessing they submitted Potter's name under a fourth school, to make sure he was the only one in his category."
A fourth school?
Despite the complexities of the magic required the overall solution was alarmingly simple.
"You seem to have given this a great deal of thought, Moody," Karkaroff pointed out. "And a very ingenious theory it is…though, of course, I heard you recently got it into your head that one of your birthday presents contained a cunningly disguised basilisk egg, and smashed it into pieces before realising that it was a carriage clock." Here he paused briefly as Madame Maxime let out a loud titter. "So you'll understand if we don't take you entirely seriously…"
"Did he really…?"
"That's the rumour," Cedric Diggory responded softly to his mumbled query. "But my dad says that most of the rumours about Professor Moody come from people he's arrested."
"There are those who'll turn even the most innocent of occasions to their advantage," Moody announced, almost completely drowning out the end of Cedric's statement. "It's my job to think the way dark witches and wizards do, Karkaroff, as you ought to remember…"
"Alastor!"
It was evident from the startled expressions on the Hogwarts staff and students faces that it was a rarity for Dumbledore to raise his voice as he had just done, silencing Moody before the former Auror could continue. Karkaroff was furious, his face turning an alarming shade of purple as he faced the room full of people who had just been reminded of his dark past.
He had stayed loyal to the Dark Lord until the end, had even gone to trial although as he'd never actively participated in the slaughter of innocents he received a reduced sentence.
Lucius had pointed out, however, that just because he hadn't murdered anyone didn't mean that he was innocent; Karkaroff had been a planner, apparently, and had been the one to organise several kidnappings and executions even if others were the ones to do the deed.
"You stay away from him, Draco," his father had ordered him when they had fire-called a couple of weeks ago. "Despite what he claimed he was a loyal little beast and no doubt he'd love to punish you for the fact I deserted his precious Dark Lord. Keep yourself safe, dragon."
"I will, Papa."
"How this situation arose, we do not know," Dumbledore continued, his voice back to its usual calm level as he surveyed the people gathered in two distinct groups in the room; teachers and students. "It seems to me, however, that we have no choice but to accept it."
If possible Harry lost what little colour he'd had left in his cheeks.
"Both Cedric and Harry have been chosen to compete in the Tournament," Dumbledore continued, gesturing to each boy in turn. Cedric smiled. "This, therefore, they will do…"
"Ah, but Dumbly-dorr…"
"My dear Madame Maxime, if you have an alternative, I would be delighted to hear it."
And that, as they say, was that.
The Goblet of Fire had chosen four names and so four students would compete; seventeen-year-old Draco Malfoy of Beauxbatons, eighteen-year-old Viktor Krum of Durmstrang and seventeen-year-old Cedric Diggory and fourteen-year-old Harry Potter, both of Hogwarts.
"Well, shall we crack on, then?" Bagman suggested brightly, clasping his hands together with anticipation. He was far too excited about the prospect of the deadly Tournament. "Got to give our champions their instructions, haven't we? Barty, want to do the honours?"
"The first task is designed to test your daring," the Minister of Magic announced after a couple of false starts. He looked, well, ill if Draco were being bluntly honest; his skin was ashen and wrinkled, his hair was limp and there were large black bags underneath his dull eyes. "So we aren't going to be telling you what it is. Courage in the face of the unknown quality in any wizard…very important…" He trailed off for a moment, his eyes glistening strangely as he looked at each of the champions in turn. "The first task will take place on November the twenty-fourth, in front of the other students and the panel of judges. The champions are not permitted to ask for or accept help of any kind from their teachers to complete the tasks in the Tournament. The champions will face the first challenge armed only with their wands. They will receive information about the second task when the first is over. Owing to the demanding and…and time-consuming nature of the Tournament, the champions are exempted from end-of-year tests. I think…I think that's all, isn't it, Albus?"
"I think so," Dumbledore confirmed, shooting a frown of concern towards the Minister of Magic. "Are you sure you wouldn't like to stay at Hogwarts tonight, Barty? It's no trouble."
"No, Dumbledore, I must get back to the Ministry…"
Draco cleared his throat to get their attention, offering them a polite smile as he enquired,
"If we would rather not be excluded from the end-of-year exams are we permitted to sit them? I'd rather not let the Tournament interfere with my education if at all possible."
His fellow champions looked at him in something akin to horror, the idea of un-excusing themselves from the difficult exams abhorrent, whilst Madame Maxine offered him a smile.
"Well, yes, I suppose so," Crouch agreed, equally as mystified as Draco's fellow champions by his decision to willingly add to his workload. "It shall be left up to each champion to decide whether or not they wish to sit the exams. Now I really must go, I've left young Weatherby in charge…very enthusiastic…a little bit over-enthusiastic, if truth be told…"
"You'll come and have a drink before you go, at least?"
"Come on, Barty, I'm staying!"
"Draco," Madame Maxime called out, drawing his attention away from the excited official. "It is time for us to return to the carriage. Your classmates will wish to congratulate you."
"Oui, Madame."
He couldn't stop himself from glancing back over his shoulder at the still silent fourteen-year-old, meeting the stunning pair of green eyes with his own for the briefest of moments before he turned his attention to where he was going, following his Headmistress back up the stairs. A high-pitched squeal was all the warning he received upon re-entering the Great Hall before he found himself with an armful of his best friends, all three of them trying to squeeze the life out of him at once as they congratulated him in their native languages.
"If it had to be anyone I'm glad it's you, Draco," Ramona, the owner of the squeal, gushed once they had calmed down enough to release him although she herself tucked her arm through his as the group of friends instinctively moved to follow their Headmistress. He smiled tightly at her, not entirely pleased with being chosen yet. "I mean, of course we all wanted to be chosen ourselves but as that wasn't to be I'm glad it's you. We all are, right?"
"Although it is somewhat ironic," Claude chuckled, slipping his arm through Draco's other arm, his boyfriend linking arms with him on his other side. "Out of all of us the Goblet of Fire chose the student who only entered so that he wouldn't be separated from his friends for a year. But I'm sure it knows what it's doing; you are one of the top students in our year, after all, not to mention clever, brave and wicked sharp with both your tongue and your wand."
Draco snorted.
"I felt like an absolute fraud when it called my name out, knowing how much everyone else wants this opportunity compared to how little I really care about it," he admitted softly, a smile blossoming on his face for theft time his name had been read out. "Will you help me?"
"Will we help him, he asks," Javier chuckled loudly. "Who else if not us, I ask you. Honestly."
"Have they told you what the First Task will feature?"
"No, it's a secret," Draco sighed, turning to meet Ramona's disapproving frown even as they all sidestepped together so as to get out of the narrow door that would take them out onto the patch of grass that lay between the castle and their carriage. "It's a test of courage and bravery, though, so it could be just about anything which, you know, isn't exactly helpful."
"Really? They didn't give you any clues at all?"
"Nope."
"…idiotas…" Ramona cursed under her breath. "Then how can you properly prepare for what will undoubtedly be a dangerous task without giving you anything to begin with?"
Javier slipped away from the other three so as to open the ornate carriage door for their Headmistress, smiling up at the giantess as she nodded her thanks before entering. He then proceeded to hold the door open for his sister, his lover and his best friend before following them inside and closing it firmly behind him. When he turned around to face the room he found all his fellow Beauxbatons students gazing at Draco with mixed emotions; Yvette and Odette, theory makes-up streaked, were positively glowering across at him whilst beside them Desiree still wore the pinched expression she had when his name had been read out.
He couldn't resist commenting,
"Careful, Desiree, or you face stick that way."
The look she shot him was one of pure outrage, her face only growing more pinched.
Fabian, it seemed, was being comforted by his boyfriend. He didn't look angry or jealous, like the girls, but he was obviously disappointed. On the other JJ, his boyfriend, looked more relieved than anything else. Whether that was for himself or for his boyfriend remained to be seen. Nina offered Draco a blinding smile, truly pleased for him, even as her arm was wrapped around Adelaide who somehow managed to look pleased for Draco but sad for herself. Jan actually crossed the room to shake Draco's hand, congratulating him whilst simultaneously offering him a flirtatious smile which was acknowledged but not returned.
"Congratulations, Draco," Lara murmured, following Jan's example and crossing to give the platinum blond a tight hug whilst pressing a light kiss to his cheek. "You shall be wonderful."
"Thank you."
"Is Viktor Krum as handsome up close as he is at a distance?"
This question came, unsurprisingly, from Josephine.
"Um…I suppose so?" Draco responded. "Not really my type though…"
She hummed thoughtfully before returning to filing her already perfect looking nails.
Thierry said not a word, just stood in the corner of the room glaring across at Draco, his fists tightly clenched; his complete and utter jealously as plain as the nose on his handsome face.
And lastly there was Skye who looked about five second away from bursting into tears.
"I am glad to find you all here," Madame Maxime addressed her gathered students in her own native tongue, moving to stand directly behind Draco so that she could place her large hands on his shoulders. "I hope that you will all give Draco your full support and any help that he may or may not require as he represents our school in the Triwizard Tournament. We are a not Hogwarts or Durmstrang; we are Beauxbatons and we pride ourselves in our loyalty, our diversity and our quality of education. We must remember our schools motto…"
As one the students recited the motto they had learnt in their first year,
"Rien n'est trop lourd pour ceux qui ont des ailes."
Nothing is too heavy for those who have wings.
Draco had always liked their motto, given that he was named after a winged creature.
He just hoped that their motto proved true.
A/N I'm not going to lie – this chapter pretty much refused to be written until something clicked and BOOM, there it was. Hopefully the next chapter will be better behaved but, given my track record with the speed of my updates, I'm not holding my breath. Comments & Suggestions welcome. X