Harry awoke suddenly from the nap he had been taking, having been roused rather violently by his friend shaking him roughly. He glared up at Ron but rose, feeling the first glimmers of excitement about the match that was too come. Truth be told he had seen Bagman yesterday and hadn't been able to resist making a bet on Bulgaria to win, so that the twins would receive the money they were due with their bet on Ireland; Bagman had cheated them last time by paying them in the gold dropped the by the Irish mascots, money which had then promptly disappeared from the inside of their pockets several minutes after the man disappeared.

He had had a recent…revelation of sorts. If this was the World Cup then wouldn't the high ranking officials and dignitaries from other countries be in the top box? If so then they would be in the same place, as that was where Mr. Weasley's ticket winnings had gotten them seats. If all that were true then it was very likely that he would see Fleur there, he was much more excited about that possibility than the match, as her father was the French Minister of Magic to be; he would take over for the man that had been leading them for the last several years, or at least he had the last time. But a man of such stature and wealth, which he knew their family had, having been to their manor a few times in his courtship, and eventual marriage to, the eldest daughter of said family, a Miss Fleur Delacour. Thinking about her still brought butterflies to his stomach; he was going to get to do it all again! Better this time than ever before.

Of course there was also the possibility that he was being incredibly stupid and he wouldn't see her, but hey, can't stop a man from hoping right? If she were there then he would have to show her, immediately, that he was not some little boy to be waved off and berated for his immaturity. He would also have to introduce himself to her in some way that showed that he was immune to the allure, or had at least built up a damningly good resistance to it. That part was easy enough, just ignore the Bulgarian cheerleaders when they came out, show that they had no effect on him.

As he had been formulating his plan, he had also been getting ready along with everyone else in the tent, he was wearing his overly large, ridiculously bright Bulgaria top-hat that he had bought from one of the wandering vendors, he had bought one for Ron as well, but in the colors of Ireland rather than Bulgaria. The boy may like Victor Krum, but he disliked the rest of the team. Harry on the other hand, hadn't ever really learned what any of the players but Krum was like, and therefore had no problem in rooting for them to beat Ireland.

After everyone had gotten dressed and prepared he, along with everyone else, followed Mr. Weasley out of their tent and into the throng of people heading toward the stadium in the middle of the sea of tents. It was just as grand a construction as the first time he'd seen it. Painted solid gold and built to a massive scale, surrounded by muggle repelling charms, notice-me-not's, compulsion charms, the things was nigh on invisible to any muggle that happened across the area, even though if you were a wizard the thing seemed to stick out so brightly as to burn the eyes. Magic, what a magnificent thing it was.

-Break-

When Harry and the others had their tickets punched at the entrance to the stadium, the old gentleman doing so told them that they were in the Minister's box; 'all the way up' was what he had said, although such words don't do justice to just how high in the air 'all the way up' is. Several hundred feet up, he could barely make out the fact that the throngs below him were actually people, and by the time they reached the box, he couldn't make out one from the other.

Ron and the others had not been idle up to this point, joining him in his people watching and amazement. Ron especially seemed to be a bit awestruck, as he was glancing this way and that with quick jerking motions of his head, his mouth nearly hanging open. The group made their way as one unit to the top box, the journey seeming to never end. It would have been exhausting and tedious had they not been surrounded by the sights that were catching their attention and the twins never missing an opportunity to make humorous quips about each of them when they saw something they could use to their advantage, such as Harry's shorter-than-average stature, something which he resolved to do something about as soon as possible.

They had run into Malfoy at some point about halfway through their climb, he had made some comment or other about how the Weasleys were poor, as was his fashion. Harry had only really taken notice of the boy when he had the smug smirk wiped off of his face by the announcement from Mr. Weasley that they would be joining them in the top box. It was oddly satisfying to see him put in his place, even though Harry wasn't one to hold grudges, Malfoy was a special case and wouldn't be any easier to deal with until his youthful hubris was tempered by age and loss.

The entrance into the box was an event to be remembered, the noise of outside nearly disappearing into nothingness when the enchanted door closed behind them. Harry looked around the room, taking notice of its enhanced size and elegant make. There wasn't a single part of the floor that wasn't carpeted and the chairs available for the foreign ministers and dignitaries seemed to be of the finest make, with beautiful upholstery and fine cloth being used to adorn high backs of each one. He also noticed to abundance of food available for anyone who may feel a bit hungry over the course of the match. There were several table lined up along a back wall, each one staffed by three or four eager-to-please house elves, their little chefs hats the only things visible over the tops of the tables as they rushed back on forth from guest to guest. It was clear that the minister wasn't sparing any expense in insuring that these powerful people from around the world were comfortable and well looked after.

Harry noticed the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, rushing around with his aides tailing behind him, making sure that he spoke to and shook hands with, every last person in the room, Mr. Weasley included. Although Harry was amused to see the leader of magical Britain in such a state, he was much more interested in looking around the room for a head of silvery hair he knew all too well. She would most likely be accompanied by the rest of her family, which should make it easier to spot them, as they made quite a group; two quarter-veelas, a half-veela, and a man who is basically a lock to become the French Minister of Magic? They were a very intimidating quartet. He caught his first glimpse of them when he saw some of the distinctive silver hair that belonged to the women of their family, but it was only at about waist height, meaning it had been Gabrielle. He did his best to follow after her but he was quickly pushed toward the front of the room by the Weasley boys and was forced into a chair in the front row, completely restricting his view of the rest of the room.

That, however, did not last long as he stood and made his way back to the back of the room, telling Hermione as he did that he wanted to see if they had anything good to eat. He scanned the room as he walked and saw the familiar face of Monsieur Delacour, standing next to his wife Apolline, and looking about the place as if he'd much rather have not been forced into turning a sporting event into something so formal, which Harry knew was the case. Next to them was Gabrielle, grasping tightly to her mother's other hand, looking back and forth at the witches and wizards that were crowded around her, seemingly terrified at the large group of people. However, they all dimmed and faded in comparison to the last person his eyes came to rest upon, his beautiful flower, his delicate wife…there she was. He felt his breath catch and his stomach grow heavy…there she was, it had become a mantra in his head, repeating over and over. She was here, alive and young and beautiful. Just as perfect as she had always been, smiling serenely as she listened to her father tell a story, one that was apparently quite humorous as she was laughing softly throughout.

He had to turn quickly to wipe the tears that were leaking from his eyes, he had been so incredulous at seeing her that he had forgotten there were others in the room, many of them looking at him as if he was crazy, he was after all, standing stock-still and had started crying. Who wouldn't think him crazy? He had to quickly grab a roll so as to stall Hermione's questions on why he didn't get anything, and made his way back to his friends. He couldn't go talk to her, not yet. He needed to get himself under control, and then he would go. Maybe when the Bulgarian cheerleaders came out, and everyone else was distracted. Yes, that would do nicely, it would both show that they didn't enthrall him and it would give him ample time to talk to her whilst all the others sat dazedly in their seats, oblivious to him and her.

He sat down heavily in between Ron and Hermione, still fighting to get his emotions under control, seeing her had gotten him worse than he had expected it to. He hadn't truly accepted how much it hurt to not have her than when he saw her, when he realized he wouldn't need to know, and if the plans he was forming went well, if they came to fruition eventually, he wouldn't have to deal with it.

He saw Fudge rise from his seat and make his way to the front of the box, taking out his wand as he did and holding it to the base of his throat once he had reached the balcony-like area in which he and Bagman would sit as they watched the match. He announced in his magically enhanced voice, which sounded only of a normal pitch inside the room in which they were seated due to the sound dampening charms put over the entire interior.

"Welcome, ladies and gentleman, to the 482nd annual Quidditch World Cup!" He sounded across the stadium, to massive applause and cheering by the fans below, he flicked his wrist out from his throat, launching a flare of light that rose into the air and then exploded into a shower of multi-colored sparks. Bagman was already out on the balcony at this point and was raising his wand to his throat to begin announcing for the match, looking like a little kid in a candy shop, he truly was a little boy at heart, and was just as excited about the match as he always had been growing up.

As Bagman set about calling out the rosters from the different teams, Harry took another glance around the room, spotting the Delacours sitting in the back of the room together, and waiting for the match to start. "Yes" he thought "once the cheerleaders come out should do nicely." He was nervous of course, but he was also excited, more than he ever had been, he was going to get too woo his wife all over again! What man wouldn't be excited? He would dazzle her with his wit and intrigue her with his mystique…"Mystique? Get over yourself Potter, you're still only fourteen years old right now, you have about as much charm as a troll. You'd probably drool on yourself if you didn't have another 170 years' experience." He chided himself, confidence was good, arrogance was not, and neither was being delusional. But hey, he may be able to reel her in again; he had once already hadn't he?

-Break-

A/N: Hello everyone! I know you were expecting him to talk to her this chapter but that will come next time, along with the death eater attack. What will happen? Who knows? Except me of course ;) I wanted to thank you for all of your reviews and follow, as well as your favorites. You are the ones who encourage me to write more, and I will as long as you guys seem to enjoy it. Be sure to leave a review letting me know what you think of this chapter. Thanks again! 'Till next time.

Sincerely,

Ftdc123