The smell of grass and pine floated about the air, and a light breeze made the tops of trees sway gently from side to side. The morning sun shone brightly up above in the blue sky, and thick, fluffy white clouds floated along peacefully with it. Several yards away from Hagrid's hut, a makeshift paddock was created to house the flying horses. They grazed lazily on the grounds, their red eyes blinking owlishly.
Draco watched Talia as she leaned against the paddock, watching the elephantine flying horses with dreamy eyes and a small smile on her lips.
There was something new about Talia that made Draco nervous; he wasn't sure what it was, but it made his heart thump wildly in his chest, and the tips of his ears would go pink with a blush. She was still the same Natalia Snape that he knew since his childhood; there was nothing different about her, so why did he sometimes feel as if he'd had the wind knocked out of his lungs?
There was a rush inside of him whenever she'd talk about something she was passionate about; her eyes would just light up, and her voice would take on a softer, tender tone. It was why he'd been so easily persuaded to company her out of the castle to watch the flying horses when there was a very long essay on antidotes waiting for him to finish back in the common room.
He supposed that this sudden interest in her had to do with her changing looks. Her hair had gotten longer, and her once frizzy locks now curled gently down her back—when she felt like brushing them down, of course. She'd grown about an inch in height, and her face had lost a bit of its roundness, showing off the beginnings of what would someday be delicate, elfin features. There was no doubt in his mind that give or take a year, Talia would grow into her body and she'd make a beautiful girl, but there was a little voice in the back of Draco's head that told him her looks had nothing to do with the way that he felt.
Draco sighed and ran a hand through his locks, not caring that he was messing up his perfectly sleeked hair. He wondered if Talia saw him as more than just a friend—the other night she'd obviously been jealous when he'd been looking at the girls from Beauxbatons. He knew that it wasn't the usual jealousy she displayed whenever Pansy would take up his time; it was something more, something different, something else then just the usual dislike of a person you didn't really get on with. Draco was tempted to ask her about that, but he didn't want to put himself in an awkward situation. He would just keep silent for now, it was for the best, and he wasn't even sure what all these things meant, anyways.
The only thing Draco really knew was that he wouldn't mind spending more time with her, out here, with the horses.
"How many of you lot have entered your names into the cup?" Talia was saying, eyeing the Durmstrangs who were sitting at the Slytherin table.
"All of us have entered our names into the cup," answered Viktor, who looked loads better than the night before.
"I heard that Warrington slipped his name in there," said Draco, serving himself a goblet of orange juice.
"Warrington?" asked Talia incredulously, leaning over Draco to catch sight of the seventh year Slytherin who was the current topic of conversation. "Oi, Warrington, did you really put your name in the cup?"
"Wipe that look of disbelief off your face, Snape," hissed Warrington, picking at his plate of food.
Talia snickered. Warrington was a big boy… and very sloth like.
"I heard that Cedric Diggory put him name into the cup," said Crabbe. "Can you imagine us being represented by a Hufflepuff?"
Many Slytherins snickered at that.
The feast continued on, with light conversation and jokes. There were hoards of bats floating about in the enchanted ceiling, and jack-o-lanterns leered down at the students from their corners. All too soon, plates began disappearing, and Dumbledore stepped forth from the high table, a smile on his face.
The Goblet of Fire had been taken from the entrance hall and placed in front of the high table, on the Sorting Hat stool, and everyone watch on in morbid curiosity as Dumbledore approached it. It was nearly time for the drawing of names, and with a flourish, Dumbledore wove his wand and extinguished all the torches and candles that lit the Great Hall, leaving only the flickering candles of the jack-o-lanterns. The blue-white flames of the cup shone brightly now, its flames growing bigger with each passing second.
Suddenly, the blue-white flames turned red, and a tongue of fire shot into the air. The flames turned blue seconds later, and from the fire fluttered down a charred piece of parchment, and Dumbledore caught it deftly.
"The champion for Durmstrang," he said in a clear, strong voice, "will be Viktor Krum!"
Immediately the Hall dissolved into a loud, raucous applause. Viktor Krum smiled proudly as he stood from the table and walked towards Dumbledore, who then directed him towards a side chamber where he was to await further instructions.
The noise died down quickly once Viktor was out of sight, and everyone watched as the flames from the cup turned red once more, and a charred piece of parchment fluttered down into Dumbledore' hands.
"The champion for Beauxbatons is Fleur Delacour!"
A very pretty girl stood up from the Ravenclaw table. She had waist-length, blonde hair, and her hips swayed with the grace of a dancer as she walked to the side chamber where Viktor was waiting. A scowl formed on Talia's lips as she saw nearly all the boys had their eyes glued onto Fleur's backside. She chanced a glance at Draco from the corner of her eye, and was rather surprised to see that he was looking down at his lap, fiddling with the sleeves of his robes. Talia was going to ask him why he wasn't ogling this Fleur Delacour, but she thought better of it. The last thing she needed was being teased about being jealous, and besides, as long as Draco wasn't drooling over some other girl, she was happy.
The third and final champion was called right after—"The Hogwarts champion is… Cedric Diggory!"
"CRABBE, YOU JINXED IT!" Talia screamed, but her voice was drowned by the massive wave of applause that nearly made the windows in the Hall rattle.
A Hufflepuff was to represent Hogwarts… Talia couldn't really believe it—she'd been betting on a Gryffindor, but she had to admit that this "Cedric Diggory" was rather nice to look at. She didn't know much about him, but if the cup had deemed him worthy of the Tournament, then that was a good enough explanation for her.
"Excellent!" Dumbledore exclaimed once Cedric was on his way into the side chamber, "Well, we now have our three champions. I am sure I can count upon all of you—"
However, Dumbledore stopped talking, for the Goblet of Fire was most certainly not finished picking champions. Another red flame shot out of it, and swaying down came a fourth piece of parchment. Dumbledore quickly snatched it out from the air, and read its contents. Everyone was silent, looking at him curiously.
He cleared his throat, and loudly proclaimed the fourth champion—"Harry Potter."
"Holy shit," whispred Talia, stunned.
Silence ensued, before there was an abrupt shock of noise. Several people stood up from their seats, trying to catch a look at Harry—Talia was among those people, even going as far to stand on the bench to get a clear look at a rather confused looking Harry, her hands on Draco's shoulders so that she wouldn't topple over the table. Many people began talking at once, and the professors all looked from Dumbledore, to Harry, to the cup, and back.
This was obviously something unplanned.
"Harry Potter!" called Dumbledore, "Harry! Up here, if you please!"
There were protests of outrage from the visiting schools, for it was not fair to them that two champions, increasing their chance of winning the Tournament, would represent Hogwarts.
"What the hell," Talia and Draco whispered in disbelief as they were ushered out of the Great Hall by their Head of House.
"This is just… wow," mumbled Talia.
"You're friends with Potter, Talia, did you have any idea he'd pull a stunt like that?" asked Draco, a scowl on his lips.
"No," said Talia honestly. "I wonder how he did it, though. I mean, did you hear about what happened to those students who tried to pass the Age Line with Aging Potions?"
"I believe they're still in the hospital wing," said Draco with a smirk.
"Well, I mean—how did he do it?"
Draco shrugged. He could care less.
"I reckon he got one of the seventh years to put his name in," said a rather grumpy Warrington as he walked past them.
"You think?" called Talia, receiving a grunt in response. "This is really strange."
"Not really," spat Draco, "Potter always needs to be in the limelight. It was only a matter of time before he did something this year."
"But the Triwizard Tournament?" asked Talia skeptically. "I doubt Harry would have planned on being part of that."
"In any case," said Draco haughtily, "this is definitely something to write home about."
"Most definitely," Talia agreed, as they began nearing the dungeons. "Mum'll have a field day with this…"
AN: Oh, my dearest Draco...