Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.
Ireland Vs. Bulgaria
With my hand tucked in his elbow, Adrian and I walked as if promenading. Our pace was slow and leisurely as we took in the sights of vendors apparating and disapparating as they pleased; each trying to push their wares on anyone who'd listen. Mum and Dad had been a bit more liberal with pocket money this summer; offering allowance for additional chores completed so we could fully enjoy the quidditch world cup.
But as Adrian and I examined the shamrock hats, Bulgarian scarves, singing flags, and the little quidditch player figurines, I wasn't tempted. There was something very specific I had in mind for my money, and it wasn't something that could be bought here. Although, Adrian couldn't pass up buying two Irish flags for Hestia and Flora who were not attending the match. "They'd never forgive me if I didn't buy them something", he shared. He also bought a program for himself.
Past the vendors, we spent time comparing tents and seeing how many different languages we could pick out. The experience vaguely reminded me of an international version of tailgating. Everyone was trying to one-up the other. From having fully decorated front gardens outside their tents. To seeing who could belt their national anthems louder; the Bulgarians or the Irish. One tent even had a super-sized game of wizard chess going on in front of their tent. Not a third-floor corridor big. But the type of size one might see in a muggle park or on a deck of a cruise ship.
But that's not the most over-the-top thing we encountered. "Well, aren't the two of you shaping up to be quite the handsome couple", the ever-so stately Lord Flint called out to us as we approached his tent. Which was more like a big top. Seriously, how many campsites did the Flints have to book to pitch this tent? If they really insisted on having this much space, what was wrong with using an expansion charm like everyone else? … Unless their tent did have expansion charms, then the question was… what the hell did the inside look like?
Lord Flint calling out to us cut off his conversation partner mid-sentence. The esteemed Lucius Malfoy stood on Flint Sr.'s left; standing in a ramrod fashion that instantly made me uncomfortable. They were standing in front of the general area of the Flints' tent; treating it like a front garden. Which was only evident by the shrubbery that seemed to belong to the tent. Lord Flint and Lord Malfoy weren't the only ones. People were coming and going, and there were only a few faces I recognized. In one corner of the temporary garden stood Marcus next to a drink cart as he talked with Zabini and Draco Malfoy. On the opposite side, occupying lawn chairs were Madame Zabini, Mrs. Malfoy, and … was that Rita Skeeter?
Just the Malfoys alone were enough to make me want to make a hasty retreat. Add a journalist, and I was close to bolting. But Adrian propelled us forward with my arm at his side. Git. "Good afternoon", Adrian greeted once we were at an acceptable distance. "Lord Flint, Lord Malfoy". Despite the current company, Adrian was the definition of cordial as he nodded his head respectfully at the lords before us. All the while acting like he wasn't trying to anchor me in place.
The same could not be said for Lord Malfoy. At the sight of me, his upper lip curled back in disdain. As if I had entered his home uninvited and tracked dog feces from my shoes onto his rug. The feeling was mutual. Though when he looked at Adrian, his jaw clenched and something flashed behind his eyes… something sinister. Something threatening. Like a promise of a dark reckoning.
Suddenly, it's not Adrian using the grip in our joined arms to keep us together. My fingers dig into the crook of his elbow as if afraid he'd be ripped away from me. This reaction didn't make sense. How… What… Adrian hadn't done anything to Malfoy Sr. to earn a look like that. Yes, he blatantly aligned himself with 'blood traitors' by dating me and publicly making nice with Sirius. Yes, any involvement with Flint's UP organization would probably cut any fleeting ties the Puceys had with the Malfoys. But UP wasn't a movement yet. If anything, it was just whispers at this point. Though, YUP was out in the open. So were the club's connections to their generous sponsor. And the names were dead giveaways of their connection to each other. If Malfoy Sr. was paying attention to his son's stories of school and the murmurs of our world, it wouldn't be difficult for him to predict that something was stirring. Something was in the works. But, then, why just Adrian and not the Flints as well? And with that much intensity…
Adrian flinched under my hand as my nails were sharper than I intended, but he kept his face void of any discomfort. "Awful good timing", Lord Flint continued as if our appearance at his tent doorstep was a noteworthy accomplishment. "I was just telling Lucius about my law firm's recent endeavor to support the youth of our society and just after mentioning the student organization we're sponsoring two of its members approach".
"Yes", Malfoy Sr. drawled; his seething expression creating an unnerving contrast between him and Lord Flint. "Marius has been quite enthused by his little… social experiment". Malfoy Sr. said 'social experiment' like a nun who was being forced to describe a brothel. "Although, I do hope his new hobby won't prevent him from more noble pursuits". Malfoy Sr.'s eyes narrowed as he focused them on Lord Flint's face with pointed meaning. I found myself chewing on the inside of my cheek as I turned over everything I was seeing and hearing. It didn't make sense. On one hand, it felt like the head of the Malfoy household was hinting at knowing things he shouldn't. On the other, I felt like what he knew and what I knew were two separate entities of content.
Lord Flint seemed unbothered by his guests' behavior as he held his arms open and asked, "What could be nobler than supporting our children?"
Malfoy Sr. scoffed as Adrian added to the conversation with a mastery level of correctitude. "Everyone in the club is grateful For Lord Flint's help. With his law firm's sponsorship, we were able to host school-wide events last year. Which we're hoping will help our membership grow". Adrian said all this like Malfoy Sr. wasn't tightening his jaw at every word. "Draco, of course, is welcome to join".
For a split second, Malfoy Sr. and I shared the same expression as our noses wrinkled in distaste. Not that Adrian or Lord Flint acted like they had noticed. "Excellent idea", said Lord Flint said as he gestured behind him in the direction of the drink cart. "He's just over there with Marcus and young Mr. Zabini. Why don't the two of you head over and offer him an invitation?"
Before either Adrian or I could respond, Malfoy Sr. cleared his throat. "Unfortunately," he said; making that word sound like it wasn't unfortunate at all. "My family and I must be moving on. There are other families expecting us to call on them prior to the match".
Lord Flint offered his assurances and apologies to see him go as Malfoy Sr. went about collecting his small family as hurriedly as he could while still maintaining his superiority complex. Once the Malfoy family had departed from the Flints' temporary garden, it was like a bad smell had finally been cleansed. "He knows something", I said; turning my eyes to Lord Flint and Adrian as soon as I was certain the Malfoys were far enough away.
Having spent the majority of the summer talking through the cannon events of The Goblet of Fire with me, Adrian knew what I wasn't saying. Surprisingly… or maybe suspiciously, Lord Flint wasn't completely in the dark either. "Yes", he agreed drolly. Although, his foreboding expression didn't match his tone. "Things do appear to be moving forward. But that is a matter to be discussed at a separate occasion", Lord Flint said as he snapped back into his well-rehearsed role of host. I opened my mouth to argue, to… I don't know what exactly but something to provoke a response from Adrian as well, but Lord Flint talked over me. "There is someone I'd like you to meet", he said before turning his head in the direction of the lawn chairs. "Rita. Charming Rita; come meet some friends of my son. I promise they won't disappoint".
Elaborate curls pinned up. Lipstick that was applied a little too heavily. And bejeweled cat-eye framed glasses; Rita Skeeter was everything she promised to be. As we watched her excuse herself from Madame Zabini and rise from the lawn chair she was occupying, unease swirled in my gut. A different type of unease that I'd felt when the Malfoys had been here. At least it had made vague sense for the Malfoys to visit with the Flints; Slytherins, sacred twenty-eight, and all that. But what was there to gain from being buddy-buddy with Rita Skeeter?
As we watched her approach, I tried to communicate to Adrian with my eyes that I'd be all for it if he wanted to rudely turn tail and run. I mean, this was the witch who dubbed Fred, George, and me the wonder Weasleys. This was the witch who treated the Lockhart trials like it was prime entertainment. This was the witch who wrote about Adrian and me in the societal section of the Daily Prophet. Any grown woman who's taking an invested interest in the lives of school children to who she is not related shouldn't be trusted!
"Rita", Lord Flint said as he held an arm out to welcome the reporter into our circle. "Let me introduce Mister Adrian Pucey and Miss Holly Weasley. Though I believe you are familiar with both".
"Yes", Rita agreed with a voice that had a sort of nasal quality to it. "However, this is the first time we've met face-to-face". Her eyes sparked with a sort of glee that I could only relate to as finding the perfect pair of shoes while out shopping. "It is always a treat to meet the people who've starred in a few of my stories".
"It's a pleasure, Ma'am", Adrian said; playing his part as Rita beamed at him as if she'd just stumbled upon a buffet.
"And still together, I see", Rita observed as she pushed her glasses higher up the bridge of her nose. "That's quite a long while for a school romance. Foreshadowing years to come, perhaps".
Her words gave me goosebumps. As if what was between Adrian and me was something to be gawked out. "You know what is an awfully long amount of time?" I asked with a defensive air that had Adrian tensing beside me. "Beetle infestations. Once you have them it can take so long to get rid of them". Rita's eyebrow twitched while most of her face remained unaffected as a hole. "Of course, you can buy repellant in Diagon Alley", I continued as Lord Flint eyed me questioningly. In the background, Madame Zabini left her lawn chair to join her son and Marcus. "But I think the only way to be truly rid of beetles is to squash them".
Lord Flint laughed; sounding a little strained as Adrian tried his hardest not to look at me. Though I'm sure once we are alone, I'd be hearing all about what I should and shouldn't say. "That was an interesting irrelevant tangent", Lord Flint expressed as if I hadn't said all that with a hard edge in my voice.
We were spared from whatever retort Rita would have responded with when a loud echoing gong sounded followed by a series of red and green lanterns lighting up as if someone flicked a switch to help direct foot traffic. "Ah, is it that time already?" Lord Flint asked as a move to redirect everyone's attention.
On Lord Flint's team, Adrian immediately responded. "Holly and I should be on our way. We'll need time to find our seats". He nodded his head in Rita's direction. "Please excuse us", he said before turning away; taking me with him. Just as we had approached the Flints' tent, Adrian propelled us forward.
The stadium was massive in both width and height. And golden; truly something only a wizard could dream of. Stuck between a rowdy crowd of singing Bulgarians, and a young family trying to navigate the purple carpeted stairs, Adrian and I were slowly recovering from our encounters with Lord Flint's company. "What could he benefit from having a person like Skeeter in his life?" I asked as we slowly climbed the stairs.
I no longer had my hand resting in the crook of his elbow, so Adrian settled for keeping a warding and protective hand on the small of my back. "You shouldn't have said that", Adrian murmured into my ear. "About squashing beetles".
"Maybe making nice will buy him some good press for a little while. But she'll turn on him", I continued; following my own train of thought rather than his.
"It wasn't subtle. How are you going to explain knowing something that you shouldn't?" Adrian asked.
It was a good question. One we both constantly had to ask ourselves and each other, but at the moment, I was a bit preoccupied. "Merlin, I hate journalists; afflicting their opinions on the world". We reached another landing and the Bulgarians in front of us filed through a door to reach their seats. Leading us to pick up our pace a little until we were behind a group of witches giggling and gossiping amongst each other as they climbed the stairs. "Malfoy is another thing", I continued; letting my thoughts flow as they pleased. "I don't like how he was looking at you. Something is going to happen".
"We know something will happen", Adrian reasoned; sounding a lot calmer than I felt.
"No, I mean something is going to happen very soon. Like tonight soon", I said; trusting Adrian to catch on.
The death eater attack at the World Cup was something I could never figure out in either of my lives. Why had the death eaters decided to make a reappearance after fifteen years of hiding? From Jessie's memories, the only people who knew about the plot to resurrect You-Know-Who were Pettigrew, and Crouch Jr. This time around, we were betting on Quirrell knowing too, and maybe Lockhart… If Lockhart was still Lockhart. But that had nothing to do with Lucius Malfoy and his merry gang of supremacists. It wouldn't have anything to do with Lucius Malfoy until You-Know-Who was returned to full body and he summoned his old followers.
So, why? Why did the death eaters decide to hold a reunion while You-Know-Who's come back was under foot? It was an awfully bloody coincidence. Except, maybe it wasn't. Maybe, in this order of things, Malfoy Sr. was more involved. Maybe he knew something or someone had reached out to him. The way he had looked at Adrian…
Coming to the landing that would lead us to our seats, Adrian's free hand reached out for the handle. "We have a plan about how to handle tonight", he reminded me as he opened the door. Stepping through the door, we politely excused ourselves and passed a few spectators we'd be sharing a row with until we reached three seats in the middle. Only then did Adrian's hand abandon its point of contact with my back. "And thing one and thing two agreed to make sure… no one steals Potter's wand. Let's get through tonight and if we need to revise anything, we can do so on the train back to school. Or sooner, if need be", Adrian soothed.
Exhaling through my nose with my mouth closed, I nodded as we sank into our seats. Right, we did have a plan. That was something at least. It took effort, and I don't think I was fully successful, but I pushed tonight's pending terror out of my head as I fixated my eyes on the field. The images of goalposts and freshly cut grass were familiar sights for any quidditch pitch, but this one somehow seemed grander. Across the way, I read enchanted chalkboard billboards that changed every couple of minutes to sponsor a different business or product. At my side, Adrian worked to return himself to a state of contentment as he flipped through the program he'd purchased. This was important to Adrian. I had to remind myself as I read an ad for Gladrags Wizardwear. He loved quidditch. And I knew he'd been looking forward to this match and seeing it with Sirius. Even if Adrian wasn't willing to admit it. And with everything we had talked about happening this year… I was going to do my damndest to make sure Adrian got to enjoy this moment.
Speaking of Sirius, he arrived minutes later; his arms were full of butterbeer, multi-flavored popcorn, and meat pies with a shamrock hat sitting on top of his shaggy head. "It may not be the most spectacular view", Sirius said as he started passing out the food to Adrian and me. "But I still say Harry's missing out sitting up in the minister's box". Sirius didn't take his own seat until Adrian and I each had butterbeer, popcorn, and a meat pie to ourselves. "All the excitement will be tenfold from where we're sitting".
As I offered my thanks for the food, Adrian held out his program to Sirius who had taken his seat on Adrian's left. "Siri, have you seen the Irish team's stats? Just their chasers alone-" Adrian trailed off as if needing to read them over again before he made any comments. Amused, I wondered if Adrian realized he'd slipped to using Sirius' childhood nickname. It was tempting to point it out to him. But I decided not to. Not wanting to risk the chances of Adrian not doing it again.
"Have you looked at the stats for Bulgaria's seeker?" Sirius asked as the last few made it to their seats. "They're shocking. I doubt we'll see a lineup like this again in our lifetime".
Adrian flipped a page in his program to do just that, but he was interrupted. "WELCOME! LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, TO THE FINAL OF THE FOUR-HUNDRED AND TWENTY-SECOND QUIDDITCH WORLD CUP!" Ludo Bagman's voice roared across the field and bounced off the stadium walls. His loud announcement was quickly followed by cheers and screams of eagerness as spectators stomped their feet and clapped their hands. With the announcement, the billboards changed to now serve as scoreboards. "PLEASE GIVE A WARM WELCOME TO THE BULGARIAN NATIONAL TEAM MASCOTS!"
A hundred or so veela sashayed out onto the field as they were greeted with much hooting and hollering. Knowing what was coming, and being a girl attracted to men, I was more interested in Adrian's reaction than the show the veela were about to put on. So, I kept my eyes mostly on him as the glowing-skinned, white-blonde haired unearthly women got ready. At first, I was impressed as Adrian's eyes merely flickered to their forms on the field before returning to his program. The same could not be said about Sirius, who let out a low whistle. The music started; something alluring but the sounds of it and I waited still. What would Adrian do once caught in the veela's thralls? But as the creatures on the field glided and stretched to the rhythm of the music, Adrian remained unaffected and my impressed feeling transformed into one of amazement.
As the veela started to dance faster and faster; spinning and twirling, Adrian felt my eyes on him. "What?" he asked as he engaged me with eye contact. Just like he would have done if this was potions class and a seductive display wasn't currently underway.
"Nothing?" I asked; leaning in to get a closer look at his face. No, his pupils weren't dilated. Nor did Adrian look hot and bothered either. "Nothing at all in response to that?" I asked; gesturing with my hand to the spectacle taking place on the field.
Adrian allowed his gaze to briefly be redirected to what was holding so many others' attention before returning to my face. The close-lip smile he offered me was warm as he used a free hand to brush some of my hair behind my ear. "There isn't much to see when I already have the privilege of courting the most beautiful witch here".
Hot damn, if those words didn't stir something inside of me. Pleased, overly so, and trying not to show it, I faced forward in time for the music to end. Distracted like all the rest by the Veela's performance, Sirius hadn't heard Adrian's comment. Which is probably the only reason we were spared any well-meaning and humorous older-brother teasing.
As the Veela seated themselves on the sidelines, I took a swig from my butterbeer to try and keep my face from being too hot to become flushed. Adrian, not fooled by my attempts at composure, used his free hand to gently squeeze my wrist; anything to maintain contact.
"Here comes the Irish", Sirius announced as he wiped some drool off his chin.
I blinked and opened my eyes to a great green-and-gold comet zooming across the stadium. As it circled the field, the comet started to split off into smaller comets. I blinked again and suddenly there was a dazzling rainbow arching between the two comets. Reminding me of times of Christmas lights and the 4th of July from Jessie's childhood all wrapped up into one occasion, my mouth hung open as the people around us vocalized their awe. Slowly, the rainbow faded. Just as fireworks would as they burned out in the sky. The comets reformed as one and morphed until they were all green and shaped like a giant shamrock. As this shamrock loomed over the entire stadium, it started to rain gold. Leprechaun gold, that is. As if the shamrock was actually a cloud. Ducking my head to not be pelted by the fool's gold, I missed it when the giant shamrock descended and a troop of leprechauns sat down on the sidelines opposite of the Veela.
"How's that for opening ceremonies?" Sirius asked as Ludo's gregarious voice named the referee for the match and announced the players.
Silence filled the stadium as everyone was waiting for the referee to release the bludgers and toss up the quaffle. But as soon as they were, people were on their feet and straining their voices to cheer as loudly as possible. Adrian was one of them, nearly spilling the food Sirius had gifted him. Although, he spared his voice; choosing instead to watch with boyish glee as players from different teams whizzed by at nearly impossible-to-see speeds. They were flying so fast that Ludo was struggling to commentate quickly enough.
Sirius wasn't far behind Adrian. When Ireland scored their first points, Sirius clapped his brother from another life on the shoulder as they celebrated the goal as if they'd been playing themselves. Finding Adrian's and Sirius' interactions much more entertaining than the match, I sat back in my seat and munched on popcorn; smiling in a contagious response to Adrian's enthusiasm. It felt nice to see him acting like the sixteen-year-old he currently was instead of the old soul he often identified as.
"The Hawkshead attacking formation", Adrian told Sirius as he pointed to Ireland's chasers. "I tried to get Flint to practice it for the Slytherin team, but we never managed it".
High above the pitch, Viktor Krum and Lynch, Ireland's seeker, plummeted through the center of the chasers; earning gasps of alarm from the audience as they hurtled towards the ground. It was a worrisome sight, but no one dared to tear their eyes away; not wanting to miss anything.
A dull thud echoed throughout the stadium as Lynch ploughed into the ground. Only Krum managed to save himself; as he intended all along by pulling up his broom at the very last second. "Firebolts", Sirius said as a time-out was called to make sure Lynch was okay. "That's how they're able to fly so fast. Maybe Harry would like one".
The match resumed with Lynch mounting his broomstick to the cheers of all Irish supports celebrating his bravery and endurance. It wasn't long before Ireland was leading by 130 points; all thanks to their chasers. While Bulgaria only had a measly ten. Whenever a team scored, the corresponding creature mascots would dance about like the magical version of cheerleaders. Given the state of the match, the leprechauns had much more opportunity to be active. Something the veela weren't happy about.
Penalties were rewarded to Ireland before things started to become out of hand. Distracted by the veela, the referee missed it when Krum got smacked in the face by a bludger. Blood starts to stream behind the Bulgarian seeker like a tail on a kite. His nose is surely broken. But Krum keeps flying.
It was becoming difficult to decide where I should look. Do I watch Krum search for the snitch? Do I watch the leprechauns provoke the veela into an altercation? Or do I watch Adrian and Sirius steal back a small part of their childhood they'd never been allowed in Adrian's previous life?
Lynch ends up spotting the snitch before Krum. He zoomed after it first. Nearly no one notices; too distracted by the veela vs. leprechaun fisticuffs taking place on the field below the players. But the ones who do, gasp as a bloody Krum quickly chases after the snitch dives and so do the seekers. For a second time that night, Lynch flies himself into the ground; face planting. Unlike the first time, he doesn't recover. The veela who decided to stomp on him made sure of that. Not that it matters. Because circling around the pitch in a slow and graceful gait is Krum with his bloody and broken face on full display as he holds his arm up for anyone watching to see. In his hand is a small golden ball.
"KRUM CAUGHT THE SNITCH. BUT IRELAND WINS BY TEN POINTS", Ludo bellowed; sounding in disbelief as all Ireland supporters erupted into their loudest cheers yet. On the scoreboards it reads:
Bulgaria: 160, Ireland: 170
"Now that", Sirius started to say once he gained some of his breath back from celebrating with the others. "Is what I'd call bloody good quidditch".