The Incident At The Quidditch World Cup
"Snakes in the grass while you're living in the past,
So what you gonna do, yeah, what you gonna do?
Ah-ah-ah, well we're pouring gasoline,
So dance around the fire that we once believed in;
Ah-ah-ah, it'll never be the same now,
So come around and have another round on me…"
He had made some decent strides over the week since he'd woken. He'd learned that he, too, was magic—a wizard, Narcissa called him—and with her help he had mastered several basic spells. He had also realized that the "twig" he'd found inside the cane in his bedroom was actually his wand. He had laughed loudly at that when Narcissa had explained it to him, only to be silenced when she demonstrated her own magic for him, and then guided him along as he had used his. He felt a little more comfortable using magic now, though it was all so strange to him still. There was, however, still one thing that was driving him crazy.
Every morning for the rest of that week, he'd woken up to his hair being long and platinum blonde. It was getting to the point that poor Mipsy was beside herself with fear, not understanding why her magic failed every night. On the fifth day, in a fit of frustration, he had Mipsy bring him a pair of scissors, and he proceeded to cut his hair off, even with the top of his neck. There! Since it's legit cut now, and not done with magic, maybe it will stay short this time!
As he looked at his reflection in the mirror, his smile morphed into a frown. The cuts he'd made were rather jagged and uneven. They were leaving for the soccer game soon, and even if he didn't like dressing posh in public, he still wanted to at least look decent. There was nothing he could do about the color, unfortunately. But there must be something he could do to hide the jagged cuts he'd childishly made…he should have waited and gone to an actual barber. If they even have barbers in here in Magic Land.
An idea came to him, and with a smile he again called Mipsy, who appeared in front of him a moment later, a sorrowful expression on her face.
"What does poor, poor Master need?" Mipsy, and indeed all the other elves, seemed to think that he had taken leave of his senses.
"Um, Mipsy, do you know what a ball cap is?"
The little creature scrunched her face up. "Ball cap, Master?"
He nodded. "Yes…it's a cap with a large brim in front, and quite often has some sports team name or logo on it."
Mipsy was silent for a moment before replying, her face still scrunched in thought. "Mipsy thinks she might knows what a ball cap is." He voice sounded hesitant. "Does…Master want one?"
"Yes, please, Mipsy. I mean, we're going to a ball game today, so I figure a ball cap would be apropos."
Mipsy hesitated once again. "Quidditch has balls, yes, so Mipsy will sees what she can do." Bowing, she vanished with a pop, returning a few minutes later just after he had finished getting dressed and was wondering what on earth "Quidditch" was. She handed him a hat, with a timid, "Here, Master. Mipsy found this."
He took the hat and looked at it. It was multi colored—green, white, and orange—and had a huge "I" on the front of it. But aside from the odd color combination, it did resemble a baseball cap. Well, mostly. "Yes, thank you, Mipsy. I believe this will work." He shoved it down low on his head and smiled at himself in the mirror. "Perfect."
Mipsy popped back out, and as she did so Draco knocked on the partly opened bedroom door. "Father, are you ready?" He heard the excitement in the boy's voice. This soccer game must be a big thing to the kid. Guess I'd better at least pretend to enjoy myself. "Mother says the portkey is going to activate soon."
"Yeah, I'm ready." He followed Draco down the stairs. "Wait—'port key'? Are we going by ship?" Draco gave him a confused glance. Seeing Narcissa standing in the doorway of the sitting room, he asked, "Just how far away is this place? I thought it was right around here somewhere. Do we need passports?" Then a thought gripped his mind. Turning to Narcissa he asked, "Do I have a passport?"
Pinching the bridge of her nose, Narcissa sighed. "Yes, Lucius, you have a passport; and no, we don't need them. The World Cup is here in England."
"Well, Draco said something about a port key. I mean, ships are in ports." And I sure as heck know he wasn't talking about an airport. These people are so primitive they probably don't even know what a plane is.
Draco continued on into the sitting room. Narcissa sighed again, rolling her eyes. Yet there was a faint smirk on her face as well. Then she looked closer at him and frowned. "Lucius, what on earth have you got on your head?"
He glanced up at the brim of the cap which protruded out above his eyes. "It's a ball cap. I, uh…I don't want anyone seeing my hair." He was well aware that the cap clashed horribly with his still rather posh outfit, but he didn't care.
Still frowning, the corner of Narcissa's lip turned up. "Tch."
"Come on, Mother, Father!" Draco called from the sitting room. "It's almost time!" He followed Narcissa into the room, hoping they weren't going to do the fireplace disappearing act again. Draco stood there holding what looked like an invitation of some kind, barely contained excitement showing on his face.
Lucius frowned as Narcissa stopped beside Draco and also took hold of the paper. They both gave him expectant looks.
"Ummm…" was all he could manage. With yet another sigh, Narcissa reached out and grabbed his arm, pulling him closer to herself and Draco. "Take hold of the paper, Lucius," she murmured.
Now it was his turn to frown. "What does this paper have to do with anything?" He asked as he reached out to grasp it. As he did, the entire world flipped, turned inside out, all the air was squeezed from his lungs before the world disappeared for a second, then reformed. He landed on his knees with a yell. Scrambling to his feet, he found himself outside, in a field.
"WELL THAT WAS A HELL OF A THING!" He roared. "You could have warned a guy that was going to happen!" He shook his head, trying to catch his breath. "Now I know how the Astronaut in 'Zathura' felt." That was even worse than the fireplace thing…
Fear shot through Narcissa's eyes. "I'm sorry, Lucius. I keep forgetting you can't remember certain things."
Guilt stabbed at his gut when he saw the fear still lingering in her eyes, and again he hated that he was the cause of that fear. He sighed. "I'm sorry for snapping. I shouldn't have. It was just so…unexpected." What in the world did I do to this poor woman that she seems so afraid of making me angry?
The fear left her eyes, replaced yet again by the haunted look that was a mix of hope and longing.
Dusting himself off, he looked around the field they'd appeared in. "So, why exactly are we standing in the middle of a field?" He looked at Narcissa with a raised eyebrow.
Many people were also appearing and walking toward a gathering of what looked like tents set up off in the distance. Draco had already begun walking in the direction of the tents himself. Narcissa started forward as well, pausing when she realized he had not joined her.
"Come along, Lucius. We're meeting the Parkinson's at their campsite. Paul said we were welcome to spend time there until the game starts this evening." He noted the small downturn of her lips as she spoke. Seems as though she's not over thrilled about spending time with these people.
He had started forward but stopped when he heard the name. "Paul Parkinson? And his wife's name is Priscilla? And their daughter's name started with a 'P' as well, didn't it?
Narcissa nodded. "Pansy." And once more he noted the very slight look of disgust that she seemed unable to fully conceal.
He snorted but continued walking. "Paul, Priscilla, and Pansy Parkinson…yeesh. Think I'll call them 'The Triple P's'."
This time it was Narcissa who gave a little snort.
He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Good Lord, these people and their ridiculous, uninspired names."
He'd meant to say it quietly, but Narcissa had heard him. "Yes…it's almost as bad as parents naming their son after a Roman centurion."
He glanced sideways at her face. She was staring straight ahead, but he noted the upturn of her lips; and this time it was in amusement, not disgust.
He looked ahead again, his own lips twitching up a little. "Touche."
Narcissa entwined her arm with his and they walked the rest of the way in silence. Once more he felt about ten feet tall. I could so get used to this…
Passing through a makeshift gate, manned by two bizarrely dressed old men, they found themselves in what amounted to a tent city that was bustling with activity…children ran by laughing and shouting, people greeted each other boisterously, vendors yelled out as they strolled through the crowd selling various wares. And suddenly, another memory returned to him. Good Lord, I hate crowds!
They continued walking until they reached an area where the tents looked much nicer than the ones they had passed initially. In fact, the tents they were now passing looked more like small houses, some even seemed to have an upper story. He frowned. Since when is there such a thing as a two story tent? They stopped walking as they reached the most grandiose tent they had yet seen. Draco stopped next to it, his face morphing into a sour expression.
Narcissa, noting this, placed her hand on Draco's shoulder, her face softening. "It's only for the afternoon, Draco," she told the boy. "Just smile and nod and let her hang on your arm." Narcissa's own lips turning downward once more.
He raised an eyebrow at the interaction between Narcissa and Draco. So neither of them are thrilled with these P people either. Interesting. I wonder why they spend so much time around them then? He didn't have much time to think about it as Narcissa and Draco put fake smiles on their faces and entered the tent. With a sigh he followed behind them…
…and came to an abrupt stop three feet inside. What in the absolute living Helheim is this?! The inside of the tent did not look at all like the inside of a tent. In fact, it rather reminded him of the front entry hall at the Malfoy estate. It was huge! Polished wooden floors gleamed, some of the munchkins scurried to and fro, a gaggle of women who'd been sitting in a room adjacent to the one in which they stood turned and greeted Narcissa loudly. These things he noted with a distant corner of his mind. But what he couldn't wrap his mind around was the fact that the interior seemed at least ten times the size of the exterior.
He staggered back the three steps he'd taken and peered around the outside edge of the door. Sure enough, the tent ended just a few feet away from where he stood. Peering back inside the tent, he saw the same huge room, with a long hallway running back into the dim exterior. That's…much farther than it should be.
He looked down the outside of the tent again before darting his head back to the interior. He did this several times in rapid succession, not noticing that the loud conversation the group of posh ladies were having had slowly died away. "H-hello, Lucius," one of them called with a tentative tone in her voice. "It's nice to see you again so soon."He froze, blinking at the woman a moment or two before responding with: "Er, uh…" He frowned, and darted his head back to look along the outside of the tent once more.
"How are you doing, Lucius?" Asked another woman, sounding uncertain of what to say. Or perhaps uncertain of his mental state. He started at her in silence once more, "Um…I'm fine. Great. Uh…how are you?"
She gave him a somewhat dubious look. "We're very glad to hear it. We were all so worried when Narcissa told us of your accident. We're happy to see you out and about once more."
He stopped obsessing over the size difference between the inside and outside of the tent and spent a moment studying the women's faces. He recognized the first lady who'd spoken to him as one of the Triple P's who'd been at the house a few days ago, and who owned the tent he was now standing in. The others, not surprisingly, were unfamiliar to him. Some had smirks on their faces, a couple had what appeared to be expressions of genuine concern, and the speaker (What's her name? Pauline? Patricia? Patty?) had a smugly superior look on her face. He decided he did not like the woman one bit. "Yes, well, still having a spot of trouble with my memory, but otherwise I feel fine." He glanced back outside before saying, "Um, if you ladies will excuse me for a moment."
He stepped outside and paced off the length of the tent, ending at ten feet. He darted back inside and paced off down the hall. The women had begun speaking again, but once more fell silent as he strode past them, counting under his breath. At the end of the hallway he reached thirty five feet. Noticing a back door in front of him, he darted outside, and again looked along the outside of the tent.
"This is impossible!" He muttered. "These people are entirely too primitive to have spatial warping capabilities!"
He went back inside, recounting his steps, once more passing the still silent group of women, who followed his bizarre antics with their eyes, a couple of them exchanging smirks with each other. Again reaching the front door and peeking around the outside edge, he shook his head and frowned. "Inconceivable!" He exclaimed, before giving the women another glance.
"Eh, if you ladies will excuse me." He nodded at them and strode out of the tent.
Narcissa hurried to the door and watched him striding through the people that were milling around down the makeshift road that served the tent city. "Lucius, where are you going?" She called after him, sounding concerned.
"For a walk!" He called over his shoulder. I need to figure this nonsense out.
Narcissa watched as he disappeared into the crowd. Then with a sigh and a shake of her head, she walked back into the tent, ready to be bombarded by a hundred questions and insincere expressions of sympathy from the women waiting there. I'm sure Lucius' antics will be in the gossip column of The Prophet tomorrow...
(XXX)
With excitement bubbling inside them about being at the Quidditch Wolrd Cup , Harry, Hermione, and Ron had just returned with the water they'd gone to retrieve. The fire was still not started, because Mr. Weasley was having no luck in lighting the matches. Yet this didn't seem to bother him, as he had a wide smile on his face. The twins and Ginny exchanged smirks with the three of them, and Ginny rolled her eyes. With an affectionate shake of her head, Hermione was opening her mouth to offer Mr. Weasley help in getting the matches lit, when a familiar voice spoke before she could say anything.
"Having some trouble with the matches, eh?" It said.
All seven of them froze. Then seven pairs of eyes turned to face the speaker, and seven mouths dropped open in shock, unable to say a word. There beside them stood none other than Lucius Malfoy, the father of their primary antagonist at school. The last time Hermione had seen him, Hagrid was pulling Mr. Weasley and Mr. Malfoy apart at Flourish and Blotts after they started fighting. She stifled a gasp as she looked at him. Hermione had expected to see the same cold, condescending sneer on his face. Instead, his expression was pleasant, with a genuine smile that made him look…friendly. Instead of the long, platinum blonde hair she remembered, it appeared to be much shorter; and he had a ridiculous looking Irish National Team cap on his head, which clashed horribly with the fancy business suit he was wearing.
Hermione was completely gobsmacked. This cannot be Mr. Malfoy! He's not even wearing robes, just a suit!
But Mr. Malfoy it indeed was. Still smiling, he approached the group and reached his hand out to Mr. Weasley. "May I?" He asked, nodding at the match book Mr. Weasley was holding.
Mr. Weasley, still gaping at Mr. Malfoy in shock, handed the matches over without protest. Squatting down next to the stack of wood, Mr. Malfoy looked it over, nodding in approval. "Good. Whoever lay this wood out knew what they were doing." He reached out and made a couple slight adjustments. "Now, it would be better if you'd brought the stick matches instead of these," he said, holding up the matchbook. "But it should still work with these."
He ripped a match out of the pack and continued speaking. "With the wooden matches, you can just slide the phosphorous tip along the strike pad on the box and they'll light because they're firm enough. These paper ones are much too flimsy." As evidence, he slid the match he'd pulled out along the strike pad on the outside, only to have the match bend down.
Tossing it onto the pile of wood, he pulled another one out. "But they'll still work. Here, let me show you a little trick." Despite his extreme dislike of Lucius Malfoy, Arthur's curiosity got the better of him, and he squatted down next to Lucius, watching carefully.
"You take the match, place the phosphorus tip of it at the front of the strike pad, pinch the top and bottom of the match book together on the tip, and just give it a sharp pull…" He demonstrated, and the match lit instantly.
Hermione noted that Mr. Weasley's face lit up, and she thought he looked as excited as a child on Christmas by the simple act of a match lighting. Yet in the back of her mind, a thought whispered, How on earth did Mr. Malfoy, of all people, know how to light a muggle match?
"Of course, an even better way to keep the fire going initially is to have some sort of fire starter—cotton, or even dryer lint. And if they're covered in petroleum jelly they'll keep burning for a good while, more than sufficient time for the wood to ignite and burn. This fire should be ok…there's plenty of kindling. But just to be safe…"
Mr. Malfoy broke another match out and lit it using the same trick he'd just shown Mr. Weasley. But this time, he took the burning match and used it to light the entire pack. Grasping it by the bottom edge, he carefully lit some of the grass and twigs that they had gathered. Once they caught, he tossed the still burning matchbook onto the pile of firewood. Mr. Malfoy watched the crackling flames a moment. Once he was sure it would keep burning, he stood. "There. it should burn fine now."
"Th-thank you," Arthur managed to mumble.
Mr. Malfoy waved him off. "Oh, no need to thank me. I'm just glad I could be of help. Well. enjoy the game. Perhaps I'll see you around." And with an amiable smile and a wave, Mr. Malfoy walked off down the path, Harry, Hermione, and the Weasleys all watching him with their mouths still hanging open.
"Bloody hell," the twins said together.
"Was…was that really Mr. Malfoy?" Ginny's voice conveyed the depth of shock all of them were feeling.
Hermione nodded. "Indeed it was. But…what on earth has gotten into him?"
Mr. Weasley's face lit up, and he snapped his fingers. "Of course! I heard a rumor around the Ministry that Lucius had been involved in some sort of potions accident, and had lost his memories! I didn't believe it before, but now…" His voice trailed off as he shook his head, turning back to the fire. "He certainly knew how to light muggle matches, though. Amazing! Simply amazing!" He knelt down and held his hands out to the fire, as if he were warming them.
Everyone then turned to doing what they had been doing before their unexpected visitor had arrived, and Mr. Malfoy was soon forgotten. But Hermione shot one last glance at the retreating figure of Mr. Malfoy, and shook her head in confusion. This will require some thought later on.
(XXX)
Lucius didn't want to go back to the Triple P's tent and endure the false sympathy from those phony women. He really didn't. But his desire to be around Narcissa outweighed his dislike of the other women, so with a resigned sigh he entered the "tent" once more, after once more glancing at the exterior and comparing it to the interior.
There were some men inside now as well, but he didn't recognize any of them. They greeted him boisterously when they saw him, asking after his health and mentioning several things he had no idea about. So after a few awkward comments on his part, he excused himself and hovered at Narcissa's side until it was time for the game to start.
There was some loud, clanging sound that reminded him of a gong, and one of the men—Paul of the Triple P's, their gracious host—loudly exclaimed that it was time to head to the game. The couples paired up, Narcissa took his arm, and the entire group moved out of the "tent", and followed the crowds down through a path in the woods that was lit with red and green lanterns. It reminded him of Christmas. "I've heard of Christmas in July, but never August," he murmured.
"It's the colors of the two teams that are playing, "Narcissa explained. "Green for Ireland, red for Bulgaria."
Arriving at the huge ridiculously huge stadium, the group separated and went different directions. The Malfoys began to ascend some stairs that led up farther than he could see. After the fourth landing, he began to grumble. "All these magical people around, and they didn't have the sense to put in a magical escalator at the magical soccer stadium," he muttered. "Not even a magical elevator. Oops, sorry…a magical lift, I mean. A magical moving walkway through the woods might have been cool, too."
Narcissa, hearing his muttered grumbling, rolled her eyes.
At last, after climbing more stairs than he could count (he'd given up after the twentieth set), they reached the very top of the stadium. He was busy looking around when he felt Narcissa slow her pace. Glancing at her, he noted a look of cold arrogance descend on her face. Draco's face bore an arrogant sneer, and he called out, "How in the world did your family afford seats up here, Weasely? Your entire house isn't worth the price of these tickets!"
Lucius stopped walking, turning to Draco in shock. "Did you—you didn't just…really?" He turned to face Draco and frowned. "Just because someone is rich it doesn't make them better than anyone else! I've known a lot of s#!ty rich people in my life, and let me tell you…" His voice trailed off as a thought occurred to him. Glancing at Narcissa, he asked, "Are we s#!ty rich people or something? Is that why so many people have been giving us dirty looks?"
"Not now, Lucius," Narcissa replied in a harsh whisper. She began to slide past a large group of people—the same ones that Draco had addressed rudely a moment before. Lucius then realized it was the same group that had been having trouble lighting the campfire earlier.
"Well, hello again!" He greeted them warmly. This time he noticed the looks of apprehension and shock on the faces of the red-haired family. He also noted that there were two others who hadn't been with them before. And as they too were red-heads, Lucius figured they must be relatives of the others. Although he guessed that the bushy-haired girl and the dark haired boy with glasses must just be friends of the others, and not part of the red-haired family. "Did the fire work out alright for you?"
The red-haired man, who Lucius reckoned must be the father of the others, smiled brightly. "Oh, yes, it was splendid! Thank you for showing us that trick, Lucius."
Lucius blinked at the man. I really, really wish my memories would return. I'm sick of everyone knowing me but me not knowing anyone. "Excellent, I'm very glad to hear it."
At that moment, some fat, pompous sounding man with a bowler hat grabbed Lucius hand and began shaking it. The man seemed capable of an unending stream of chatter, and Lucius began to develop a headache as the man went on and on about donations being to some place, introduced a dour looking man who appeared to speak no English, kissed the back of Narcissa's hand, yapped a bit about someone named "Harry Potter", and generally made an annoyance of himself.
After everyone had found their seats—Lucius found himself seated beside the father of the red-haired family (If they ever need someone to play that Wilson fellow from "The Red-headed League", I'm volunteering this guy...). Glancing around, Lucius noted that the pompous man who never shut up was sitting beside Narcissa and still chattering away. Draco was sat next to Lucius, and was sneering at the three people in front of the Malfoys. In front of Lucius sat the bushy-haired girl, in front of Draco the dark haired boy with glasses, and in front of Narcissa was one of the redheaded boys. The rest of the redheads were seated around them.
Lucius looked down at the field far below, then did a double take. Squinting, he muttered, "How in the world are we supposed to even see the game from up here in the nosebleed section?"
The bushy-haired girl seated in front of him looked at him over her shoulder, an indecipherable expression on her face, before turning back around.
Then a different fat idiot, who was seated beside the one with the bowler hat, stood up. He put his wand against his throat and started bellowing out a welcome to the entire stadium. The resulting cheers were deafening, and Lucius had to put his hands over his ears to be able to withstand the noise.
The red-haired man beside him was hollering something to his children and their friends. The fat man with the wand at his throat bellowed something about the "Bulgarian team mascots", followed shortly after by some weird music beginning to play.
Lucius became aware that the red-haired man next to him had stopped speaking, and was staring down at the field with an intent yet glassy-eyed expression. He then noted that the stadium had now grown much quieter, and most of the males around him all seemed to be very interested in whatever was happening below—even Draco. With a frown he glanced at the field as well. All he could see was a group of young, beautiful women engaged in some sort of sensuous dance.
His lip curled up in distaste. Utter degeneracy. Those women obviously have no self respect, making a spectacle of themselves like that in front of all these people. Besides, I'm already with the most beautiful woman here. He glanced toward Narcissa, only to find her giving him a rather intense stare. He gave her a small smile, and was rewarded with a dazzling smile of her own. It was the happiest he'd seen her look in the week since he'd woken without his memories. Good Lord, she is the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. I could just stare at her for the rest of the night, soccer game be damned. A smile covered his own face as he continued staring at Narcissa. And though he didn't realize it, he too had a glassy-eyed look…although it was directed at Narcissa, not the girls on the field.
He isn't even paying attention to the Veela. Narcissa's heart gave a lurch, and she continued staring back at the man she loved. Could it be possible that he still…she broke eye contact with him and looked down at the field. Don't be ridiculous, Narcissa. He doesn't even remember you, so how could he possibly love you? She refused to let the tears that had suddenly filled the corners of her eyes fall.
When Narcissa had looked away from him, his face fell. With a sigh he turned back to look down at the field as well. The music had stopped, the degenerate girls had concluded their degenerate dance, and he noted with a frown that many of the men and boys around him were standing…some were down at the railing, and one of the red-haired kids even looked like he was trying to cross over the railing. The brown-haired girl was whispering to the red-haired boy and his friend with the glasses. She sounded rather put out.
But he was distracted when the weirdo a few seats over began booming out again…something about the Irish team and mascots. There was a loud noise and something that looked like a comet flew above the stadium. The "comet" split in two, a rainbow formed between the two parts, then it all formed into a gigantic shamrock, and gold coins began to fall from the sky.
Taking a close look at the shamrockhe realized it was a bunch of tiny little creatures, each carrying a lantern. He heard the read-haired man exclaim, "Leprechauns!"
Leprechauns? Leprechauns are real here? He grinned like a school boy, unable to take his eyes from the magical creatures.
Narcissa, glancing over at her husband, noted the child-like expression on his face, and her heart gave another little lurch. He paid no attention to the Veela, yet he grins like a little boy when he sees Leprechauns. She found herself smiling as she watched Lucius' face.
Then the idiot was hollering again, something bout welcoming the Bulgarian team, followed by some very Eastern-European sounding names. But all that was forgotten in a moment, as one by one after every name was called, someone streaked into the stadium…on brooms.
Lucius sat back in his seat, his mouth dropping open. Then the Irish team was announced, and they too flew into the stadium on brooms. "Okay…definitely not soccer then." He hadn't meant to say it out loud, but he must have, because the bushy-haired girl turned and looked at him again, this time her face bore a look of utter surprise. She turned around and tried whispering something to her friends, but they brushed her off, far too interested in the events in front of them to pay her any mind.
Lucius tried to follow the game. He really did. But he had no idea whatsoever about the sport and was soon baffled. He was able to pick up bits and pieces from the scraps of conversation around him, but it was not enough to explain much. Finally, he gave up and leaned back in his chair, his arms folded across his chest. At least now I understand why the top box is so expensive, he thought, as most of the action was taking place in the air at eye-level. And again, as he had done many times over the last week, he wondered if he would ever fit in with this bizarre world in which he'd found himself. He was beginning to doubt it.
After much too long, in his opinion, Fate took pity on him and the game ended. How Ireland managed to beat Bulgaria when Bulgaria had been doing the vast majority of the scoring was beyond his comprehension. As everyone began their long descent back to the ground, Draco went off with the Pansy girl and a couple other friends.
"Is that it?" Lucius asked Narcissa. "It's over, right? Can we go home now?"
Yes, Lucius," she said with a sigh. "We just need to go and collect our things from the Parkinson's tent, then we can leave."
"Good," he muttered. "I don't know how much more of these crowds I can handle." Arm in arm, they continued on to the Parkinson's.
(XXX)
After the utter confusion and panic that she had awoken to, Hermione was glad when they reached the relative safety of the woods. That is, until they ran into a sneering Draco Malfoy leaning against a tree. Harry and Ron got angry when Draco made a disparaging comment about Mr. Weasley.
Where're your parents?" Said Harry, his temper rising. "Out there wearing masks, are they?"
"Well…if they were, I wouldn't be likely to tell you, would I, Potter" Draco smirked.
"Oh come on," said Hermione with a disgusted look at Malfoy…
"Keep that big bushy head down, Granger," sneered Malfoy.
"Come on," Hermione repeated, trying to pull the boys away from a still sneering Draco. But before she could they once more heard an all too familiar voice. "What on earth are you children doing out here all by yourselves?"
The three teens froze before slowly turning to face the speaker. Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy stood behind them. Draco walked over and stood next to his mother and continued to sneer at Hermione and the boys. Draco's mother's lip was curled up in derision, and her face bore a sneer matching Draco's. But Lucius had a look of genuine concern on his face. "Where are your parents? Did they let you go off alone with all that nonsense going on back there?"
As if to punctuate his comment, there was another loud bang from the direction of the tent city, followed by more screams. Mr. Malfoy turned with a scowl, looking back towards the glow of flames behind them. "This is intolerable!" He exclaimed. "There're like twenty guys causing all this mess, and there's literally thousands of magical people back there! Why aren't they stopping them? The only way to stop bullies is to make them afraid to ever bully you again! Good Lord, haven't these people ever seen 'A Bug's Life'?"
A couple more bangs and some screams sounded. Mr. Malfoy muttered, "That's it! I'm going to show these pathetic sheep how to stand up and fight back!" He took a couple of angry strides back in the direction of the tent city, but Mrs. Malfoy grabbed his arm.
"Lucius! No! We need to leave!" Hermione noted the look of fear on the woman's face.
Mr. Malfoy frowned at her. "Narcissa, there are people being hurt back there! We can't just walk away, we have to do something!" Once more he turned and took a few steps toward the tents.
Draco and the other three teens gaped at Mr. Malfoy in shock, unable to believe what they'd just heard him say.
In desperation, Narcissa again grabbed his arm, harder this time. "NO! Please, my love, we must leave!" The two stood staring at one another in silence for several moments. The four teenagers still watching in speechless shock. Lucius saw the fear in Narcissa's eyes…fear so deep and intense it was more like terror. She…she called me 'my love'. He sighed, and gave in. "Okay."
Narcissa turned and took Draco's hand. "Come along, Draco, we're going home."
Lucius turned and took a few steps toward the other three teens. "It's not very safe out here alone, kids. Do the three of you want to come with us?"
"NO!" Exclaimed five voices all at once. And despite the circumstances, Hermione almost giggled at the look of shock on Mr. Malfoy's face at the intensity conveyed in everyone's refusal of his offer…which offer Hermione was genuinely impressed with. But she still did not fancy going to Malfoy Manor.
Lucius held his hands up. "Alright, alright! Bad idea! Sheesh, forget I said anything!" He glanced at Harry, Ron, and Hermione. "Then you three stay right here until your parents come to get you. Hopefully you'll be safe out here." He then turned and walked back to his wife and son, who were holding what Hermione assumed was a portkey. With one last worried glance at Harry, Ron, and Hermione, Lucius touched the portkey, and the three Malfoys vanished.
The three friends stood staring at the spot the Malfoys had just vanished from, confusion filling their minds.
"Bloody hell!" Ron muttered. "What's gotten into Draco's dad? He's been really weird today."
"I don't trust him," Harry muttered. "He probably wants us to wait here so his Death Eater friends can come find us. Let's keep moving." He turned and proceeded deeper into the woods, Ron following behind him.
With a sigh, Hermione followed the boys, her face scrunched in thought as she continued wondering about the sudden change in Mr. Malfoy. While still leery of the man herself, Hermione had watched him closely and was convinced that his intentions and words all day had been genuine. I only hope he stays this way.
A/N: Poor Lucius, still so out of his element. But he's learning. Will he ever again be the old Lucius that we all love or hate…or love to hate? Only time will tell. Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed this chapter.