Hermione decided that she loathed Apparition as she popped back out on the other side. It was worse than hopping ley lines, and it felt like she was being strangled each time. She wondered how it worked – did magic cause temporary quantum tunnels of some sort? Was that why it felt like being squeezed through a tube?

Draco looked rather sick as well, but he seemed to steady himself much faster than Hermione this time. He looked a bit amazed as he gazed out over the chaos that was the campground, and Hermione too was impressed at the sheer mass of people present, even though she'd been here a few days prior.

"Our campsite is one of those nearest the stadium, on the edges of the forest," Lucius told them, leading the way. "I've ensured everything was set up satisfactorily in advance."

Upon reaching the campsite, Hermione saw very fancy tents set up, all of them perfectly muggle-looking but undoubtedly not actually muggle at all. Muggle tents didn't sit up quite so straight or have perfectly crisp sides or roofs. Theo and Blaise were chatting outside around a fire across the way at another tent, and Draco and Hermione waved, joining them at the fire while Lucius and Narcissa went to go socialize with nearby adults.

"Draco Malfoy in denim," Blaise said, grinning. "I never thought I'd see the day."

"At least they're not as lewd as yours," Draco shot back, and Blaise gave him a wounded look.

"My muggle denims are all the rage on the Continent right now," he said. He turned, presenting his rear to Draco, the material tight across his butt. "You're saying you don't like them?"

Draco made a vomiting sound, and Hermione giggled.

"I'm surprised to see you wearing muggle clothes," Theo told Draco, as they sat down. "Your father, too."

"My father is determined to follow Ministry guidelines for the event," Draco said. "It would have been fine, except Hermione's parents laughed at us when we arrived, and then my mother was insistent we all go change."

"They were wearing what you might wear to a red-carpet event," Hermione said, trying to explain. "Like for a muggle ball or something. Not to a sports game."

Blaise looked very curious. "So how was this matter rectified…?"

"Hermione took us to a muggle store," Draco admitted. "Harrods. She had to help us get things, but we got there in the end."

"Wait, wait, wait," Theo said, shaking his head incredulously. "Are you telling me that Lucius Malfoy went to a muggle clothing store? While there were muggles there?"

Draco turned red. "So?"

"My father just put me in long black robes without a belt," Theo pointed out. "Said to tell any muggles who asked that it was an 'overcoat'. He said I could change into Quidditch things closer to the match."

"Speaking of Quidditch things," Blaise said, pointing to Draco. "Are you really cheering for Bulgaria?"

"I mean, does it matter?" Draco reddened further. "I just like Krum."

"Aww," Theo mocked. "Does Drakey have a little crush on Krummy-wummy?"

"Go jinx yourself," Draco shot back. "He's the greatest Seeker of a generation, and you're a fool if you think otherwise."

"Are you both cheering for Ireland?" Hermione asked Blaise and Theo.

"I am," Blaise said cheerfully. "I have a green hat somewhere I bought, and a Slytherin green jumper for tonight."

"I'm not," Theo admitted, grinning. "My father's a big Bulgaria fan, so we're Team Bulgaria in Nott Manor, I guess."

"He is?" Draco said, surprised. "Why?"

Theo's smile became strained. "I'm sure it's to do with his personal history that I'd really rather not know."

Conversation turned to what the different camps had done to decorate their tents, as well as the most ridiculous things they'd seen people wearing so far. Theo had seen an old man in a muggle nightgown, but Blaise had seen someone in studded black leather, gloves that formed bat wings, and giant platform boots. At Hermione's prodding, she became more and more certain.

"I think he was dressed up as a muggle rock star," she said.

"A 'rock star'?" Theo questioned.

"Think Celestina Warbeck, but way more extreme," Hermione said, grinning.

Draco and Blaise took up bickering as to who was more likely to win the match, Bulgaria or Ireland, with Theo occasionally chiming in with an unknown fact or theory to invigorate their argument again. Hermione was only half-listening, poking the fire with a stick, then with her magic, dwelling on what Apparition had been like.

"Thinking hard?" Theo asked her, raising an eyebrow. Hermione glanced up at him.

"Theo, what is Apparition?" she asked him.

Theo frowned. "It's when you disappear from one place and instantaneously reappear—"

"That's the rough description," Hermione said, cutting him off. "But what actually happens when you Disapparate?"

Theo looked at her, puzzled.

"Do you mean that you think that's not what's happening?" he said slowly.

"It's definitely not," Hermione said immediately. "Something has to happen with us. Magic isn't just killing us and reforming us at the new location – there's no way."

"Killing us?" Draco paled, overhearing. "Merlin, Hermione, Apparition's dangerous, but not that dangerous."

"I know that," Hermione said, annoyed. "But what is Apparition, then?"

Draco and Theo exchanged a confused look, while Blaise just looked amused.

"This is Hermione," he reminded the other boys, eyes sparkling. "This is what she does. She figures magic out."

Unfortunately for Hermione, all she could theorize was that Apparition was some kind of quantum tunnelling, with magic opening a tiny tube in the folds of space and time. Of course, she couldn't exactly test that, being unable to Apparate herself. And wouldn't that mean someone could theoretically Apparate in time, too? Or did that require a conscious ability to move multi-directionally in time that humans lacked?

She was figuring out how Anti-Apparition wards would block Apparition tunnels when Lucius Malfoy returned, Narcissa at his side.

"The game will begin in a few hours," he informed them. "We must go circulate and be seen."

Draco groaned and got to his feet, Lucius shooting him a dark look, while Hermione stood and dusted herself off, following Lucius and Narcissa without protest.

"We'll see you after the match!" Blaise called after them, waving cheerfully. "We can all celebrate Ireland's victory together!"

They left the sound of laughter behind as Draco shot Blaise a two-fingered salute as they walked away.


Circulating and socializing with the Malfoys was an interesting experience.

Lucius Malfoy clearly knew everybody, and Narcissa knew most people. Nevertheless, Lucius would introduce his "lovely wife, Narcissa", his "son, Draco," and his "son's dear friend, Hermione Granger". Eyes definitely went up at Hermione's inclusion from some of the people they ran into, ones who looked Hermione over with a critical, snide look. Hermione tossed her head and ignored these people – if they were blood-purists, they were fools anyway, and they clearly hadn't been keeping up with the news.

People from the Ministry, however, recognized both Lucius and Hermione, which Hermione found very funny. They were both on the Wizengamot together, of course, but it was very funny to her when Mr. Crouch, after exchanging pleasantries with the Malfoys, turned to Hermione with a sharp eye.

"I've got other countries wanting to collaborate with the Ministry of Magic now," he said abruptly. "Your werewolf scheme impressed the international community."

Hermione's eyes widened. "Really?"

Mr. Crouch nodded curtly. "They don't all seem to grasp the intricacies of what they're asking for. Rehoming werewolves for one night so they don't transform is a practical safety matter; rehoming an entire population of hags is genocide."

"Hags?" Narcissa wrinkled her nose. "Are there legal protections for hags?"

"There are in Great Britain," Crouch told her. "They're classified as 'beings', not beasts or spirits."

"We don't really have a hag problem ourselves, do we?" Hermione asked Mr. Crouch.

"We do not," Crouch said. "And yet, the ICW representative of Germany is insisting on our help."

"Redirect him to France?" Hermione suggested, thinking back. "The French government figured out a way to handle their hags somehow." She paused. "I wonder why they didn't ask the French first."

"They're French," Mr. Crouch shortly. "I'm sure that's reason enough to avoid them. It would certainly be sufficient for me."

Mr. Crouch gave them his goodbyes, leaving Hermione hiding giggles behind her hand as she waved goodbye. Lucius looked mildly annoyed, but Hermione rather thought he was only annoyed because he thought he should be annoyed – it wasn't like Lucius would have preferred to discuss hags with Mr. Crouch.

Ludo Bagman walked by a while later, cheerfully ignoring all of the muggle wear and rules that his own department had put in place. He was wearing bright yellow and black striped robes with a large wasp splashed on the chest, and he grinned at Lucius when he saw them.

"The Malfoys!" he said cheerily. "Glad you could make it! Oh, and you – you're the Wizengamot kid."

Hermione winced, managing a strained smile. "Hermione Granger, sir. Youth Representative."

"Yes, of course, that," Ludo said, amused. He beamed at them all. "Are you excited for the match?"

"Yes," Draco said immediately. "Absolutely."

"That's the spirit!" Ludo said. He jingled a bag of gold on his belt. "Fancy a flutter on the match?"

Draco looked interested, but Lucius cut him off with a sharp look.

"Illegal gambling, Ludo?" Lucius said softly. "So blatantly, and in public?"

"It's not illegal!" Ludo exclaimed, looking shocked. "I should know – it's my department!"

"It is for children," Hermione commented.

"Oh, pish posh," said Ludo, dismissive. "It's not a legal contract, just a bit of a bet! But alright," he conceded with a grin. "It's not like I was trying to target kids."

Draco looked disappointed, and after some more small talk with Ludo ("Top Box? You'll be up there with me – I'm commentating!") and commiseration on his missing assistant ("Bertha's always been forgetful – I'm sure she'll come back in August on some random Monday and think it's still June!") he strode away cheerfully, allowing Hermione to nudge Draco, who looked up at her in surprise.

"So who do you think is going to win?" she asked.

"What makes you think I would know?" Draco replied automatically.

Hermione snorted. "Please. You ran the Arithmancy for our school matches. There's no way you didn't for the World Cup."

"Maybe I wanted to be surprised by the outcome," Draco shot back.

Hermione scoffed loudly, and Draco gave in with a small grin.

"I did run the equations," Draco admitted. "As best I could, anyway. Ireland's the most likely to win."

"Is it that clear?" Hermione asked, surprised, and Draco made a face.

"Unfortunately." His tone of voice was dry. "Bulgaria's been winning because of their one star player – Krum – who's been catching the Snitch early enough each game to put them ahead. Ireland's got seven good players, though – their Beaters are likely to keep Krum distracted enough to build up a lead."

"Krum?" Hermione repeated.

"Bulgaria's Seeker," Draco clarified, pointing to the name on his own jersey. "He's really good – practically a Quidditch prodigy. He's young, too." Draco looked envious for a moment. "Wish I was that good."

"We all have our strengths and weaknesses," Hermione offered, an attempt at comfort. "You might not be a Quidditch prodigy, but you ran complicated Arithmancy equations to determine the outcome of the match, and you're not even in fourth year."

Draco looked surprised by this, then pleased.

"Yeah, well," he said. "I've got to beat Potter in something."

Hermione grinned and laughed, and Draco grinned back.

As the light started to fade, they finally ran into the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, who was thrilled to see them.

"Excellent to see you as always, Lucius!" he said. "May I introduce the Bulgarian Minister of Magic?" He gestured at his companion, a man wearing black velvet robes with splendid gold trim. "Or I would, anyway, if I could," Fudge amended. "Doesn't speak a word of English – I need Barty Crouch for this sort of translation…"

The Minister and Lucius discussed a couple upcoming issues that were pressing the Ministry, Hermione eavesdropping idly. It sounded very much like the Minister was tentatively offering his own thoughts on an issue, and then fast revising his opinion depending what solution Lucius favored. She wondered if such accommodation was what Lucius' bribery bought him. It didn't seem like much from the outside, just a conversation, but it was still access to the most politically powerful wizard in the country – and that did hold its weight in gold.

A bit bored, Hermione and Draco took to scanning the crowd for people wearing funny things, especially as more people started heading for the forest. Draco pointed out someone who had dressed up as a medieval peasant, which he found very funny (Hermione a little less so), and Hermione struggled not to laugh at a wizard who'd somehow ended up in a very long, full skirt, including petticoats and a hoop, tried to walk and navigate in his choice of attire.

Someone wearing navy blue robes was walking by, otherwise unremarkable, but Hermione did a double-take, staring. The man had silver hair combed to the side and was wearing a large pair of glasses. He noticed her looking at him, and a smirk that seemed utterly uncharacteristic of the face that wore it spread across his face, and he came over.

"Recognize me, girly?" he asked Hermione, eyes unnaturally bright.

Hermione couldn't help but stare.

"I thought I did," she admitted. "How on earth did you get a piece of Sir John Major?"

"I have no idea what you mean," the man said, though his lips grinned. "I'm the muggle Prime Minister. I've been invited as a diplomatic outreach."

"Then you would have worn a suit," Hermione shot back. "Not to mention, you wouldn't have a wand strapped to you."

"Maybe I'm trying to blend in," the man said, though it was clear he was arguing just for the sake of arguing.

"You clearly aren't—" Hermione cut herself off, looking at him hard for a long moment.

"What is it?" the man asked, smirking.

"You are trying to blend in," Hermione admitted. "But you're also wearing one of the most famous faces from the muggle telly. So you're trying to blend in with some people, but not with other people."

"Interesting theory, girly," the man said, eyes glowing. It was a frightening look to see on the Prime Minister. "Why would I do such a thing?"

There was only one reason Hermione could think of, and it wasn't a good one.

"To be able to tell the Muggle-borns apart from everyone else," she said, feeling ill. "Or at least, those who aren't entirely ignorant of the muggle world."

"Like you," the man said, nodding. "You clearly recognized me. But your companions didn't."

The word companions dripped off his tongue with venom and disdain, a tone Hermione was surprised to hear.

"They're talking with Minister Fudge," Hermione defended, but the man shook his head, dismissive.

"What are you doing with the Malfoys, girl?" the man murmured, eyes sharp. "You have to know their political leanings by now…"

Hermione had absolutely no intention of explaining to a veritable stranger her entire political scheme and strategy in front of the Malfoys.

"I was sorted into Slytherin," she said instead, looking his square in the eye, defiant. "I have to stay safe in there somehow, don't I?"

The man (still wearing John Major's face) considered this, then abruptly reached into his robes and pulled out a flask. He took a deep draught from it, shuddering as he capped it and put it away, and Hermione's eyebrows went up very high.

"You're just taking Polyjuice in public?" she asked, astonished. "You're really being that blatant?"

"Nobody notices," he said, smirking. "Half the wizards here have flasks of Firewhiskey themselves. Best way to hide your agenda – do it out in the open, as if nothing's amiss."

Hermione was severely doubtful that was good advice. If she'd killed the dementors in daylight or announced it to the world, she somehow didn't think the Ministry would have been magically okay with it.

"You better go, girly," the man wearing John Major's face said, gesturing. "Your party looks to be heading off."

Hermione turned; sure enough, Fudge and Lucius were drifting toward the path through the forest, Draco shooting her worried looks all the while. Hermione gave the strange man one last look before hurrying after them, rejoining Draco to walk through the illuminated woods, where she could hear the cheering and excitement already coming from the stadium ahead.