a chapter entirely from Draco's point of view this time!
.
.
Draco
.
.
"Draco... When I told you to go and talk to Pansy to make up, I didn't mean: break into her house in the middle of the night."
"Whatever, we're better now, that's the important thing. Okay?" grumbled Draco.
Theo shook his head with a sigh and returned to his reading. Draco had tried to explain to them several times how he'd made up with Pansy, but without revealing that they'd slept together, and Theo found it hard to understand how it had happened. Draco decided to not talk about it again.
Blaise, who was fidgeting in his chair and obviously eager to say something, then exploded:
"I've got the tickets! My mum got them for us for the World Cup!"
He pointed to himself and Theo with a big, bright smile. Draco smiled back:
"Great! Have you got any good seats?"
Blaise handed him the two little coupons he had in his pocket:
"Rank 412 A? That means you're at the top, doesn't it? You must be in the same column as me!" exclaimed Draco as he analysed the seats.
"Where will you be?" asked Blaise.
Draco was suddenly a little embarrassed. He still hadn't told them what his father had told him that morning.
"In the Top Box."
"Wow, great! You're going to have an incredible view. You might even get to see Krum at the end of the match!"
Draco was relieved. Luckily Blaise was the least jealous person on the planet, he didn't seem to feel any resentment at the idea of Draco enjoying a better seat than him. If the roles were reversed, Draco would probably be dying of greed.
Theo didn't comment on Draco's placement either, but for once showed some interest in Quidditch. He asked Draco and Blaise, who had been following the competition since the beginning of the summer, for details of the teams.
It must have been 4pm when Pansy arrived in Blaise's garden. She was wearing a simple black tank top and her pale skin had reddened slightly in places from the sun.
"Hi, you three." she said as she took a seat in one of the chairs. "What are you talking about?"
"About the World Cup tomorrow."
Her lips puckered in a grimace of boredom:
"Again?!"
"We've got seats!" said Blaise, overexcited. "And you can come too, my mum's got others."
"No, thanks."
"Come on, Pans'!" exclaimed Draco. "This is a historic event, it hardly ever happens..."
"It happens every four years, Draco." she said with a chuckle.
"But this one is historic, Krum..."
"You say that every four years!" cut in Pansy. "I don't feel like coming. Besides, Daphne's invited me to sleep at her place tomorrow night."
"Well, too bad for you." intervened Blaise. "You'll be sorry!"
"I don't think so." said Pansy, who was pulling up her trousers to expose her legs to the sun.
"Where are you going to sleep, Draco?" asked Theo.
He frowned. His father hadn't mentioned that.
"No idea."
"You can come and stay in our tent, if you like!" offered Blaise. "There's only two of us in it anyway, but it should have at least 6 rooms. We've booked a spot in one of the campsites closest to the stadium."
"I'll talk it over with my dad. We'll meet at the Portkey?"
The two boys nodded and Pansy asked:
"Blaise, how did you get all these tickets?"
"My new stepfather, apparently. I think he works in the Sports Department of the Minister for Magic."
"Is he nice?" asked Pansy.
Blaise shrugged:
"I don't know, I've never met him."
They continued to sunbathe in Blaise's garden while talking about Quidditch, much to Pansy's regret. The afternoon passed too quickly and Draco was soon forced to return home. His father was dining at the Manor that evening, and he had no intention of arriving late and being told off. Pansy offered to walk him home too and they both took the main road into the village after saying hello to Blaise and Theo.
Draco deliberately walked as slowly as possible to have more time with Pansy. He had missed her so much during the hazy period when they had ignored each other that he didn't want to waste any more time with her. There was no more tension, no more awkwardness, it was as if everything was as before.
Well, almost as before.
"Are you coming to sleep at my place tonight?" she asked.
"Sleeping at her place" had become their new code name for saying they were going to sleep together. Since they'd made up, they'd only done it twice, and although Draco was happy enough with their new arrangement, he had to shake his head:
"No, sorry. I have to sleep at home tonight so I can go to the Portkey in the morning."
"Okay."
She smoked all the way back to her house, where Draco walked her to the landing. He gave her a little kiss on the forehead by way of goodbye, even though they were going to see each other again after dinner, in the garden of the Manor. Then he went home, and when he opened the door a delicious smell of lemon came in. His mother came into the hall at that moment:
"Ah, Draco, there you are. Your father will be back soon. Chubby has baked a lemon tart for dessert."
Draco took his place at the dining table which was, as usual, perfectly decorated. Lucius arrived after about ten minutes. Strangely enough, he had a big smile on his face:
"Good evening!" he said cheerfully.
Draco had to restrain himself from widening his eyes. He could count the times his father was in a good mood like that on the fingers of his hand. Narcissa seemed surprised too, but made no comment. Draco's father sat down at the end of the table and clapped his hands:
"Excited for the World Cup?" asked Lucius.
Chubby the house elf poured him a large glass of red wine.
"Yes." said Draco, who couldn't hide his excitement. "I spoke to Blaise and Theo about it, and they're coming too. Could I sleep in their tent in the evening?"
"If you like," said her mother. "As long as you're back early enough the next day. There's going to be a lot of traffic trying to find the Portkeys, and I don't want you to get caught in the rush."
"You're not sleeping there, are you?" asked Draco.
"No, I'll take the first Portkey after the match." said Narcissa.
Draco knew that his mother didn't really want to go, but that she was somewhat forced to by her father, who wanted to introduce her to the upper echelons of wizarding society.
"I've heard that the organisers of the World Cup are Muggles." said Draco's mother, looking up at Lucius. "Is that true?"
"Yes." his father replied, much to Draco's surprise. "A completely absurd decision by the Minister, yet again. But they will regret it. That, I can guarantee you."
He had said this with a small laugh, and Draco and Narcissa looked up at the same time, not understanding.
"What?" asked Narcissa after a moment's silence.
Lucius beamed.
"Let's just say they're going to regret it." he replied evasively.
Draco felt a chill run down his spine. He didn't know what his father had planned, but he had a bad feeling all the same. Seeing his father so happy did not bode well. Narcissa arched an eyebrow, but didn't insist.
Draco finished eating and the lemon tart arrived in a heavy silence. Narcissa cut off a slice for him, and probably to get the conversation going again, she asked:
"Did you train with Blaise this afternoon?"
"No, it was too hot. Maybe after the World Cup. We absolutely have to win the House Cup this year."
"There isn't going to be a Cup." Lucius said suddenly.
Draco turned to him, taken aback:
"What? What do you mean?"
"Hogwarts is organising an interesting event." said Lucius, who had clenched both his fists under his chin. "The Minister told me about it. The Triwizard Tournament. Have you ever heard of it, Draco?"
Narcissa gave a little cry of surprise when she heard the name, which Lucius ignored. His grey eyes were locked on his son's and he didn't blink. Draco nodded "no".
"A Triwizard Tournament that brings together three schools of wizards, each with more difficult trials than the last." Lucius explained in a sweet tone. "Each school puts forward one of its students, who must pass the three tests. Whoever comes first wins glory and a good amount of money. This year, Hogwarts is hosting the other two schools, Beauxbatons and Durmstrang. It hadn't been set up for over 200 years."
"And rightly so!" shouted Narcissa, outraged. "Children died in that competition! It was supposed to be forbidden, how could Dumbledore have allowed it?"
"I don't know." Lucius admitted. "Maybe Durmstrang came up with the idea. In any case, I think it's excellent, and Draco, I think you could win."
"What?" exclaimed Narcissa. "Draco is not taking part in this tournament. It's strictly out of the question."
"Why?" said Lucius, all trace of good humour suddenly gone. "He'd be perfect in it! Athletic, popular, and it might make us look good..."
"Lucius, didn't you hear what I just told you? Children died in there. The trials are far too dangerous."
"But Draco would have no trouble..."
"I said no."
Narcissa's dry, icy voice echoed through the dining room. She was furious now, and even Lucius slumped a little in his chair as he met her gaze.
Draco had the good idea of leaving the table just then, before yet another argument broke out, and went to join Pansy in the garden. She was already there, lying beside the fountain.
"Already here?" asked Draco as he too lay down.
"I was bored. My father isn't here, so I ate by myself and came here. You can see the stars well tonight."
Draco watched the hundreds of thousands of tiny lights above him.
"Good, that means the sky will be clear tomorrow for the match."
"I hope it doesn't last long. Didn't the last final last five days?"
Draco nodded and Pansy sighed:
"What am I going to do if you stay there for five days? I'm going to get bored." she moaned.
"Why don't you come with us?"
"And spend hours sitting on a seat that's too small in front of flying brooms? No thanks."
She turned her attention back to the stars and Draco suddenly remembered what his father had told him about the Triwizard Tournament. He told her everything he knew, and at the end of his story, Pansy had the same reaction as her mother:
"What? But that's horrible and super dangerous. People are going to die!"
"No, I'm sure it'll be better controlled than it was two hundred years ago." contradicted Draco.
She turned to him:
"Oh no, don't tell me you're actually thinking of joining?"
Draco shrugged:
"I don't know, we'll see."
"Pfff. Your mum's right, you know. What do you think it'll be like, the trials?"
They theorised about the three tests, each one more far-fetched than the last. They ended the evening laughing their heads off in the grass, then looked for Draco's constellation among the stars (it was obviously Pansy who found it first), then she nearly fell asleep, so they got up and went off to bed separately.
.
.
.
Draco woke up early the next morning, too excited about going to the Quidditch World Cup to sleep any more. He dressed quickly and rushed down the stairs, ate his breakfast and waited for his parents, tapping his foot frantically, outside the front door.
His mother was the first to arrive in the hall, dressed in a long dark cloak.
"Good morning, Draco." she said as she came in. "Have you packed your bag?"
"Yes, everything's ready. Can we go now? Blaise and Theo are almost at the Portkey."
"We won't be long."
Lucius crossed the hall without a "hello", heading for the dining room. Draco sighed, his impatience sorely tested. Didn't his parents understand how impatient he was? He watched his father take a seat at the table to eat something before leaving, ignoring Draco's tapping of his feet on the floor.
Chubby brought Lucius coffee and breakfast, and he began to read the newspaper. On the cover, Draco could see Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic, shaking hands with a stern-faced man Draco didn't know. The headline of the day was "Quidditch World Cup Final: 'All set'".
Lucius let out a grunt:
"Pfff. A bunch of incompetents. Muggles... We've seen it all. This Ministry has hit rock bottom. It's a good thing the true representatives of the wizarding world know where their convictions lie. They'll see, those damned Muggles. They'll see how useful and respected they are, when they beg for their lives tonight."
Draco was the only one who heard that, because he was the only one in the room, behind his father. He didn't even know if Lucius's sentences were meant to be heard, so much was he ruminating. But Draco heard, and froze. What did he mean by the real representatives? Did he mean him? "Beg for their lives?"
He watched his father eat, his eyes blank. He replayed the words his father had just spoken, and what he had said at dinner the night before. Draco had a bad feeling, and when he did, he was often right.
On impulse, he left the dining room slowly and returned to the hall. It was empty and Draco could hear his mother's voice talking to the house elf behind a closed door. Draco seized his chance and opened the door to the dungeons as quietly as possible. He needed to know, to see if his doubts were well-founded. He quickly descended the steps and crossed the dungeons, ignoring the shiver on the back of his neck. He reached the wall and punched in the combination on the hidden box.
His father's secret room opened up before him. The room was even emptier than the last time he had been here, but Draco already knew where he wanted to go. He paid no attention to the objects lying around and headed straight for the wall in front of him. There was a picture frame, and Draco knew that it contained his father's Death Eater mask.
But the mask was gone.
.
.
.
The Portkey that was to take them to the World Cup was not far from the Manor. Lucius, Narcissa and Draco arrived at the meeting point and immediately found Theo and Blaise waiting for them by a tree.
"Hello boys." said Narcissa when she saw them.
"Hello Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy." said the boys in unison.
Theo and Blaise were dressed all in green and both carried Irish flags.
"I see you've already got your preferences." said Lucius.
"I thought you weren't a big Quidditch fan, Theo?" commented Narcissa.
"With this one, there's no chance of getting away." he said, pointing at Blaise.
Narcissa laughed and turned to Blaise, whom Draco had not seen so happy in years:
"Blaise, will your mother be here too?"
"No, she's away on a trip."
"What a pity. I wish she'd been here to join me."
They arrived in front of the Portkey, which was a cracked flowerpot. Lucius consulted his watch:
"Only five minutes to go before the Portkey goes off. Pansy's not coming?"
"No." replied Draco.
He saw his mother raise her head at him with a frown, but ignored it. He didn't feel like taking a quiz right now, especially when the situation was this twisted.
Lucius looked around:
"Theodore, isn't your father here?"
There was a little awkward silence where the three boys suddenly avoided looking at each other. Then Theo replied in a small voice:
"Er, no. Not today."
Lucius was about to ask more questions, but suddenly the flowerpot began to shake and Draco barely had time to touch it with his fingertips before he was thrown forward violently.
He spun around for several long seconds, feeling Blaise's body clash with his every now and then, before they both came to rest on solid ground. Fortunately, he had landed with a little more dignity than Theo, who fell forward and had to catch himself on the barrel that served as the reception desk.
"Arrival ten twelve from Hardwick village square, Wiltshire."
Lucius, who hadn't even flinched after the journey, threw the vase himself into the large box of worn Portkeys and came very close to the face of the wizard who had just spoken:
"Was that really necessary, Perkins? Wouldn't it have been better if we'd just Apparated?"
"Sorry, Lucius, it's the rules. We can't be too obvious, you understand, with Muggles..."
Lucius curled his lips. Draco knew that his father didn't like Portkeys, considering them "too Muggle" for wizards. Yet it was the opposite: no Muggle would have known how to use a Portkey.
Narcissa didn't say a word, but looked on in disgust as Perkins led the arrivals to their tents. He was wearing extremely wide trousers held up by a belt, and a scarf, despite the very sunny weather. He'd clearly tried to dress like a Muggle and failed.
"Let's see, Malfoy..." said Perkins, searching the list for the name.
"We don't have a tent." hissed Lucius.
Draco could sense that his father wasn't too fond of this Perkins. Fortunately, the latter didn't seem to notice the coldness in his voice and displayed an air of polite surprise:
"Oh, you're not staying the night?"
"No. Me and my wife will be back after the match." He suddenly grabbed Draco by the shoulder and tightened his grip on him without taking his eyes off Perkins: "My son... Draco. He'll sleep here, in his friends' tent."
Perkins turned to Theo and Blaise with a smile:
"Very well, what name is it under?"
"Zabini."
"Zabini..." said the man, consulting his list at the last few names. "Ah, there you are. A tent for one night, is that right? Second meadow, just by the entrance. You can meet Mrs. Wilson at the entrance."
"Thank you."
The small group headed for the meadow indicated. As soon as Draco was close enough to the entrance to the tented meadow, he saw that the person who was going to welcome them was really Muggle. She was wearing a plaid dress and boots, something her mother would never have worn even if she'd been forced to. Narcissa opened her eyes wide in disgust at the woman in front of her, and Lucius stopped Draco from seeing more than that. He never wanted Draco to see Muggles, as if he might be contaminated.
"Your location is over there." the woman said, without Draco being able to see her. "Wait, I'll take you there..."
"Don't bother." spat Lucius.
He looked the woman up and down with as evil a look as he could muster and led Draco into the doorway. He couldn't even turn around to watch the Muggle woman's reaction.
Blaise and Theo walked ahead, and about halfway across the meadow Lucius finally let go of his grip on Draco's shoulder:
"We'll leave you here, there are a lot of people I need to see. Settle down in the tent and wander around, whatever you like, in any case, Draco, don't be late. We'll be waiting for you and your mother at the entrance to the stadium."
"All right!"
As Lucius turned back, Narcissa suddenly approached Draco and stuffed something into his hand. He realised it was a purse full of money. She gave him a quick wink, said goodbye to the three boys and followed Lucius, who was already at the end of the meadow.
Theo, Blaise and Draco walked past the tents, which were all very colourful. Some were simple, to imitate Muggle tents, and others were much more impressive. Blaise suddenly stopped at the pitch and looked at the orange tent that was already set up on their pitch:
"There!"
"Is that ours?" asked Theo. "But it's got a fireplace!
"Well, yes, there's a fireplace. We'll freeze to death without one!" said Blaise, who was starting to enter the tent.
"But Muggle tents don't have chimneys!" protested Theo.
Blaise and Draco gave him a funny look, but he persisted:
"We're not supposed to be recognised by Muggles, a chimney on a tent is..."
"Theo, I think the Muggles who run the campsites will realise soon enough that there's something wrong. Did you see the four-storey tent we passed?" said Blaise.
While they were bickering, Draco inspected the inside of the tent, which was huge. There were floors leading to other rooms, and a large living room with a huge sofa opposite a fireplace. Draco put his bag on the first bed he saw and went to open the fridge to grab something to eat before going for a walk. Then, once Blaise and Theo had settled in, they left the tent.
The Irish tents were all lined up in bright green rows. Draco could see the shamrocks as far as his eye could see. They wandered between the tents and sang a few supporters' songs with them, then went over to Bulgaria. There, the tents were red, less flashy, but all had Viktor Krum posters on them. Although Draco was a fervent Ireland supporter, he couldn't help but be impressed by the Seeker, of whom he was a huge fan. He had followed all his exploits during the World Cup and couldn't wait to see him play in real life.
They didn't go back to the tent, preferring to wander around all day as there was so much to see. As night began to fall and they shivered with excitement, street vendors began to appear everywhere. Draco used the money his mother had given him to buy a large Irish banner, some Omnioculars, a Troy figurine and a signed photo of Viktor Krum.
"He doesn't look like he's in a good mood," commented Theo, looking at Krum's scowling face.
"He's focused, that's all." said Draco, who put his new photo away in his bag.
Theo rolled his eyes and laughed. He and Blaise had stopped at a make-up stand to get Irish flags on both cheeks, which glowed in the night. Ink being magic, they had no idea when the make-up would go off, and Draco was praying they'd save it until the end of the summer just so he could laugh at them.
After enjoying some delicious grilled sausages at a food stall, it was time to head to the stadium. Draco, Theo and Blaise walked merrily along the path lit by hundreds of lanterns. Theo read aloud the programme he had bought earlier until they arrived in front of the stadium. Draco spotted his father at the entrance, towering above everyone else, his long blond hair swaying slightly in the breeze.
He showed his mother his new purchases as he climbed the stairs. After a while, Theo and Blaise stopped at their row, where two empty seats were waiting for them in the middle of the stand.
"See you later, Dray!" said Blaise with a big smile.
As they slid into the stand, Draco watched them leave with a slight twinge of regret. He would have liked to have followed them and watched the match with them, even if it meant sitting in the stands and not in the official gallery. Lucius continued walking to the top, opened the door to the grandstand and Draco heard a voice inside shouting:
"Ah, there's Lucius!"
Draco and Narcissa followed Lucius as best they could. The Ministry of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, stood before them and gave them a friendly smile as he shook hands with Draco's father.
"Ah, Fudge." said Lucius in an uncharacteristically cheesy tone. "How do you do? I don't believe you've met my wife, Narcissa, and my son, Draco?"
Cornelius Fudge bowed to Narcissa and shook Draco's hand. Then he began to introduce several people around them, and Draco's gaze shifted mechanically to the other spectators.
That's when he saw her. Hermione Granger. He didn't think he'd see her at that moment, so much so that for a moment he thought he'd been dreaming. But no, it was her, her dishevelled hair instantly recognisable. She wasn't looking at him, and he realised that her eyes were in fact fixed on Draco's mother to his right, whom she was watching without embarrassment.
Only then did he see the people with her:
"You know Arthur Weasley, I take it?" continued Fudge.
The whole Weasley clan was there, taking up an entire row of seats just for them. The only non-Weasleys in there were Granger and Potter. Potter gave Draco an evil look, but Draco was so focused on Granger that he paid no attention to him. He wasn't even listening to the conversation around him.
Suddenly, she turned her head slightly towards him and her chocolate eyes met his, a look that gave him a jolt of energy. She was both curious and contemptuous. He could tell she wasn't expecting him either.
Granger turned her head again, this time towards Draco's father. He was looking at her with disgust, and Draco was surprised to see that she was holding his gaze. He himself had never done so, for fear of being shouted at. But she didn't seem to be afraid at all, in fact she had sat up straight against her chair and was almost waiting for Lucius to make a comment so she could retort.
His father continued walking and Draco followed him, all confused. He sat down in the reserved chairs between his father and mother. He kept looking discreetly at the Weasleys, who were just in front of him, a little to one side. What the hell was Granger doing here? He knew Potter spent most of his summers with the Weasleys because he didn't have any family, but wasn't Granger supposed to have parents? Had she been sleeping there all summer?
Now she was bent over the programme, the same one Theo had bought before coming. They were so similar it was funny. She seemed to be telling Potter what was going to happen during the match. She was for Ireland, she had green shamrocks decorating her hair, as did Weaslette, who was sitting to her left. Draco knew that Granger got on well with Potter and Weasley, but he never thought she would be close enough to her family to spend the summer with them.
She and Weaslette talked until the game started. Then Ludo Verpey's amplified voice echoed throughout the stadium and they fell silent to enjoy the mascot show. If Draco tilted his head slightly to the left, he could make it look like he was looking at the pitch, but in reality he was looking at Granger. It was a very dangerous thing to do, because his parents were next to him and if they caught him watching, he could get in trouble. But he couldn't tear himself away from her, as if he were drawn back to her.
He could tell she was afraid of heights just by the look in her eyes. She avoided looking down and didn't look very comfortable sitting on her high seat. He also noticed that she kept glancing quickly at a house elf who was sitting on the same stall as Draco. He wondered if it was the first time she had seen one to be so intrigued.
Draco didn't see any of the mascots dancing on the pitch to introduce the teams. He was more amused to see Granger's reactions painted on her face each time. The wonder, the surprise, the annoyance of seeing Potter and Weasley hypnotised by the Veelas dancing in front of them.
Then the match began. Draco turned his head from time to time to watch the action of the match, but he was constantly drawn back by the vision of Granger watching the pitch. It was more satisfying to see what was happening through her. When someone performed a particularly difficult trick, he could see Granger's profile stretch in surprise, and when a player took a Bludger, she winced in pain. She was so focused that it made Draco laugh.
"Who's your favourite player?" asked Narcissa, leaning into her son's ear.
She could hardly make out the players from so far away. Draco handed her his Omnioculars, which she put in front of her eyes as Draco explained:
"I like Troy, the Chaser. But my favourite is Viktor Krum, the Bulgarian Seeker."
He guided the Omnioculars to the players he was quoting for his mother, who asked him questions from time to time. He saw that Granger had Omnioculars too, which she had learned to set faster than Potter, who must have missed half the action.
He could see that she knew nothing about Quidditch. It was obvious, even Pansy knew more than she did. However, the longer the match went on, the more Granger was caught up in the adrenaline of the game. She had stopped looking through her Omnioculars and was shouting with joy when the Irish scored, fists in the air. Sometimes, without realising it, she even rose slightly from her seat to applaud, carried away by the clamour of the fans.
Her face was so easy to read that Draco could guess what was happening on the pitch without seeing it. It was fascinating.
"Nice feint!" remarked Lucius.
Hearing his father's voice brought Draco back to reality. He hadn't even seen what had happened, but Krum was now climbing back up while the Irish Seeker, Lynch, lay on the ground. Granger had both hands in front of her mouth in an expression of shock.
"Wronski feint?" guessed Draco as he saw Krum inspecting the pitch in search of the Golden Snitch.
"Poor guy, he must be completely stunned." said Narcissa, who was looking at the poor wounded Seeker on the ground.
The match resumed, and Draco didn't even realise that his gaze was wandering towards Granger. She was laughing, shouting, fidgeting, gawking, contesting, jumping up and down. Weaslette, next to her, was as involved as she was. Draco could only hear Ludo Verpey's comments on the match with one ear.
"They're going to crash!" shouted Granger, terrified.
Draco looked at the pitch and saw that Krum and Lynch were swooping down. Draco saw the Golden Snitch's little glittering ball near the ground, before Lynch hit the ground and rolled on himself, sending an impressive amount of mud flying with him and blurring Draco's vision.
Granger inspected the ground, speechless, half rising from her seat. Krum then climbed back up, the Golden Snitch clenched in his fist, his nose bloody.
"Ireland won!" shouted Verpey, flabbergasted.
Draco wouldn't have been able to say again what had happened in the match he'd been looking forward to all summer, but he'd rarely been happier. He watched Granger explode with joy and hug Weaslette, screaming. For a girl who knew nothing about Quidditch, she had suddenly turned into a real supporter.
She hugged all the Weasleys, ending with Ron, which immediately wiped the smile off Draco's face. He saw the two of them hugging and laughing, and his stomach contracted painfully.
"You must be delighted, Draco!" exclaimed Narcissa as she handed him back his Omnioculars.
Her cheeks were slightly pink with excitement, but she was sitting comfortably in her armchair. Draco smiled:
"The perfect scenario, Ireland wins and Krum does one of the most impressive tricks. I can't wait to hear how Blaise feels!"
She smiled and poked her head past Draco to say something to Lucius. Behind his mother, Draco could see Granger leaning over the railing, watching Krum with a worried expression. Only Granger was worried about the fate of a Bulgarian player while the green side of the stadium was roaring with joy.
Suddenly, the official booth was lit up as the players came to shake hands with the ministers. Blaise was right, he was going to be able to see Krum! He craned his neck in the hope that he would be able to see him. The Bulgarian players lined up in front of the English and Bulgarian Ministers of Magic, with Krum at the back of the queue. He had large wounds on his face, including two swollen black eyes. He was still holding the Golden Snitch tightly in his fist. Seeing him up close was exhilarating, he'd seen so many pictures of him in his Quidditch magazines. He looked exactly as he had imagined him.
Then the Irish made their entrance, cheered on by thousands of spectators, and received a huge cup which they raised in triumph above their heads. Granger kept applauding.
.
.
.
"Did you see that feint?!" shouted Blaise as soon as Draco met them outside the stadium. "And that comeback by Krum, with the bloody nose and all! It was an exceptional match! And you saw him, didn't you? You saw him in the official booth, didn't you? What was he like?"
"He's been like that for two hours." Theo told him with a falsely bored expression.
Blaise paid Theo no mind and continued to comment on the match minute by minute. Draco was a little ashamed that he hadn't followed everything as he had, having spent his time watching Granger at an angle. But in any case, Blaise wasn't really waiting for an answer, he was so overexcited that he was blurting out his words in a continuous stream without taking into account the interventions of the others:
"And Lynch, that idiot! It was clearly a feint! Luckily Troy managed the goals, he was really exceptional, he was chaining Quaffle's passes together, I was really struggling to keep up, and did you see when..."
"I'll leave you there." said Narcissa, who came to an abrupt halt at an intersection. "I'm going home. Have fun, boys."
"Father's not coming with you?" asked Draco, surprised to see his mother going off on her own.
"I don't know where he is, and to be honest, if I have to shake hands with just one more wizard tonight, I think I'm going to explode." she said in a whispered confession. "If you see him, tell him I'm home and waiting for him at the Manor."
"Alright Mother, have a good evening!"
"Goodbye Mrs. Malfoy!" said Blaise and Theo in chorus.
"Shall we go and sit in the meadow?" suggested Theo.
The Irish fans were still celebrating the end of the match. All the fans were jumping, dancing, eating and, above all, still talking about the match they had just seen in a huge hubbub. Draco, Theo and Blaise found a place in a meadow where the party was still going strong. Draco couldn't stop smiling, his cheeks almost hurting. Blaise continued to talk about the match, Draco had rarely seen him so agitated.
"Doesn't it make you want to become Chaser for the Slytherins, Blaise?" suggested Theo.
Blaise shrugged, a small smile playing on his lips:
"I don't know... Why not..." he said.
"There won't be any Quidditch this year." Draco replied sadly.
"What?! But why?"
Draco told them everything he knew about the Triwizard Tournament that was to take place at Hogwarts, just as he had told Pansy the day before. Their reactions were mixed, Blaise was intrigued, and Theo reacted in the same way as Pansy:
"It's too dangerous." he said categorically. "I've read things about this tournament, that people have died in it. The trials are far too difficult for students."
While they were talking about all this, Theo pulled two large packets of marshmallows out of his pockets with a smile. They went and sat down next to a campfire that had been lit by supporters and planted their marshmallows on branches to toast. Draco found this activity very Muggle-like, apart from the fact that the marshmallows were magical and changed flavour with every bite: vanilla, chocolate, strawberry, caramel, banana...
Although it was pitch dark, none of the three boys felt like going to bed. The festivities continued and now green fireworks were exploding above them, showering gold coins and clovers. The fans were still singing, and the tunes were imprinted in Draco's head because he had heard them all day.
"What time do you think it is?" asked Theo after a while.
The three of them were lying on the grass, the fire still crackling in their midst. Blaise shrugged:
"No idea. 2 or 3am."
"The Muggles at the campsites must have figured it out by now," said Theo, who was burning the broche he was holding in the embers of the fire. The marshmallow melted between his fingers, which he rubbed against his trousers with a complaint.
Indeed, it was now clear that the campsite was celebrating a special event, the wizards weren't even hiding any more and some were even practising magic right in the middle of the meadow.
"Your father didn't seem very pleased to see them." commented Blaise.
"Not at all." replied Draco. "As usual, he's always railing against the Ministry for organising it like this. You know my father."
Both boys nodded, well aware of Lucius's temperament and extreme thoughts. Draco suddenly remembered the mask that had disappeared from his father's secret room in the basement of the Manor and the innuendo-filled words he had blurted out that morning at breakfast.
He frowned and began to recount:
"That reminds me... My father said something strange this morning..."
His sentence was suddenly interrupted by a howl of terror. Draco turned his head and saw a crowd of Irish fans running in the opposite direction. Some were shouting, others were forcibly pulling their children away. In the darkness, it was difficult to see what they were running from. Theo threw his broche into the fire and stood up quickly:
"What's going on? Why is everyone shouting?"
Draco and Blaise also stood up. In the half-light, at the far end of the meadow, they could see silhouettes getting closer and closer. The sound of their united footsteps echoed against the meadow floor like a funeral march. They were holding torches, and when they got within a few metres of them, they could finally make out their faces. Well, it wasn't really their faces, because they were covered by a silver mask with their mouths sewn shut.
Draco felt an unpleasant shiver of panic run up his spine.
His father was there.