MISCHIEF MANAGED// FRED WEASLEY X READER

008. The Veela

Fred's Disclaimer: The author of this story does not own Harry Potter, and personally, the Veela aren't that good looking, not compared to—

We were seated seemingly at the very top of the stadium, which sat a hundred thousand people in total. Bright lights were flashing everywhere, contrast to the darkening sky. 

I sat in between the twins, which frankly, I don't know how it happened, but somehow it did. Fred, on my left, was practically bouncing up and down, his eyes trained on the field. 

Harry had turned around to talk to a house elf, and Ron was deep in conversation with Charlie about Ireland and Bulgaria. 

"Brilliantly, isn't it?" George said brightly, gesturing towards the field. "This whole operation is completely mad." 

"Look at that," Fred said, his eyes not on the stadium, but on Percy, who had just dropped his glasses on the ground. "Percy's bound to implode from all this attention from the Minister." 

The Minister, Cornelius Fudge, had just stopped to speak with Harry. He continued merrily along the bench to greet me. 

"Hello, Y/N," He said. "Excited for the match?" 

Mr. Fudge held out my hand and I shook it quickly. 

"Oh yeah," I said, hoping I didn't sound too sarcastic. Fred and George looked amazed that the Minister was talking to me. "It's really great to er, be here." 

"Well, I hope all goes accordingly," He said cheerfully, shuffling by to speak to the Bulgarian Minister. "Y/N and Harry Potter, you know." Fudge was saying to the Bulgarian minister loudly, who was wearing splendid robes of black velvet trimmed with gold and didn't seem to understand a word of English. "The Famous Siblings, oh come on now, you know who they are ..survived You-Know-Who ... you do know who...—"

The Bulgarian wizard suddenly spotted Harry's scar and started gabbling loudly and excitedly, pointing at it.

"Knew we'd get there in the end," said Fudge wearily to me."I'm no great shakes at languages; I need Barty Crouch for this sort of thing. Ah, I see his house- elf's saving him a seat.... Good job too, these Bulgarian blighters have been trying to cadge all the best places ... ah, and here's Lucius!"

I turned quickly, to see Malfoy and his father. Pale as ever, he'd grown about three inches over the summer. Malfoy was wearing a rather dark suit, which seemed formal for the occasion. His familiar sneer was plastered over his face as he gazed at Harry, Ron and Hermione with contempt. 

"Fancy seeing you here, Potter," Draco said, his nose turning up at the sight of my brother. "Where's your other—" 

"Present," I said sarcastically, half raising my hand. "Nice seeing you too, Malfoy." 

Draco blinked for a second, doing a double take. He briefly looked back at Harry before turning to me again. 

"Er—Potter," Was all Draco said, his expression changing. His eyebrows raised slightly. 

I narrowed my eyes. What the hell was that? 

Fred stared darkly at Malfoy, with a look of utter contempt. George kept his eyes trained in front, not even bothering to look at Malfoy. 

"Ah, Fudge," said Mr. Malfoy, holding out his hand as he reached the Minister of Magic. "How are you? I don't think you've met my wife, Narcissa? Or our son, Draco?"

"How do you do, how do you do?" said Fudge, smiling and bowing to Mrs. Malfoy. "And allow me to introduce you to Mr. Oblansk - Obalonsk - Mr. - well, he's the Bulgarian Minister of Magic, and he can't understand a word I'm saying anyway, so never mind. And let's see who else - you know Arthur Weasley, I daresay?"