[Harry Potter] Chained by Fate: Voldemort's Daughter Fanfic

Chapter 4: The Quidditch World Cup

Update: we did not beat the crowds.

People streamed between the tents in rivers, pressed shoulder to shoulder, back-to-back as we made sluggish progress to the stadium. Sandwiched between the older Weasley brothers, I couldn't see a thing, but every so often, I looked up to see a people whizzing past on their broomsticks.

"Want a lift?!" Fred shouted over the crowd. I looked at him in confusion. "On my shoulders!"
"Yes please!"

He bent down in front of me, and I climbed onto his shoulders, my stomach lurching as he stood up.

"Woah!" I shouted. The queue for the stadium was a sea of green and red, scarves and leprechaun hats bobbing along.
"How does it feel to be tall?!" Fred asked.
"I understand why you like it so much," I laughed.

Harry tapped my leg.

"Want a pair of omnioculars?!" He asked.
"Can you get me an Ireland scarf as well?!" I shouted back, reaching for my purse. He shook his head.
"It's on me," He smiled, and handed the vendor a small handful of Galleons, before passing me souvenirs.
"I owe you a butterbeer at Hogsmeade."
"Whatever," He smiled rolling his eyes.

***

"This is the box we're in?!" We exclaimed in disbelief.

I couldn't believe it; we were sat in the top box, exactly between the two goalposts. It was the perfect view of the stadium.

"Did I not tell you?" Mr Weasley said casually. "Best seats in the house."
"Dad, have I ever told you how much I love you?" Ron grinned.
"You could say it more," He joked.

The box was so much grander than I expected, with glossy black floors and plush velvet seats. But as comfortable as they looked, we all knew no one would be sitting down. Besides us, the only other person in the box was a grey, feeble-looking house elf. Hermione went over instantly.

"Okay, how about this," Fred said, appearing next to me. "I win the bet, you have to give me a kiss."
"Oh, piss off Fred," Ron retorted, shoving him aside.
"You forget," I said to Fred. "We've got the same bet."
"It's your loss," Fred grinned, and went to speak to George.
"Honestly Del," Ron sighed. "Is there anyone you won't flirt with?"
"It's only Fred and George," Ginny said, jumping to my defence. "And they flirt with her. Not the other way around." I gave Ginny a one-armed hug.
"So," Harry began. "Is-"

"Well I never." Someone said from behind us. We all turned to see the familiar faces of the pale-faced, blonde-haired Malfoys. "I had no idea we'd be sharing a box with the Weasleys," Lucius continued.
"Are you sure we're not in the wrong box, Father?"

I knew that voice anywhere. Malfoy. We locked eyes and he winked at me. I tried desperately to mask the smile on my lips.

"Did you know they were coming?" Ron hissed.
"Not a clue," I shrugged, faking nonchalance.

"Lucius," Mr Weasley said with an almost-convincing smile. "Always a pleasure."
"The same to you, Arthur," He replied, in his usual snot-nosed tone. "But I must say, I'm surprised to see you here. I didn't know the Muggle Artefacts Office paid enough for these kinds of tickets." Mr Weasley's eyes narrowed ever so slightly.
"I must just work hard," He smiled, shockingly amicably.
"Yes," Lucius' eyes raked up and down Mr Weasley's muggle attire. "Well." And with tension you could cut like a knife, he strode over to the farthest seat in the box, beckoning Draco to follow. He hesitated.
"I'll just be a moment, Father."

I turned away, pretending I hadn't been watching.

"So," Draco said, standing next to me. The others rolled their eyes and walked away. "Long time no see."
"Is that your way of saying you missed me?" I parried.
"If it was, I would never tell you." He leant against the railing. "You look nice, by the way."

I looked down at what I was wearing; jeans and the Bulgarian team jumper.

"I do not," I laughed.
"No, not the outfit," Draco chuckled. "Although red is definitely your colour. Your hair." He pulled gently at one of my chocolate brown curls so that it sprung back up. "I like it when you wear your hair down." I turned back to the pitch to hide the fact that I was blushing. "You're welcome," He smirked and shuffled a little closer so that his arm pressed against mine.

Cheers and whistles erupted across the stadium as the Bulgarian Mascots walked onto the pitch; Veela, women supposedly more beautiful than life itself. And as I looked down on them, they were indeed beautiful with flawless features, glimmering skin and even glossier hair, but they were in no way pretty enough to validate the noise the boys were making. It looked as though Ron was ready to jump out of the box just to get to them. Hermione and I shared a look. But as I turned to Draco, he seemed entirely unaffected by the Veela's alluring presence.

"You don't find them pretty?" I asked.
"They're alright," He dismissed. I tried poorly to hide my surprise.

Next on the pitch were the leprechauns, booing the Veela off with more swear words than I knew in their ginger hair and green attire. Then, just as the men in the crowd had finally settled, something hit me square on the head, and I looked up to see thousands, no, maybe millions of galleons falling from the sky. The shouts were like thunder against the sky as everyone dove under their seats to collect what Hermione and I, unfortunately, knew to be fake gold. Still, as I looked at them in my palms, I couldn't help but be impressed at the picture-perfect replicas.

While everyone was distracted, it seemed a good a time as any. I turned to Draco who was, as usual, completely unfazed by all the chaos.

"I um, I got you a gift," I said, trying to sound casual. "It's no ballgown, but," I pulled out the Ireland scarf from my bag. He gave me a look.
"I appreciate it and all, but you know I'm team Krum."
"And I know you'll thank me when Ireland wins."
"It's not always about winning, Delphi," He teased, wrapping the scarf around his neck. I scoffed.
"Yeah right. And anyway, we all know green is your colour."

But before he could reply, a booming voice echoed across the stadium as the Minister for Magic began his speech and the players got into position.

"Welcome, welcome, one and all," Fudge began. "As Minister for Magic, it gives me great pleasure to welcome each and every one of you to the finals of the four-hundred-and-twenty-second Quidditch World Cup!" He paused for the applause. "Without further ado, let the match begin!"

And in an instant, they were off, shooting off the ground with so much force my hair was blown from my face. In mere minutes the Irish team had already scored forty points, Bulgaria only ten.

"See what I mean," I shouted to Draco over the crowd.
"They could bring it back yet!" He shouted back. I shook my head. I knew they wouldn't.

As the game progressed, the Irish lead only grew – that was what happened when you had a team of world-class Chasers; so much so that, as I predicted, not even Krum catching the Snitch would save it for the Bulgarians. It was clear the Bulgarians were getting desperate.

As Troy, the Irish Chaser, flew in to intercept a pass from the Bulgarians, Vulchanov, the Bulgarian beater, grabbed the tail of his broom and yanked him backwards. I reversed the play back in my omnioculars.

"That was a foul!" I shouted out, just as the ref issued a yellow card.
"Whose side are you on," Draco laughed, jokingly jabbing my Bulgarian jumper.
"You'll have to forgive me," I said with mock superiority. "But us Gryffindors don't cheat." He rolled his eyes.
"Sod Gryffindor. I'll make a Slytherin of you yet."

Just then, all eyes turned to Krum as he made a death dive for what was undoubtedly the golden snitch. Even though the chasers from both teams continued playing, you could see in their faces that they all knew the match was over.

"But if he goes for it now, they lose," Draco said.
"He's saving face. He catches it now and the point difference is less embarrassing," I explained. "Smart move."

And just as the final words left my lips, Krum pulled up, the snitch in hand and with a loud whistle blow, the match ended.

170-160 to the Irish. Almost exactly as I'd predicted. I looked across the box to see Fred making a kissy face at me.

"Save it for the Veela!" I yelled. Draco looked at me questioningly. I waved my hand dismissively. "So I'll see you at the Platform?" He asked.
"You're not staying for the celebration?"
"And spend the night in a tent?" He scoffed. "I'll leave that to you idiots."