DRIPS OF FANCY - draco malfoy

↳ 𝑐ℎ𝑝．1

For Harry, it felt he barely had time to sleep in Ron's room before he was shaken awake by his frizzy haired friend, "Harry!"
His body shot out of slumber, pain rushing to the top of it and more specifically to a certain part of his forehead. The scar. The feeling surged around his head as if a cold wire had just hit him. His hands swiftly reached the lighting bolt, feeling the drips of sweat encasing it.
"Are you alright?" His friend called out once more, worry covering her face
Harry felt around for his glasses, put them on and sat up completely. From the looks of it it was still dark outside. Putting his attention back to the person in front of him, he replied, "Hermione? Bad dream - When did you get here?"
"Just now, you?" the girl simply replied taking a step across the room to reach the bed of their other friend and host. Harry barely had time to reply to her question she was already shaking the second boy awake, "Wake up! Wake up, Ronald!"
As soon as she said that, the red haired boy jolted in his sleep, shocked at the sight of his friend who only yelled at him more, " Honestly get dressed! And don't go back to sleep. Come on, Ron!"
And now here they were, walking amongst the tall trees, to who knows where. Even though Harry asked his best friend about it, the said boy didn't have any more information then him. But everything soon came to conclusion once a tall figure was silhouetted in front of them.
"Amos!" said Mr Weasley, smiling as he strode over to the man up front. The rest of them followed. Arthur was shaking hands with a ruddy-faced wizard with round glasses dressed upon his nose.
"It's about time, son," right as the man said that, a second figure fell from the tree above, echoing a loud thud. The group exchanged some short introduction, welcoming the two new members as Amos and Cedric Diggory.
Amos, the father, worked for the department of regulation and control of magical creature at the ministry along with Mr Weasley. On the other hand, his son, Cedric, a very handsome boy of around seventeen years old, was the captain and seeker of Hufflepuffs quidditch team back at Hogwarts.
And as always one person stood out in the group of wizard more then anyone else. "Merlin's beard!" exclaimed the elder Diggory, "you must be Harry potter."
"Yes, sir."
"Great, great pleasure," the man rushed himself over to shake the young teens hand as if his life depended on it.
"Pleasure to meet you too, sir."
The group continued their journey to the point that they reached the end of the forest, finding a peaceful hilltop in front of them. Up on it we could see an old, run down boot, covered in dirt. Harry watched as everybody circled the object, confusion evident on him.
"Why are they all standing around that manky old boot?" he couldn't help but ask.
"That isn't just any old boot," one of the twins started, the other brother finishing the sentence just like they always did. "It's a portkey!"
Even if the scarred boy asked out loud about the object nobody seemed to pay any attention to him. Instead the nine of them crowded around the old object placed on the ground. They all stood there in a tight circle, as a chill breeze swept over the hilltop.
"Three..."
"two..."
It was only at the last minute that Mr Weasley realized the situation Harry was in, hands far from the boot unlike everyone else. "Harry!" He called out to the boy just in time.
"One!"
It happened immediately, Harry felt as though a hook grasp onto his navel and jerked him irresistibly forwards. His feet now far from the ground; he could feel Ron and Hermione on either side of him, their shoulders banging into his.
And in just a matter of seconds, his feet slammed back onto the ground followed by his whole body. Ron staggered into him next and fell over while the Portkey hit the ground not too far from his head with a heavy thud. Harry looked up. Mr Weasley, Mr Diggory and Cedric were still standing, while the rest of them had all found themselves down to the ground.
The oldest Weasley looked at the teenagers on the ground with a smirk. "I bet that cleared your sinuses, eh?" He joked.
Meanwhile in a show of what we could assume to be sympathy, Cedric walked over to the boy who lived giving him a hand and jolting him up onto his feet, which he thanked him for.
The group walked across the field they had just landed on, only to end up in a large crowd gathered and cheering. Tents were set up all over the place, with activities, shows and all sorts of wonders happening around them. This was it. The Quidditch World Cup.
They made it further into the sea of people, taking in the sights of their surroundings. Music playing, people flying over their head, a great mix for a wonderful ambiance.
"Parting of the waves I think old chap, see you at the match," Amos Diggory called to his friend, before walking away with his son.
The rest of them reached a small tent looking just like the rest. The father opened the door holding it for the teenagers to get in, getting in himself just before Harry who confusedly looked at the small installation in front of him.
Slightly bending down, he walked in. The place opened up into a much, much taller habitation, around five time what it seemed to be on the outside. Inside, a seemingly living room was settled in the middle surrounded by a kitchen, dining room and three different bedroom. The ceiling was high and made out of beautiful sunny coloured fabric. It was a truly a delightful sight.
Smiling to himself, Harry couldn't help but say, "I love magic."
It was only later that night that they made their way towards the stadium of the game, once again joined by the Diggory duo. The group of nine were climbing up the stairs of the place, searching for their seats.
"Blimey dad! How far up are we?" Ron voiced for everyone else, only to be answered by a voice bellow them. "Well put it this way, if it rains you'll be the first to know."
Just a story below them stood none other then Lucius Malfoy, recognizable with his long blond hair and sharp feather. Not so far from him was his son, Draco, accompanied by a young girl Harry had never seen before. She had a deep locks reaching little past her hips and the most memoizable eyes. Her eyes. They were nothing anyone had seen before. Their colour was as red as a bloody rose. Something so unique you would even ask yourself if it is real.
"The three of us are in the minister's box, by personal invitation of Cornelius Fudge himself, The youngest Malfoy smugly put out quickly being stopped by his father. "Don't boast Draco, there's no need with these people."
And before the trio could leave, Mr Malfoy himself griped onto Harry gear with his walking stick giving him one last warning, "Do enjoy yourself won't you. While you can."
As the Weasley and friends walked away and continued on climbing the infinite stairs of the stadium, the scarred boy turned towards his friends for some answers.
"Who was that? The girl I mean."
Not to far, the twins: who heard his question, butted in on the conversation. "That, it's Alvena Blythe one of the richest pureblood heiress there is," Fred started followed by his brother. "She alone might be richer than the Malfoy family."
"Alvena Blythe you say," Hermione questioned. "Oh yes, I've heard of her. She the top student in Slytherin, luckily I still beat her overall."
That was true, the said girl was the top student of her house, after all she was a Blythe and daughter of one of the most important man in the Ministry for Magic. hence why she was there that day.