Distance // Draco Malfoy

Chapter 33

Arrival at the grounds for the World Cup definitely takes us all by surprise. The sheer vastness of it all, the countless tents and numerous people, the insane amounts of noise. Mr Weasley and Mr Diggory are leading the way through the crowds, and supposedly leading us toward the tents in which we shall be inhabiting. I am behind with Ron, Harry, Hermione and Ginny, Cedric and the twins in front. Eventually, after a tedious walk through numerous tents, we depart from the two Diggorys and head in our own direction. When I see the tent, I feel more than lightly dishearten. It appears to hardly sleep two, never mind eight.

However, once inside, one can hardly believe the difference. It's a humongous setup, with many different rooms branching off from its centre. In pure awe, I follow Ginny and Hermione to one of these adjoining sections. 'Undetectable extension charm.' I grin, being reminded of the familiar charm which I myself cast before I went to visit Draco earlier in the holidays. Hermione glances over at me and smiles, laughing as Ginny hits her over the head (with much force), and begins to start a miniature pillow fight among the three of us. 'Girls, settle down!' Mr Weasley calls, and we obey. 'Early nights tonight, remember. We've got a big day ahead of us tomorrow, I don't want any tiredness.'
'Looking at you, Ron.' I hear Fred snigger, and Ron glares in his brother's direction.

-*-

'Are we all ready?' I glance back at the group, and we nod in accordance to Mr Weasley's question. 'Jolly good. Let's go, then.' Cheerily, we are led from the tent and into a buzzing atmosphere, much chatter and cheeriness. Hermione and Ginny walk beside me as we begin to weave our way through large parties and many different coloured robes, all incorporating the colours green and white or red and black.

The stadium itself is spectacular. Stranded in the middle of a plain and open space of short and stubbly green grass, it sticks out like a sore thumb. It is of a brilliant white, decoration is spiking up in an elegant and verdant manner. The amount of people bustling into the stadium is on a grand scale. I admire the sight for all of a minute before Hermione is dragging me along by the sleeve, and the impatient and eager crowd of which I am with roll their eyes in mock annoyance, causing my face to settle into the lines of a frown.

'Blimey dad, how far up are we?' Ron pants after a most uneventful climb of flight upon flight of stairs. 'Let's just say that if it rains, you'll be the first to know.' I hear the voice of Lucius Malfoy before I see the face, and when I peer over the aluminium metal railing and see two sets of blonde hair, I find my eyes to settle on a sneering Draco, who looks up, his grey eyes flashing. He smiles when he sees me. 'Alyssia.' Lucius says softly. 'How are you, dear?'
'I'm very well, thank you, sir.' I incline my head. Everyone is staring at me, open-mouthed. 'Good, good.' I watch as Lucius beckons for me, and with a nod from Mr Weasley, I descend the short flight of stairs.

'Father and I are in the Minister's box. By personal invitation of Cornelius Fudge himself.' I hear Draco sneering.
'Don't boast, Draco. There's no need with these people.' I round the corner to see Draco, who opens his arms when he sees me, and I am enveloped in a hug as I kiss both of Draco's cheeks. 'Under average welcome.' He chuckles. 'Not your usual style.'
'Not in front of so many people, when we get to Hogwarts.' I laugh, and catch Draco grinning. I look up and see Harry tapping his wrist as if to say time. 'Well, I should go.' I shake Lucius's hand and kiss Draco's cheek one last time. 'I shall see you both later, I am sure.'
'See you, babe.' Draco mutters in my ear, and I dash up the flight of stairs at as rapid a pace as my feet can carry me. 'Do enjoy yourself. While you can.' I hear Lucius say, and his voice sounds threatening, menacing. I choose to ignore such a tone.

'Bloody disgusting.' George mutters, and Fred fakes a gag at me.
'I will have you know that you seem to consider Draco evil, yet you are wildly misunderstood.'
'Send my apologies to the Queen.' Fred rolls his eyes.
'Oh, for fuck's sake, you two!' I scold. 'I did not ask for anyone's opinion on my relationship.'
'You just . . . Well, it was just ew.'
'PDA.' George shrugs.
'Well, consider yourselves lucky I didn't snog his face off.' I ejaculate, glaring at the set of twins before me; the pair exchange dark looks. They seem to relish my vexation, which makes me even more irritated. 'Awe, we love you really, Alyssia.' Fred coos, hugging me to his side.

We have now reached our seats in the stadium, and we appear to be seated on the very top row of the whole arena. I gape at the view in front of me. 'Wow.' I shout to Hermione, for I cannot hear anything over the immense amount of noise from below us. And then, the players begin to sweep in. 'It's the Irish!' The twins boom, proceeding to name several players. They are seemingly rudely interrupted by the Bulgarian team, with a lead who is flipping and stunting on his broom. 'Who's that?' Ginny yells over all of the noise.
'That, sis, is the best Seeker in the world!' The twins enlighten her. 'Krum!' Ron's cheers drown the rest of our hollers.

Overall, the match is particularly interesting. By the end, the Irish have won, despite Krum catching the snitch, and we are making our way merrily back towards our tent with the rest of the crowd, all of whom are considerately good-spirited. Inside, as the darkness settles all around us, the blackness of the sky startling me slightly, Fred and George are dancing giddily around the tent, singing a tune in high voices. 'There's no one like Krum!' Ron interjects, and I throw my head back in laughter as he rants away. 'I think you're in love, Ron.' Ginny mocks, smirking.
'Shut up.'
'Viktor, I love you.'
'Viktor, I do.'
'When we're apart my heart beats only for you.' We all chorus, laughing. Bangs can be heard from the world outside. 'Sounds like the Irish have got their pride on.'

Mr Weasley rushes over. 'Stop! Stop it! It's not the Irish. We've got to get out of here.' A wave of fear sweeps the whole of our tent, and we emerge from the door. I look around and my jaw drops in shock. Chaos. Tents ablaze, masked figures in dark robes trooping through gaps, a muggle family suspended in midair . . . 'Get back to the portkey everybody and stick together!' Mr Weasley shouts. 'Fred, George. Ginny is your responsibility.' I grab hold of Hermione and Ron by the shirts and begin to drag them, guessing Hermione has ahold of Harry. 'Harry!' I hear her shout, and I stop dead. Once Harry catches up and grabs onto Ron's shirt, we rush from the scrape before us, but our plan is thwarted by people, and we appear to have lost the other Weasleys. I no longer have hold of my best friends.

'Harry!' Hermione screams, and I look back. I can't see him.
'Harry!' I myself call, but as I try to push past people and backward, I am only carried forwards. 'We can't go back to the portkey without Harry!' I shout to Ron and Hermione, who nod in agreement. 'We'll take cover in the woods over there, that's where most people seem to be going. We'll find him, don't worry.' Ron says. I nod and grab Hermione's hand in fear, heading in the direction of the woods, following bright red hair.

I slump against a dark and aged tree trunk. 'God, I hope Harry will be okay.' I murmur, looking out upon the indolent scene before me. 'And Draco, for that matter.' I don't know what I'll do should I lose either of them.
'Speak of the devil.' Ron mutters, and I peer out from behind him. There, out of all the people, is Draco. I rush at him, calling his name. 'Lyssa!' He shouts, and I rush into his arms. 'Thank God you're okay.'
'You too. What's going on?'
'I don't really know. And I don't really have the time to stick around.' Draco shakes his head bluntly. I see Narcissa appear from behind him. 'Where are you going?' I ask. Draco takes my face in his hands and presses his lips to mine.
'I can't. I'll see you on the first.' And just like that, he disappears, leaving me standing stock-still. 'Git.' I hear Ron tut behind me.

Whilst I am left to ponder over the meaning of Draco's abrupt departure, I begin to feel that our conversation might be whiplash from our chafe earlier this summer. However, I'm probably overthinking. I can't exactly say I blame Draco for leaving so ominously. After all, there are burning tents and strange hooded figures in our midsts. 'We should go looking for him, most of the fires have died by now.' I conclude, looking from Ron to Hermione. Each nods gravely, and we begin our short trek back to the camp sight. A gasp from Hermione causes me to stop in my tracks. 'What is it?' I query. Hermione points up at the sky, and a gasp escapes my own lips. There, in all its demency and terror, is the Dark Mark, hanging in the black sky like a cogitation I have conjured up in a dream.