Undying Devotion: A Weasley Love Story.

Chapter 14: Quidditch World Cup.

A month of innocence (yes innocence) passes and it is now the day of the Quidditch World Cup. I’m not sporty, nor do I particularly like heights. I have been dreading this day since the very first day it was brought up. Too bad it’s considered rude to tell him where he can stick that ticket.

We meet all of the Weasley’s, aside from Mrs. Weasley, at the foot of a very steep hill on the outskirts of the village. I begin to wonder why I didn’t think to ask to stay with her. She would have made a good excuse for me not to go. Too late now. We will be arriving by portkey in a matter of fifteen minutes. After we greet one another we start up the hill. I suddenly realize how out of shape I am. “Hop on,” Cedric tells me. I hear Ginny mutter, “Lucky.” Cedric runs up the hill beating everyone else with me latched on his back like a baby monkey. I hop off and wait for everyone. A few minutes later everyone else appears panting and out of breath.

“Thirty seconds!” Mr. Diggory exclaims as he motions everyone over to touch this dirty, old boot. I cringe but take it anyways. “Three, two, one!” He says as we are spinning around in a blur of light. “Let go!” He yells after what can only be forever. I let go. I feel myself being thrown to the ground, only I don’t hit the ground. I land right on top of George. He groans loudly as Cedric runs over to help me up. “You couldn’t have told me the secret of not face planting,” I say annoyed.

“Sorry, forgot.” He replies shrugging. I roll my eyes as I make my way to help Ginny up. Cedric offers Harry his hand.

“Oh, sorry, George.” I yell over my shoulder. “You really broke the hard landing.” I see him rubbing his ribs and muttering something to himself.

“So, Guin, you coming home tomorrow?” Fred asks wrapping an arm over my shoulder as we walk up to an oddly dressed set of people. Mr. Diggory deals with them so I turn my attention back to Fred.

“Day after tomorrow. I need to gather my things and blah, blah—you know, the usual.” I say. Fred grins.

“So I heard you made Prefect.” He tells me with a mock horrified expression.

“Yep. Guess it’s punishment for all fifty something detentions.” I retort.

“It’s actually up to sixty-one as of the last day of fifth year.” I turn around to see Lee beaming at me. Fred George, Lee, and I all laugh at the audacity of me getting a Prefect badge.

“Maybe it’s because you received an ‘O’ in every subject.” Cedric says kissing me lightly on the cheek. I groan knowing what’s coming, and it does. Harry and Hermione congratulate me; Mr. Weasley and Mr. Diggory say “that’s my girl” in unison only to look up at one another in a “what the hell’ look; Fred, George, and Lee tease me—and will continue to do so until I die—maybe even after; Cedric just laughs. Glad he is getting amusement out of this. 

Soon it is time to set up camp. I got off with Cedric and his father. “See you at the match!” I yell to the Weasley’s. Mr. Diggory got our seats right next to theirs.

Our tent is within eye shot of the Weasley’s. Theirs looks plain and unspectacular while you walk inside ours and there are three beds, a kitchen, and large bathroom equipped with plumbing.

“Wow.” I mutter to myself. Eleven years of muggle living and six years of being a witch could never prepare you for this.

“I’m sorry you have to ‘rough it.’” Mr. Diggory tells me frowning. “I guess that’s why mum decided to donate her ticket.” I laugh.

“No, it’s just that it is so different. Muggle tents are not near this extravagant.” I tell him still chortling.

**