𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐭 ▻ draco malfoy [o.h.]

𝐢. 𝐐𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 𝐂𝐮𝐩

Chapter One
Quidditch World Cup

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"Remember to sit straight. I don't want to see any of that slouching you've made yourself a habit of, not today. If you want to sit like a spineless house elf at home, so be it, but I will not tolerate it in front of the Minister of Magic. Do you understand?"

Tears prickled behind Amara's eyes as the steaming hot comb tugged harshly at the roots of her hair. She had never been fond of the process behind getting her hair pressed, nor had she ever particularly liked the result. There was something special to her about her curls as they were in their natural, untamed state. They gave her a sensation of strength. Her grandfather had referred to her locks as a crown once. She supposed that could be a reason.

Of course, it didn't really matter what she liked and didn't like, not as long as her mother had an opinion on the matter. As far as Rosalina Scamander was concerned, her curls were nothing but a messy bird's nest, and leaving the house without being rid of them was not an option – apparently not even if the two of them weren't on speaking terms.

Amara supposed she could compare her mother to a hippogriff. Rosalina Scamander was a proud woman. She carried herself in a way that not only earned respect, but demanded it. Disrespectful behaviour was a dangerous territory with her. Sure, she was gorgeous, sculpted like – and at times worshipped as – a Goddess, but her heavenly looks were misleading. Her features had fooled many into thinking she was as pure as a unicorn, but Amara knew better. She knew that crossing her was dangerous. Underneath the makeup and the silk, she was a clever and ruthless beast, willing to bend the rules and do whatever it took to protect what she held dearest: the family name.

It wasn't like Amara didn't love her mother. She did, very dearly in fact, just as she knew her mother loved her. However, due to the catastrophic results of recent events, the young witch did fear that Rosalina would remain angry with her for quite some time. Hence the tense atmosphere and the countless warnings to behave.

"Yes, mother," Amara gave her a short nod.

Rosalina's heels echoed sharply against the cream-coloured marble as she marched back and forth across the floor, elegantly waving her wand every now and then to adjust Amara's blouse or will the enchanted combs to work more efficiently on her dark coils.

"It is a great honour to have been invited to the Minister's Box. I hope you understand this. Very few others have been invited to join us, and they are all very respectable people, so it is important that we are on our best behaviour."

Amara didn't reply. She wondered if her mother believed her to be completely daft. Of course she understood that they weren't attending the event solemnly to be entertained by a match of Quidditch. Her mother never would have set foot in a chaotic establishment such as a stadium unless there was something for her to gain from it. She thrived in the spotlight, and Cornelius Fudge's invitation to the Minister's Box was a perfect opportunity to do just that. Besides, it was evident that Rosalina was itching to restore their family name after Amara had been so kind to drag it through the mud for her.