the badger and the lion.

The Quidditch World Cup

"Here we are, kids," Mr. Weasley announced, walking up to a rather small looking A-frame tent. "Home, sweet home."

You were confused, to say the least. There were eight of you standing around this tent made for two people of below average height, and, unless it was concealing a bottomless pit, there was no way you were all going to fit in. But after going through the whirlwind of the portkey this morning, you'd learned to trust Mr. Weasley with whatever was about to happen. Was it enchanted in some sort of way? Like bigger on the inside, smaller on the outside? Maybe it's -

"Extension charm," Hermione whispered behind you. You turned to her, and nodded in agreement, just thinking of what she was about to say.

Mr. Weasley held out the fabric covering the entrance and motioned the group to enter. Fred and George eagerly went first, crouching to accommodate the small space. You took a deep breath, and without thinking followed the twins into the tent.

Now this, you thought, was some other kind of magic. For what the tent lacked in size on the outside, it made up for it inside. It looked to be around the size of a single story house, with gold and white fabric forming the roof, which draped down to connect with the corners of the house. A living room, fit with burgundy armchairs, was situated in the middle of the tent, accompanied by a coffee table full of special interest books and a vase of dried out protea. Sheets of brown tapestry separated rooms surrounding the living room, fitted out with camping cots, and a kitchen and a bathroom were located in the back corners. You claimed the first room of beds for you, Hermione, and Ginny, while the other boys claimed the remaining rooms. Harry stood at the entrance, obviously fascinated by the magic of the enchanted tent, looking around with an open mouth. Fred and George occupied the dining room at the back of the tent, while Ron scurried off to the back corner.

"Ron, get out of the kitchen!" Mr. Weasley bellowed. "We're all hungry!"

To that, you could agree, remembering with Hermione's persistent rushing, you didn't get to have breakfast. You snuck into the kitchen after Ron, and quickly made a peanut butter sandwich.

"And boys," Mr. Weasley started. "Feet off the table!"

You looked to the twins, who both had their dirty trainers on the meticulously carved dining room table.

"Feet off the table!" they both said, mocking their father.

You took your sandwich over to the seat next to Fred. Chewing as fast as you could, you took the last bite as inconspicuous as you could while covering your face with your hand.

"What was that?" Fred whispered to you.

"Nothing," you replied, swallowing the last remnants. "An on-the-road snack."

"Uh huh," he said, looking at you suspiciously. "You've got a bit of peanut butter just here."

He raised his hand up to your face, and used his thumb to wipe the corner of your mouth, heat prickling at your cheeks again. George got up from the table, and snuck into the kitchen while Mr. Weasley's back was turned the other way.

"So," Fred started, not making eye contact as he wiped his hand on the side of his pants. "How do you know Cedric?"

The question caught you off guard. You looked at him, obviously confused.

"Just through quidditch, and class," you insisted. It probably sounded like a lie, the way it seemed like you and Cedric were talking as if you were good friends.

"I've never seen you talk to him before," Fred pointed out. "I didn't know you were friends."

You frowned at him, and got out of your seat to leave. Fred has never acted like this before, like he was almost jealous or something.