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Chapter Text

I see Lucius walking toward us, angry. Tony, Lynch, and Moran step in front of us.

Twelve hours before

The Quidditch World Cup. Ireland vs Bulgarian. I was the Ireland team reserve Seeker. The real one was Lynch. I was sitting with the other reserves, Luke Cameron, Jade Radar, and four others. I started looking for my family. I saw the Weasley's, and the Minister, and three empty seats in the second row.

Then, edging along the second row to three still-empty seats right behind Mr. Weasley, were none other than Lucius Malfoy; my brother, Draco; and my mother; Narcissa. I have my fathers (not Lucius) looks, and Draco took after Lucius, pale with a pointed face and white-blond hair. Mother was blonde too; tall and slim, and she had a scowl on her face. She doesn't like me flying.

I see Lucius holding out his hand as he reached the Minister of Magic. Then, the minister smiles and bows to Mother. They talk for a bit, and there was a tense moment. Mr. Weasley and Malfoy looked at each other, Malfoy's cold gray eyes swept over Mr. Weasley, and then up and down the row. Mr. Weasley gave a very strained smile.

Malfoy's eyes had moved from Mr. Weasley to a girl with kinda bushy hair, who went slightly pink, but stared back at him. Malfoy nodded sneeringly to Mr. Weasley and continued down the line to his seats. Draco shot a dark haired boy, Ron, and the girl a sneer (which I know was fake), then settled himself between mother and Malfoy.

Next moment, Ludo Bagman charged into the box.

Ludo whipped out his wand, directed it at his own throat, and then spoke over the roar of sound that was now filling the packed stadium; his voice echoed over them, booming into every corner of the stands.

"Ladies and gentlemen. . . welcome! Welcome to the final of the four hundred and twenty-second Quidditch World Cup!"

The spectators screamed and clapped. Thousands of flags waved, adding their discordant national anthems to the racket. The huge blackboard was free of its last message (which was Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans - A Risk With Every Mouthful!) and now showed BULGARIA: 0, IRELAND: 0.

"And now, without further ado, allow me to introduce. . . the Bulgarian National Team Mascots!"

The right-hand side of the stands, which was solid scarlet, screamed its approval.

A hundred veela were drifting out onto the field. The veela had started to dance, and I knew many minds had gone completely and blissfully blank. All that mattered in the world was that they kept watching the veela, because if they stopped dancing, terrible things would happen. I didn't go for it.

"And now," came Ludo Bagman's voice, as loud as a lion, "kindly put your wands in the air. . . for the Irish National Team Mascots!"

Then, what seemed to be a great green-and-gold comet came zooming into the stadium. It did one circle of the stadium, then broke into two smaller comets, each charging toward the goal posts. A rainbow arched across the field, connecting the two balls of light. The crowd oooohed and aaaaahed, like as if it was fireworks. Now, the rainbow faded and the balls of light reunited and merged; they had formed a great shimmering shamrock, which rose up into the sky and began to soar over the stands. Golden rain seemed to be falling from it - Galleons.

"Nice idea," my teammates praised me, because I had thought of it. The applause of the crowd was still happening, many of whom were still fighting and rummaging around under their chairs to retrieve the gold.

The great shamrock dissolved, the leprechauns drifted down onto the field on the opposite side from the veela, and settled themselves cross-legged to watch the match.
"And now, ladies and gentlemen, kindly welcome - the Bulgarian National Quidditch Team! I give you - Dimitrov!"
A scarlet-clad figure on a broomstick, moving so fast it was blurred, shot out onto the field from an entrance far below, to wild applause from the Bulgarian supporters.

"Ivanova!" A second scarlet-robed player zoomed out.
"Zograf! Levski! Vulchanov! Volkov! Aaaaaaand - Krum!"

I studied him through my Omnioculars, because he was the other Seemer, and I was the reserve Seeker. Viktor Krum was thin, dark, and sallow-skinned, with a large curved nose and thick black eyebrows. He looked like an overgrown raptor. It was hard to believe he was only eighteen.

"And now, please greet - the Irish National Quidditch Team!" yelled Bagman. "Presenting - Connolly! Ryan! Troy! Mullet! Moran! Quigley! Aaaaaand - Lynch!" The team shot off, seven green blurs swept onto the field. The firebolts were so fast, that it was hard to keep up, even with the Omnioculars.

"And here, all the way from Egypt, our referee, acclaimed Chairwizard of the International Association of Quidditch, Hassan Mostafa!" A small and skinny wizard, completely bald but with a mustache that looked really silly of him, wearing robes of pure gold to match the stadium, strode out onto the field. A silver whistle was protruding from under the mustache, and he was carrying a large wooden crate under one arm, his broomstick under the other. I watched as Mostafa mounted his broomstick and kicked the crate open, and four balls exploded into the air; the scarlet Quaffle, the two black Bludgers, and the winged Golden Snitch, small enough so that I could only see it when I squinted my eyes.

With a sharp blast on his whistle, Mostafa shot into the air after the balls. "Theeeeeeeey're OFF!" screamed Bagman. "And it's Mullet! Troy! Moran! Dimitrov! Back to Mullet! Troy! Levski! Moran!"

Chasers were throwing the Quaffle to one another so fast that Bagman only had time to say their names. I was keeping an eye out for the Snitch, while the noise of the crowd pounded against my eardrums like drums.

Our three Chasers suddenly zoom closely together, Troy in the center, slightly ahead of Mullet and Moran, racing down to the Bulgarians. Troy pretended to dart upward with the Quaffle, taking the Bulgarian Chaser Ivanova with and dropping the Quaffle to Moran. One of the Bulgarian Beaters, Volkov, swung hard at a passing Bludger with his small club, knocking it into Moran's path. I gasped, along with Jade. Moran ducked to avoid the Bludger and dropped the Quaffle; and Levski, shooting beneath, caught it and - "TROY SCORES!" roared Bagman, and the stadium shuddered with a roar of applause and cheers. "Ten zero to Ireland!" The rest of us scream. Troy did a lap of honor around the field, winking at me as he passed. I rolled my eyes at him. Always flirting with me. Then, the leprechauns watching from the sidelines had all risen into the air again and formed the huge, shimmering shamrock. Across the field, the veela were watching them sulkily.

Troy, Mullet, and Moran worked as though they had one mind, their movements so well coordinated that they appeared to be reading one another's minds as they positioned themselves. They probably were. They grew up together. And, within ten minutes, Ireland had scored twice more, bringing our lead to thirty-zero and with a thunderous wave of roars and applause from the green-clad supporters.

The match became faster, but more brutal. Volkov and Vulchanov, the Bulgarian Beaters, were whacking the Bludgers as fiercely as possible at the Irish Chasers, and were starting to prevent them from using some of their best moves. They were forced to scatter twice, and then, sadly, Ivanova managed to break through our players; dodge our Keeper, Ryan; and score Bulgaria's first goal.

The Veela started dancing. Not as many people watched, but some did. Then, Bulgaria was again in possession of the Quaffle.

"Dimitrov! Levski! Dimitrov! Ivanova - oh I say!" roared Bagman.

One hundred thousand wizards gasped as the two Seekers, Krum and Lynch, plummeted through the center of the Chasers, so fast that it looked as though they were racing cheetahs and winning. I watched intensely their ride down through the Omnioculars, squinting to see where the Snitch was - They're going to crash, I panicked, but at the very last second, Viktor Krum pulled out of the dive and circled around. Lynch, however, hit the ground with a huge thud that could be heard throughout the stadium. A huge groan rose from the Irish seats.

"It's time-out!" yelled Bagman's voice, "as trained mediwizards hurry onto the field to examine Aidan Lynch!"

Krum was now circling high above Lynch, who was being revived by mediwizards with cups of potion.

Lynch got to his feet at last, to loud cheers from the green-clad supporters, mounted his Firebolt, and kicked back off into the air. He then started off the field, signaling for me to shoot out. As he was leaving, they groaned, but when I came out, Ireland seemed to have a new heart.

"Annnnnnd, the reserve Seeker, Katie Malfoy is out!!!" Bagman's voice echoed. When Mostafa blew his whistle again, the Chasers moved into action.

After fifteen more fast and furious minutes, we had pulled ahead by ten more goals. We were now leading by one hundred and thirty points to ten, and the game was starting to get dirtier.

As Mullet shot toward the goal posts yet again, clutching the Quaffle tightly under her arm, the Bulgarian Keeper, Zograf, flew out to meet her. Whatever happened, I didn't see, as I was looking for the Snitch, but a scream of rage from the Irish crowd, and Mostafa's long, shrill whistle blast, said it had been a foul.

"And Mostafa takes the Bulgarian Keeper to task for cobbing -- excessive use of elbows!" Bagman informed the roaring spectators. "And - yes, it's a penalty to Ireland!"

The leprechauns, who had risen angrily into the air like a swarm of glittering hornets when Mullet had been fouled, now darted together to form the words "HA, HA, HA!" The veela on the other side of the field leapt to their feet, tossed their hair angrily, and started to dance again.

I looked down at the field. Hassan Mostafa had landed right in front of the dancing veela, and was acting very oddly indeed. He was flexing his muscles and smoothing his mustache excitedly.

"Now, we can't have that!" said Ludo Bagman, though he sounded highly amused. "Somebody slap the referee!"
A mediwizard came tearing across the field, his fingers stuffed into his own ears, and kicked Mostafa hard in the shins. Mostafa seemed to come to himself; and he looked very embarrassed and had started shouting at the veela, who had stopped dancing.

"And unless I'm much mistaken, Mostafa is actually attempting to send off the Bulgarian team mascots!" said Bagman's voice. "Now there's something we haven't seen before. . . . Oh this could turn nasty. . ." It did: The Bulgarian Beaters, Volkov and Vulchanov, landed on either side of Mostafa and began arguing furiously with him, gesticulating toward the leprechauns, who had now gleefully formed the words "HEE, HEE, HEE." Mostafa was not impressed by the Bulgarians' arguments, however; he was jabbing his finger into the air, clearly telling them to get flying again, and when they refused, he gave two short blasts on his whistle.

"Two penalties for Ireland!" shouted Bagman, and the Bulgarian crowd howled with anger. "And Volkov and Vulchanov had better get back on those brooms. . . yes. . . there they go. . . and Troy takes the Quaffle..." The game now reached a level of ferocity beyond anything they had yet seen. The Beaters on both sides were acting without mercy: Volkov and Vulchanov in particular seemed not to care whether their clubs made contact with Bludger or human as they swung them violently through the air. I was looking everywhere for the Snitch. I slowly flew closer to my family. I was looking for the Snitch, and out of the corner of my eye I saw Draco wave. I smiled. Then, Dimitrov shot straight at Moran, who had the Quaffle, nearly knocking her off her broom.

"Foul!" roared the Irish supporters as one, all standing up in a great wave of green.

"Foul!" echoed Ludo Bagman's magically magnified voice. "Dimitrov skins Moran - deliberately flying to collide there - and it's got to be another penalty - yes, there's the whistle!"

The leprechauns had risen into the air again, and this time, they formed a giant hand, which was making a very rude sign indeed at the veela across the field. At this, the veela lost control. Instead of dancing, they launched themselves across the field and began throwing what looked like handfuls of fire at the leprechauns. Ministry wizards were flooding onto the field to separate the veela and the leprechauns, but with little success; meanwhile, the pitched battle below was nothing to the one taking place above.

The Quaffle was moving a mile a minute. "Levski - Dimitrov - Moran - Troy - Mullet - Ivanova - Moran again - Moran - MORAN SCORES!"

But the cheers of the Irish supporters were barely heard over the shrieks of the veela, the blasts now issuing from the Ministry members' wands, and the furious roars of the Bulgarians. The game started immediately; now Levski had the Quaffle, now Dimitrov -

The Irish Beater Quigley swung heavily at a passing Bludger, and hit it as hard as possible toward Krum, who did not duck quickly enough. It hit him full in the face.

There was a deafening groan from the crowd; Krum's nose looked broken, there was blood everywhere, but Hassan Mostafa didn't blow his whistle. He had become distracted, because one of the veela had thrown a handful of fire and set his broom tail alight.

"Time-out! Ah, come on, he can't play like that, look at him -"

"Look at Katie!" Draco yelled. I had suddenly gone into a dive. Half the crowd seemed to have realized what was happening; the Irish supporters rose in another great wave of green, screaming me on. . . but Krum was on my tail. He was pulling up next to me now as we raced toward the ground-

And for the second time, and the second Seeker, I hit the ground with tremendous force and was immediately stampeded by a horde of angry veela. It felt like a group of elephants were walking on me. When the ministry wizards got the Veelas off, I saw Krum, his robes sprinkled with blood from his nose, rising gently into the air, his fist held high, a glint of gold in his hand. Troy came over to me and helped me walk over to my broom. We went up in the air, and started flying the victory laps.

Then, I got a look at the scoreboard, flashing BULGARIA: 160, IRELAND: 170 across the crowd, who didn't seem to have realized what had happened. Then, slowly, as they realized what happened, the shouts from the Ireland supporters grew louder and louder and burst into screams of delight.

"IRELAND WINS!" Bagman shouted, who like the Irish, seemed to be taken aback by the sudden end of the match. "KRUM GETS THE SNITCH - BUT IRELAND WINS -- good lord, I don't think any of us were expecting that!"

I watched Krum land as a swarm of mediwizards blasted a path through the battling leprechauns and veela to get to him. I couldn't really see, because leprechauns were zooming delightedly all over the field, so I flew lower, and saw Krum surrounded by mediwizards. He looked more sour than ever and refused to let them help him. His team members were around him, shaking their heads and looking beaten; a short way away, my team was dancing gleefully in a shower of gold raining from the mascots. Flags were waving all over the stadium, the Irish national anthem blared from all sides; the veela were shrinking back into their usual, beautiful selves now, though looking dispirited.

"And as the Irish team performs a lap of honor, flanked by their mascots, the Quidditch World Cup itself is brought into the Top Box!" roared Bagman.

The Top Box was lit up so that everyone in the stands could see the inside. There were two wizards carrying a golden cup into the box, which they handed to Cornelius Fudge.

"Let's have a really loud hand for the gallant losers - Bulgaria!" Bagman shouted. And the seven defeated Bulgarian players went up to the box. The crowd below was applauding appreciatively.

One by one, the Bulgarians filed between the rows of seats in the box, and Bagman called out the name of each as they shook hands with their own minister and then with Fudge. Krum, who was last in line, looked a real mess. Two black eyes were blooming spectacularly on his bloody face. He was still holding the Snitch. When Krum's name was announced, the whole stadium gave him a resounding, earsplitting roar.

And then came the Irish team. I was on Moran's back, and Connolly was helping Lynch, who was already up there. We grinned happily at each other as Troy and Quigley lifted the Cup into the air and the crowd below thundered its applause. At last, we had left the box to perform another lap of honor on our brooms (Lynch on the back of Connolly's, and me on Troy's).

Chapter Text

After the match, we went to our tents. "Hey guys, I'm gonna go look for my brother," I announced.

"Can I come? I want to meet him," Troy said. I nod.

"Anyone else?"

Lynch raised his hand, "I'll come."

"Darn. Now I need to take care of two injured seekers," Troy whined. Moran laughed and said she'd come.

"Yay!! An adventure!!" I shouted, feeling a lot better. They laugh. We all went out of the tent, and people started congratulating us. After ten minutes of searching, I saw a glimpse of blonde hair. "There," I shouted, pointing. Draco sees me at the same time. He passed Mr. Weasley, and his group, and runs up to me, jumping on me when he got close. I saw the Weasley's shocked looks, but hugged him back. I see Lucius walking toward us, angry. Troy, Lynch, and Moran step in front of us.

"Get back here," he tells Draco.

"No, Draco's stayin' with me until school," I say, daring him to challenge me. He raises an eyebrow.

"Is that so? I don't think that you have a proper house for the Malfoy heir." I roll my eyes, mouthing what he says in a very overdramatic way. Draco puts his fist in his mouth, trying to stop his laughter.

"Well too bad for you," Troy says. "He's staying. And he can stay for Christmas, and next summer, as long as he wants. Katie is our family, and he's her brother, so, technically, he's family."

The rest of the team walks up. "The team security said you four might be about to fight someone. Figures, but we couldn't have our only two seekers beat up," Ryan says, smirking. Lynch and I both stuck our tongues out at him.

“Come on, let’s get your stiff,” I say, pulling Draco away from Lucius. I follow Draco to his tent, where he goes in and gets his stuff while I wait outside. Then, someone I recognize from my years at Hogwarts came up.

"Charlie?!?" I ask, surprised.

"Hey, I thought it was you. What have you been up to?" He asks.

"Well, obviously playing Quidditch, you?"

"Dragon tamer," he says as the rest of his family walks up. "Oh, this is my family. You remember Bill, Percy, and the twins, right?"

I nod. "Yep. You two still pranking?" I ask the twins. They nod, just as Draco comes out of the tent. I put a temporary weight spell on his stuff, so that it ways almost nothing, and it won’t hurt if it somehow gets thrown at someone. "Hey, Troy. Catch!" I throw Draco's stuff at him. He puts his hands out, tensing. When it lands, it hits his face.

"OW!!! Wait- that didn't hurt. What did you do, Malfoy?!?!" He shouted. I burst out laughing.

"You can't even hurt me!! I'm injured. And I didn't do anything," I say. Then, the spell wore off. "Except a temporary weight spell."

He groans, "I can tell." He heaves Draco's stuff on a trolley thing. "You're so mean." Then, he uses magic and makes it go back to our tent. He walks up to us. "So, Charlie, Bill, Percy, Twins, nice to see you guys again!" Troy was in my year at Hogwarts, as was a few others on the team. Charlie, his older brother Bill, Troy, the reserve chasers, Jade and Luke, one of the reserve beaters, Tim, Lynch, Moran, and I were all friends at Hogwarts. Lynch was the same year as Bill, as well as my neighbor, while the rest, Jade, Luke, Moran, Troy, and Charlie, were in my year. Percy Weasley is two years younger than us, and the twins about six or seven years younger than us. They came for their first year in our seventh.

"Nice to see you too, Troy," he says. "This is the rest of my family. The youngest, and only girl, Ginny," he points to a young red headed girl who waves.

"And this is Ron, and his friends Hermione, and Harry," Bill cuts in, pointing to the last redhead boy, and the other girl and boy. "You two remember our Father, right?" We nod.

"Hello, Arthur," I smiled at him. "How've you been?" We talk for a bit, then I then notice Draco is kinda tense, half behind me. Ginny, Harry, Ron and Hermione were tense also. They were all staring at each other.

"Katie, we should probably go. I think Father is really mad," Draco cuts in quietly. I look over. Malfoy, I refuse to call him my father, is giving me a death glare. I wave at him and give him a happy smile. He glares even harder. I stick my tongue out at his. He looks furious, and I’m about to burst out laughing. Our security guards keep him from coming within twenty feet of Draco and I.

I turn to my little brother. He looks slightly scared, which makes sense, because our father isn’t really the best person. He used to hit me and Draco, me protecting Draco as often as I could. After I came back from Hogwarts after my first year, I noticed Draco becoming more quiet and reserved. "You're right. Here," I pull out a pen and paper. Yes, a pen and paper. I’ve never really liked quills, and as soon as Sirius introduced me to muggle stuff, I started using it everyday. "You can always come over. Anytime you want. Day or night. Except when it’s night. Troy needs his beauty sleep," I joke. Said person sticks his tongue out. I write the address, and duplicate the paper two more times and hand one piece to Charlie, one to Bill, and one to Arthur.

"KATIE MALFOY!!! I WILL HURT YOU!!!" Jade runs towards us. She looks mad.

"What'd I do?!" I ask. I actually know what I did. I pulled the awesomest prank on her. I do that. I put Star Wars pictures all over the walls of her tent.

"You know exactly what you did. This?" She holds up a picture of Luke Skywalker. "Only you would do that."

"Oh right. I forgot about that. Jade you remember Charlie, right?" She pauses, and turns.

"Oh, hey Charlie, Bill, rest of Weasley's. How've you been?" She asks.

"Pretty good,” Charlie answers.

"Hey, Jade? We should probably go." She nods.

"See you guys soon!" We wave. Once they left, we made our way back to the tent. Our tent is like other ones, except a bit bigger. Each of us have our own room, with two beds. Draco and I are sharing, because even though we’re different genders, he’s my little brother, and I don’t trust anyone but myself taking care of him. When we were walking back to the tent, I noticed it was getting late. Inside, I go into the bathroom and change. When I finish, I call out into the bedroom asking if Draco was decent. He calls out saying he is. We fall asleep talking about anything and everything.

I wake up first, and go into the bathroom and change. When I get back, Draco is just waking up.

"Hey, sleepyhead," I whisper. He grabs my arm, pulling me down on the bed. I laugh quietly, sitting next to his head. He puts his head on my lap, and I stroke his hair. He starts to fall asleep again, just as the flap to our room quietly opens. I look up, and see that it's Jade, Charlie, Harry, Ron, Ginny, and Hermione. I put my finger on my lips, signaling them to be quiet. Jade nods.

"Should we come back later?" Charlie whispers. I shake my head.

"He's just really tired." Jade sits down next to me.

"When are the papers going to come in?" She asks. The five other people in the room look confused.

"No clue. The judge said I'll get custody next year at the latest. I mean, I have everything he needs; a well paying job, an actual house, even if it is shared by you, Luke, and Tim, enough food, and he's old enough to sometimes stay home alone. And, he likes Quidditch, so he can come to practices whenever he wants. Plus, You, Luke, Tim, and I are all reserves, so it's not completely necessary that we show up to practice every day," I say.

"So, you're fighting for custody of Draco?" Charlie asks, still standing with the others behind him. I nod.

"Yep. You guys can sit," I gesture to my bed. All of them do. We talk for a bit, ten minutes after Charlie and them show, Luke and Tim are shuffling into my room, sitting on the floor. I roll my eyes. "Is Troy still asleep?" Tim nods. His room is next to Troy's. I smirk. Draco starts to wake up again, so I whisper to him, "Wake up, you don't wanna miss this." Draco sits up, yawning, looking confused. I smirk at him, and he sits on the other side of me. He catches sight of Charlie, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny, and his face flushes. I raise my eyebrows. We're gonna have a chat about this later.

"Watch this," I take out my wand, conjuring my patronus, a Snow Leopard. I love mine, because it means in powerful and sharp, it reflects how I tend to fly under the radar but when push comes to shove I explode with potential and action. People may underestimate me but once I strike they never forget how wrong they were.

I sent it towards Troy's room, and everyone is silent. A few seconds later, it comes back, which means he's still asleep. I smirk, and get off the bed, turning into my Animagus form, a wolf. I silently pad into Troy's room. Moran and Lynch see me. I give them a look in the wolf form, and they laugh, standing in the doorframe to Troy's room. The others who were in my room had followed me out, so they join Moran and Lynch. I creep up to Troy's bed, as silent as I can be. When I look at the others, I see a smile threatening to break out on Draco's face.

Good, I think, he needs to be happy more. I jump onto Troy's bed, and he jumps up, shrieking. I change back out of my wolf form, laughing. Draco is laughing, the first time I've heard him laugh in a very long time.

Troy gets up, chasing me. I shriek and hide behind Charlie, who's stairing at me with a fond smile. Moran holds Troy back, and Charlie's still staring. I stare back, and we slowly lean towards each other. When our lips finally meet, it feels perfect, and nothing would ever change that.

On October 29, 1994, I got custody of Draco. This was exactly 2 months, 10 days after Charlie and I became a couple, the day after the Quidditch World Cup, in 1994. Draco still is learning what's right and wrong, mostly about the pureblood prejudice thing, but he's getting better. Dumbledore gave me a room at Hogwarts, and I became the Quidditch coach for Slytherin and Gryffindor. During the Triwizard Tournament, the Weasley's who weren't currently attending Hogwarts stayed in my room. It had ten bedrooms total, and Draco was in one of them. A few of the other Slytherins in his dorm had kicked him out, so it made sense.

Charlie and I ended up getting married, and we had 4 kids, two sets of identical twins, Jade and Ginny (21 years old at beginning of Harry Potter and the Cursed Child), and Draco and Clint (15 years old at the beginning of Harry Potter and the Cursed Child).