Blessed With A Curse

Chapter 11

Fear is an allusion, a state of mind, it can be controlled. But the fear that rotted my insides would be never ending. The fear of who I was becoming and what I was losing. The fear that I'll be alone, darkness my only friend. But I feared for the people I loved the most, their safety had to be a top priority, and how could I protect them? The ghost of a person I was, I'd have to accept. I had to stand by my family, no matter what. They were the most important.

"Draco!" My father yelled, irritated. "Do you enjoy making us embarrassingly late?" His face was snow pale. "Or is making a mockery of me what fuels you?" I looked at him apologetic eyes.
"I'm sorry father." The words were barely a whisper.
His black coat swooped through the air harshly, following his abrupt movement. Hurrying behind him, I tried to let his anger driven words wash over me. I had been excited about this for months, the Quidditch Final was an incredible experience, and I was going to savour every moment of it. Escpcially the fact that we got the chance to enjoy it in the Minsters Box, not only the best seats, but also highly respected, not everyone or anyone could sit here. No mudloods, only people who proved importance, me and my father being one of the few. If this wouldn't boost my ego, I wouldn't know what would.

My black attire, clung to my body fittingly, dressed to blend in with the night. My confidence was definitely thriving, going from a boy to a man, this summer had most certainly done me a few favours. Not only did I look more mature but I felt it, I felt more like the man my father was. I liked it.

Climbing up the stairs both me and my father couldn't notice the joke of a family, the Weaslby, with Harry of course and- Cedric Diggory? All new companions. Ha! From what I heard over the summer he was a complete hopeless romantic, wasting all his limited time trying to impress the sweet princess Blair. Rumour has it he hadn't yet succeeded which I was glad about. Secretly. I mean if I couldn't have her no one could. I was pretty certain on that.

"Well put it this way." My father chimed in. "If it rains you'll be the first ones to know." The smug look on my face would be something to be proud of and I was certainly not going to hide it. I thrived off of Ron's bitter face, it could be possible he hates my father more than me.
"Father and I are in the ministry box." I boasted. "By personal invitation of Cornelius Fudge himself." Adding more salt to the wound. Harry would know he wasn't the only person welcomed by important people.
"Don't boast Draco." My fathers cane jolted me in the ribs, I tried my best to stand tall. "There's no need with these people." The words sounded sour on his tongue. But he was completely right, why even waste my effort on these cretins? Foul Wizards. I had to fight the urge of embarrassment and hold onto the fact that Harry knew I was better than him, in every way, shape or form.

The ministry's box was spacious, lavish with crystal glasses topped with champagne and crushed velvet seats that sank around your figure. The crowd was insane, it's roars deafening. My father shook Fudges hand, me following shortly behind, he gave me a quick wink and cheery smile before divolging into a deep conversation with my father, something I held no interest with. I grabbed the champagne whilst it was there and whilst my father was distracted. I chugged it back not realising the taste would be so bitter. I had to demand myself not to spit it straight back out. To think anyone would like this kind of drink, vile. Scrunching my face I tried to rid myself of the toxic liquid.

The skies flooded green, the Irish sprouting from the earth, the crowd screamed louder than before. The team we're good but I always saw them as immature, foolish. They never really had a plan, just based their winning on pure luck. Guess the whole four leaf clover really was a thing. Their excitement was soon crushed by the Bulgarians. The blood red drowning the grass green. The screams soon became roars as the youngest player Victor Crumb came to stage. His movement like lightening, he was someone to look up to, he was the best seeker known to date and I would need to start taking notes. I settled in my seat, my eyes latching onto the best seeker on the world, my heart pounded for him. How thrilling it must be to have all those wizards calling your name, all the girls drooling over you, the boys deepened with envy. I wished I was him, I knew one day I would be someone like him. Not Potter.