LITTLE MISS MUDBLOOD | draco malfoy

59 ; ireland vs bulgaria

LITTLE MISS MUDBLOOD – ACT 2 : SCENE 1 : CHAPTER 59

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

Y/N looked at herself in the mirror, slightly confused. If she was going to watch a Quidditch match, why in heavens did she need to wear a dress?

"Because you're making an appearance in front of literally everybody going to the match," one of her stylists said, as if it were obvious. "And you need to look presentable."

She sighed. She was wearing a navy blue, ankle-length dress, with long, tulle sleeves and lots of flowery detailing. The 'V' neckline came down, once again, to her sternum, and her dress was paired with black tights and leather heels. Her hair had been pulled into a loose, low ponytail, accessorized with a silver ribbon, and they hadn't put much makeup on her, just the bare minimum.

Soon, after putting jewelry and perfume on, as well as slipping a small purse over her arm, Y/N and Anthony were about ready to leave, and were going via portkey (whatever it was). Though Y/N had never traveled that way before, she bid goodbye to Grandmother Gertrude and strode confidently out the castle, more than enough bodyguards following her and Anthony.

They walked to just outside her property, where a wine glass was sitting on a podium. Y/N's head tilted. What were they going to do with a wine glass?

"It's the Portkey," said Anthony, and he pinched the rim of the glass. "All you need to do is touch it, like this . . ."

Y/N copied him, and so did the bodyguards. In three seconds, max, she felt as though a hook just behind her naval had been suddenly jerked irresistibly forward. Her feet left the ground; she could feel Anthony and one of the bodyguards on either side of hers, both of their broad shoulders banging into her not-so-broad ones. They were all speeding forward in a howl of wind and swirling color; Y/N's fingers were stuck to the glass as though it was pulling her magnetically onward and then —

Her feet delicately dropped onto the ground, as did the rest of her companions'. Regaining her balance, Y/N looked up at the scene around her. Behind them was a stretch of misty moor, and Y/N could barely make out a few wizards appearing here and there, just like she had. In front of her was a small stone cottage sitting next to a gate, with the ghostly shapes of hundreds and hundreds of tents, rising up the gentle slope of a large field toward a dark wood on the horizon. Standing protectively around Anthony and Y/N, the guards herded them forward, approaching the cottage door.

A man was standing in the doorway, looking out at the tents. Y/N knew for a fact that this was the only real Muggle for several acres. When he heard their footsteps, he turned his head to look at them.

"Morning," said the Muggle.

The nearest guard simply held up a badge and the Muggle let them through immediately, tilting down his hat briefly before moving his head at awkward angles to get a look at Y/N and Anthony. Sensing her discomfort, the guards hurried forward, guiding them through the long rows of sleeping tents.