Shae Finnigan || Draco Malfoy

1 - Up the Irish

"Mam!"

I was getting impatient. If we didn't hurry then we were going to miss our Portkey. And then I'd miss the greatest event of my lifetime and Dean would never forgive me, and it would all be because me mam can't remember where she put her green lipstick.

"I'm coming sweetie!" Me mam's voice drifts down the stairs. "Just as soon as I have found it."

I roll my eyes at Dean. "Merlin, anyone would think that Ireland winning the world cup was all dependant on the colour of me mam's lips."

Dean gives an amused snort, crossing his arms lazily over his chest. "Why doesn't she just Accio it?"

"Mam doesn't like doing magic in the house," I explain. "Loves to pretend to be a Muggle. It's why she never told Dad until I came along. Couldn't hide it anymore when I started to crap literal rainbows."

Dean chuckles, his dark eyes twinkling. "You crack me up, Shae. As if you'd crap rainbows."

"No, its true," I nod earnestly. "Apparently Dad got quite the shock when he changed my nappy and Mam had to confess all before he could check himself into the nearest quack house."

"That's insane," Dean mutters, shaking his head. "If only I would have done something similar, then maybe it wouldn't have been a total game changer when I received my letter."

I throw him a sympathetic smile as I recall how my Muggle-born friend knew nothing about the magic world on that first day of Hogwarts. I had immediately taken him under my wing, sensing how out of his depth he was. Our friendship had been instantaneous and we had quickly cemented ourselves as best friends rarely letting anyone else into our tight circle. If you could even call it that.

Sometimes we allow Neville in when we need an extra player at Exploding Snap. But he is mostly interested in talking to his toad.

The only other person in Hogwarts I really have any time for is my dorm mate, Hermione. But again, she has a tight friendship thing going on with Harry and Ron, so outside of the dormitory, we rarely interact.

Finally, Mam comes hurrying down the stairs, a sparkling green smile plastered across her face.

"I'm ready boys! Let's go watch Ireland smash those Bulgarians to pieces."

"Woah, Mrs Finnigan," Dean says, eyes going wide with shock, "that's some fighting talk. You'd fit right in at a West Ham game."

Mam giggles as she flirtily smacks Dean's arm. "I keep telling you, call me Orla, dear."

I roll my eyes again. Dean certainly has shot up over the summer. As a result, he now towers over Mam, despite being just fifteen years old.

"Aren't you going to say goodbye to Dad?" I ask Mam as she opens the front door.

"Shit yeah, almost forgot. BYE FINN WE'RE OFF!"

Yep. My dad's name is Finn Finnigan. My grandparents had a sense of humor, it seems.

After a grunt can be heard from somewhere upstairs, Dean and I also yell out goodbyes before we hurriedly rush out into the warm morning air.

******

"There."

Me mam stands back as she admires our tent which she put together all with the wave of her wand.

"It's um- green," Dean says diplomatically.

That's a major understatement. The tent is a literal shamrock. There is no room for doubt about who we are supporting.

"Ooh is that Harry Potter?" Mam asks, pointing excitedly into the distant crowd.

Dean and I follow her pointing finger. Three figures walk towards us. Harry, Ron and Hermione.