Draco X Reader ▸ HIS PRIDE | ✓

Y4 C2~ Quidditch World Cup

I let out a silent huff as I glanced higher in the stands for the stairs, scanning the faces of the surrounding groups carefully for the Gryffindor trio I was supposed to watch the Cup with. I nearly gave up after searching for what felt like hours - I had to make my way here on my own since I had to sneak out -, until I heard a voice call out.

"She's over there, guys!"

Taking my attention in a matter of seconds at the unsuspected familiarity of their voice, I looked up and smiled widely as I quickly worked my way up the stairs to wrap Ron in a hug. He only laughed at my excitement and patted my back, squeezing me tightly.

"We thought you got lost." Hermione admitted, a soft smile playing on her lips before pulling me in for a hug as well.

I shook my head halfheartedly, retracting my arms. "Believe me, I would've passed you guys if Ron hadn't practically screamed loud enough for the whole Quidditch Pitch to hear." I jested; pinching his neck in an attempt to annoy him. He only grinned sheepishly and rubbed the sore spot.

An older-looking male with fiery orange hair, a long face and a pale complexion, poked his head from around the corner. Mr Weasley, I realised in a heartbeat. He gestured for us to follow, "Alright, everyone. Let's head on up before the game starts."

We began to climb the stairs, which I hated with a burning passion after walking for so long. They seemed to only stretch higher and higher, although I am pretty dramatic so I could just be exaggerating. But I wasn't going to kid myself; my legs were screaming in pain - because I'm unfit, but we won't talk about that - so I was ready to reach the top already before we missed the game, which was starting very soon.

Ron panted loudly after going up three or so flights, and honestly same. "Blimey, Dad, how far up are we?" The asked with a mixture of both awe and fatigue. We all halted at Ron's question, much to my momentary relief. My legs are about to break off-

Before Mr Weasley went to answer the question, a mature voice interjected, and my stomach drops at the low tone and drawling of the words I had become so used to. "Well, put it this way: if it rains, you'll be the first to know." I turned his way with a thick swallow, watching the glimmer of satisfaction blazing in the eyes of Lucius Malfoy.

I nearly shat myself at the realisation that this man could easily SNITCH on me to my dad if he found out I'm not supposed to be here.

Draco Malfoy, whom stood proudly beside his father, walked alongside him as he continued to tease in his father's stead, "Father and I are in the Minister's box, by special invitation of Cornelius Fudge himself." He said matter-of-factly, his arrogance biting into the awkward tension they created out of their obsession with the ranga squad.

His father was quick to turn around and prod him in the abdomen with his cane, "Don't boast, Draco," he emphasised 'boast' upon jabbing him. "There's no need with these people." Lucius gave a somewhat disgusted look in the direction of the Weasley's, before realising I was standing right here. Ah, shit.

"Why, Y/n, what on earth are you doing with... them?" The way Lucius Malfoy had paused to refer to them, as if trying to be polite since he knew my friendship with the trio and their families, rubbed me the wrong way.

I shook off the feeling and fought the urge to look towards Draco, whose eyes I felt concentrated on to me. "Oh - they invited me to watch the Cup, so I thought it would be fun."

He didn't seem too pleased, but then there was a spark in his eyes, as if struck with an idea. "How about you come with Draco and I." It didn't sound like a offer, more like a demand. "I'd hate for your fun to be spoiled from having a cheap view."