NORMAL GHOSTS.
⇱ A R R O W ⇲
━ CHAPTER 6. ━
THE GROUNDS WERE ALIVE with noise. Cupid could only stare in awe as the group wandered through a maze of tents and festivities. There were a number of odd sideshows, ranging from fire-breathing to snake charming. All made more extravagant by magic.
Cupid laughed as the group ducked, barely dodging the feet of a wizard on broomstick. "This is incredible!" She cried, joining arms with Avena as their eyes wandered.
Avena herself was laughing as she pointed out oddities amongst them. Performers were everywhere, alongside small shops and booths. The McLean girl had never seen a place so alive.
As Avena wandered ahead, Cupid took pause, her attention captured by a jewellery booth. Her fingers danced over rings and necklaces, but her gaze was set on a stunning, silver locket. It was nothing unique, but Cupid was a romantic at heart.
The woman behind the booth smiled. "That one comes as a matching set," she leaned forward, winking. "Got anyone in mind?"
The brunette immediately withdrew, "No, sorry." She was suddenly embarrassed. There was no one she could possibly share this with.
The woman behind the booth softened, "That's alright, dear." She reached out to pat the locket. "Say, if you buy the one, the second is on the house."
Cupid gaped at her in surprise and the woman laughed, "I'm sure you'll find someone to share it with, gorgeous."
The McLean girl felt herself flush. It took only a moment of debating before she decided, "I'll take it." Cupid gave a bashful smile, quickly exchanging her coins for the pair of necklaces.
"Hurry up, Cherub!"
Cupid jumped as two arms rested themselves on either side of her shoulders. Her stomach dropped. With the lockets hanging from her hand, she knew she was never going to hear the end of this from Fred and George.
The woman behind the booth glanced between the twins. "Oh," she looked at Cupid, coy. "Did you need three lockets then?"
Cupid felt herself blush with intensity, "Absolutely not!" She turned on her heel, marching away from the laughter of the twins. Merlin, this can't get any worse, she thought to herself.
And, as was always the case, Cupid found that she was dead wrong.
→
The brunette was breathless now, and a little bit cranky.
The winding stairs leading up to their seats were seemingly endless. And with every gust of wind, Cupid found herself lingering behind as her skirt flitted around. Her face was likely a red mess by now, she was sure of it.
Though, Cupid tried to tell herself it was from exhaustion rather than embarrassment (a lie born to save herself the mortification.)
However, she was grateful that she had the good sense to wear shorts and thick nylons. After all, Cupid wasn't a complete fool.
Huffing, Cupid forced her feet to keep moving. Avena had wandered ahead, competitively racing the twins for their seats at the top. The elders had lingered back, leaving Cupid to endure the enlightening conversation between Mr. Weasley and Cedric's father.
Now, the McLean girl wasn't complaining, but she was sure there must have been a more convenient means of traversing the stadium. One that didn't require her to force her feet to keep up with the steadily moving group.
Cupid cursed her lack of stamina, pausing to take a break. She suddenly wished she hadn't quit her endurance training so promptly after her last Quidditch game (a lack of forethought on her part.) In the midst of all the drama of the previous year, it was easy to forget herself and the rigorous routine she once knew.
She kicked at one of the metal stairs, suddenly annoyed with herself. If she lost this bet and ended up having to rejoin the team, she was only going to hold them back. Cupid had done no summer training, hardly even daring to touch her broom.
It was an embarrassing thing to admit. Cupid had been so sure that her joy in Quidditch would be forever soured; all over something that now seemed so minuscule. Sometimes, she still couldn't believe how badly the last year had affected her.
She sighed, sitting on the steps. She was aware that this small break would likely lead to her getting lost, but Cupid simply couldn't keep up. As the crowd moved on, she watched the flow of people passing her.
And, for a small second, she was suddenly jealous of the groups of friends who smiled and laughed together.
Despite the quick make-up between Cupid and Harry, she still couldn't bring herself to linger for too long. In the moments where silence descended, she felt confined by the faults she'd committed against her friends. It was almost like she was apart; separate from their group, when she was once an integral part of it.
An outcome orchestrated all on her own, of course. So, who could she blame but herself? Cupid tried to find solace in the fact that, though things weren't the same, they weren't entirely different.
It was a poor comfort, but a comfort nonetheless.
Begrudgingly, Cupid got to her feet. She had to catch up with the rest of the group. Or risk getting lost amongst stairs and people.
However, as Cupid turned, she found that the world seemed to stop as a head of white-blond hair flashed within her vision. Her breath halted in her chest.
She tried to tell herself that she couldn't be sure. The figure was there for only a moment, and then it was gone. Lost between the constant movement of bodies.
But, she knew.
She knew in the way the head had turned, giving her the smallest glimpse of the figure's face— an infinitesimal second's worth of sight. And Cupid wasted no time in turning on her heel and launching herself up the stairs.
Though, that promptly resulted in hitting her head against a firm chest. "Ow!" George groaned, rubbing at the spot where the McLean girl had struck.
Cupid reeled back, gaze transfixed on the sudden appearance of Fred and George. She felt her breath release from her chest. She gave a furtive glance behind her, cautionary of who might appear next.
"Gotten lazy, or what?" Fred asked, ruffling the hair of the brunette.
Cupid nodded absentmindedly, still casting her gaze wherever she thought she saw a flicker of him. She didn't want to be here.
"Let's go," she said, writhing between the pair to hurry up the steps.
She stopped as she felt a hand on her shoulder, turning to face George. "Are you okay?" He asked, clearly concerned.
"Yeah," Fred chimed in, "You look like you've seen a ghost."
"And not the normal kind."
Cupid forced out a laugh. "Just winded," she replied, brushing off their worry. It felt strange, given that she wasn't used to their comfort.
Fred nodded, content with her response. "Alright, let's head up before everyone starts complaining."
Cupid nodded, embarrassed by the idea that the group had been held back for her. She forced herself to keep up with the twins, weaving through other groups as they went along. Her lungs were on fire by the time they caught up.
"You alright, Cupid?" Mr. Weasley asked, watching her fatigued expression. She could only wheeze back a faint 'yes.'
Mr. Weasley nodded, "Well, I suppose we can stop to catch our breath." He gave a concerned glance to Cupid, who immediately collapsed against the metal railing.
"For Cupid's sake," he added, but she was far too tired to be embarrassed.
Fred smothered a laugh. "We tried to slow down for you," he insisted, earning a sharp glare in response.
"Do not speak to me, bean-stalk," Cupid seethed. Fred erupted into laughter and, had she not been trying to catch her breath, Cupid would've planted an elbow into his ribs.
Avena wandered over, rolling her eyes at Fred as he left. "I told them I would get you, but they insisted." She pulled out a handkerchief, patting away at Cupid's sweaty face.
"Thanks," Cupid said softly, abandoning the metal railings as she stood on her own. "I'm alright now."
"Blimey, how much farther?" Ron asked as the group prepared for the trek. Cupid smiled, thankful that she wasn't the only one who needed the break.
However, before anyone could reply, a voice spoke from below. "Well, think of it this way," the McLean girl turned before she could stop herself. "If it rains, you'll be the first to know."
Immediately, Cupid pulled back from the railing, stunned as she stared down at the platform below. Standing there was Lucius Malfoy, accompanied by none other than the smirk on his lips and his son— Draco.
Cupid felt her stomach twist and took another step back, bumping into Vena. "It's okay," the Dart girl whispered. She stepped in front of Cupid, partially shielding her.
Cupid inhaled deeply, trying to calm her shaking fingers. Her stomach was a tightened twist of knots. She couldn't be entirely sure of what she felt. It certainly wasn't sadness, or guilt— she had no regrets where it concerned how her acquaintance with Draco ended.
She simply did not want to see him.
"You alright?"
Cupid turned at the voice, looking down at where Harry stood on the steps below her. She nodded, but couldn't bring herself to meet his eyes. She wasn't alright, and he knew it too.
Harry wrapped his hand around her wrist, stepping ahead of her while pulling Vena and Cupid behind his back. Harry turned his gaze to the Malfoy's. His eyes were narrowed as he stepped between Draco and Cupid.
She was immediately grateful to him and Vena, and ashamed that she had to be protected by them from someone so trivial. It irritated her, in that she knew she couldn't face him herself. Not alone.
"Let's get a move on," Mr. Weasley spoke up, doing his best to ignore the taunting laughter of the Malfoy's.
"Father and I are in the ministers box," came Draco's boasting voice. "By personal invitation of the minister himself!"
Suddenly, the McLean girl understood what it was that she felt. It wasn't shame, or guilt. It could be nothing so small as that.
It was rage.
"Don't boast, Draco," Mr. Malfoy scolded, turning his shrewd eyes on the group above. "We don't need to with these people."
"Keep moving," Fred whispered from behind her, and Cupid was hardly aware that she'd even stopped at all.
Still, she did her best to listen. There was no need to give into their taunts. The Weasley's were far more noble and courteous than any wizarding family. They didn't need insults to prove it.
However, as the group turned away, Lucius pinned the head of his cane to Harry's foot. "Do enjoy the show," he spoke lowly, "While you can."
"With all due respect," Cupid began, giving a less-than-gentle nudge to the cane. "It would be in your best interest to keep on walking."
She smiled, pressing her fingernails into her palms. If she didn't use pain as an outlet, she was sure that her magic would burst forth. Not unlike it usually did in the midst of her anger.
Mr. Malfoy sneered up at her, "Is that a threat, little girl?"
Cupid feigned shock. "Not at all! We just wouldn't want you to miss the game," she insisted, though the words lacked conviction.
Mr. Malfoy peered up at her, "What's your name?"
"C'mon Cupid," Mr.Weasley interrupted. "Let's not spoil the mood," he whispered, just low enough for her to hear. The McLean girl felt herself deflate, letting go of her annoyance.
"Cupid," she heard Mr. Malfoy mutter below, "Cupid Cadieux?" He inquired, appearing suddenly interested as he took a closer look at the McLean girl.
Cupid sneered back, "My name is Cupid McLean, and I am none of your business."
And with that, the brunette turned on her heel, following behind the rest of the group as they left the Malfoy's behind.
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AN: She is my angel baby !!!!! ILY Cupid McLean.