Massive crowds where gathered in the campgrounds. Tents of all sizes, large and small, some several stories high others not, some with flagpoles bearing banners and flags of either Irish green or Bulgarian red. Lively music was being played and brooms whizzed above the heads of the Lestranges and the only Saintday as they walked by aweing at the sights.
The Quidditch World Cup was, alike most of the magical world, absolutely unbelievable. Drunks cheered in the streets with painted faces showing their team pride. Nel had wanted to paint her face Irish Green but Cloelia had slapped her hands away at the simple mentioning of it. Instead she had been cohered into wearing a clean face with dark gray formal dress that resembled a coat and seemed to reach right above her knees matched with a pair of pointy witch boots. Her guardian insisted proper attire would be essential if they were to be in the presence of the Minister of Magic himself Cornelius Fudge.
Elowen's dark eyes scanned the crowd as she sought out any familiar trace of her friends. Tracey had said they would be by the Press tent. It took her some time to spot them not far from the entrance to the stadium.
"I'm going to go say hi to my friends," she said to the Lestranges. Both shot her a disapproving look. "Want to come?" She asked Ellar with hopeful eyes and a broad smile.
"No," he shot down coldly before walking into the stadium disinterested. She frowned a little at his cold response.
"Don't be long," Cloelia said before turning and following after her son.
Nel crossed a maze of people dodging drunks and loud cheering individuals until she reached the trio standing just outside of the tent. She tapped Theo's shoulder and he turned around giving her a confused look.
It took him a moment to realize it was his friend tapping his shoulder and not a stranger. "Nel?" He asked eyes going wide at the realization.
The long shaggy bangs and choppy hair were gone. So were the oversized worn clothes she would wear. Before the group stood someone, who seemed to look like what polished young lady in sophisticated Pureblood Society would look like.
Tracey turned around and was less discrete about her shock.
"Holy smokes! What happened to you?" She asked in awe, still tackling her friend into a hug.
"What are you talking about?" The orphan responded cluelessly in the embrace. "I told you, I got adopted," she simply shrugged.
"Seems like manners aren't the only things the Lestrange have instilled in you," Daphne butted eyeing the girl's new fashion from head to toe. She herself was wearing something similar. Of course she knew about her adoption, it seemed like most individuals belonging to the same social circle as the Lestranges were well aware.
Nel still found it odd that Greengrass had been invited in her spot when she wrote to her friends saying she'd simply meet them at the game.
"Manners, schmanners. Who cares if your finger is up or down when you're having a drink?" she said reaching from some green paint from Tracey's face and smearing it on her cheek.
Theodore was about to say something when someone bumped into him from behind purposely making him briskly stumble forward.
"Oi!" Nel shouted loudly before shoving back the individual foully. "Watch it!" She threatened.
Blaise Zabini who was towering above them gaped at the girl who had just threatened him. "Saintday?" He asked in awe. The mark on her exposed face- impossible to confuse. It was her, but at the same time it wasn't. She looked like the type of girl he would see at a Yule dinner with his family or in the company of Daphne Greengrass, which might make sense to him as to why the young witch was there.
"Move it along Zabini!" She snapped turning away from him.
The teen left.
"Classic Saintday," Theodore said with a slight smirk. Like Zabini he seemed to have also grown a couple of inches over the summer. His curly hair longer, features sharper.
"Well," Daphne added. "I think you look very nice Elowen," she complimented brushing her perfect hair back over her shoulder. "We should go find out seats," Tracey said almost gushing to walk into the massive arena. "Your seat shouldn't be far from ours."
The group nodded before making their way inside.
"Meet here afterwards?" Nel said to the group signaling to the spot in front of the Press tent.
"Uh, perhaps not," Daphne said in an uneasy voice. "My father wants me home right after the game."
"Yeah, same here," Theo added in the same quiet tone.
She flashed them both a confused look. Home? Why would they go home when the party was about to get started?
She turned to look at Tracey with hopeful eyes.
"I'm going to take some pictures with my dad afterwards," She explained. "Maybe next time?"
Nel soon reached the private viewing box where she would be sitting. She had to pass several security checks but was allowed through. She spotted her guardians across the large viewing box conversing with whom she assumed to be the Minister of Magic.
Ellar was standing by the rail his eyes lazily following some of the whizzing fireworks that were shot from one side of the pitch to the other.
He looked so cool.
Distracted by starring at the older teen she almost crashed into Lucius Malfoy.
Maybe it wasn't a surprise that he was here. Standing next to him was a woman with pointy face features whom Nel could only assume was his wife. Her appearance was eerily similar to his. Even strands of her dark hair (which at this point was mostly blonde) were colored in that same tone of platinum blonde. She couldn't distinct if it was natural or not.
"Mr. Malfoy," She nodded towards the man civilly.
Lucius was intimidatingly polite as he usually was to her. His grey eyes instantly starred at the moles that dotted her face. Something the man never seemed to miss. It was unnerving really the way he blatantly starred in such a rude manner. His grey eyes made her want to flinch under his stare.
"Elowen Saintday," He greeted. "Or should I address you as Lestrange now?" He looked down at her with much disdain. She had a feeling he knew of her unclaimed status and of course about her impromptu adoption over the summer holiday.
"Saintday will do," She responded curtly.
The woman was staring at her just like Lucius was. Nel couldn't help but feel self-conscious as her eyes raked from the headband on top of her head all the way down to the pointy tip of her boots. Even her fingertips and black nail polish weren't exempt from her judgement. She was looking at Nel as if she was an insect. She couldn't distinct if she was an insect to be squashed or ogled at.
"This is my wife Narcissa," he introduced placing a hand on his wife's lower back.
Narcissa wore a curious smile, one that edged higher at one corner of her mouth just like her sons usually did.
Nel instinctively extended a hand forward one which was left unshaken leaving her to awkwardly close it and lower it. "Charmed," she simply responded. The teen nodded politely biting her tongue to prevent her from making a snarky comment. She wanted to seem cool and sophisticated, especially in front of Ellar.
"Pleasure is all mine," She responded poshly, like she had been instructed to do countless of times by Cloelia.
"I understand you're in my son Draco's year. He has mentioned you once or twice."
'When I turned his head into a balloon? Or when I set him on fire at Hogsmeade?' She wondered which of the two it could've been. No wonder the woman didn't like her. The slightest of smug smirks tugging at the edges of Nel's mouth.
From the other side of the sitting box a pair of ears caught his name.
Draco Malfoy turned and saw Nel Saintday out of all people conversing with his parents. He swaggered towards them hoping his parents hadn't taken the luxury of embarrassing him yet.
She looked at him and seemed a little surprised by his massive growth spur, he was now almost as tall as is father, easily a head taller than her. Neat blond hair parted to the side and wearing a crisply ironed black suit. He hadn't held back on the cologne either.
He didn't comment on her appearance unlike the other Slytherins.
"Just once or twice," He interrupted cooly composing himself at his mother's slip. The edge of his mouth turning up just like his mother's did.
"Draco," She simply acknowledged him by name. Which was weird. She had never called him that before but if she called him Malfoy, she was afraid all three would turn to face her. Without another word she raised her brows at him, like he usually did to her, and brushed past him excusing herself.
"So, that's her," Narcissa hummed more to herself, her eyes still glued to the back of the teen's head.
Of course, she had heard her husband speak about Elowen Saintday more than more or twice. Draco had also written home about her more than once. Usually complaining about the unbearable witch that was so bloody good at charms and constantly made his head swell up like a balloon. Judging from the daggers he was shooting at the back of her head as she greeted Ellar Lestrange, she presumed she still had the ability to crawl under her son's skin.
"The Girl Who Died?" She whispered to Lucius who in return gave her a silencing glare. Still with a sly smirk Narcissa turned to her son. "You never mentioned she was quite pretty Draco."
That's because she wasn't. Draco didn't know why he couldn't tear his eyes away. That person was not Nel Saintday. That person shaking Cornelius Fudge's hand nodding in agreement, slightly laughing at a bad joke the man said.
"What do you intend to do with your future Ms. Saintday?"
"I'm keeping my options open," She admitted. "I have been considering Curse Breaking as a career."
Draco mused to himself as he eavesdropped. He would've never guessed that. His best guess would've been Dueling Master like Professor Flitwick.
She was now standing next to Ellar. Both leaning over the railing leaning forward to look at the Quidditch pitch. Smiling at each other and pointing at different fireworks and lights on the sky.
Well mannered. Posh. Well behaved. Hair neatly groomed for what appeared to be the first time in her life. His parents might have missed it, but Draco didn't miss the smudged green paint on her face. He felt himself cringe when he saw that Lestrange wanker lick his thumb and wipe the paint away making her face turn red.
He wanted to push him off the balcony rail.
The French git left for a moment.
Nel was too busy gawking at the dancing leprechauns that were making it rain Irish gold over the people in the stands that she didn't notice the youngest Malfoy creeping up on her side.
"You know I speak French too," he said hands deep in his pockets. She turned to give him a funny look. "Fluently," he added proudly.
"So?" She arched an eyebrow and couldn't help but eye him oddly. So, he was bilingual and knew how to play the violin. Big deal. So what?
"It's not impressive. That's all I'm saying," he sneered in the direction of the dark-haired boy, glaring daggers at his back as he helped himself to some beer.
"You sound jealous," She smirked at him and he couldn't help but scowl at her accusation. "Almost as if you want to be him," she poked a second time.
"Why-," He laughed mockingly. "Would I ever want to be that French git?"
She brought a hand to her chin and loudly hummed as if in deep in thought. "Let's see," she began. "He's refined, actually polite, fun – and doesn't need to be a pompous arse to be liked!" She slapped his chest with a paper pamphlet she was holding.
He grabbed the Quidditch pamphlet and threw it over his shoulder without any care. "Ever considering a career in stand-up comedy Saintday?" He laughed dryly. "At least I haven't gotten expelled from Hogwarts."
She finally turned to look at him. A surprised look on her face. He floundered in the moment knowing this would strike a nerve.
"Expelled?" She asked for some clarification blinking twice.
"Oh?" He grinned pleased. This was always the best way to get her attention. Nel Saintday was like a dog with a bone when it came to unanswered questions and other mysteries; He knew she wouldn't let go of until she had an answer. "He never mentioned he attended Hogwarts?" He pressed.
Had he? She scanned her few thoughts and memories of Ellar. He had never mentioned he had attended Hogwarts, but why wouldn't he? He had nothing to hide, right?
"You're lying," She narrowed her eyes in mistrust.
Ellar approached from behind sipping on a pint of beer despite being both underage and in the presence of the Ministry of Magic himself.
"Am I?" Draco leaned forward and spoke in a low tone. She looked at him with wariness. "Also," He raised both of his brows innocently at her before leaning in closer to her ear. "Bulgaria is going to conquer. Krum's got it in the bag," he whispered before returning to his family.
She seethed glaring at the back of his blond head strongly fighting the urge to make it swell like a giant air balloon.
"What'd he want?" Ellar asked curiously as he sipped on his beer.
She let out a sharp snort and turned her attention to the starting game. "Nothing important," she grumbled.
The crowd cheered loudly as five green and white figures flew through the air on brooms leaving behind a trail of emerald and white. A large glittering leprechaun appeared in the sky and. Began Irish dancing. Excitement was in the air.
"Good evening!" The announced began. "It gives me great pleasure to welcome each and every one of you to the final of the 422nd Quidditch
World Cup. Let the match begin!"
xxxxx
The game was exhilarating. Nel who had never particularly enjoyed Quidditch had a blast. Being in the pitch was a completely different experience.
Everybody in the Ministry of Magic's box was completely composed and boringly clapped whenever a point was scored. Nel on the other hand behaved as if she was in a chicken coop loudly cheering and passionately jumping with every point Ireland scored.
At some point she heard Draco cheer, but he cleared his throat and composed himself pretending to be disinterested in the game.
She wished she had watched the game with Tracey and Theodore but overall Nel had a good time. By the end of it she was being aggressive over the Irish victory over Bulgaria.
Ellar seemed upset by Bulgaria's loss. He almost spilled most of his drink on the poor people below the viewing box.
"That was really something!" She cheered matching the step of the older teen as they made their way out of the stadium. "Did you see how Krum and Lynch both dived for the snitch? For a moment there I really thought Lynch was going to beat him to it!"
"1990 World Cup was better," he griped with an irritated look on his striking features. She couldn't tell if he was more annoyed or slightly buzzed from all the beers he'd had. There were a pair of Irish fans descending down the stairs above loudly cheering and chanting Ireland. They looked down at the snobbish people in the Minister's box. "Irish pride!" They cheered loudly.
Carried away by the spirit Elowen cheered back just as enthusiastically
"Stop acting so ridiculous," He shot her a silencing glare.
Ellar was... odd. One moment he was completely charming kissing her hand, making her laugh, wiping paint off from her face, slipping her some wine when his mother wasn't looking. But other times he had emotional shifts like this in which he would completely shut down and shut her out. Nel piped down and grew silent. She wanted Ellar to fancy her.
She wanted to make him laugh and wanted him to hold her hand and kiss it and bring her flowers for no reason like she had seen in some movies back at Wool's.
"You got lucky Saintday," She didn't even turn to acknowledge Malfoy who was walking at her side ready to press all of her buttons. "What a game," He said again sinking his hands into his pockets.
"I should've bet with you. Would've made a pretty galleon or two."
He let out a humorous huff, "Pocket change," He answered pretentiously.
She rolled her eyes at his response. Classic Malfoy.
"Who says we still can't bet?" He challenged.
"Oh yeah?" This piquet her interest. Nel was extremely cautious with her limited spending. The uncertainty of the future didn't allow her to misspend even a single Sickle. But if she could swindle Malfoy out of some "pocket change" that would be ideal. "What do you want to bet on?"
"How far that frog's stick is up his arse?" He nudged in Ellar's direction. She chortled slightly and hit his arm lightly laughing. He wasn't wrong.
"He's just... bitter," She excused his behavior shaking her head with a slight frown on her brow.
"Rumor is that Viktor Krum and the Durmstrang Institute will be on Hogwarts' grounds this year because of the Triwizard Tournament. I bet you I can get him to sit with me in the Slytherin table."
It was true. She had been hearing Cloelia and Ellar talk about the Triwizard Tournament which Hogwarts would be hosting this year. From what she had heard Durmstrang and Beauxbaton being the two other largest Magic Schools in Europe would also be participating in it.
"Bet," She agreed.
"Two galleons," he stated the amount they would be gambling on.
"Two galleons?" She coughed back incredulously at the amount. That was about the equivalent of ten pounds or ten dollars. "I thought this was pocket change for you Malfoy."
"I don't want to swindle you too bad when I win," he added arrogantly. Already acting as if he had it in the bag. "Fine," She muttered in agreement before lightly hitting his arm once again. He simpered faintly at the gesture.
They were about to reach the exit when Lucius Malfoy turned back and gave his son a commanding look to keep up. His black cane being raised as he led the way.
"Unlike you, I have been invited to the Bulgarian Team's tent. Personal invitation from Headmaster Igor Karkaroff himself," he bragged self-importantly. Of course, he already had a head start on their bet. The sly bastard would be rubbing shoulders with Krum himself all evening.
Nel wasn't impressed by his invitation. Having sat through a painful viewing of the most exciting event of the year with a load of bores she figured the Bulgarians probably weren't that fun either.
"You're the worst." She stated dully.
"See you at school," He said dismissingly with a typical eyebrow raise before going after his family.
Outside of the stadium Ellar was still upset. He hadn't said another word since he had snapped at Nel to stop acting childishly or ridiculously, she couldn't remember what adjective he had used. Cloelia walked with her back straight, head held up high. She almost seemed like she was in a rush to get out of here.
The outside was even livelier and more than it had been earlier in the day. The Irish really had their spirit on cheering, toasting and drinking to their team. Vibrant green fireworks and light whizzes flew up into the night sky.
"Can we stay?" Nel asked excitedly still looking at her surroundings in awe almost like a child in a fair.
"Let's get out of here," Her guardian simply dismissed her request.
She frowned slightly and was about to beg Cloelia to stay for a little bit longer.
"I'm going to take care of some stuff mother," Ellar said ominously he was already walking away when Nel stepped in his way. "Can I go with you?" She asked excitedly twirling a strand of her brown hair in between her fingers. Knowing him he was probably going to party or find some of his Beauxbaton classmates and continue drinking.
He looked at her hard and seemed irritated. He sighed and placed his hands on her shoulders. "No," he said without any hint emotion before moving her body back to where his mother was standing. Again, she frowned at this.
"Can I go with him? Please?" she asked his mother begging for any excuse to stay behind and party. After all, how often was one at the World Quidditch Cup? Even then it only happened every four years.
"Come on Elowen," Cloelia said imperatively and turned away.
She had to go home but Ellar got to stay and party? It wasn't fair.
He looked so upset, he probably wouldn't even enjoy it! She would!
With a sharp exhale and no choice, she followed after her guardian. Nel only gave a couple of steps when she heard two familiar voices.
"Could it be?"
"Is it really?"
She felt a tug on both of her shoulders and was spun only to see the Weasley twins looking at her excitedly. Both were wearing green Leprechaun hats and wore their clothes and faces painted in green and white in full Irish Team spirit.
"We almost didn't recognize you!" George said. At least who she thought was George she sometimes had a hard time telling them apart.
"We said who's that girl? Could it be?" Fred said walking around her. "No, Nel Saintday wouldn't be caught dead wearing a dress in public," He teased tugging at the fabric of her clothes.
"Who are you here with?" The younger twin asked. "Any other snakes hiding in the tallgrass?" George joked.
She discretely glanced over her shoulder and saw that Cloelia had realized she wasn't following and was looking around the crowd looking for her.
"No one," She lied swiftly.
She had often heard Cloelia mocking the "Blood Traitor" Weasleys and laughing at how weak the Prewet family was. She certainly wouldn't approve of their company and the Weasley's probably wouldn't get along with her new guardians.
"We're about to head back to the tent and celebrate! Want to come?"
Without looking back she locked elbows with them and pulled them away before Cloelia could spot them. Both of them cheered loudly as they dived into the crowd. Vanishing just in time before her guardian could find her.
School started in a week what would be the worst punishment she could do to her during that time? The consequences would be worth it.
She couldn't help but laugh as she followed them back to the rest of their group.
Harry, Hermione, Ron, a man whom Nel presumed to be Weasley Sr. judging by his red hair and age and Ginny, their younger sister, were all waiting for the twins. Another man was with them and Hufflepuff's gem, Cedric Diggory.
There wasn't a Hogwarts student that didn't know his name or who he was.
Hufflepuff's Quidditch Team Captain, Seeker, Prefect and dashingly handsome also known as Prettyboy Diggory. The boy was practically perfect. He was the type of Prefect most girls prayed to run into in the school's corridor's at night.
"Nel?" She snapped out of her daydream when Harry caught her attention. "What are you doing here?" He asked his friend.
She greeted everyone cheerily. More cheerily and excited than anyone had probably ever seen her, almost giddy. "Why go home? Party is barely getting started right?" She said excitedly rambling over her words and ignoring Harry's question.
Really – what was the worst thing that Cloelia could do to her? Part of her was also hoping to run into Ellar tonight.
Maybe he'd be in better spirits then. Maybe the two could share a pint?
"You must be the Slytherin girl," Mr. Weasley greeted her politely stretching his hand out. A stark contrast to the Malfoys she had met earlier in the day. "Pleasure is all mine Mr. Weasley," She spoke to him with the same respect she had shown the Ministry of Magic himself. "Nel will do."
Ron's sister Ginny was actually really cool. Nel had never had a conversation with her before. Then again, most students tended to avoid her like the plague, seeing as she had been branded as Slytherin's heir due to being possessed by Voldemort only two years ago. Even Granger was more bearable or maybe Elowen was just in an elated mood.
Less hostile. More open to others.
The group was all celebrating inside of the Weasley's small tent. The tent might have been small but inside it was warm and comforting decorated with used furniture and warm tones of red and orange. It was what Nel had always imagined being in the Gryffindor Common Room would be like.
They had all been so welcoming to her. She had never really felt quite at home like in this moment. She was jealous of the Weasley's they had a caring father, and each other, more than a handful of brothers and sisters to rely and love. They were a real family.
Laughing and cheering could probably be heard from the outside as the twins mocked Ron over his obsession for the Bulgarian Seeker.
There were no tables that kicked you inside here, nobody that minded your manners, nobody watching your mouth or what went inside of it, how you sat, how you stood, how you fucking lived.
"There's no one like Krum! He's like a bird the way he rides the wind. He's more than an athlete. He's an artist!" Ron was standing on top of a chair literally preaching to the crowd about his devotion to the Seeker.
The twins were bumbling around him comically singing "KRUMMMM" Loudly.
"Think you're in love Ron?" Ginny teased tugging at her brother's scarf.
"Viktor I love you! Viktor I do!" George and Fred sang. Harry eventually joined.
"Nel you're crying," Hermione pointed out. The Slytherin snapped out of her thoughts and looked down at her mug which held some warm apple cider only to see a stray tear land on it.
"Oh, I didn't realize," She touched her wet face wiping away the few tears. "I just feel so at home," She admitted sheepishly.
Hermione couldn't help but smile a little. "I never did apologize for stunning you last year, did I?"
"When we're apart my heart beats only for youuu!" The three males sang around a flustered Ron. Everybody in the tent laughed loudly, but not loud enough to lull over the sound of shouts from the outside.
"Sounds like the Irish have got their pride on," Fred commented as he ceased to sing.
"Stop! Stop it!" Mr. Weasley interrupted carefully listening. "It's not the Irish. We've gotta get out of here. Now."
The room growing silent as they listened to the outside screaming, but it wasn't joyful it sounded more harrowing.
Jumping to their feet everybody crammed to get out of the tent only to enter a whirlwind of chaos.
Panicked people were running everywhere, left and or right with no sense of direction, stumbling over each other like savages. Horrifying, frightful screams echoed the fields. The air smelled like cinder and burning fire. As several tents were consumed by the flames.
"Get back to the portkey everybody and stick together." He instructed.
Dark figures in pointed hoods all wearing grim masks all holding flaming torches marches across the campsite chanting loud ominous noises. Destroying everything on sight with fire. Some had wands which levitated some individuals which were humiliatingly paraded across the camp.
Instantly the group took off running in one direction.
Who were those people? Why wasn't anybody doing anything about this?
Running away from the tent into safety Nel kept her eyes fixed on the back of Ron's tall frame. Turning back, she realized that someone pushed into Harry.
"Harry!" She shouted stopping dead in her tracks. Heart caught in her throat. She looked around hoping and catch sight of the Gryffindor's shaggy hair or red clothes.
Blurs of red and green flickered in her vision as she was violently pushed and eventually elbowed to the ground. Instinctively she covered her head with her hands and tucked in her knees into her body assuming a fetal position as she was trampled and stomped on.
She was alone. This was her fault. If she had only listened for once in her damned life. She highly doubted anybody was looking for her.
She should have listened to Cloelia. For the first time in her life she regretted not having listened to an adult. Painful tears slipped down her face as she was once again kicked in the stomach.
She was alone, laying on the ground, breathing heavily. Praying that the rush would be over. Her eyes were shut tightly. A whimper caught in her throat.
Elowen didn't even realize when a hand reached for the front of her dress. Pulling her back up to her feet. Her eyes snapped open and she found herself paralyzed with fear as she came face to face with a mask of death.
It was one of those wizards wearing a dark hood. The person was holding her up high so that her tiptoes barely grazed the muddy ground. Her breath strained as she looked down into the void eyes of the mask. Without another word the masked individual dropped her making her stumble back and once again fall on her behind. She couldn't help but stare for a moment. Wonder in horrifying astonishment at the black hood that was standing before her.
No words were exchanged. If the person wanted to hurt, her it would've happened by now.
Not wanting to linger and find out if she was right or wrong, she ungracefully staggered on her feet and feeling sore and beaten she scampered the opposite way.
Her breathing was harsh, adrenaline pumping through her system as she kept on dodging people and continuously looking over her shoulder making sure that hood wasn't following after her. Looking behind her she turned only to crash into something rigid and solid. She winced and held her head slightly dazed putting another hand on the flagpole she had just run into. Bringing a hand down she saw it was stained with blood.
Elowen was pressed up against the flagpole as masses of people ran by dodging her and the poll as they still escaped the campgrounds. Her eyes were wide with fear, mind turning over a proper spell that could save her.
"You? Merlin's beard Saintday. Come on now!" Her head whipped back as she was pulled forward and back into the crowd with a strong momentum. A deathly tight grip on her wrist.
It could've been the devil himself and she would've followed him out of this hell.
"What are you doing here?" She shouted over the loud screaming again crashing into his back when he came to a sudden halt. He ignored her question and dodging desperate individuals led her out of the maze of burning tents.
The two Slytherins stumbled into another one of those dark hoods. Shrinking fearfully, she hid behind him holding on to his arm tightly.
The hood froze and looked past them.
"They won't hurt us," He said to her over his shoulder.
Malfoy was right. The hood seemed to move past them leaving them both unharmed. Taking an awry turn finally there seemed to be an open field in sight. Rushing towards it the two seemed to have made it out of the camp and into the plains.
Both were catching their breaths. Nel leaning her weight on her standing knees, a hand pressed against her bleeding brow.
Draco stood tall kept his eyes peeled for any sight of someone or something emerging from the crowds.
"You're hurt," he noted the bloody side of her face.
"What did you mean when you said they wouldn't hurt us?"
How could he possibly know what those things were and the fact they would be spared from whatever evil intent they had planned.
"Let me see," He stepped towards her, she stepped back almost tripping over her own feet. He caught her lower arm stabilizing her. "Let me see," he commanded in a harsher tone, the grip on her lower arm tightening.
She said nothing and whimpered as she lowered her hand. She could feel a cut of skin which had split right in the start of her eyebrow.
"There you are," A third voice interrupted in a relieved tone.
Narcissa looked relieved as she apparated between the two teenagers. She didn't give them a moment to explain herself before latching a hand into each of their shoulders and once again apparating away from the violent scene.
The next thing Nel knew was that everything went black; It was like when she apparated for the first time with Cloelia. She was pressed very hard from all directions as if being squeezed through a tube. The constricting feeling lasted for a moment before they appeared in the heart of a massive parlor room.
Narcissa let go of her and instantly turned grabbing her son's face in her hands inspecting it for the slightest scratch or bruise. Feeling light-headed Nel leaned her weight on the arm of a sofa chair.
She took a minute to take in her surroundings. Polished dark wood floors, a massive and intricately carved fireplace made out of white marble, matching pillars holding up the high ceiling and a massive crystal chandelier hovering above them.
"Did they hurt you?" She was taken aback when she felt Narcissa's hands on her face, brushing back her hair to better inspect her wound. Surprised by the gesture she took a solid moment to answer the witch. She figured she meant the dark hoods if anyone.
"No," She responded softly. "I ran into a flagpole."
Nel saw the witch pull out her wand and point it at her.
"Scourgify," She casted the charm which made the blood, mud and other grime vanish completely from the girl's person. Again, pointing the wand, she raised it higher to her face. Nel winced slightly when it was inches away from her nose bracing herself for what may come. "Episkey."
Her brow felt very hot and then very cold. Raising her hand to touch her forehead, the wound seemed to have magically closed.
The girl couldn't help but wonder if this was what it was like to have a mother. To have somebody undevoted care and watch over you like that.
"I'll send for Clo. She's probably mortified," Narcissa straightened up. Not a speck of dust was on her, her appearance composed despite the havoc they had just escaped. "Sit," She commanded before exiting the room.
Nel did without a question dropping on the dark colored sofa that was next to her.
"What were you doing out there by yourself?" Malfoy stood before her hands in pockets as he began his interrogation. Like his mother he looked completely unharmed.
"What were you doing out there by yourself? I thought you were supposed to be rubbing shoulders with Krum," She said holding on to her healed brow which still stung.
Draco had in fact been in the Bulgarian Quidditch Team's tent. He had even gotten a Quidditch jersey signed by Krum and all of the other players.
Of course, he had known about the attack that was coming. Both him and his mother had seen his father preparing for it earlier in the week. Lucius never spoke directly to the family about his affairs as a Death Eater. It was dangerous considering the consequences if somebody pried into his son's untrained mind. Draco assumed that his father felt having an alibi would be beneficial for the family in case anybody came pointing fingers.
Losing his mother on the way out, however, had not been part of the plan. Neither had been seeing Nel Saintday bleeding from the head pressed up against a flagpole in the middle of a stampede.
"I was," he answered sharply. "Got lost." He explained casually.
Both were silent for a moment. She looked away from him avoiding his perturbing gaze.
"Merlin, you can be so daft Saintday," he ran a hand through his hair combing it back. "What were you thinking? Who knows what would've happened if I hadn't found you."
She would've probably stayed attached to that flagpole with an open wound and would've waited for the stampede to be over. Overall, she would've been fine. There was no need to act upon his savior complex. Or at least that's what she thought. Who knows maybe one of those hoods wouldn't have been as merciful to her.
"What did you mean..." She pondered more out loud to herself. "When you said they wouldn't hurt us?"
Draco swallowed thickly and turned away pretending to be suddenly invested in the fire that was cracking only a couple of feet away from them.
He was relieved when his mother reentered the room with Cloelia who was frantically walking towards here. Face pale, eyes wide with panic.
"There you are!" She scolded angrily reaching for the girl's arm digging her nails into the fabric of her sleeve. Nel winced bracing herself for whatever would come when she returned home.
"T-Thank you," She stammered weakly thanking the Malfoys who probably didn't even hear her. Clo spoke rapidly about who knows what. Everything happened in a blur. The goodbye, the apparition back in the house of Lestrange and the slap to the face. "I specifically told you not to stray, yet you deliberately disobeyed me! Because of that I will make sure you don't move anymore. Salazar's Beard, you don't know what would happen to me- to my family if anything happened to you."
Nel quaked fearfully when she looked down and saw a thorny vine begin to snake around her ankle and up her leg.
"You will not move."
Back at Malfoy Manor, Draco still stood before the fire. His mother behind him waving her wand at some muddy spots of the ground that needed to be cleaned.
"Mother," Draco broke the silence the two had shared since Cloelia Lestrange and Elowen Saintday had apparated away. "Yes dear?" Narcissa turned her attention to her only son. His eyes were focused on a particular spot on the ground.
He couldn't help but think about the special attentions the Lestrange's had with Nel Saintday. They wouldn't have taken just anyone in. Much less someone speculated to be a half-blood or lesser than them, and if they did it certainly wouldn't be out of the kindness of their hearts.
The strange behavior his father always displayed when the girl was around never sat well with him. The fact his mother had actually bothered to heal her wounds and acknowledge her.
"Who is Elowen Saintday?"