Chosen || Draco Malfoy

1 - Trophy Dreams

The alarm rang in my ear, rousing me from my slumber.

I sat up suddenly, my heart racing uncomfortably in my chest. I had just had the most intense dream. Furrowing my brow, I tried my hardest to recall it... something about winning a trophy.

Trophy... Quidditch World Cup.

Butterflies swarmed in my stomach as I jumped out of bed. I could already hear Dad cluttering around in the kitchen downstairs as the scent of bacon wafted upwards, pleasantly invading my nostrils.

Thoughts of my dream quickly evaporating from my mind, I grabbed my luminous pink post-it pad off my dresser and hastily scribbled two identical notes before slapping them on the ruffled back of my disgruntled looking barn owl, Amazon.

It's time, bitches! See you there!

I watched as she flew out into the still dark morning sky, smiling as I imagined my two best friends reactions to their early morning wake up calls.

Susan would be grumpy as hell; Hannah, just as pumped as me.

This was going to be awesome.

******

"Cece, come down!" Dad yelled breathlessly as he struggled to keep up. "I think I see the Weasley's up ahead."

Balancing on a tree branch, I squinted further up into the woods. And there indeed, gathered in a red haired mass, were our trusty neighbours - plus a couple of very familiar extras.

Grinning wickedly, I effortlessly leaped across to the next tree, glad that my summer gymnastic classes were paying off.

"Hey," I smirked, making sure to land right in front of the boy with round glasses and a lightning shaped scar upon his forehead.

"Hi," he smiled shyly, a dark tinge rising to his cheeks.

"Gum?" I offered, sliding out a pack from the back pocket of my jeans as I proceeded to blow a large pink bubble in his face.

Dad caught up with us just as it popped, making Harry jump back in fright.

"Cecilia! What have I told you about chewing that disgusting Muggle cra- Merlin's beard," he gasped, taking a closer look at my companion, "is that... Harry Potter?"

"The one and only," Arthur Weasley grinned, moving over to slap Harry heartily on the shoulder. "He's with us."

"Of course, my Cece knows him well," Dad beamed proudly, puffing out his chest. "Beat him at Quidditch last year. Not many can say that!"

"Dad," I gritted after spitting out my gum on the ground, "quit being so embarrassing. I only won because Harry fell off his broom."

"NONSENSE!" Dad roared as Fred and George simultaneously cracked their knuckles behind him. "Don't be so modest. You stayed on your broom. You beat Harry Potter."

"Sure, whatever, Dad," I sighed, rolling my eyes.

I threw Harry an apologetic smile as we continued on to locate some disgusting old boot.

******

Not going to lie, the Quidditch World Cup was amazing.

Dad had managed to secure us seats directly below the Ministers box. Susan, Hannah and I spent the whole time squealing every time Krum flew right by us.

"Oh my fucking god!" Susan screeched, flapping her hands in front of her face, "I swear he just looked directly at me!"

"No fucking way!" Hannah gasped, her eyes bulging in awe.

"Uh, yeah," I agreed, coolly flicking my shimmering blonde hair back over my shoulder, "he like totally wants you to have his babies."

Both Susan and Hannah squealed.

"Girls!" Dad hissed, looking mightily embarrassed by the fourteen year old girls he'd found himself surrounded by, "will you please keep it down! The Minister is sitting directly above us!"

"Apparently the Weasley's are up there too," Susan spoke smugly at having this nugget of information to share, "I bumped into Fred and George down by the tents."

"Really?" Hannah gasped in shock, "but aren't they... you know? Poor?"

She mouthed the last word as though she were afraid  it were cursed.

"Pah," Dad scoffed, pulling a face, "I expect it has less to do with gold and everything to do the fact that Arthur likes to parade Harry Potter around as though he is one of his own."

"Give it a rest, Dad," I muttered, praying he wasn't about to go off on another one of his 'Harry Potter isn't as special as people make out' rants.

"I honestly don't know what Fudge was thinking," Dad warbled on, his eyes flashing behind his glasses, "inviting the Malfoy's and the Weasley's up there. Ho, ho, wouldn't I just love to be a fly on the wall up there right now."

All four of us simultaneously cast our eyes upwards towards the roof of our box.

I could picture it well; Draco Malfoy's furious pinched faced as he glared at the back of Harry, Ron and Hermione's heads. No doubt it would probably piss him off so much that he'd miss the entire game and blame it fully on the Weasley's.

Meh, couldn't happen to a nicer guy.

My eyes fell back to the game, all thoughts of the Ministers 'special guests' leaving my mind as Krum flew past, wiggling his eyebrows.

******

I was so tired after the game that I slept right through a Death Eater attack.

"Jeez, Dad, thanks for leaving me to potentially burn to death inside a tent." I muttered when we traipsed our way back home across the abandoned campsite the following morning.

"I thought you were behind me, pet," he shrugged. "I did shout for you to wake up enough times. It was all rather chaotic."

"You don't say!" I spluttered, gesturing to the mass of destroyed tents around us, some of them still even smoking.

"You're alive, aren't you? Not a single hair harmed on your head. That must be the Diggory luck."

Some sodding luck; I woke up with the worst bed hair and nothing seemed to tame it.

Thank god Chen wasn't around to see that.

Ah... Chen. Butterflies in my stomach.

Made a mental note to buy some of that extra super hold hairspray before September arrived. Nothing was going to stop me from looking my absolute best when I 'accidentally' bump into him by the snack trolley.

Oh yes, I had a good feeling about this year.

******