someday, somehow → d.malfoy [discontinued]

006

the first time draco saw artemis again was barely a day after he and lucius had arrived in the countryside for the match.

he hadn't properly recognised her, in actuality—and the sight of her in such casual clothes (a faded black leather jacket, for merlin's sake) only fed the illusion of her unfamiliarity. he did not walk up to her, as he wanted, but watched her with a slack expression as she chatted animatedly, enthusiastically with rapid-fire french spitting from her clever tongue. there were two others with her; a tall, silver-haired boy that reminded draco somewhat of a praying mantis due to the dramatic contours of his facial features, and a stocky girl with dark shorn hair and cedar-brown skin. 

the next time, draco was walking through the rapidly-filling stands of the arena as his father parted the sea of wizards and witches haughtily. he hadn't noticed her as he walked past, a spitting insult poised on his tongue as he felt a sharp pinch near his elbow and spun with a glare, only to meet the sight of her minute smile. she was with the two others, again.

"hey," she said, and then she was gone, swallowed by the flow of people and their buzzing pleasure. disoriented, draco pressed his feet into the ground and propelled himself forwards, after his father. artemis' smile remained in his mind as he entered the box he would be watching from, and then dissolved like mist as the game begun. and; despite the sour expression the presence of harry potter and his chattering friends had put on draco's face, he was enjoying himself. adrenaline brought an erratic thumping rhythm to his chest, his eyes sped greedily from one end of the field to the other, and then they swept over the thousands of people in the stands, waving self-made banners and brightly-coloured, flashing lights in both teams' colours.  noise rushed deafeningly into his ears, so unaccustomed to such stimuli, and so much of it. by the end of the match, draco was cupping his slim, pale fingers around his mouth and roaring until his throat felt rough as dirt.

soon after ireland's victory was announced, lime-green and glowing silver fireworks took to the inky sky, reflecting their colours onto draco's skin while he followed his father through the field of tents. cheers of joy and celebration nipped their heels still, as they strode further and further away.

draco lay awake, a smile on his face and the day running through his mind

until his father left their tent (which looked far to extravagant for such an event as the quidditch world cup). the shouts begun shortly afterwards. he sat up, the warmth of his blanket peeling, falling away as his head snapped from side to side in panic. he tried to make sense of it, and tried to figure out the best course of action from thereon—eventually drawing to the conclusion of following the scrambling majority of quidditch-audience from only a few hours earlier that night. as lucius had advised him, draco had crept into bed without removing his trousers, nor his socks or shirt, and now he easily slipped out of the still-erect tent after hastily tying the laces on his dress shoes and snatching his blazer.