Liquorice Honey (A Draco Malfoy x Reader fanfic)

15: The Quidditch World Cup

The tickets for the cup had come only two days before the World Cup began (her father was one of the most forgetful people on the planet), and Wisp was absolutely adamant that she would accompany her 'mistress', exclaiming, ''Miss (Y/N) might get killed if I'm not there for her!'', but she knew the real reason was because Wisp wanted to meet all of (Y/N)'s friends. Amorita of course came too; it wasn't as if anyone else would want to look after her, and honestly, (Y/N) felt rather lost without her feline companion. The three unlikely musketeers set off extremely early to the portkey, much to (Y/N)'s disgust (''Wisp, it's two in the morning!''), and reached the arena feeling rather queasy. Upon noticing someone looking at her mistress, Wisp stood protectively in front of (Y/N); and she continued to do this every single time someone as much as looked at all in her mistress' general direction. Until, of course, she spotted a sea of ginger-haired familiar faces and practically skipped over (she was truly far too easy to beguile), chirping, ''Look, mistress, the Weasleys!'' twice and then thrice over, much like a small child; but she hid in fear as soon as she came face to face with the group, only reappearing to wave to Ron. ''Mistress, mistress, say hi, say hi!'' whispered Wisp excitedly. ''Hello, guys!'' said (Y/N) with a smile that was quickly returned. ''Hello, (Y/N), dear.'' Replied Molly, rather preoccupied with whatever Fred and George were trying to do. (Y/N) jumped a little as she realised that Ron was right next to her now, talking to Wisp; ''She's okay with you calling her (Y/N), you know,'' he said, a little confused, ''No, not...in front of people, M-Mr. Weasley...I have to...'' She hid, shaking, behind (Y/N) again. Deciding it wasn't worth trying to talk to Wisp here, he instead turned his attention to (Y/N) and her rather large tent bundle thing. He rolled his eyes; ''you could have just stayed with us, you know, Harry and Hermione are.'' (Y/N) shrugged, replying, ''Wisp gets antsy with lots of people. You're rather like a timid little puppy, aren't you?'' Wisp hid further behind (Y/N), muttering incoherently as she held onto the girl's dress shirt nervously. ''If...if Miss and her friends would like anything, I...I can...'' Wisp wasn't heard, as the trio quickly ran off to look at something and left (Y/N) to set up her tent; they'd be back later, she just suspected they'd seen the back of some famous player's head or something. Moments later, Wisp and (Y/N) set to making the tent (even though Wisp was adamant that ''Miss shouldn't help! It's a house elf's duty to...''), and after eleven or twelve failed attempts, it stood solidly. The interior made (Y/N) blush ever so slightly; it was still rather pink and glittery from the last time she'd used it, which was when she was what, four? Maybe five? She sat with a sigh of relief in one of the plush chairs, grabbing one of the books from the table and enveloping herself in it almost instantly. Wisp took to trying her hardest to remove the pink sparkles that were lodged deeply in the carpet, huffing in frustration more than once (she knew, deep down, that (Y/N) couldn't care less if she showed her feelings towards her work), and the atmosphere was peaceful, as long as you ignored the chanting and general banter from outside.And then she appeared. An extremely pretty girl suddenly rushed into (Y/N)'s tent, soaked through as if by rain (although it was rather pleasant outside), her almost black curls falling into her misty blue eyes. 

''Excusez-moi, as-tu vu un grand hibou à cornes?''

(Y/N) blinked in surprise. ''Uh,'' she began, with no confidence in her voice, ''No...no parley...'' The girl blinked back, and then exclaimed, ''Oh! 'Ogwarts fille, oui?'' (Y/N) nodded extremely uncertainly. ''Mon...my...name is Marinette, et...I lost mon amie...friend! Owl?'' (Y/N) felt more confused than she had in her entire life, but she replied, ''Your friend is an owl, or your friend has an-''—'' Marinette leapt from the ground like a graceless frog (which was further emphasised by her taller-than-average stature), and practically screamed, ''Yes, oui, yes! She was following zhe owl around, but zhen someone...'' she struggled to think of the word, and then burst into tears. ''Elle est morte! Elle doit être!'' (Y/N) felt like a fish in a desert. ''I, uh...'' Marinette continued to cry uncontrollably, making (Y/N) feel extremely uncomfortable; and it was all worsened by the second person who ducked in. Marinette stayed firmly on the ground, her tears soaking (Y/N)'s carpet, ignorant to the scrutinising grey eyes focused on her. ''What is this, some sort of homeless witch's establishment?''