LANDSLIDE, james potter [2]

Chapter Twelve

For the most part, Lyra Malfoy has never been a Quidditch fan. It was a stupid sport with no real point. She thought there were more productive ways to spend one's time, like actually doing work or spending time with family and friends. Not play a sport that doesn't even make sense.

There was one exception to it, of course. Between the ages of fifteen and eighteen, it hadn't been so horrible. She had found herself going to most of Gryffindor house's Quidditch matches, though not for personal enjoyment. Mostly because she wanted to stare at their team captain, and so they could snog afterwards.

Once she had graduated from Hogwarts, she had stopped giving a crap about the sport again. Part of her felt like it brought up memories that had become painful as the years went by. Part of her still felt like it was stupid. 

But her son was a Quidditch player, and her husband had once been, too. Also, Quidditch matches were quite a place for making connections outside of a corporate office at the Ministry. That was Lucius's favorite part of it.

Lyra couldn't deny she didn't dislike it. Making connections and knowing the right people never hurt. She'd always been the type who liked getting to know people who could possibly help her out in the future. She had worked hard to become a member of her old Potions Professor's exclusive club, after all. 

Also, she'd been arguing too much with her husband. Especially after it became clear that she had tried to go around saying that her beloved cousin, Sirius Black, was innocent of all the crimes he had been convicted of, making her seem mad in front of the Minister of Magic himself. 

That's why she had joined him and Draco at the Quidditch World Cup of 1994, though she knew she wouldn't be very attentive to the game. The family had been personally invited by the Minister, and she did want to make him understand that she wasn't as crazy as she might have seemed the last time they had seen each other. 

Lucius, Lyra and Draco had been walking up to the Top Box, the best seats in the whole stadium. Draco had been rambling about how he was sure the Bulgarian team was going to win because Viktor Krum was their seeker. Lucius engaged in the conversation while Lyra only smiled and nodded, pretending she was paying attention. 

"I'm no great shakes at languages, I need Barty Crouch for this sort of thing. Ah, I see his house-elf's saving him a seat... good job too, these Bulgarian blighters have been trying to cadge all the best places..." they could hear Fudge say before he cast a glance at the Malfoy family approaching. "Ah, and here's Lucius and Lyra!"

Lyra turned to the Minister, seeing that he wasn't alone. He seemed to be speaking to the entire Weasley family, though excluding their matriarch, along with the familiar faces of Harry Potter and Hermione Granger. 

She put on a charming smile for the Minister and shook his hand before Lucius could, noting how Harry hadn't even tossed her a glance yet, too busy glaring at Draco for some reason. "Cornelius, how lovely to see you again."

"Wonderful to see you, too, Lyra," said the Minister, seeming slightly relieved that her mad ramblings at Hogwarts the month before had been all but forgotten. At least, that's what it seemed like. 

"Ah, Fudge," Lucius spoke up next, seeming slightly irritated that Lyra had beat him the punch. He reached out to shake the Minister's hand next. "How are you? I don't think you've met our son, Draco?"

"How do you do, how do you do?" he quickly said, smiling at the fourteen-year-old Malfoy boy, who seemed quite proud to have gotten attention from such a high-ranking man as the Minister himself. He was a true Slytherin, Lyra thought.

"And allow me to introduce you to Mr Oblansk, Obalonsk, Mr... well, he's the Bulgarian Minister for Magic, and he can't understand a word I'm saying anyway, so never mind," Fudge dismissed, gesturing to an unfamiliar man at his side. "And let's see who else... you know Arthur Weasley, I daresay?"