The Fine Gentlemen and their Handsome Ladies

“Drooballs, get your Drooballs!”

“Puuuuump-kin pasties!”

“I say, sir, how much for that scarf?”

“Ten galleons, mate!”

“How much for the Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports?”

“Fifty galleons for lying!”

Quidditch reminded Baldric Wood of just how special the magical world truly was and that there was, more importantly, a world quite unlike that which he spent the majority of his time in. There was a whole planet, seemingly, beyond the twisting, turning walls of Diagon Alley and between work and petty gripes with his parents at home, he’d almost forgotten how magical magic actually was and he was floored to find it spread out before him on a gorgeous plateau of lush verdant scenery that was punctuated by a thick copse that spread out around the clearing that had been made further than the eye could squint to see.

The Millennium Quidditch Stadium was nomadic, traipsing up and down the country with the Quidditch Federation and all of the teams that delighted to play in it. So too did all of the other stadiums from the Ballycastle Cave to the Falcons Nest. The Millennium had grounded itself, however, for one night and one night only to host a match between the Caerphilly Catapults and the Tutshill Tornadoes. It was to be a match that no one would forget - but weren’t they all, of course? Welsh music had risen into the air, low, solemn tunes of intimidation that were broken up by jigs and jives that saw the waiting, lingering crowd dancing.

Baldric Wood, his arm curled around the waist of his date for the evening - though he had to mentally remind himself that it wasn’t a date, impromptu and date-like though it was - was making his way through the trees towards the stadium, hoping that Trish wouldn’t get wind of where they were too soon. Of course, he’d turned up on her doorstep rather unceremoniously and exclaimed to the befuddlement of her family that they had to go out. He promised earnestly to have her back before sunrise and assured everyone that if not then they could contact the Woods and would probably find her staying the night. Baldric didn’t dare suggest it to Trish though, for fear of terrifying her completely. It had happened many a time with Charlie and Gracie and the others. Certainly, his little sister enjoyed the influx of female presence.

“Okay,” Baldric’s breath, sweetened with peppermint, brushed against her ear and he brought his fingers up to undo the knot in the blindfold he’d put over her eyes. “Surprise!” He exclaimed, whipping it off and letting it fall from his hands.

The Millennium was beyond any Quidditch stadium that a normal wizard could muster to imagine. It could house over three hundred thousand and every time it ground itself, it was maxed out. Regardless of who was playing, people always came to the legendry Quidditch stadium if they could. Tickets, as one would imagine, went from existent to non-existent as quickly as they appeared as the former.

Baldric grinned as he looked up, squinting as the stadium rose up into the heavy cloud cover above. He tossed his arm around Trish’s waist again and tugged at her, ushering her along with him.

They arrived at the turn-style behind a group of young wizards from Romania who had donned purple, pointed hats. Baldric grinned down at Trish and hugged her to his side, warding off the cold which had already begun to whip around them. Eventually, with speed that surprised him, they made their way into the stadium and hurried up the stairs, Baldric dragging Trish by the hand to the box which his father and he were always welcome to use whenever the Millennium was grounded.

Baldric opened the door, his grin broadening even more as he revealed sumptuously decorated quarters that others could only envy as they stood out in the cold. Regardless, the glass could be pulled back and the winds allowed in as well as the feeling of being immersed with the crowd and that was exactly what Baldric did, leaning out over the side to look down at the stage set up on the finely manicured grass where the evening’s pre-game entertainment had already begun as people ushered into the stadium.

“What do you think?” Baldric asked with a grin as he made his way over to the side-cupboard from which he took a bottle of Firewhisky. “Drink?” He offered brightly.

It wasn't as through Trisha actually had plans for the evening or anything, but when Baldric had shown up at her house, she didn't have words to express her surprise. There was a lot of staring, her parents being surprisingly okay with her going places with this boy they didn't know. Tris knew that it was because of the magic thing. They figured she could take care of herself, and if another witch or wizard was there, well then great.

She couldn't really believe her ears, though, as he told her parents he'd have her back by sunrise. Tris was so utterly confused she barely thought to pick up a jacket, instead following him outside.

The next thing she knew, she was blindfolded and hearing all sorts of shouts. Feeling Baldric's arm around her made her at least the slightest bit more comfortable. She could, with that, be sure that someone was with her. It wasn't that Tris expected him to do anything underhanded, but she wasn't exactly a fan of being alone when she wasn't sure what was going on.

She opened her eyes beneath the blindfold, but only saw what she thought was light shining through the fabric. It wasn't exactly high noon, though, so she didn't see why such a thing would be happening. When Bae moved, she nearly turned towards him out of nervousness. Darkness didn't scare her, but feeling unsure made her cautious. Hence her quiet nature at school.

He was suddenly so close to her that she felt just as much as she heard his next words. The blindfold fell away and she found herself staring up at what rather reminded her of the fields where her brothers used to play football. So distracted by look at the stadium was she that she didn't realize Baldric was moving again until he pulled her along by the waist.

"Wait," She said as they made their way up, "I thought the game was on Friday?" She wasn't exactly complaining, but she was just surprised.

Looking up at him, though, she found him grinning at her and pulling her towards him. She hadn't thought to put her jacket on yet so she was rather grateful for it. Something about the spontaneous nature of this was making her excited, and her company was certainly adding to that. Her mind was telling her that it didn't make sense to be interested in a guy she had only spent time with twice before tonight. Telling herself it was ridiculous, she instead focused on following him up the stands as he took her hand and pulled her along.

Trisha looked into the box as they arrived, feeling quite surprised. The stands were practically full to bursting and she couldn't believe she was actually at a match. It felt like a very realistic dream, honestly. As soon as the wind came whipping in through the newly-opened windows, however, she knew it wasn't. Slipping her jacket over her arms, she moved to stand at the edge, leaning against it as she watched the people on the field.

Baldric's voice drew her attention away momentarily, however. "It's.. spectacular." She replied after a moment, struggling to find the words. Sure, she had been to school matches, but this was beyond anything she could have pictured. Shouts came from all around them, the stadium full of decked-out fans, and lights beamed down on the field. It was rather brilliant, she decided. If she never lived to see another match, she would be thoroughly disappointed.

Bae was lifting something from a cabinet when she turned back around, her hair threatening to fly over her eyes. Lifting a hand to push it back, she caught sight of what it was he was holding. "Oh, I- I don't know." She answered, "I've never exactly.." Tris's voice trailed off. Was this something she had not been informed about, as well? It seemed like every time she was around him, something was wrong. Why was there so much she didn't know, when she spent so much time reading? Mentally berating herself, she decided to try and move a bit of the focus off of her lack of knowledge and experience. Retrieving a hair tie from her pocket, Tris began pulling her hair back into some sort of less-crazy ponytail.

Romeo had side long apparated with his Father to reach the game. As he spun into the walkway to the stadium his stomach churned and felt like it was still falling down a thin drain pipe. Resisting the urge to throw up he bolted his mouth closed and pocketed the money and tickets that his Father gave him.

The Slytherin had arranged to meet Grace outside the stadium although he wasn't entirely sure where abouts, thinking best to wait by one of the windows that ran around the entrance he stood. There he not only had a great view of the oncoming crowd but of himself: the reflection in the window.

Dark eyes carved into deep tanned eyelids looked his body up and down. A tornadoes flag in one hand, a tornados tshirt that he'd purchased from Baldric Wood hid underneath the stylish black jacket he was wearing over the top. Once they were in the stadium he planned to take it off.

His eyes soon caught the attention of a brunette in tight shorts and an oversized jersey. Her hair had a forced wave to it and she was simply irresistable: there was something about the oversized jersey he liked. No. He couldn't go over and chat her up when he was waiting for his date, if Grace saw him his reputation for giving amazing dates would soon fall - even if his reptuation was also for dating many girls.

Romeo looked down at the watch. Half an hour until the quaffle would be released. That'd be enough time to get in, get to their seats - maybe grab some food and a beverage to take into the stands with him. The smell of sizzling burgers atop of bluebless flames on a portable cart was already tempting...

Portkey was, for many young witches and wizards, the safest and most legal way of getting, well, anywhere.

As soon as the Millennium Stadium had grounded, Portkeys cropped up in every Magical village in the country as those with tickets sought to arrive at the game in a timely fashion and, more importantly, with a certain amount of style. Of course, it took practice for one to properly understand how best to land having taken a Portkey and it wasn’t something everyone managed first time - most definitely not.

The nearest Portkey point for Grace was around three miles from her home and she was careful to leave enough time in order for her to walk there and make it around ten minutes before the Portkey took off to wherever it was the stadium was grounded. Thankfully, it didn’t take her as long as she had thought and was in fact extremely early. She was greeted by a sprightly looking old wizard who offered her hot chocolate and a cookie, both of which she accepted, while they waited.

Eventually, everyone else booked to the Portkey arrived and Grace grabbed hold of the steel rod that acted as the travelling device. She felt the familiar hook behind her naval and squeezed her eyes shut as they began to spin, whirl and twirl through the air. At the old wizard’s indication, they all let go and Grace managed, despite all odds, to land on her feet. Karma, however, would not allow her such an easy passage and she didn’t take two steps before losing her footing in the dewy grass and slipping onto the ground.

Grace brushed her hands over her skirt once she’d clambered to her feet and sorted out her coat before reaching inside and pulling down her Quidditch jersey which was a few season’s old but still in good use which she’d pulled over a pretty blouse that she’d found in the back of her wardrobe. She’d decided to keep warm, putting on a thick pair of tights beneath her skirt and elected for sensible footwear as opposed to anything obscene like many girls tended to wear.

She knew she’d have to meet Romeo outside of the stadium but that certainly didn’t narrow anything down. Grace decided to go by her sense of smell, breathing deeply and turning a little so as to inhale the scents that were carried on the breeze. She could smell hot sausages dripping with oil and freshly cooked onions just about to be thrust between a burger and a crisp bun browned on the outside. Elsewhere the scent of cotton candy reigned and the leather of Quaffles darted about the air.

Then of course, the smell she associated with their meeting, regardless of how brief it was, in the Leaky Cauldron.

Briefly rather grateful for what Charlie would’ve called at talent, Grace padded through the clearing and focused her eyes on the wall of the stadium, unsure where to look despite her nose’s insistence that whatever route she was following it was the right one.

Eventually, she found Romeo amongst all of the people crowding into the stadium and she tapped him on the shoulder hesitantly, a small smile appearing on her lips as she found his gaze.

“Hi,” she offered brightly. “How’re you?”

Baldric knew that their original unofficial but sort of agreed upon date was meant to be for Friday but idle hands had left him resolving to do something a bit quirkier and more spur of the moment - something far more Gryffindor-esq. He moved their date to that very day, regardless of what her prior engagements were. It was time for her to enjoy Quidditch and he was sure that some time out of the dredge of Muggle life would do her some good - make her happy.

She was a Muggleborn. It was something he had to take account of in all aspects of their lives while they were in each other’s company. He was fool-hardy and flippant in his assumption she’d know what Firewhisky was. He had the good grace to blush, of course, and she turned the bottle over in his and before replacing it in the cupboard. He instead moved to take a flask of sweet wine which was about as alcoholic as pumpkin juice.

It was hot and spiced; his favourite. He poured out two generous cupfuls and moved over to the luxurious couches that replaced the uncomfortable plastic that the other spectators had to sit on. He put the cups down on the coffee table in front and took his wand from his pocket, comfortable in the knowledge that the concentration of magic would make his little flick a mere speck, not even a twitch, in amongst thousands.

Baldric uttered a spell under his breath and immediately the curtains drew back fully from the windows, giving them a spectacular view that only a few other boxes could rival.

“Would you like to come again?” He inquired interestedly as he moved from the couch to the window to stand behind her.

Baldric put his hands on the rail either side of her, effectively boxing her in. His grip was loose on the rail. He wasn’t forcing her to stay. For a moment he lifted his hand and pointed up to the highest point in the stadium. There, Veela were waiting, perched on the roof with their brooms hovering beside them.

“They’re going to put on a show in a minute,” he assured brightly. “You’ll see.”

As Baldric turned to pick up something else, Tris bit her lip and turned to look out again. She wasn't exactly sure what she was expecting when Bae had shown up - actually, she had been convinced she had her days mixed up - but this was pretty fantastic.

"You get to do this whenever you want?" She asked, glancing at him as he poured something else into glasses.

Shaking her head in awe, she turned back, shifting her weight onto one foot. Suddenly, the curtains were opening and she could see everything. Tris rocked back onto her other foot in surprise, bumping into him lightly as he came up behind her. Realizing he'd asked something she turned her head to look at him. He was practically right next to her, but she still couldn't contain her amusement. "Have you ever met anyone who said no to that? I don't see how they could." She gestured to the stadium in general.

Bae pointed to something above them and Tris couldn't hold in her grin. This was crazy. She doubted many of her friends had ever experienced this. What she had done to get this boy to ask her to do this, she couldn't say. She wasn't going to complain, though. Her eyes settled on the girls who were preparing. Trisha knew that they were Veelas, for she had read about them. It wasn't such a bad idea, she supposed. She knew that guys were overly fond of them, for obvious reasons, and for all she knew it probably helped sell tickets.

A sharp breeze flew by, but Trisha found that it just added to the whole experience of being there. Turning around to face him, she rested her hands on the side of the box, behind her. Deciding there was no reason to be nervous with him so close - he had made a point to prove that he could be trusted, at least in her mind - she grinned at him. "So, there's that show," She nodded her head in the direction of the witches he'd mentioned, "then the game starts?" She was more curious than anything, but admittedly excited enough to be impatient.

Romeo turned his attention from the brunette to whoever it was who had tapped him on his shoulder. He smiled back at her, pleased to see that she hadn't stood him up. Not that the girls ever did stand him up, the many dates of Romeo Zabini had always started with a pleasant greeting, both parties arriving on time and making a positive beginning.

'I am great thank, and you?' He asked her smiling freckled face, taking in her appearance out of the corner of his eyes. She had chosen the warm and comfortable look rather than the cool and sexy look that he had hoped. Oh well, even if he didn't see any 'fun' in whatever they were she seemed glad to be at the match with him, even if she did support the opposing team.

The image of her Quidditch top below her Cardigan reminded him of when he had met Baldric in Quality Quidditch Supplies when he purchased his own. Now he was regretting not buying her something. Something new.

'I got you this.' Romeo lied and held out the tornado's flag jokingly towards her. 'Just in case you decide to convert.' He added with a grin, unsure whether she would take the flag but not bothering too much because it was mainly a joke. The whole disarm with charm routine had works it's way to the surface.

It wasn’t something that Grace’s mother had reacted particularly kindly to: the idea of a Quidditch match. Had Grace been older then perhaps she would have conceded that Quidditch was a sore subject with her mother for obvious reasons. But she wasn’t. The disdain that had replaced the flicker of sadness in her mother’s eyes had infuriated Grace and reminded the redhead exactly why she’d chosen to take up residence in the Three Broomsticks for the summer. There was just no talking to her mother; no talking to her at all.

Exhaling a breath of cool air, Grace’s eyes brightened a little despite her niggles of anger still churning in her gut and she reached out to take the flag that Romeo offered her, feeling her cheeks warm a little in a manner that she knew wasn’t caused by the chilled air twirling around them.

“Thank you, Romeo.” She murmured, twirling the flag between her fingers before smiling ruefully. “Am I committing Quidditch sin?” She asked playfully. “It feels like it.”

Grace ran her fingers through her hair, pushing back her encroaching fringe as she remembered Romeo had inquired after her health too. “Oh, sorry! Yes, I’m fine, thank you. Been up to much?” She figured she’d be conversational, or at least try to be. There was no need to be shy - he was taking her to Quidditch after all!

“Do you want to look around first or shall we go and find our seats?” Grace asked excitedly before looking at her flag. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t get you anything.”

The redhead looked at Romeo thoughtfully for a moment before reaching into the pocket of her coat, feeling for some galleons. She grinned broadly before hurrying off, away towards a stall that sold buttons. She purchased a Catapults button especially for Romeo and once she returned, she held it out with a sly smile.

“There,” she proclaimed. “Now we’re both committing Quidditch sin.”

It was funny, really, to think that Trisha wasn’t, well, social. But she was, sort of. She’d made it into their group of friends, at least. She’d certainly made an impression on Liv who was, regrettably, as unforgivingly stone-faced as ever. Baldric hadn’t that long ago managed to make her forgive him for his sins against the female species - said sins being the sole fact that he was male. At least, Baldric assured himself mentally, Trish was just shy - not standoffish.

Music began to flood the stadium, the classics - of course - before spreading off to some Muggle pop. Baldric hummed to himself as he moved away from Trish, reaching down to pick up the hot, spiced wine. His hips, unfortunately for him, were his mother’s but had a rather rhythmic sway about them that he’d been told by Baird some girls were rightly envious of. He was sure at the time that Baird was just joshing with him. Probably still was. The bastard. Literally.

“All the time, darlin’!” Baldric exclaimed jovially as the music washed over him, easing his muscles and suddenly making him more interested in skipping the Quidditch and going into Diagon Alley - only, the question was this: Satan’s or Eli’s?

“Only one! Turns out, daddy had a bigger booth and didn’t need my pillar box.” Baldric barked out a laugh and shook his head before taking another swig of the wine.

“There’s the gorgeous Veela and then we’ve got the entrance of the teams and then the game begins. Who do you reckon will win? My money’s on the Tornadoes.”

Maybe it was the wine Baldric was drinking, or the music she didn't know, but he surely did, that made him so giddy all of the sudden. Or that's how Tris saw him anyways. He was laughing loudly and making jokes back to her. Maybe it was that Tris was seeing everything in a positive light. Or perhaps she had found someone she got on well with. She had somehow worked her way into a group of friends she hadn't expected to find, and with such changes came her newfound desire to be outgoing. It likely wasn't going well, but that was the goal.

Suddenly, music she actually did know came on and she nearly laughed. Why would they play something like that? Surely there were other Muggleborns here, but what would wizards and witches care for it? Tris knew the songs from her sister and elder brothers listening to the stuff incessantly throughout the summer.

Tris laughed in return, glad he seemed to be in such high spirits. His comments about the Veela made her roll her eyes. "Yes, yes. There never seem to be men of strong enough minds to look past their charms." It was a slight jab, yes, but she hoped he took it as a joke, for it was highly sarcastic.

When he asked who she suspected would win, she realized she honestly hadn't noticed which teams were playing. "How about this." She began, "I'll go for the other team, just to keep things interesting. Though you're probably right, I'll bet on the other team just for laughs."