#Bulgarian wine

[slavicafire]

As for snakes protecting houses, their names are very ofen semantically linked to verbs meaning ‘to protect, to guard,’ (Serbian zmija-chuvarkucha, Bulgarian chuvarka, vardachka), or to words with the meaning of ‘master, owner’ (Southern Serbian sajbika, Bulgarian domosharka, etc.). In Western Macedonian regions the name of the snake protecting houses sometimes coincides with the name of the demons protecting all kinds of buildings; thus, as my field notes show, in Ohrid the name tolosum is also used for such a snake. The best known belief about snakes protecting houses is connected with the prohibition of killing them. If such a thing happens, an inevitable punishment awaits the whole family: diseases and accidents occur, all members of the household die and the clan becomes extinct. 

According to a Bulgarian belief, if a snake protecting a house is killed by accident, it has to be burned and candles must be burnt on its grave for forty days. Pictures of this snake are necessary elements on the top of Serbian calendar breads dedicated to the family and house. On major calendar holidays, some meal is put aside for the snake protecting the house. A slice of bread, cooked corn and a glass of wine are put on the garret, into the corner of the house, or, what is more common, near the hearth, which is regarded as the center of a house. The favorite dwelling places of these snakes are the hearth or the threshold, which is also a sacred place of a house as it symbolizes the borderline between the cultured space of the inside and the strange wild world of the outside.

Balkan Demons Protecting Places by Anna Plotnikova.   [Demons, Spirits, Witches Vol. 2 :Christian Demonology And Popular Mythology - Gábor Klaniczay, Éva Pócs (Eds.)]

[brucesterling]

All the booze in all the gin-joints in this crazy world

Bruce Sterling Jan 22, 2019 9:04 AM

*Boy, they drink a lot in the classic movie "Casablanca." Granted, they've all got plenty to drink about, but gee whiz.

*I tried to keep up while watching. I had to do some research.

“CASABLANCA,” a classic movie set in a number of cafes and bars

Wine – English couple in the opening scene are drinking wine at the outside cafe when robbed by a sly pickpocket.

Cocktail – A desperado is waiting, waiting, waiting and drinks while lamenting that he will never get out of Casablanca.

Cocktail – Man tries to negotiate a passage out of Casablanca.

Wine – Man buys passage on a fishing vessel

Wine – Women trying to get more money for jewels

Cocktail – Englishmen are served by Sascha in Rick’s bar, and toasting cheerio.

Wine – Women gambling at Rick's while drinking

Champagne glass (already empty) – In front of Rick as he is toying with a chess problem

Wine – Ugarte drinks while bargaining with Rick.

Brandy (Boss’s Private Stock) – Sascha serves the good stuff to the spurned Yvonne, because Yvonne is Rick’s private stock.

Brandy – Captain Louis Renault drinks at Rick’s. He's a steady customer, since the bar also has loose women.

Brandy – the Italian Fascist Captain Tonelli drinks while harassed by Lieutenant Casselle in Rick’s.

Brandy – Rick gives some free brandy to Renault in Rick's office.

Veuve Cliquot 1926 – The top French champagne that Renault recommends to Strasser as the Nazi crassly gobbles caviar.

Wine – Ugarte has a glass when arrested

Wine – Resistance member Berger drinks wine at the bar as Laszlo and Ilsa walk into Rick’s.

Cointreaux – Laszlo orders two for himself and Ilsa as their first of many drink orders in Rick’s.

Champagne – Captain Renault orders “a bottle of the best” when invited by Laszlo to join him and Ilsa at their table.

Champagne Cocktail – Laszlo orders one as he joins Berger to conspire at the bar.

Champagne Cocktail – Renault orders for himself and Laszlo at the bar as Berger flees.

Champagne – Renault orders some for Rick when Rick joins the Laszlo party.

Bourbon – Rick drinks American bourbon to console himself for his former mistress Ilsa somehow walking into his gin-joint, of all the gin-joints in the world.

Champagne – Rick opens a bottle of champagne in Ilsa’s flashback room in their happy liaison in Paris.

Wine – Rick and Ilsa drink in Paris at the Cafe Pierre.

Champagne – Rick, Ilsa, and Sam hastily guzzle three bottles of Mumm Cordon Rouge as the Nazis occupy Paris.

“The Bourbon” – Ferrari demands his special bourbon in his own bar, the Blue Parrot, when Rick arrives to negotiate. Somehow, Rick refuses the bourbon, saying he never drinks in the morning.

Wine – The pickpocket toasts another sucker in Rick's before he robs him.

Brandy – Rick is drinking heavily on the second night in his club and Renault joins him for a brandy.

French 75s – The cocktail Yvonne orders when she comes in as the brand-new floozy of a German officer. A “French 75” is an American drink named after a caliber of French artillery in World War One.

Recipe of the “French 75” cocktail 2 oz French cognac 5 oz of chilled champagne 1.5 oz lemon juice 1 tsp. superfine sugar

Champagne – Strasser and fellow German officers are joined by Renault while living it up for the second night in Rick’s.

Brandy – Carl serves brandy to the Leuctags to salute their escape to America.

Brandy – Rick offers brandy to Annina (Bulgarian refugee girl) as she prepares to prostitute herself to Renault to save herself and her husband.

Cognac – Laszlo orders for himself and Ilsa the second night in Rick’s.

Brandy – Rick continues drinking recklessly at his own bar.

Champagne – After the publicly defiant singing of the Marseillaise, Lazslo and the French officers toast the humiliation of the Germans.

Champagne – Ilsa and Rick drink in Rick's room the second night.

Whisky – Rick doses Laszlo with medicinal whisky after Laszlo gets roughed-up while escaping a police crackdown on the Resistance.

Vichy Water – Renault pours himself a non-alcoholic drink of this after Rick has shot Strasser, but in a symbolic act drops Vichy into the trash.

THE END

[defrostedvertebrae]

What are Zmei?

ORIGINS

In short, Zmei (singular zmeu, fem. zmeoaică) / змей are draconic or serpent-like beings of eastern-european folklore. Sometimes they are depicted as a human-like character with dragon-like traits. The origin of the word "zmeu" comes from Russian , zmei being the the masculine form of zmeya, a feminine noun, meaning "snake".

They may be male or female; in stories for instance, only the male dragons will masquerade as a human man to capture or captivate a princess or a maiden as a love interest.

Their most significant power is that of shapeshifting; morphing into human, animal, or even object forms. They rely on this for survival, but may also find joy in this ability. Both dragons and zmei are united by the symbolism of fire; the dragon breathing it and the zmeu turning into it. Zmei are crreatures of both wrath and joviality; depending mostly on circumstance.

In terms of origin; at least in romanian folklore; they are known to either be born by zmei, or having been turned into zmei from balauri (multi-headed dragons). Balauri are closer to animality, while zmei closer to sapience. This change from one to the other happens with the help of a solomonar (mage) and at the balaur's request and will; for whatever reason that may be.

To get there, the dragon has to pass some initiation tests, at the end of which they are then allowed to go to the Other Realm where he can shed his old appearance and become a zmeu.

ABOUT

In base appearance, zmei can have many heads or just one, as well as either 4 or 2 wings. Sometimes human folklore depict them as gigants, with an orc-like face more than dragon. Base forms as well as powers and abilities vary, zome zmei being powerful enough to steal the sun and the moon from the sky.

In diet they are known to have a taste for human flesh, though in its lack zmei are known to have cultivated their own food; being (more or less) omnivores. They are known to take great care of what is theirs and stray away from filth. They are also known to mix in human blood with wine to drink. (which if you ask me is pretty metal)

Regardless of the way they are viewed in EE folklore, they are nonetheless creatures with inteligence, cunning and determination; with a taste for life and all its joys. From an inside perspective, i suspect a lot of us are prone to bitterness and hatred; mostly due to the irreversibility of the change from balaur to zmeu and the possible regrets one draconic being may have upon being met with the realities of what it means to give up your form for an uncertain future in which you don't know how humans might treat you.

As for zmei that were born in families of zmei; from a mythology standpoint those are known to live in palaces and houses with their own farmland; livestock and the like. In some stories zmei born by zmei tend to organise very well as a kind, forming their own community.

VIEWS ON ZMEI IN EASTERN EUROPEAN FOLKLORE

In local (Romanian) folklore, similar to Serbian folklore, they are generally portrayed as evil and violent, incorporations of greed and hate; although it is not the case across all of eastern europe.

In Bulgarian stories, the zmei is sometimes described as a scale-covered serpent-like creature with four legs and bat's wings, at other times as half-man, half-snake, with wings and a fish-like tail.

In most Macedonian tales and folk songs they are described as extremely intelligent, having hypnotizing eyes. They were also known as guardians of the territory, and would even protect the people in it. Hostile behaviour was shown if another zmeu comes into his territory.

In Russia and Ukraine zmei have three to twelve heads, Tugarin Zmeyevich (literally: "Tugarin Dragon-son"), being a man-like dragon who appears in Russian (or Kievan Rus) heroic literature.

[krscblw]

ghoul perfume associations pt. 3!

more ghoul perfume associations bc ghost and perfume are my two main hobbies! all of these are indie/niche perfumes because those are the types of perfume i'm mainly into. these lists are really fun for me and i would love to hear what people think!!

also, jsyk: because this post is so long, some of the text might get cut off on mobile. it should be okay on desktop if that happens (i don't know how to fix it, sorry :/)

Aeon

Notes: non-sweet chocolate, linen, lavender

Perfumes:

Autumn Morning - Pulp Fragrance

hot chocolate, slightly spiced oatmeal, carnations, a cozy blanket

Twice To Tea - Poesie 

strong earl grey tea, lavender absolute, vanilla syrup, a splash of milk

Aether

Notes: bourbon, amber, vanilla  

Perfumes:

Not A Deer - Little & Grim 

cedarwood, chestnuts, sandalwood, maple, oak, tonka, suede, clove, spiced vanilla, amber, tobacco 

Loggia - Solstice Scents 

“High above the village, a castle sits shrouded in a heavy gray mist.  Muted moonlight illuminates its upper terraces. Thick with incense smoke, the loggia swells with invited guests, each heavily cloaked and masked. Laughter, violas and a harpsichord fill the night. Wine flows from never-ending mahogany vats. Exotic spices drape the air in fragrant bouquets. A bell rings from the archway, and all in attendance fall silent as the master of the night creatures crosses the paving stones...”

mahogany, sweet amber, musk, dark incense, deep vanilla bean, sandalwood, cardamom, black pepper, cognac and allspice

(i have this one and it's great, perfect for aether imo)

Alpha

Notes: leather, smoke, gunpowder

Perfumes:

Spiritus Fumosus - Alkemia

volcanic basalt, smelted metal ores, amberwood, smokey birch tar, old leather, galbanum, white oud, gray amber, petrichor, wet sand, bergamot, sichuan peppercorn, gingergrass, white patchouli

Deus ex Machina - Alkemia 

“An olfactory portrait of industrial decay and the fallen gods of age of disruption, innovation, and technological revolution.”

fire-hardened steel, rusted iron, motor oil, wet cement, burnt copper wires, gray amber

Cirrus

Notes: dark fruits, musk, heavy florals, honey

Perfumes:

Virgo - Deconstructing Eden   

dark amber, bulgarian rose absolute, lavender maillette, orris root, benzoin, dark fruits, bourbon vanilla

Eglantine House - Deconstructing Eden 

honeyed roses, mahogany, plums, amber accord, champaca flowers, eglantine roses, white musk

Cumulus

Notes: lilac, magnolia, jasmine, sugar, cold air

Perfumes:

Midnight Garden - Alkemia 

night-flowering white flowers – tuberose, lily, honeysuckle, gardenia, moonflower

Calliope - Alkemia 

clementine, orange blossoms, white orchid, sugared currants, tonka, and vanilla musk, cotton candy, saltwater taffy

Dewdrop

Notes: berries, smoke, spices, metal

Perfumes:

Unrequited - Deconstructing Eden

black sandalwood, raspberries, bitter orange, black pepper, smooth silky musk, dark amber, smoky patchouli 

Lightning Storm - Nui Cobalt Designs 

Petrichor, ozone, electrified metal, cold musk, bergamot, lime zest, cracked pink peppercorn, copal smoke, myrrh, teakwood

(this one represents dew as a water ghoul – citrus, spices, ozone, and metal. sweet, cold, and a little bitter)

Ifrit

Notes: black tea, incense, spices 

Perfumes:

Tasseomancy - Nui Cobalt Designs 

black tea spritzed with orange, incense smoke clinging to heavy velvet curtains, fireplace embers, cinnamon, clove

Tasseomancy - LVNEA 

bergamot, black tea, lapsang souchong, honey, spices, milk

(yes they are both called the same thing. he's a guy with a brand i don't know what to tell you)

Mist

Notes: water, herbs, ice

Perfumes:

Eisheth - Deconstructing Eden 

seawater, herbs - rosemary, mint, clary sage, bergamot, hyssop, lemongrass, and verbena, white tea

Blackwater Lake - Osmofolia  

“Short-needle pine branches hang over mossy lake rocks, radiant white water lilies soak in the sun, the surface of the dark lake water ripples above submerged northern watermilfoil, and a chill in the air warns of impending autumn.”

pine needles, cold wind, northern watermilfoil, white water lilies, moss, stone, lake water

Mountain

Notes: vetiver, plants, earth, mushrooms

Perfumes:

Poor Farm - Little & Grim 

“Overgrown grass, tangled undergrowth, wildflowers, the memory of fresh linens, and distant, greener pastures.”

moss, sage, ferns, sweet grasses, green wood, and chamomile

Mycelium - Treading Water Perfume 

“Rounding the corner it came into view, the being that had terrorized the village for decades. It sat terrifyingly still on top of natural rock formation that resembled some strange amalgamation of an altar. An altar not made by human hands but as if created by the forest itself to honor this being. The being was here long before the village and it will continue to be here long after we are gone.”

soil, mushrooms, patchouli, black currants, hinoki wood

Nimbus/Aurora*

Notes: peach, rose, earth

Perfumes:

The Lover Tells Of The Rose - Alkemia 

wild roses, lemon verbena, white pearl tea leaves, delicate white patchouli, new greens, wet moss

Apothecary Rose - LVNEA 

rose gallica, rose de mai, damask rose, tarragon, violet leaf, apricot, labdanum, myrrh

*i headcanon nimbus as a earth/air multi

Omega

Notes: wood, amber, tobacco

Perfumes:

Danse Macabre - Fyrinnae

sandalwood, amber, labdanum, vanilla, woodsmoke, smoldering logs

Leo - Deconstructing Eden 

frankincense, myrrh, benzoin, amber, liatrix, blood cedar, blond tobacco absolute, sweet spices, honey

(i have this one and i love it, it's very warm and resinous)

Rain

Notes: seawater, ozone, vanilla

Perfumes:

Ambre Gris - Alkemia 

“A rare blend of proprietary perfumery ingredients carefully oxidized by sunlight, sand, air, sea salt, water, and ocean minerals. The result is as changeable and morphing as the ocean... earthy, sweet, musky, saline.”

gray ambergris, ocean minerals, sea salt

Cerulea - OSMOFOLIA 

“A synesthesia perfume inspired by a color. Sapphire ocean blue with flashes of turquoise and glistening white.”

osmanthus, ambergris, sea salt, ocean water, tuberose, cucumber

Sunshine/Stratus**

Notes: strawberries, citrus, vanilla, spices

Perfumes:

In Love with Everything - Imaginary Authors

“This extremely versatile (and genderless!) fragrance is great for any time of day and any time of year but the blast of energy it possesses is ideal for whenever you’re feeling low or looking for a little boost of bliss to keep your body moving and your lungs laughing long into the night.”

raspberry, citrus pulp, coconut palm sugar, madame isaac pereire, sandalwood, tropical punch, stardust

(i have this one! it's very fruity, you definitely get the fruit punch, but it still has a good amount of depth)

Eos - Fantôme 

“Eos is named for the goddess of dawn—who beckons the daybreak with her rosy fingers. This perfume smells like the color of the sunrise; pink and gold light breathing life into the morning dew.”

tart lemonade, raspberries, candied rose petals, wild berries, a hint of ginger

**i headcanon sunny as a fire/air multi

Swiss***

Notes: smoke, musk, patchouli, incense

Perfumes:

Black Heart - Spirit & Venom   

dark patchouli, clove, caramel pipe tobacco

Scorpio - Deconstructing Eden

“The fixed water sign of the zodiac, Scorpios are sensitive and intense, complicated and multi-layered. This blend is deep, still water, with notes of humid air and just the barest touch of mud.”

white and pink lotus absolute, orris root, myrrh, patchouli, gray musk, still water

***i headcanon swiss as a fire/water multi

Zephyr

Notes: dust, ozone, faint sweet musk, mint, cool air

Perfumes:

Walking with a Ghost - Spirit & Venom 

“Light & ethereal musk, fresh harvest pear, a whiff of perfume from a loved one long passed.”

Aquarius - Deconstructing Eden 

air, an undercurrent of water, sparkling aldehydes

if you made it this far, thank you for reading! and i would love to hear your thoughts!! (/gen - do you have any recommendations? do you agree/disagree? i love talking abt this) (also thank you sm to @midnight-moth for recommending lvnea!!)

[marykk1990]

My next post in support of Ukraine is:

Next site, is Vynorobnya Kolonist, a winery in Odesa Oblast. It was established in 2005 by Ivan Plachkov, a descendant of Bulgarian immigrants to Ukraine. The name "Kolonist" is based on the Bulgarian colonists who arrived in Ukraine in the 19th century. The area where the winery is located has been a wine producing area since ancient Greeks and Thracians colonized it. The soil is perfect for growing grapes. In 2008, an enologist from France came to work at the winery. I had to look that up. An enologist is someone who is "responsible for every aspect of wine making." Depending on the winery, they can work on the production of wine or in the lab checking wine quality, or even work on the bottling of the wine. I'm not a wine person myself, but it looks like a beautiful winery.

#StandWithUkraine

#СлаваУкраїні 🇺🇦🌻

[beardedmrbean]

Bulgarian archaeologists at Perperikon have uncovered new evidence of ancient life, including a system of blood sacrifice altars used for divination. Two altars were discovered, one for making holy wine and another for blood sacrifices. These altars are reminiscent of those used in the worship of the Thracian horseman and the temple of Mithras, according to Prof. Nikolay Ovcharov, who has led excavations at the site for nearly 25 years.

Records from the Roman period describe public animal sacrifices, where a priest dressed in white and wearing a crown would cut open the animal and perform divination on its entrails. This practice took place in the "area sacra," or sacred area, which contained both public altars for communal use and private ones for family sacrifices. The newly discovered altars, which will be presented at Perperikon on September 4, offer further evidence that the great temple of Dionysus was located within the complex.

One of the altars, featuring a large stone tub with a drainage hole, has been studied to determine its stratigraphy, revealing that it was used over a long period, sometimes spanning centuries. The earliest sacrifices on these altars date back 3,000 to 3,200 years, from the end of the Bronze Age to the beginning of the Iron Age. Prof. Ovcharov explained that one of the altars from the Roman era provides an opportunity to reconstruct the sacrificial practices, which likely involved small animals such as goats and sheep.

Prof. Ovcharov plans to demonstrate how the liquid from the sacrifices drained through gutters into special basins, where divination was performed on the animal's blood. He will also review the progress of this year’s excavations at Perperikon, which have been extensive due to a 500,000 leva state subsidy prioritizing the site.

The southern quarter of Perperikon, unexplored since 2016, has been found to be rich with buildings associated with various cults. The first altars date back to the end of the Bronze Age and the beginning of the Iron Age, with several temples emerging during the Roman era. By the 5th-6th century, after the adoption of Christianity, the great basilica of Perperikon was built. Prof. Ovcharov described this area as a classic "sacra" alley, a sacred space similar to those found in many ancient cities.

[mossynebula]

Am I projecting my issues onto my fav character? More likely than you think

Here are the boys and their mental and physical disorders/disabilities cause I'm projecting.

Jiang is autistic: He has EDS

He stims with a butterfly knife, his voice is mostly monotone except when he unmasks around the others. He wears compression socks and KT tape on knees and elbows

Skov is AuDHD: he has fibro

He cant sit still, he bounces his knee or drums on swans arm, he takes regular pain meds, he wears a TENS machine during school, he bundles his jumper up to put at his lower back to take pressure off

Swan has counting and hoarding OCD: he has eczema

He collects wine corks and bottle caps, he can't get rid of old school materials and cried when K tried to bin them, he has to bring cream with him everywear, he counts his steps, counts the boys heads to check if they're all there, he has intrusive thoughts frequently

Kavinsky has BPD: he has arfid

He is surprised the boys have stayed around this long, he has an extremely short fuse, when he gets bouts of depression he doesn't leave his bed and the boys need to carry him to the bathroom, he struggles with texture in food mostly, he thinks bugs are in some of his food, if there's not one of his safe foods (Bulgarian food mostly) in the house then he doesn't eat until the boys figure out he's not eating and make him his safe food

Proko has dissociation and depersonalization : he has scoliosis

He is frequently dissociated, he sometimes feels like he is in 3rd person watching someone else pilot his body, he doesn't feel real, the boys help ground him (skov does stupid dances and k strokes his hair, and swan reads to him and Jiang has found if he keeps eye contact proko “snaps” back) his shoulders are lopsided due to his scoliosis and he gets a lot of back pain, when R!proko was a kid he would get made fun of for the way he walked, D!proko makes fun of himself (K gets mock offended)

[the-third-eye]

Vampires, History and You

DRAGAN I (12th century)

Blood-sucker from the Second Bulgarian Empie credited with being the first vampire. Claims of his exact birth, life and undeath are generally disputed and little proof of him even existing has been found. He is purported to have been of noble blood though as result of an affair, dying early of sickness and ressurecting as the original vampiric spawn for reasons unknown.

Some say he simply faded away or that he lives on to this day in form of the monsters of modern myth.

VLADISLAV III (1431-1476)

Contrary to popular belief, the Voivode of Wallachia, Vlad "The Impaler" was NOT A VAMPIRE. However due to his sheer bloodlust and sadism he was a magnet for them. Many high-ranking Wallachian officials at the time were vampires fully on board with his ideas who wholeheartedly supported his plundering and impaling of the Transylvanian Saxons.

He was slain by his own troops as they had mistaken him for a Turk.

ELIZABETH BATHORY DE ESCED (1560-1614)

A Hungarian countess moonlighting as a serial killer. Elizabeth was of the superstitious belief that bathing in blood would keep her youth intact, as her vampirism started taking a toll on her exterior, causing her to kill over 600 young maidens.

In early 1611 she was detained and imprisoned in Csejte castle for the remainder of her life where the deprivation of blood caused her to die four years later at the age of 54.

GRIGORI YEFIMOVICH RASPUTIN (1792-?)

Hired as a faith healer by the Nicholas II's son, the Siberian strannik Grigori Rasputi was not only a skilled manipulator and medical practitioner but also a possibly immortal vampire. Despite having a religious awakening after a pilgrimage in 1897 he was an opulent man enjoying all the pleasures of food, strong drink and any woman that would have him (which were quite many).

Following multiple failed assasination attemps Rasputin was thought to have been killed by a group of noblemen. Their first attempt to poison him with cyanide-laced cake and wine failed as his physiology withstood the poison, he was shot in the forehead and his corpse was diposed in the Malaya Nevka River.

However current paranormal scholars believe he is still alive and well, living in the shadows.

"JACK THE RIPPER" (Active 1888)

Another vampire serial killer is said to have haunted Victorian England. Although not even the name "Jack the Ripper" is for certain the methods of murder and removal of internal organs point to the suspect or suspects being of vampiric nature.

Never identified.

PETER KÜRTEN (1883-1931)

Maybe not one of the deadliest but probably most heinous vamprire serial killers, Peter Kürten was a man who truly earned his titles. Such charming nicknames as "The Düsseldorf Monster" and "The King of Sexual Perverts". Kürten went on a spree of arsons, homicides and molestations in the year 1929 before he was apprehended.

Peter was executed via beheading in 1931 on accounts of nine cases of murder and seven cases of attempted murder. His head was split in two (possibly to avoid biting post-decapitation) and mummified. In the late 1940s the head was moved to the US and now resides in Wisconsin.

KAREN SABNOCK (1912-Present)

The matriarch of a vampire clan which migrated to America after years of vampires confining themselves to Europe. At her arrival in the 1950s she fell in love with the suburban lifestyle that had been established post war. Her clan has grown strong over the years acting as a haven for vampirekind in the American Northeast...well as long as they conform to the standards of it.

She governs the coven as a sort of omnipotent wine aunt and is currently on the lookout for another vampiric bride, having set her eyes on the human wife of one of her clansmen.

BILLIAM FREDERICK SUBURBS (1914-2012)

A prominent social figure and progenitor of the Karen's suburban vampire community. He was the classic sitcom family man father of three living with his wife...until she killed him and their children after discovering they had killed a man to drink his blood in front of her.

Since his demise the clan has been on the hunt for his spouse Marsha.

[drarry-is-totally-cannon]

Drarry & the Goblet of Fire: 4th Year Rewrite

Chapter 9 - The Dark Mark

A roar goes up when Krum catches the snitch. The Irish fans cheer for the end of the game securing their already massive lead and the Bulgarian fans cheer to salvage what's left of their pride.

Harry's Ireland hat and jacket light up, shouting the names of the players in the announcer's voice. He and Draco cheer, not because they've really managed to enjoy the game through the threat of Death Eater's presence, but because cheering feels better than worrying.

"Well, I guess this is goodbye," Draco says solemnly, still not looking at Harry as the players exit the field, thunder made by thousands of clapping hands following them out.

"What?" It takes Harry a moment to understand, too caught up in the moment. "Oh, yeah." he looks down at his feet.

Neither of them wants to leave. Harry knows his friends are probably worried sick, and that he should probably go back to them, but he can't leave Draco knowing what he does now. If the Death Eaters truly are trying to make a resurgence and they're going after anyone who isn't pure blood, could Draco be on that list?

"Hey, you know, nothing has happened yet." Harry points out. Draco gives the barest hint of a smile. "If something was going to happen, it'd make sense to do it during the game, when no one's looking . . . so we could hang out?"

"Well, if you insist, Potter. I know I could certainly use a distraction." He gestures for Harry to follow him. Under the cover of his large Ireland hat, Harry follows Draco and descends down the stairs of the bright arena and into the night.

-

The Malfoy tent is empty, the only occupants being the twelve peacocks tethered outside. They hiss at Draco as he enters. Harry hesitates, but not for long before Draco drags him inside.

The tent is more of a house than a tent. 'If this is their tent, what must Malfoy's house look like?'

Harry's thoughts are interrupted with a loud, "Got it! Let's go!" as Draco emerges from the living room with a bottle of Firewhiskey.

"That looks expensive," Harry says warily. He may not be familiar with the ins and outs of wizard alcohol but he knows it looks a lot like what Uncle Vernon saved for special occasions.

"Oh, don't worry, Father's only been saving it for a couple of years."

'That sounds like something he'll get in big trouble for.' But the rebellious glint in Draco's eyes makes Harry go along with it.

-

The two tote the whiskey out to the forest and take turns sipping from the bottle. At first, they cough and splutter, but as the alcohol floods their systems and their taste buds dull, they acclimate to the fiery drink.

"I've actually never drank before, not really. No more than a sip of Mother's wine when she allowed it." Draco admits.

"That's still more than me, I haven't even really had more than one soft drink," Harry tells him.

In five minutes, they don't care how loud their laughter is, inhibitions lowered significantly. It feels as if somehow, they know each other better than they did this morning.

"Psst!" Draco flicks Harry's forehead, hissing way too loudly for how close they are. "Wanna do underage magic?"

"Hell yeah!"

It takes them longer than it should to rise to their feet, legs shaking like newborn calves, until the dizziness passes.

-

Jinxes fly between them, but they're both too unsteady to dodge too much, so they lie on their backs in the dirt, Harry with Slytherin green hair and Draco with Gryffindor Maroon. Quite a familiar shade actually, one Harry had seen just a few hours ago.

Harry looks over at the former blond and giggles. "You look pretty."

Draco blushes profusely. Harry giggles louder.

"Pretty like Cedric."

Draco's smile slips off his face at once. He glares, before remembering, 'He isn't mine. He never will be. I have to go before I do something I can't take back.'

"Yeah. like Cedric. I have to go. Father will be looking for me."

"Wha- Wait.' Harry slurs, throwing out an arm, but he's too dizzy to really get up and stop Draco, barely grasping his sleeve before Draco pulls away. "Please."

"Sorry," Draco mumbles over his shoulders. 'It's shitty, leaving him there like that but, I can't stand to look at his face, his lips, as he says things like that. He probably doesn't even mean it. Merlin, Draco. Get. It. Together!'

-

Draco doesn't make it far. Before he's cleared the treeline he hears a scream. It's coming from the campground but he runs back toward Harry on instinct.

"Harry!" he shouts the boy's name frantically. 'Is he still . . . did he go? What's happening?'

Suddenly something slams into him, sending him falling to the ground.

"What's all the screaming?" Harry asks, slightly breathless.

"I don't know, I came to ask you. I mean, no offense, Potter, but when there's trouble it tends to be your fault." His tone is bitter again, still not having forgiven Harry for his compliment of the Hufflepuff boy.

"Yeah, right, well, I swear I haven't got a fucking clue this time," Harry says, scowling, already making his way back out of the forest. He picked up on Draco's bitterness, of course he did. They know each other better than they think.

'What's he mad at me for? It's his father that's probably a Death Eater.'

Draco follows him, already regretting his words. 'He was drunk, I shouldn't have- He doesn't need to know.'

Sprinting back through the woods, they reach the treeline quickly. They step out into a campground, not like the one they saw this morning. This one is painted in flickering shades of red and orange.

Fire.

"Get down!" Harry hisses, yanking Draco to the ground as a stray spark ignites above them. Harry stands over Draco now, looking sobered and shaken. 

"Shite! It's the Death Eaters."

Draco leaps up, knocking Harry back. It's impulsive, but he has to know, he has to. Is his father among the masked terrorists?

"Malfoy, you idiot! What are you doing?" Harry scolds from the ground.

"I- I need to know." Draco's voice breaks. Harry understands.

"Yeah, well you can ask him later, for now, we've got to run. They're burning the campsite, we've got to do something."

Harry gets up, pulling Draco along until they reach another opening in the trees. He starts to reveal himself, but Draco yanks him back. Harry spins around, ready to shake his friend off but stops when he sees his face. So afraid. 

'I don't want to face them, Harry. I don't want to face my father.'

"Okay, then let's just try to find help."

Draco nods, mouth too dry to speak.

-

They don't find the Weasleys or Hermione, (which might be a good thing) but they do find the old woman from earlier, clutching her granddaughter. Draco casts a cloaking charm and the woman smiles before disapparating away.

But they've stayed in place for too long. 

The Death Eaters proceed at an even determined pace, so secure in the destruction they've created around them. They move with a strange determination, Harry notes. Draco must be rubbing off on him, he thinks, for him to become so observant. 'Determination to do what? Does that mean this isn't the worst of it?'

Hexes launch their way across the field, setting tents ablaze, and sending wizards and witches into various states of panic and discombobulation. A stray hex, an alarming shade of smoky purple heads straight for Harry. 

He doubts it was intentional, they couldn't have seen him from around the large tent, but it's going to hit him regardless. Between the tightly packed tents, there's nowhere to run.

He's still working out a plan when he hits the ground for what's got to be the fourth time today. He's been shoved into a random tent. It looks far from where they just were. How?

Harry rolls over, shaking his head. He feels woozy, and sitting up proves fruitless. If his hair was messy before it looks like he's been struck by lightning now. Instead of sitting up he moves tentatively to lay on his hip, propping himself up by the elbow. To his relief, the nausea and starts in his vision fade. 

Draco sits cross-legged beside him, his hair mused nearly as much as Harry's and his left arm hanging over his thigh at an obtuse angle. He examines it with narrowed eyes, sucking in a quiet breath as he flexes his fingers.

(A/N: Pushing my left-handed Draco agenda. Why? So he and Harry can hold hands under their desks, of course. Also, left-handed people are cool.)

He looks at the newly-woken Harry, putting effort into a small smile that looks more like a grimace. "Welcome to the land of the living, Potter. I'm not the smoothest at this yet, so the arrival knocked you out."

"What arrival, where?" Harry scrambles up, in panic mode, feeling hurriedly around for his glasses in case he needs to leave quickly. 

'We're in a house?' Harry wonders. The space around them is charmingly decorated, reminding them of the few pictures Hermione had shown them of her house.

"I didn't get us far, just to a tent a few metres away, but-" He notices Harry's search. And with an awkward gesture, places the glasses on Harry's lap. "Here, I could've done better, but my wand hand is my left."

Draco doesn't know why he says that, of course, Harry knows which hand he uses his wand in.

"It's fine. What happened?"

"Perhaps I did a worse job on your glasses than I thought. It's broken, obviously, Potter. I'm not sure if it was the jinx, or if I did it wrong. I've only done this by myself once before." Draco sounds a bit stressed.

Harry shakes his head, getting a bit annoyed, "Did what, Malfoy?"

Draco blinks, the smallest of signs revealing the frazzle beneath his calm, "I disapparated us, Potter."

"App- but you're 14. I thought . . .?"

"Anyone over the age of ten can do it with practice, and my mother's been teaching me over the summer, but I didn't mean to, not this time. I just panicked and it happened, okay. I'm sorry. I know it's lucky neither of us got splinched." He looks upset with himself.

'I could've hurt Harry, but what else could I have done?'

The way Draco winces on the word keeps Harry from asking what splinching is.

'I think he thinks I know way more about this than I do.'

"Don't be sorry, you probably saved my life, again."

Draco pretends not to hear him, turning away to hide his blush. "We should go, they're bound to burn this row any minute now." Without another word, not even a huff of pain, Draco continues moving, pushing himself up with his right hand, a bitter glare in his eyes.

'He's nothing like he was last year with Buckbeak. He hasn't cried at all. Is he in shock? . . . Or did something happen over summer holiday to make him used to pain like this? The way Mr. Malfoy looked at him earlier, does he always look at him like that? Does he do worse? . . . What am I thinking, he's the spoiled one between us. But he's still brave, smirk, and bear it brave. Slytherin is brave. '

Still a little dazed from the amature dissparation, not expecting Draco's quick pace, Harry's "Yeah." is belated and he struggles to his feet, feeling the alcohol as he tries to keep up with Draco.

When he only stumbles again, this time into Draco, the blond turns around. "Merlin, Potter, I'm right here, if you need help just ask for it." 

Harry looks down embarrassed. Internally Draco panics, but there's no taking the phrasing back now. Luckily for him, he hasn't rubbed off on Harry that much, The Chosen One is still decidedly dense.

Harry shakes his head, straightening up from where he'd been leaning against Draco. "Yeah, sorry. I shouldn't have drank so mu-"

"It's fine, forget that now. We'll be lucky if that's what we get punished for tonight. In fact, I hope it's the ministry that finds us." The "not my father" goes unsaid but not unheard even to Harry's slightly ringing ears, "And I take back what I said earlier Potter, Expelliarmus is just as good as any other spell. If we get caught, give it all you've got."

"Oh, ha, ha, ha, Malfoy, that's really funn-" Harry's voice dies mid-sentence. "Malfoy," he tries not to panic, "did you take my wand when I passed out?"

"What, no? Why would I? You never take another wizard's wand without permission, surely even you know that."

"So you didn't?"

"No . . . Oh, Merlin, Potter . . . don't tell me you've lost it." Darco's face says he's so so tired of this, of everything that's happened tonight.

"Hey! I haven't lost it, I swear I put it in my pocket earlier."

"Well it's not there now, is it?"

"No." Harry sags in defeat, "It must have fallen out when I fell or when you apparated us or something."

Both boys ignore the possibility that it was taken and the much bigger problem: If Harry doesn't have his wand, then who does?

But they haven't got time to worry about that now.

"Okay, let's just, uh," Draco hesitates, groaning and pinching the bridge of his nose. "Retrace our steps and look for it. The woods are probably safer anyway. The Death Eaters can't linger long, I'm sure Aurors are already on their way. If the worst happens we'll stay in the woods until the ministry comes in the morning to check the scene."

Harry nods, relieved that the ringing has stopped, "Yeah. Let's go." 

Ever the Gryffindor, he wants to lead, but knows it's probably better to let Draco do it.

'He doesn't seem to be teasing me for it, so that's nice. But I mean this is hardly a funny situation. He's more mature than I thought, when did that happen?'

But Draco stops him mid-step. He pats the tent flap away, wiping his glasses with his sleeve to make sure what he's seeing is right. The campground has been decimated, turned in under an hour from a place teeming with celebration to a blurry brown mass. Ash coats the ground like thick winter snow and dances through the air, providing the accompanying snowflakes. There's more ash than there should be, probably because most tents were far larger on the inside. Even the grand Malfoy family tent is nowhere to be seen. 

'Did Mr. Malfoy pack it up at the last second, or did he burn it too?'

But when Harry looks at Draco, the blond boy is looking up, jaw hanging slack. A single tear drips down his face. Harry finds himself wanting to brush it away but Draco's never been a touchy person, so he doesn't.

Instead, he asks, far from eloquently, "What the hell is that? I didn't think the Aurora Borealis came over England that much, and isn't it purple?"

"That isn't the Aurora Borealis, Potter!" Draco snaps, sniffling back more tears. "That's the Dark Mark. It's Voldemort's mark!" Draco glares up at the writing snake with all his might, but he looks more like he's trying to hold back a sob.

Harry flinches back at the intensity of Draco's voice, the rage under the words. That's the first time he's said the name . . . ever.

There's the snap of burnt wood that sends both of their heads swiveling to the right. A singular person stands in the wreckage, a skinny man by stature, but his face is invisible in the shadow of a dark brown coat collar and spiky black hair.

"Who is that?" Harry whispers.

"I don't know and I don't care, let's just . . . go back to the woods." Draco's voice breaks. He's so close to breaking.

'You can't. Not in front of Harry. He doesn't want to see how weak you are. He needs strong people on his side, not boys who can't even bear to look their own fathers in the eye.'

"No. We can't. We should go after him, at least to see his face. We have to tell the ministry." Harry starts to jog away, but Draco pulls him back.

"Potter." He clears his throat, looking away for a second to secretly blink away the escaped tears. "You're drunk, you have no vision and no wand. And I . . . I'm so fucking done . . . with my father, with Death Eaters, with all of this. I don't want any part of any of it. I know I'm going to have hades to face when I get home, so just for now, just for one moment, one singular fucking moment, please let me have a bit of peace. You and your little friends can chase that man to Scotland, and France, and back in the morning, but right now . . . please, let's just stay here . . . . and safe." He doesn't mean to squeeze Harry's hand so hard, but at the moment, Harry doesn't mind.

'I didn't know he even knew any Muggle swears.'

"Yeah, okay. Let's stay."

-

So they stay, waiting in silence, but not for long

This time the footsteps are accompanied by clear voices, shouting directions, names with suffixes on the front, and titles.

"Mr. Crouch, sir, over here!"

Harry and Draco's eyes find each other immediately, widening in panic and relief respectively. The voices are far away now but they grow closer by the second. 

"Oh, thank Merlin. I thought we'd be stuck out here all night like heathens!"

"No, Malfoy, you've got to get out of here."

"Wh-" but his words falter as he realises what Harry means.

That man is probably long gone by now. He and Harry and the only ones out here. And according to everyone they know they hate each other, plus Harry's wand is missing. 

'I wouldn't even blame them. What are they supposed to think?' Drco droops at the thought of the house prejudice.

"Alright, but I'm not sure if I can disapparate again."

"Malfoy, of course you can! Just go!" Harry shoves him, and he does, vanishing into the air with a sad smile.

When Harry's sure he's gone, he steps out of the tent, only to be greeted by several thundering voices.

-

At mr. Weasly's instance, the crowd of aurous clears from around Harry and he's left to face Ron and Hermione.

"See, Mione, told you he was fine. If You-know-who can't kill him, I doubt a few of his cronies could."

"Oh, that's an awful thing to say, Ronald!" She smacks him lightly, then turns on Harry. "Harry! Oh my god! Where on earth have you been?! We couldn't find you anywhere!? I sent out a search party."

"'Mione, let him breathe!"

Hermione relents her crushing hug, "Sorry. Are you okay?"

"Yeah. I'm fine. I just, uh, went to sit somewhere quieter, you know, so I could focus on the game."

Hermione looks appropriately confused, but says no more, "Oh, alright?"

-

As the group makes the trek back, Harry hangs back, rolling his recovered wand between his fingers. He knows it wasn't Winky, but there's no way to prove otherwise.

'Madame Pomfrey said that broken bones can be healed in an instant, and there's no way Mr. Malfoy would hurt his son when he has a reputation to keep up. Malfoy is fine, of course, he is . . . Mr. Diggory seemed fine, I wonder how Cedric is.'

Suddenly a hand taps Harry's shoulder. "Here, you left these, mate."

Not knowing how to explain, Harry just takes the omnoculars from Ron's hand. 

"I know you weren't watching the game, but you know it's really none of my business so just don't scare Hermione like that again." Then he pauses, sniffing the air, "Bloody hell, Harry!" he drops to a whisper before anyone can hear, "Have you been drinking?"

Harry blanches, caught. "Erm, kind of. Dean and Seamus dared me to try something that I think was more alcohol than we thought."

'Please don't rat me out.' He knows Seamus has always been curious about alcohol and silently prays that if Ron ever asks they'll just assume that they forgot and say yes.

"Oh, well, how was it?" Ron has had whiskey before, but only a bit, on the sly in the three broomsticks.

"Gross, absolutely disgusting," Harry assures, ignoring the tinge of warmth still in his veins. As interesting as it felt, it's not something he's very eager to do again, as he feels a headache already developing. Or maybe that's from his foggy glasses, the cracks didn't fuse back together quite right.

"By the way, mate, I meant to ask before, but why is your hair green? Did Seamus do that?"

"Huh?" Harry remembers, sinking down with laughter while Ron looks on in confusion. "Oh, this, I don't even know. Some boy about Fred and George's age was going around and spelling people's hair Irish Colours for them, and, no offense mate, but I didn't want to be ginger, or have white hair like Malfoy, so I chose green." the lie comes easily. He's not sure hwo to feel about that.

-

Even while snores fill the attic bedroom, dreams of snakes keep Harry awake. 

Sighing, with one hand massaging his scar, he retrieves his glasses, examining the ever so slightly distorted lenses. 

Draco had done the charm silently, but Harry still remembers the first time Hermione had fixed his glasses.

Tentatively he holds them out, pointing his wand at them. "Oculus Reparo." The words are quiet in the air but there's a crack as the glasses are fully restored.

'I probably didn't do as good a job as Hermione could've but this is better than worrying her. Draco's arm will be long healed by September, so I can probably ask him later if I need to. I hope he's alright. Mr. Malfoy couldn't know what we did. I'm sure he's fine.'

—

In Malfoy Manor, Draco cries to himself, frowning in the foggy mirror. He didn't feel like showering, but it was a good way to delay his mother's fretting and his father's interrogation. His hair is still maroon, but he doesn't trust himself to use his wand in his right hand.

This is the worst day ever. The sporting event was spoiled, his father may be a Death Eater and the boy he loves might like someone else.

The room spins as if he's still apparating and he rushes to the sink to be sick. Pain crackles up his arm when he grabs the sink to steady himself.

Behind him, Minty, the family's new house elf, whimpers. Draco had told her to go, perhaps a bit rudely, but she refused, now she offers him a warm washcloth.

"Stop! You're not my mother!"

"I is sorry, young master, Minty only meant to help. Young master is hurt, it is my job to help."

Draco takes a shuddering breath, then takes the washcloth with his good hand, "I-I know that. Thank you, Minty, just keep Mother out. I need a moment."

". . . I cannot, sir, I cannot be disobeying an order from the Mistress Malfoy. I can tells her, sir, but if she would like to come in I will not being able to stop her. Good house elf do not get in her mistress way, and Minty is a good house elf" 

He sighs, "I know. Ugh, just tell her I'm in the bath."

"I cannot be lying, sir, lying is bad, and I am a good elf. Young master should not be lying to his mother either, sir."

"It's not a lie, I've just been waiting for you to leave, before I undress."

Minty squeaks. "Ah, yes, sir, I am sorry to be holding up your bath, I goes now! I goes now to tells the Mistress!"

-

When Draco leaves the bathroom, his mother is perched on his bed, still in her outing clothes, fidgeting with one of her pearl earrings. It's almost indistinguishable from the colour of her hair, which almost appears to cast a glow around the dark room.

"Draco, my darling, are you alright? Minty told me you were sick." She beckons him closer.

"Traitor," Draco mutters, moving to sit beside his mother

"No, I forced her. Please tell me what happened. You never came back to the tent and Amaryllis, and Aida said that you weren't with Pansy or Blaise."

Draco shakes his head, "No, I wasn't. I didn't want to see Harry, so I went down a few levels to watch by myself, then I went to find Pansy, Blaise, and Theo to tell them I was right about Ireland and then . . . the Death Eaters came."

Narcissa Black-Malfoy isn't stupid, and she knows her son better than anyone. "Draco, your father isn't home. He's at work, he won't be home until tomorrow. Were you with Harry? If that boy left you alone out there, I'll murder him myself."

"Mother, we are just friends, nothing more. That's all we'll ever be."

Narcissa Malfoy looks thoughtfully at her son, then tuts, buttoning his pyjama shirt and ruffling his hair. "That may be but friends don't leave each other and that boy is a Gryffindor if ever I've seen one, I know he stayed with you. So please, darling, tell me what happened."

Darco hesitates, stilling, but he can't contain himself any longer. He tells her. He tells her and tells her and tells her. He tells her everything, everything but his suspicions about his father.

'I've never lied to Mother before, not about something so big.'

And she holds him, holds him because her husband left her alone tonight as well. He left without a word and she doesn't know where he went and at the same time, she does. She knows he didn't leave at all. 

And they both cry. Draco sobbing loudly, and Narcissa's breath hitching quietly, the tears just refusing to fall because she's already shed so many in her lifetime.

'I thought this was done. I thought all of this was done. I lost Bella to that horrid man, I will not lose my husband as well.'

She clears her throat with determination, inhaling and exhaling the thoughts away, shifting so that she can see her son's face.  "There's shampoo still in your hair, let me wash it for you."

After a moment of hesitation, Draco nods, feeling four years old again. 'Why couldn't everything have stayed the same? I wish I never went to Hogwarts. I wish I never met Harry . . . I wish my father was dead.'

When he stands up, his stomach objects to the movements. Maybe it's the pain, maybe it's the alcohol, either way, he gets sick on the carpet. The sick smells distinctly of fire whiskey. Darco winces.

Narcissa sighs. Soundlessly, cleaning supplies float in and the mess disappears.

Draco braces for her scolding. "I'm sorry, Mum."

"It's alright, darling. It's alright." She whispers gently, picking him up as if he weren't nearly the same weight as her. The bathroom isn't far anyway.

(A/N: I have no idea average 14-year-old's body weight lmao)

-

She lays him on the counter. If setting him down brings relief, she gives no indication, her face calm as she sets the tap.

Draco sighs when the warm water hits his scalp.

"You need a haircut." his mother tuts sweetly.

Draco doesn't respond. There's nothing much to say.

Quieter this time she says, "I knew I should've taken you to France."

"It's alright," he says, trying not to let the strain show, though he knows he'll have to tell her soon if she hasn't already guessed.

"It's really not . . . Draco, would you . . . " Hesitation is a rare thing for Narcissa, so it catches her son's attention.

"Yes, Mum?"

"Would you like to transfer to Beauxbatons this year? Your grandfather is old friends with the headmistress and one of your distant cousins is already attending, it wouldn't be hard to get you in, even this close to start of term."

"What?"

"Would you like to?"

"What about all of my friends, Mum . . . what about Harry?"

"You don't have to if you really don't want to, and of course your father would rather you go to Durmstrang, and all I'm asking is that you think about what you've seen this summer and consider what you want."

"Mum? What's going on? Has something happened? What aren't you telling me? Does it have to do with what Father mentioned is happening at school this year?"

"No, darling, everything is fine." A small lie, "It's just that you're in fourth year now, you're 14, a young man. If you want to try something new, you should have the option."

And he does think. He thinks of all the secret meetings and tense whispers, of his father's possible involvement with the Death Eaters, and of Harry.

'I don't know for sure.' Another small lie.

"No. I'll stay at Hogwarts." 

'I couldn't leave Harry.'

Narcissa sees through him once again, "Draco, sometimes it's okay to think only of yourself and what will make you happy."

"Mother, if you want me at Beauxbatons, I can't stop you."

Narcissa shakes her head vigorously, still trying to maintain her calm, "No, of course not, it's your choice."

-

The two don't speak again for a while. Narcissa washes out the conditioner silently.

'The warm water must be thawing me out,' Draco thinks, 'because I don't feel numb anymore. I can feel my arm now, and it hurts.'

Draco winces, giving in to the pain.

Smiling gently, Narcissa helps him up, draping a towel over his shoulders.

"Let's fix this, hmm, darling?"

Darco nods.

Narcissa points her wand at her son's left arm, healing it in an instant.

-

Even when the ache is long gone, it feels like it remains, lingering on like a stubborn chest cold. Despite being in no physical pain, Draco Malfoy falls asleep crying.

In the bedroom down the hall, Narcissa Black-Malfoy stares out at the moon with determination. She will lose no one else to this damn Hilter-wannabe. 

'For someone who hates muggles, he acts an awful lot like one. Muggle or mage we are all human, I suppose it can't be helped. . . . Should I have told Draco about the tournament, that he'd be able to see Potter? Should I go ahead and send him anyway, before Lucuis attempts to use him as a tool to regain favour with a dead man, or at least until I know what's really going on. . . . I don't want to lose Luci, but I think if he gets involved in this again, I will, for good this time.'

"Oh, Bella, I wish you were here. Why did you have to lose yourself to that madman? Where is my sister when I need her, someone to look after and care for my son?" She asks the empty night.

'And even you Ande, your advice was always reasonable even when you went and did something stupid. So bravely marrying for love. It's so lucky that my love is a pureblood, I could have never bared to disappoint step-mum that way, I suppose that's because I knew I was already enough of a disappointment.'

For now, though, she will watch and wait. She's kept secrets before, she's done worse than that before. 

A roar goes up when Krum catches the snitch. The Irish fans cheer for the end of the game securing their already massive lead and the Bulgarian fans cheer to salvage what's left of their pride.

Harry's Ireland hat and jacket light up, shouting the names of the players in the announcer's voice. He and Draco cheer, not because they've really managed to enjoy the game through the threat of Death Eater's presence, but because cheering feels better than worrying.

"Well, I guess this is goodbye," Draco says solemnly, still not looking at Harry as the players exit the field, thunder made by thousands of clapping hands following them out.

"What?" It takes Harry a moment to understand, too caught up in the moment. "Oh, yeah." he looks down at his feet.

Neither of them wants to leave. Harry knows his friends are probably worried sick, and that he should probably go back to them, but he can't leave Draco knowing what he does now. If the Death Eaters truly are trying to make a resurgence and they're going after anyone who isn't pure blood, could Draco be on that list?

"Hey, you know, nothing has happened yet." Harry points out. Draco gives the barest hint of a smile. "If something was going to happen, it'd make sense to do it during the game, when no one's looking . . . so we could hang out?"

"Well, if you insist, Potter. I know I could certainly use a distraction." He gestures for Harry to follow him. Under the cover of his large Ireland hat, Harry follows Draco and descends down the stairs of the bright arena and into the night.

-

The Malfoy tent is empty, the only occupants being the twelve peacocks tethered outside. They hiss at Draco as he enters. Harry hesitates, but not for long before Draco drags him inside.

The tent is more of a house than a tent. 'If this is their tent, what must Malfoy's house look like?'

Harry's thoughts are interrupted with a loud, "Got it! Let's go!" as Draco emerges from the living room with a bottle of Firewhiskey.

"That looks expensive," Harry says warily. He may not be familiar with the ins and outs of wizard alcohol but he knows it looks a lot like what Uncle Vernon saved for special occasions.

"Oh, don't worry, Father's only been saving it for a couple of years."

'That sounds like something he'll get in big trouble for.' But the rebellious glint in Draco's eyes makes Harry go along with it.

-

The two tote the whiskey out to the forest and take turns sipping from the bottle. At first, they cough and splutter, but as the alcohol floods their systems and their taste buds dull, they acclimate to the fiery drink.

"I've actually never drank before, not really. No more than a sip of Mother's wine when she allowed it." Draco admits.

"That's still more than me, I haven't even really had more than one soft drink," Harry tells him.

In five minutes, they don't care how loud their laughter is, inhibitions lowered significantly. It feels as if somehow, they know each other better than they did this morning.

"Psst!" Draco flicks Harry's forehead, hissing way too loudly for how close they are. "Wanna do underage magic?"

"Hell yeah!"

It takes them longer than it should to rise to their feet, legs shaking like newborn calves, until the dizziness passes.

-

Jinxes fly between them, but they're both too unsteady to dodge too much, so they lie on their backs in the dirt, Harry with Slytherin green hair and Draco with Gryffindor Maroon. Quite a familiar shade actually, one Harry had seen just a few hours ago.

Harry looks over at the former blond and giggles. "You look pretty."

Draco blushes profusely. Harry giggles louder.

"Pretty like Cedric."

Draco's smile slips off his face at once. He glares, before remembering, 'He isn't mine. He never will be. I have to go before I do something I can't take back.'

"Yeah. like Cedric. I have to go. Father will be looking for me."

"Wha- Wait.' Harry slurs, throwing out an arm, but he's too dizzy to really get up and stop Draco, barely grasping his sleeve before Draco pulls away. "Please."

"Sorry," Draco mumbles over his shoulders. 'It's shitty, leaving him there like that but, I can't stand to look at his face, his lips, as he says things like that. He probably doesn't even mean it. Merlin, Draco. Get. It. Together!'

-

Draco doesn't make it far. Before he's cleared the treeline he hears a scream. It's coming from the campground but he runs back toward Harry on instinct.

"Harry!" he shouts the boy's name frantically. 'Is he still . . . did he go? What's happening?'

Suddenly something slams into him, sending him falling to the ground.

"What's all the screaming?" Harry asks, slightly breathless.

"I don't know, I came to ask you. I mean, no offense, Potter, but when there's trouble it tends to be your fault." His tone is bitter again, still not having forgiven Harry for his compliment of the Hufflepuff boy.

"Yeah, right, well, I swear I haven't got a fucking clue this time," Harry says, scowling, already making his way back out of the forest. He picked up on Draco's bitterness, of course he did. They know each other better than they think.

'What's he mad at me for? It's his father that's probably a Death Eater.'

Draco follows him, already regretting his words. 'He was drunk, I shouldn't have- He doesn't need to know.'

Sprinting back through the woods, they reach the treeline quickly. They step out into a campground, not like the one they saw this morning. This one is painted in flickering shades of red and orange.

Fire.

"Get down!" Harry hisses, yanking Draco to the ground as a stray spark ignites above them. Harry stands over Draco now, looking sobered and shaken. 

"Shite! It's the Death Eaters."

Draco leaps up, knocking Harry back. It's impulsive, but he has to know, he has to. Is his father among the masked terrorists?

"Malfoy, you idiot! What are you doing?" Harry scolds from the ground.

"I- I need to know." Draco's voice breaks. Harry understands.

"Yeah, well you can ask him later, for now, we've got to run. They're burning the campsite, we've got to do something."

Harry gets up, pulling Draco along until they reach another opening in the trees. He starts to reveal himself, but Draco yanks him back. Harry spins around, ready to shake his friend off but stops when he sees his face. So afraid. 

'I don't want to face them, Harry. I don't want to face my father.'

"Okay, then let's just try to find help."

Draco nods, mouth too dry to speak.

-

They don't find the Weasleys or Hermione, (which might be a good thing) but they do find the old woman from earlier, clutching her granddaughter. Draco casts a cloaking charm and the woman smiles before disapparating away.

But they've stayed in place for too long. 

The Death Eaters proceed at an even determined pace, so secure in the destruction they've created around them. They move with a strange determination, Harry notes. Draco must be rubbing off on him, he thinks, for him to become so observant. 'Determination to do what? Does that mean this isn't the worst of it?'

Hexes launch their way across the field, setting tents ablaze, and sending wizards and witches into various states of panic and discombobulation. A stray hex, an alarming shade of smoky purple heads straight for Harry. 

He doubts it was intentional, they couldn't have seen him from around the large tent, but it's going to hit him regardless. Between the tightly packed tents, there's nowhere to run.

He's still working out a plan when he hits the ground for what's got to be the fourth time today. He's been shoved into a random tent. It looks far from where they just were. How?

Harry rolls over, shaking his head. He feels woozy, and sitting up proves fruitless. If his hair was messy before it looks like he's been struck by lightning now. Instead of sitting up he moves tentatively to lay on his hip, propping himself up by the elbow. To his relief, the nausea and starts in his vision fade. 

Draco sits cross-legged beside him, his hair mused nearly as much as Harry's and his left arm hanging over his thigh at an obtuse angle. He examines it with narrowed eyes, sucking in a quiet breath as he flexes his fingers.

(A/N: Pushing my left-handed Draco agenda. Why? So he and Harry can hold hands under their desks, of course. Also, left-handed people are cool.)

He looks at the newly-woken Harry, putting effort into a small smile that looks more like a grimace. "Welcome to the land of the living, Potter. I'm not the smoothest at this yet, so the arrival knocked you out."

"What arrival, where?" Harry scrambles up, in panic mode, feeling hurriedly around for his glasses in case he needs to leave quickly. 

'We're in a house?' Harry wonders. The space around them is charmingly decorated, reminding them of the few pictures Hermione had shown them of her house.

"I didn't get us far, just to a tent a few metres away, but-" He notices Harry's search. And with an awkward gesture, places the glasses on Harry's lap. "Here, I could've done better, but my wand hand is my left."

Draco doesn't know why he says that, of course, Harry knows which hand he uses his wand in.

"It's fine. What happened?"

"Perhaps I did a worse job on your glasses than I thought. It's broken, obviously, Potter. I'm not sure if it was the jinx, or if I did it wrong. I've only done this by myself once before." Draco sounds a bit stressed.

Harry shakes his head, getting a bit annoyed, "Did what, Malfoy?"

Draco blinks, the smallest of signs revealing the frazzle beneath his calm, "I disapparated us, Potter."

"App- but you're 14. I thought . . .?"

"Anyone over the age of ten can do it with practice, and my mother's been teaching me over the summer, but I didn't mean to, not this time. I just panicked and it happened, okay. I'm sorry. I know it's lucky neither of us got splinched." He looks upset with himself.

'I could've hurt Harry, but what else could I have done?'

The way Draco winces on the word keeps Harry from asking what splinching is.

'I think he thinks I know way more about this than I do.'

"Don't be sorry, you probably saved my life, again."

Draco pretends not to hear him, turning away to hide his blush. "We should go, they're bound to burn this row any minute now." Without another word, not even a huff of pain, Draco continues moving, pushing himself up with his right hand, a bitter glare in his eyes.

'He's nothing like he was last year with Buckbeak. He hasn't cried at all. Is he in shock? . . . Or did something happen over summer holiday to make him used to pain like this? The way Mr. Malfoy looked at him earlier, does he always look at him like that? Does he do worse? . . . What am I thinking, he's the spoiled one between us. But he's still brave, smirk, and bear it brave. Slytherin is brave. '

Still a little dazed from the amature dissparation, not expecting Draco's quick pace, Harry's "Yeah." is belated and he struggles to his feet, feeling the alcohol as he tries to keep up with Draco.

When he only stumbles again, this time into Draco, the blond turns around. "Merlin, Potter, I'm right here, if you need help just ask for it." 

Harry looks down embarrassed. Internally Draco panics, but there's no taking the phrasing back now. Luckily for him, he hasn't rubbed off on Harry that much, The Chosen One is still decidedly dense.

Harry shakes his head, straightening up from where he'd been leaning against Draco. "Yeah, sorry. I shouldn't have drank so mu-"

"It's fine, forget that now. We'll be lucky if that's what we get punished for tonight. In fact, I hope it's the ministry that finds us." The "not my father" goes unsaid but not unheard even to Harry's slightly ringing ears, "And I take back what I said earlier Potter, Expelliarmus is just as good as any other spell. If we get caught, give it all you've got."

"Oh, ha, ha, ha, Malfoy, that's really funn-" Harry's voice dies mid-sentence. "Malfoy," he tries not to panic, "did you take my wand when I passed out?"

"What, no? Why would I? You never take another wizard's wand without permission, surely even you know that."

"So you didn't?"

"No . . . Oh, Merlin, Potter . . . don't tell me you've lost it." Darco's face says he's so so tired of this, of everything that's happened tonight.

"Hey! I haven't lost it, I swear I put it in my pocket earlier."

"Well it's not there now, is it?"

"No." Harry sags in defeat, "It must have fallen out when I fell or when you apparated us or something."

Both boys ignore the possibility that it was taken and the much bigger problem: If Harry doesn't have his wand, then who does?

But they haven't got time to worry about that now.

"Okay, let's just, uh," Draco hesitates, groaning and pinching the bridge of his nose. "Retrace our steps and look for it. The woods are probably safer anyway. The Death Eaters can't linger long, I'm sure Aurors are already on their way. If the worst happens we'll stay in the woods until the ministry comes in the morning to check the scene."

Harry nods, relieved that the ringing has stopped, "Yeah. Let's go." 

Ever the Gryffindor, he wants to lead, but knows it's probably better to let Draco do it.

'He doesn't seem to be teasing me for it, so that's nice. But I mean this is hardly a funny situation. He's more mature than I thought, when did that happen?'

But Draco stops him mid-step. He pats the tent flap away, wiping his glasses with his sleeve to make sure what he's seeing is right. The campground has been decimated, turned in under an hour from a place teeming with celebration to a blurry brown mass. Ash coats the ground like thick winter snow and dances through the air, providing the accompanying snowflakes. There's more ash than there should be, probably because most tents were far larger on the inside. Even the grand Malfoy family tent is nowhere to be seen. 

'Did Mr. Malfoy pack it up at the last second, or did he burn it too?'

But when Harry looks at Draco, the blond boy is looking up, jaw hanging slack. A single tear drips down his face. Harry finds himself wanting to brush it away but Draco's never been a touchy person, so he doesn't.

Instead, he asks, far from eloquently, "What the hell is that? I didn't think the Aurora Borealis came over England that much, and isn't it purple?"

"That isn't the Aurora Borealis, Potter!" Draco snaps, sniffling back more tears. "That's the Dark Mark. It's Voldemort's mark!" Draco glares up at the writing snake with all his might, but he looks more like he's trying to hold back a sob.

Harry flinches back at the intensity of Draco's voice, the rage under the words. That's the first time he's said the name . . . ever.

There's the snap of burnt wood that sends both of their heads swiveling to the right. A singular person stands in the wreckage, a skinny man by stature, but his face is invisible in the shadow of a dark brown coat collar and spiky black hair.

"Who is that?" Harry whispers.

"I don't know and I don't care, let's just . . . go back to the woods." Draco's voice breaks. He's so close to breaking.

'You can't. Not in front of Harry. He doesn't want to see how weak you are. He needs strong people on his side, not boys who can't even bear to look their own fathers in the eye.'

"No. We can't. We should go after him, at least to see his face. We have to tell the ministry." Harry starts to jog away, but Draco pulls him back.

"Potter." He clears his throat, looking away for a second to secretly blink away the escaped tears. "You're drunk, you have no vision and no wand. And I . . . I'm so fucking done . . . with my father, with Death Eaters, with all of this. I don't want any part of any of it. I know I'm going to have hades to face when I get home, so just for now, just for one moment, one singular fucking moment, please let me have a bit of peace. You and your little friends can chase that man to Scotland, and France, and back in the morning, but right now . . . please, let's just stay here . . . . and safe." He doesn't mean to squeeze Harry's hand so hard, but at the moment, Harry doesn't mind.

'I didn't know he even knew any Muggle swears.'

"Yeah, okay. Let's stay."

-

So they stay, waiting in silence, but not for long

This time the footsteps are accompanied by clear voices, shouting directions, names with suffixes on the front, and titles.

"Mr. Crouch, sir, over here!"

Harry and Draco's eyes find each other immediately, widening in panic and relief respectively. The voices are far away now but they grow closer by the second. 

"Oh, thank Merlin. I thought we'd be stuck out here all night like heathens!"

"No, Malfoy, you've got to get out of here."

"Wh-" but his words falter as he realises what Harry means.

That man is probably long gone by now. He and Harry and the only ones out here. And according to everyone they know they hate each other, plus Harry's wand is missing. 

'I wouldn't even blame them. What are they supposed to think?' Drco droops at the thought of the house prejudice.

"Alright, but I'm not sure if I can disapparate again."

"Malfoy, of course you can! Just go!" Harry shoves him, and he does, vanishing into the air with a sad smile.

When Harry's sure he's gone, he steps out of the tent, only to be greeted by several thundering voices.

-

At mr. Weasly's instance, the crowd of aurous clears from around Harry and he's left to face Ron and Hermione.

"See, Mione, told you he was fine. If You-know-who can't kill him, I doubt a few of his cronies could."

"Oh, that's an awful thing to say, Ronald!" She smacks him lightly, then turns on Harry. "Harry! Oh my god! Where on earth have you been?! We couldn't find you anywhere!? I sent out a search party."

"'Mione, let him breathe!"

Hermione relents her crushing hug, "Sorry. Are you okay?"

"Yeah. I'm fine. I just, uh, went to sit somewhere quieter, you know, so I could focus on the game."

Hermione looks appropriately confused, but says no more, "Oh, alright?"

-

As the group makes the trek back, Harry hangs back, rolling his recovered wand between his fingers. He knows it wasn't Winky, but there's no way to prove otherwise.

'Madame Pomfrey said that broken bones can be healed in an instant, and there's no way Mr. Malfoy would hurt his son when he has a reputation to keep up. Malfoy is fine, of course, he is . . . Mr. Diggory seemed fine, I wonder how Cedric is.'

Suddenly a hand taps Harry's shoulder. "Here, you left these, mate."

Not knowing how to explain, Harry just takes the omnoculars from Ron's hand. 

"I know you weren't watching the game, but you know it's really none of my business so just don't scare Hermione like that again." Then he pauses, sniffing the air, "Bloody hell, Harry!" he drops to a whisper before anyone can hear, "Have you been drinking?"

Harry blanches, caught. "Erm, kind of. Dean and Seamus dared me to try something that I think was more alcohol than we thought."

'Please don't rat me out.' He knows Seamus has always been curious about alcohol and silently prays that if Ron ever asks they'll just assume that they forgot and say yes.

"Oh, well, how was it?" Ron has had whiskey before, but only a bit, on the sly in the three broomsticks.

"Gross, absolutely disgusting," Harry assures, ignoring the tinge of warmth still in his veins. As interesting as it felt, it's not something he's very eager to do again, as he feels a headache already developing. Or maybe that's from his foggy glasses, the cracks didn't fuse back together quite right.

"By the way, mate, I meant to ask before, but why is your hair green? Did Seamus do that?"

"Huh?" Harry remembers, sinking down with laughter while Ron looks on in confusion. "Oh, this, I don't even know. Some boy about Fred and George's age was going around and spelling people's hair Irish Colours for them, and, no offense mate, but I didn't want to be ginger, or have white hair like Malfoy, so I chose green." the lie comes easily. He's not sure hwo to feel about that.

-

Even while snores fill the attic bedroom, dreams of snakes keep Harry awake. 

Sighing, with one hand massaging his scar, he retrieves his glasses, examining the ever so slightly distorted lenses. 

Draco had done the charm silently, but Harry still remembers the first time Hermione had fixed his glasses.

Tentatively he holds them out, pointing his wand at them. "Oculus Reparo." The words are quiet in the air but there's a crack as the glasses are fully restored.

'I probably didn't do as good a job as Hermione could've but this is better than worrying her. Draco's arm will be long healed by September, so I can probably ask him later if I need to. I hope he's alright. Mr. Malfoy couldn't know what we did. I'm sure he's fine.'

—

In Malfoy Manor, Draco cries to himself, frowning in the foggy mirror. He didn't feel like showering, but it was a good way to delay his mother's fretting and his father's interrogation. His hair is still maroon, but he doesn't trust himself to use his wand in his right hand.

This is the worst day ever. The sporting event was spoiled, his father may be a Death Eater and the boy he loves might like someone else.

The room spins as if he's still apparating and he rushes to the sink to be sick. Pain crackles up his arm when he grabs the sink to steady himself.

Behind him, Minty, the family's new house elf, whimpers. Draco had told her to go, perhaps a bit rudely, but she refused, now she offers him a warm washcloth.

"Stop! You're not my mother!"

"I is sorry, young master, Minty only meant to help. Young master is hurt, it is my job to help."

Draco takes a shuddering breath, then takes the washcloth with his good hand, "I-I know that. Thank you, Minty, just keep Mother out. I need a moment."

". . . I cannot, sir, I cannot be disobeying an order from the Mistress Malfoy. I can tells her, sir, but if she would like to come in I will not being able to stop her. Good house elf do not get in her mistress way, and Minty is a good house elf" 

He sighs, "I know. Ugh, just tell her I'm in the bath."

"I cannot be lying, sir, lying is bad, and I am a good elf. Young master should not be lying to his mother either, sir."

"It's not a lie, I've just been waiting for you to leave, before I undress."

Minty squeaks. "Ah, yes, sir, I am sorry to be holding up your bath, I goes now! I goes now to tells the Mistress!"

-

When Draco leaves the bathroom, his mother is perched on his bed, still in her outing clothes, fidgeting with one of her pearl earrings. It's almost indistinguishable from the colour of her hair, which almost appears to cast a glow around the dark room.

"Draco, my darling, are you alright? Minty told me you were sick." She beckons him closer.

"Traitor," Draco mutters, moving to sit beside his mother

"No, I forced her. Please tell me what happened. You never came back to the tent and Amaryllis, and Aida said that you weren't with Pansy or Blaise."

Draco shakes his head, "No, I wasn't. I didn't want to see Harry, so I went down a few levels to watch by myself, then I went to find Pansy, Blaise, and Theo to tell them I was right about Ireland and then . . . the Death Eaters came."

Narcissa Black-Malfoy isn't stupid, and she knows her son better than anyone. "Draco, your father isn't home. He's at work, he won't be home until tomorrow. Were you with Harry? If that boy left you alone out there, I'll murder him myself."

"Mother, we are just friends, nothing more. That's all we'll ever be."

Narcissa Malfoy looks thoughtfully at her son, then tuts, buttoning his pyjama shirt and ruffling his hair. "That may be but friends don't leave each other and that boy is a Gryffindor if ever I've seen one, I know he stayed with you. So please, darling, tell me what happened."

Darco hesitates, stilling, but he can't contain himself any longer. He tells her. He tells her and tells her and tells her. He tells her everything, everything but his suspicions about his father.

'I've never lied to Mother before, not about something so big.'

And she holds him, holds him because her husband left her alone tonight as well. He left without a word and she doesn't know where he went and at the same time, she does. She knows he didn't leave at all. 

And they both cry. Draco sobbing loudly, and Narcissa's breath hitching quietly, the tears just refusing to fall because she's already shed so many in her lifetime.

'I thought this was done. I thought all of this was done. I lost Bella to that horrid man, I will not lose my husband as well.'

She clears her throat with determination, inhaling and exhaling the thoughts away, shifting so that she can see her son's face.  "There's shampoo still in your hair, let me wash it for you."

After a moment of hesitation, Draco nods, feeling four years old again. 'Why couldn't everything have stayed the same? I wish I never went to Hogwarts. I wish I never met Harry . . . I wish my father was dead.'

When he stands up, his stomach objects to the movements. Maybe it's the pain, maybe it's the alcohol, either way, he gets sick on the carpet. The sick smells distinctly of fire whiskey. Darco winces.

Narcissa sighs. Soundlessly, cleaning supplies float in and the mess disappears.

Draco braces for her scolding. "I'm sorry, Mum."

"It's alright, darling. It's alright." She whispers gently, picking him up as if he weren't nearly the same weight as her. The bathroom isn't far anyway.

(A/N: I have no idea average 14-year-old's body weight lmao)

-

She lays him on the counter. If setting him down brings relief, she gives no indication, her face calm as she sets the tap.

Draco sighs when the warm water hits his scalp.

"You need a haircut." his mother tuts sweetly.

Draco doesn't respond. There's nothing much to say.

Quieter this time she says, "I knew I should've taken you to France."

"It's alright," he says, trying not to let the strain show, though he knows he'll have to tell her soon if she hasn't already guessed.

"It's really not . . . Draco, would you . . . " Hesitation is a rare thing for Narcissa, so it catches her son's attention.

"Yes, Mum?"

"Would you like to transfer to Beauxbatons this year? Your grandfather is old friends with the headmistress and one of your distant cousins is already attending, it wouldn't be hard to get you in, even this close to start of term."

"What?"

"Would you like to?"

"What about all of my friends, Mum . . . what about Harry?"

"You don't have to if you really don't want to, and of course your father would rather you go to Durmstrang, and all I'm asking is that you think about what you've seen this summer and consider what you want."

"Mum? What's going on? Has something happened? What aren't you telling me? Does it have to do with what Father mentioned is happening at school this year?"

"No, darling, everything is fine." A small lie, "It's just that you're in fourth year now, you're 14, a young man. If you want to try something new, you should have the option."

And he does think. He thinks of all the secret meetings and tense whispers, of his father's possible involvement with the Death Eaters, and of Harry.

'I don't know for sure.' Another small lie.

"No. I'll stay at Hogwarts." 

'I couldn't leave Harry.'

Narcissa sees through him once again, "Draco, sometimes it's okay to think only of yourself and what will make you happy."

"Mother, if you want me at Beauxbatons, I can't stop you."

Narcissa shakes her head vigorously, still trying to maintain her calm, "No, of course not, it's your choice."

-

The two don't speak again for a while. Narcissa washes out the conditioner silently.

'The warm water must be thawing me out,' Draco thinks, 'because I don't feel numb anymore. I can feel my arm now, and it hurts.'

Draco winces, giving in to the pain.

Smiling gently, Narcissa helps him up, draping a towel over his shoulders.

"Let's fix this, hmm, darling?"

Darco nods.

Narcissa points her wand at her son's left arm, healing it in an instant.

-

Even when the ache is long gone, it feels like it remains, lingering on like a stubborn chest cold. Despite being in no physical pain, Draco Malfoy falls asleep crying.

In the bedroom down the hall, Narcissa Black-Malfoy stares out at the moon with determination. She will lose no one else to this damn Hilter-wannabe. 

'For someone who hates muggles, he acts an awful lot like one. Muggle or mage we are all human, I suppose it can't be helped. . . . Should I have told Draco about the tournament, that he'd be able to see Potter? Should I go ahead and send him anyway, before Lucuis attempts to use him as a tool to regain favour with a dead man, or at least until I know what's really going on. . . . I don't want to lose Luci, but I think if he gets involved in this again, I will, for good this time.'

"Oh, Bella, I wish you were here. Why did you have to lose yourself to that madman? Where is my sister when I need her, someone to look after and care for my son?" She asks the empty night.

'And even you Ande, your advice was always reasonable even when you went and did something stupid. So bravely marrying for love. It's so lucky that my love is a pureblood, I could have never bared to disappoint step-mum that way, I suppose that's because I knew I was already enough of a disappointment.'

For now, though, she will watch and wait. She's kept secrets before, she's done worse than that before. 

[oldguy56-world]

The Games People Play

Everyone likes to play some type of game. For my wife and I we have several favorites:

Where's my phone (daily)

Where's my glasses (at least once a week)

Who is that on TV and I thought they were dead? (multi times)

These are not the games I will be discussing however. I am of course referring to the Olympics. (Yes this is a follow up to the very popular Blog from last week talking about the opening ceremonies) I will not discuss the events because they are all shown 9 times a day and if you don't know what happened you are not interested so I will not waste my fingers. I will instead bring you up to speed on some of the happenings behind the scenes, which are interesting to say the least. Most names will not be used to protect the almost innocent so let's get going:

The triathlon was delayed but did you know they tried to have it happen by changing the first leg to a sprint across the Seine instead of swimming? What held them back was the test run where shoes seemed to melt on contact with the water.

A Slodovian weightlifter failed to read my last blog and as a result was not aware there was a video floating around showing a Bulgarian using the proper technique. As a result the Slodovian's testicles exploded when he tried to lift too much weight.

Canada was going to use a submarine to get some footage of swimmers from other countries in the pool but our only sub is currently being used at the West Edmonton Mall as a ride.

Snoop Dogg tried to entered the High jump, High dive, and the High Bar but backed out after the events were properly explained.

France tried to introduce their own version of the triathlon which featured smoking a carton of cigarettes, drinking a gallon of wine and eating two dozen croissants. Only Italy and Viet Nam were interested.

Another Slodovian accidentally ingested a full bottle of Viagra and had to change his discipline from the high jump to the pole vault. (really sorry about that one)

Another Slodovian (really rough Olympics for them) who was a boxer eliminated himself when he knocked himself out putting on his gloves.

The Turkish hitman in shooting purposely didn't take gold so that he could stay in the background and change disguises. (you really didn't think that was his real face did you?)

Finally, on a sad note, four French mimes were shot trying to escape from an imaginary box. Rumor has it police are searching for the shooter to present him or her with an honorary gold medal.

THOUGHT OF THE WEEK: Every camera should focus on the faces of some of the athletes that were not on the podium but still performed a personal best. Joy does not have to come just when you win. As far as i am concerned anyone who qualifies to be there is a winner.

[easterneuropeancrafts]

Busintsi Pottery

The Museum of Busintsi Pottery

Busintsi, Trun municipality, Bulgaria

There are three major schools of Bulgarian pottery - pottery from Troyan, Veliko Tarnovo and Busintsi. The three styles of pottery are made using different techniques, forms and ornaments. The pottery from Busintsi is the least well-known of the three styles and there are very few modern craftsmen skilled in this style of pottery.

Busintsi pottery is distinctive for its complex forms and its comparatively simple decoration. The "Busintsi green" used to colour the glaze sets it apart from other Bulgarian pottery. Other typical colours include yellow and dark red. Busintsi pottery was made from local clay, and the craftsmen used local metal and plants to create the bright colours of the glaze. Small pitchers for wine and rakia, richly decorated with figures, called "okantsi" (оканци) are typical for this style of pottery and were used when inviting guests to weddings.

During the Bulgarian Enlightenment (18 - 19th centuries) pottery became central to the economy of Busintsi, reaching a total of over 300 workshops with 1500 craftsmen. The craft began to spread to neighbouring towns of Samokov, Berkovitsa, Razlog and Nevrokop. Towards the end of the 19th century, Busintsi is described in Konstantin Jireček's "Travels through Bulgaria" as the centre of a very particular pottery industry, which uses very old forms and ornaments. The pottery industry in Busintsi began to decline with the advent of industrialisation, despite efforts to modernise it. One of the last prominent masters of the craft was Petar Gigov, who was instrumental in the founding of the Museum of Busintsi Pottery in 1982.

The Gigov workshop is still active and can be found opposite the museum, and there are efforts to revitalise the craft.

[malka-lisitsa]

Mother's day-

There's no grave.

No place she can go visit for a nameless peasant woman murdered in her home in 1492.

So instead, Katherine's made her favourite bulgarian dish from when she was a child, and shes lit some candles. Some flowers on the table. An empty chair with a plate set out, glass full of expensive wine just across from her.

It's quiet. Its empty. It's heavy, and it hurts.

"..Честит ден на майката, мамо. Съжалявам...."

[forest-rusalka]

Getting drunk on Bulgarian wine

[pollonegro666]

2023/12/24 Mi papi ya tiene preparado el vino tinto que quiere para la cena de esta noche. Por favor, amigos, sírvanse un poco para hacer un gran brindis.

My daddy has already prepared the red wine he wants for dinner tonight. Please, friends, pour some to make a great clink of glasses.

Google Translation into French: Mon père a déjà préparé le vin rouge qu'il veut pour le dîner de ce soir. S'il vous plaît, les amis, versez-en un peu pour faire un grand tintement de verres.

Google translation into Italian: Mio padre ha già preparato il vino rosso che vuole per cena stasera. Per favore, amici, versatene un po' per fare un gran tintinnio di bicchieri.

Google Translation into Portuguese: Meu pai já preparou o vinho tinto que quer para o jantar esta noite. Por favor, amigos, sirvam um pouco para fazer um grande tilintar de copos.

Google Translation into German: Mein Vater hat bereits den Rotwein vorbereitet, den er heute Abend zum Abendessen haben möchte. Bitte, Freunde, gießt ein wenig ein, damit die Gläser laut klirren.

Google Translation into Albanisch: Babai im ka përgatitur tashmë verën e kuqe që dëshiron për darkë sonte. Ju lutem, miq, që disa të bëjnë një shirit të mrekullueshëm të syzeve.

Google Translation into Arabic: لقد قام والدي بالفعل بإعداد النبيذ الأحمر الذي يريده لتناول العشاء الليلة. من فضلكم، أيها الأصدقاء، لكي يقوم البعض بعمل عيادة رائعة للنظارات.

Google Translation into Armenian: Հայրս արդեն պատրաստել է իր ուզած կարմիր գինին այսօր երեկոյան ընթրիքի համար: Խնդրում եմ, ընկերներ, մի քիչ լցրեք՝ բաժակների հիանալի թխկոց պատրաստելու համար:

Google Translation into Bengali: আমার বাবা আজ রাতে ডিনারের জন্য যে রেড ওয়াইন চান তা ইতিমধ্যেই প্রস্তুত করেছেন। অনুগ্রহ করে, বন্ধুরা, চশমা একটি মহান clink করতে কিছু ঢালা.

Google Translation into Bulgarian: Баща ми вече е приготвил червеното вино, което иска за вечеря тази вечер. Моля, приятели, налейте малко, за да направите страхотно дрънкане на чаши.

Google Translation into Czech: Můj táta už připravil červené víno, které chce dnes k večeři. Prosím, přátelé, nalijte si trochu, abyste mohli skvěle cinkat sklenicemi.

Google Translation into Simplified Chinese: 我爸爸已经准备好了今晚晚餐他想要的红酒。 朋友们，请倒一些，让酒杯叮当作响。

Google Translation into Korean: 우리 아빠는 오늘 밤 저녁으로 원하는 레드와인을 이미 준비했어요. 친구 여러분, 술을 좀 부어서 멋진 유리잔이 부딪히도록 해주세요.

Google Translation into Croatian: Moj tata je već pripremio crno vino koje želi za večeru. Molimo vas, prijatelji, natočite malo da napravite sjajno zveckanje čaša.

Google Translation into Danish Min far har allerede forberedt den rødvin, han vil have til aftensmad i aften. Venligst, venner, hæld lidt op for at lave et fantastisk klirr af glas.

Google Translation into Slovak: Môj otec už pripravil červené víno, ktoré chce dnes na večeru. Priatelia, nalejte si, aby ste mohli skvele štrngať pohármi.

Google Translation into Slovenian: Moj očka je že pripravil rdeče vino, ki ga želi nocoj za večerjo. Prosim, prijatelji, nalijte malo, da boste odlično žvenketali.

Google Translation into Estonian: Mu isa on juba valmistanud punase veini, mida ta täna õhtusöögiks tahab. Palun, sõbrad, valage klaasi, et klaase kokku lüüa.

Google Translation into Suomi: Isäni on jo valmistanut punaviinin, jonka hän haluaa illalliseksi tänä iltana. Olkaa hyvät ystävät, kaada vähän lasien kolinaa varten.

Google Translation into Georgian: მამაჩემმა უკვე მოამზადა წითელი ღვინო, რომელიც მას სურს ამ საღამოს სადილისთვის. გთხოვთ, მეგობრებო, დაასხით ცოტა ჭიქის გასაკეთებლად.

Google Translation into Greek: Ο μπαμπάς μου έχει ήδη ετοιμάσει το κόκκινο κρασί που θέλει για δείπνο απόψε. Παρακαλώ, φίλοι, ρίξτε λίγο για να κάνετε ένα υπέροχο τσουγκρισμα των ποτηριών.

Google Translation into Guarani: Che ru ombosako’íma pe víno pytã oipotáva okaru haĝua ko pyharépe. Por favor, angirũnguéra, peñohẽ michĩmi pejapo haĝua peteĩ clink tuicháva umi vaso-gui.

Google Translation into Hawaiian: Ua hoʻomākaukau mua koʻu makuakāne i ka waina ʻulaʻula āna i makemake ai no ka ʻaina ahiahi i kēia pō. E ʻoluʻolu, e nā hoaaloha, e ninini i kahi mea e hana ai i ke kani nui o nā aniani.

Google Translation into Hebrew: אבא שלי כבר הכין את היין האדום שהוא רוצה לארוחת הערב. בבקשה, חברים, מזגו קצת כדי ליצור צקצוק נהדר של כוסות.

Google Translation into Hindi: मेरे पिताजी ने आज रात के खाने के लिए अपनी पसंदीदा रेड वाइन पहले ही तैयार कर ली है। कृपया दोस्तों, गिलासों की शानदार झनकार बनाने के लिए इसमें कुछ डालें।

Google Translation into Hungarian: Apám már elkészítette azt a vörösbort, amit vacsorára szeretne. Kérem, barátaim, öntsön néhányat, hogy nagy poharakat csorgasson.

Google Translation into Icelandic: Pabbi minn er búinn að útbúa rauðvínið sem hann vill í kvöldmatinn í kvöld. Vinsamlega, vinir, hellið smá til að gera frábært glös.

Google Translation into Indonesian: Ayahku sudah menyiapkan anggur merah yang dia inginkan untuk makan malam malam ini. Tolong teman-teman, tuangkan sedikit untuk membuat dentingan gelas yang bagus.

Google Translation into Japanese: パパは今夜の夕食に欲しい赤ワインをすでに準備してくれています。 友達の皆さん、グラスにカチャカチャという音を立てるために注いでください。

Google Translation into Kyrgyz: Атам кечки тамакка каалаган кызыл винону даярдап койгон. Сураныч, достор, бир аз куюп, стакандарды шакылдатыңыз.

Google Translation into Latvian: Mans tētis jau ir sagatavojis sarkanvīnu, ko vēlas vakariņās. Lūdzu, draugi, ielejiet, lai lieliski saskandinātu glāzes.

Google Translation into Malayalam: എന്റെ ഡാഡി ഇന്ന് രാത്രി അത്താഴത്തിന് ആവശ്യമായ റെഡ് വൈൻ ഇതിനകം തയ്യാറാക്കിയിട്ടുണ്ട്. സുഹൃത്തുക്കളേ, ഒരു വലിയ കണ്ണട ഉണ്ടാക്കാൻ കുറച്ച് ഒഴിക്കുക.

Google Translation into Malay: Ayah saya sudah menyediakan wain merah yang dia mahukan untuk makan malam malam ini. Tolong, kawan-kawan, tuangkan sedikit untuk membuat dentingan cermin mata yang hebat.

Google Translation into Malagasy: Efa nomanin’i Dada ny divay mena tiany hohanina anio alina. Azafady, ry namana, arotsaho ny sasany mba hahatonga ny solomaso mahafinaritra.

Google Translation into Mongolian: Аав маань өнөө оройн хоолондоо хүссэн улаан дарсаа бэлдчихсэн байгаа. Найзууд аа, аятайхан аяга цохихын тулд бага зэрэг асгана уу.

Google Translation into Dutch: Mijn vader heeft de rode wijn die hij vanavond wil eten al klaargemaakt. Alsjeblieft, vrienden, schenk wat in zodat een geweldig gerinkel van glazen ontstaat.

Google Translation into Nepali: मेरो बुबाले रातो खानाको लागि रातो रक्सी तयार गरिसक्नु भएको छ। कृपया, साथीहरू, चश्माको उत्कृष्ट क्लिङ्क बनाउन केही खन्याउनुहोस्।

Google Translation into Norwegian: Faren min har allerede forberedt rødvinen han vil ha til middag i kveld. Vær så snill, venner, hell litt for å lage et flott glass.

Google Translation into Panjabi: ਮੇਰੇ ਡੈਡੀ ਨੇ ਅੱਜ ਰਾਤ ਦੇ ਖਾਣੇ ਲਈ ਰੈੱਡ ਵਾਈਨ ਤਿਆਰ ਕਰ ਲਈ ਹੈ। ਕਿਰਪਾ ਕਰਕੇ, ਦੋਸਤੋ, ਐਨਕਾਂ ਦੀ ਇੱਕ ਸ਼ਾਨਦਾਰ ਕਲਿੰਕ ਬਣਾਉਣ ਲਈ ਕੁਝ ਡੋਲ੍ਹ ਦਿਓ।

Google Translation into Pashtun: زما پلار لا دمخه هغه سور شراب چمتو کړی دی چې هغه د نن شپې د ډوډۍ لپاره غواړي. مهرباني وکړئ ، ملګرو ، د شیشې عالي کلیک کولو لپاره یو څه واچوئ.

Google Translation into Persian: بابام از قبل شراب قرمزی را که برای شام امشب می خواهد آماده کرده است. لطفا دوستان مقداری بریزید تا یک لیوان عالی بسازید.

Google Translation into Polish: Mój tata przygotował już czerwone wino, jakie chce na dzisiejszy obiad. Proszę, przyjaciele, nalejcie trochę, żeby w szklankach rozległ się głośny brzęk.

Google Translation into Romanian: Tatăl meu a pregătit deja vinul roșu pe care îl dorește pentru cina de diseară. Vă rog, prieteni, turnați câteva pentru a face un clinchet grozav de pahare.

Google Translation into Russian: Мой папа уже приготовил красное вино, которое хочет сегодня на ужин. Пожалуйста, друзья, налейте немного, чтобы бокалы громко звякнули.

Google Translation into Serbian: Мој тата је већ спремио црно вино које жели за вечеру. Молим вас, пријатељи, сипајте мало да направите сјајан звекет чаша.

Google Translation into Swedish: Min pappa har redan förberett rödvinet han vill ha till middag ikväll. Snälla vänner, häll upp lite för att göra ett fantastiskt klingande av glasögon.

Google Translation into Sundanese: Bapa kuring parantos nyiapkeun anggur beureum anu dipikahoyong pikeun tuangeun wengi ayeuna. Mangga, babaturan, tuang sababaraha pikeun nyieun clink hébat gelas.

Google Translation into Tagalog: Inihanda na ng daddy ko ang red wine na gusto niya para sa hapunan ngayong gabi. Mangyaring, mga kaibigan, ibuhos ang ilang upang makagawa ng isang mahusay na clink ng baso.

Google Translation into Thai: พ่อของฉันเตรียมไวน์แดงที่เขาต้องการสำหรับมื้อเย็นคืนนี้ไว้แล้ว ได้โปรดเพื่อน ๆ เทเหล้าลงไปให้แก้วแตกกันหน่อย

Google Translation into Telugu: మా డాడీ ఈ రాత్రి డిన్నర్‌కి కావలసిన రెడ్ వైన్‌ని ఇప్పటికే సిద్ధం చేశారు. దయచేసి, మిత్రులారా, గ్లాసెస్ యొక్క గొప్ప క్లింక్ చేయడానికి కొన్ని పోయాలి.

Google Translation into Turkish: Babam bu akşam yemeği için istediği kırmızı şarabı çoktan hazırladı. Lütfen arkadaşlar, harika bir bardak şakırdaması için biraz dökün.

Google Translation into Ukrainian: Мій тато вже приготував червоне вино, яке хоче сьогодні на вечерю. Будь ласка, друзі, налийте трохи, щоб вийшов чудовий дзвін келихів.

Google Translation into Urdu: میرے والد نے آج رات کے کھانے کے لیے ریڈ وائن تیار کر لی ہے۔ براہ کرم، دوستو، شیشے کی ایک بڑی جھلک بنانے کے لیے کچھ ڈالیں۔

Google Translation into Uzbek: Dadam kechqurun kechki ovqatga xohlagan qizil sharobni tayyorlab qo'ygan. Iltimos, do'stlar, bir oz quyinglar, shunda ko'zoynagini ajoyib tarzda chayqating.

Google Translation into Vietnamese: Bố tôi đã chuẩn bị sẵn rượu vang đỏ mà ông ấy muốn cho bữa tối nay. Các bạn ơi, hãy rót một ít để tạo ra tiếng kêu leng keng tuyệt vời.

[ego-856]

Bulgaria: Where Nature and History Converge

Bulgaria, located in Central Europe, is a country adorned with magnificent natural beauty and rich history. With its diverse landscapes and historical treasures, Bulgaria offers visitors an unforgettable experience.

Natural Wonders

Bulgaria is home to a variety of natural wonders including mountains, rivers, forests, and beaches. The Rila and Pirin mountains offer stunning scenery and host hiking trails and winter sports opportunities. The Rhodope Mountains are famous for their unique cave systems and natural wildlife. Bulgaria's coastline along the Black Sea is a perfect choice for those seeking relaxation in the calm waters.

Historical Riches

Bulgaria's history dates back thousands of years and bears traces of many civilizations. The capital city, Sofia, is filled with historical landmarks showcasing influences from different cultures such as the Romans, Byzantines, and Ottomans. The city of Veliko Tarnovo is famous for its medieval fortresses built on steep cliffs, playing a significant role during the Middle Ages. Additionally, ancient Thracian ruins scattered across Bulgaria offer visitors fascinating insights into the past.

Cultural Treasures

Bulgaria boasts a unique culture, known for its traditional music, dance, and cuisine. The country's traditional dances and colorful costumes provide visitors with unforgettable performances. Bulgarian cuisine delights with delicious mezes, kebabs, and desserts. Bulgarian wines are renowned worldwide, and the country is dotted with various wineries offering tastings and tours.

Conclusion

Bulgaria is like a treasure waiting to be discovered, with its natural beauty, historical riches, and vibrant culture. Visitors will be enchanted by the magnificent landscapes and captivated by the charm of historical sites and cultural heritage. Bulgaria offers an unforgettable travel experience for everyone and stands as one of the most beautiful and intriguing countries in Europe.

[therealcalicali]

Bulgaria’s Rose Valley & Rosa Damascena: On February 14th, Bulgarians celebrate St Trifon Zarezan (an ancient Thracian holiday rite). Dressed in their traditional best, vine growers prune and sprinkle Bulgarian wine for a good harvest. Then, they gather for a delicious meal.