The Draw Chapter 26
This is the beginning of book 4.
With a pocket full of galleons and tongue between his teeth, Gregory Jr draws the dress his sister describes. A short thing with a wide, fur lined hood. Meant to show off her strong legs. Then three more suits, all double-breasted and in a shade of dark purple.
Water beats against the roof. A summer storm not unusual in these parts.
"Da," Gretta calls, standing awkwardly in the doorway.
Gregory Sr lifts his head, where he is writing in his study. It was rare for his daughter to come to this room.
"What is it, Gretta?" he asks. Noting the dark circles, under her eyes and the strained smile.
"Lucius wants to take us to the Quidditch World Cup. We won't be sitting with them, but we'll be there."
"You're worried. Have you seen something in that crystal ball of yours?"
"I saw unrest. Fire."
"It's probably nothing," he lies, Knowing full well his daughter was paranoid as of late. More determined to see the future.
Thierry Beaufort stalks across the grounds, towards the tents.
Some Veela had given up on finding their mates, but Thierry hadn't. They had chosen to travel the world under guise of a dancer to find her. Now their wings trembled. Pupils narrowing on the brown haired witch, and her relatives.
She is not as beautiful as a expected, but she is tall. Muscular. With eerie, silver eyes.
Gretchen feels a tug on her magic, and turns.
A bird like creature, with white blonde hair and black wings reminiscent of a thestral is approaching them. A Veela, she remembers from her grandmother's lessons. And pissed off, by the looks of it.
"You," the half-human barks.
"Yes?" Gretchen queries, tilting her head.
"Vhat is your name?"
He asks, "may I have a look at the object it gave you, Gretta?"
Gretchen nods, handing over the small, gold mirror outlined in sapphires. The jewels sparkling in the afternoon light.
He thumbs the clasp, and looks up. Disgusted.
"I think a claim was just made upon your daughter, Gregory. This is part of a set."
The other Veela congratulate them, and there is much celebration amongst the dancers.
They move together as one, unable to apparate. Smoke clinging to their robes.
Admirers following behind, tripping over roots and other forest debris. Shouting empty promises.
Theirry's lips thin further.
There was only one person they wanted to make promises to them, and she was gone. Her magic signature disappearing from the area in an instant.