A Tale of Krum

I. Quidditch Games

~

I practically begged and cried my eyes out to be able to watch my brothers game today.

He was a chaser. The best chaser in the world, playing for the bulgarians.While he's out playing for the national team, I'm barely allowed to step a foot outside of the castle.

Our father, Levnue Aurelion. Bulgarian leader. Our mother, Lorraine Oberlin. French florist.

With such high status, comes high risk. Resulting in high security.

Romeir, my brother, decides whether he wants bodyguards or not. Whether it's for protection against assasins or his fangirls.

His poor excuse of not wanting guards is that he's a tough Bulgarian man.

The only Bulgarian in me is the slight accent I get when I'm irritated. 

My bodyguards are disguised as red supporters. Yelling like mad men. Fitting in quite easily, they seem to be enjoying the show.

I watch the field as they zoom around.

Making eye contact with my brother. He pauses in air. With a surprised grin on his face.

To him this is an equivalent to finding a diamond in a haystack.

My eyes widen as a certain player flies next to Romeir. Following my brothers stare, his eyes land on me.

He doesn't get much time to look as it seems like he was called for by another player.

His face projected appearing large around the stadium.

Krum. Viktor Krum.

I shake myself out of the trance I was put in and pull my attention back to my brother. Who's blowing me a kiss before flying off to start the match.

At one point a bludger was heading towards my area in the stands. With my luck, it was on a collision path straight for me.

An Irish player caught it right before it came too close. Taking a moment to catch his breath while he stares at me. Winking.

But of course not long after, Romeir comes crashing into the player. Knocking him off the broom, catching the ball and smirking proudly as the Irish falls to the ground.

I gape at my brother who just shrugs staring off into the crowd ahead of him with a smile on his face.

The reds won and it wasn't at all surprising. The Bulgarians have the best of the best in the wizarding world.

I spent most of the match admiring one player and also occasionally cheering for my brother. I had to wait for a third of the stadium to exit so when I try to leave it wouldn't be so crowded.

At least that's what we had hoped for.

"Rune. We must leave now."

I nod and follow close behind one bodyguard as the other follows closely behind me.

Suddenly a bunch of Irish fans collide with Red fans. My guards having to shove the fight away from me.

I nearly get dragged into the fight but out of the blue, I was pulled away. Crashing into the person.

"Are you alright? You don't wanna mess with the Irish, I'll tell you that."

I look to see a tall soft peach cheek coloured boy with hazel hair. His smile more prominent on one side.

"Glad to know." I look away from him and turn back after realising my guards would be occupied for another minute or so.

His mouth opens but he stays quiet. Hesitating to speak, I give him an awkward look. Looking back for my guards.