So they wandered leisurely through the crowd, marvelling at the curious tents scattered about the field: great pyramid-shaped tents, tents with their own gardens, fountains, sundials, and bird baths, tents built up like four-storey houses complete with turrets, incongruous tents fitted out with chimneys, bell-pulls, and even weathervanes, tents decorated all over with images of the Bulgarian Seeker Krum, and tents covered thickly in green shamrocks for the Irish supporters...
Harry and Ron were already far ahead, their large water jugs sloshing full, walking even faster now than they had on the way there, eager to put down their burden and greet their friends with empty hands.
Hermione and Ginny fell steadily further behind, quite unable to keep pace, and simply gave up trying, chatting leisurely instead as they looked about at the tents, now and then sharing some entertaining scrap of gossip.
"...and that old wizard flatly refused to change out of that floral nightdress. Said he would rather let the fresh air blow round his backside," Ginny recounted, with great relish, setting Hermione off giggling.
"Oh, Ginny, you really are wonderful! I never knew you were such a funny, sharp, cheerful girl."
Once Hermione had finally stopped laughing, clutching her sides, she seized the chance to ask Ginny, "I would wager Harry likes that side of you a great deal. You can be even funnier than Ron, when you try. So why do you go so nervous and tongue-tied whenever you are around him? You are certainly not like that in private..."
"You just do not understand! I want to act normally too." Ginny blushed at once, the moment Harry was mentioned. "But I simply cannot help myself. My mind always goes completely blank whenever I see him..."
Hermione advised her, "That will not do at all. You need to be able to manage at least a sentence or two!"
"I shall try my best!" Ginny sighed, then fell suddenly quiet, distracted.
The conversation seemed to have grown a little too heavy for Ginny.
Even the grandest, most striking striped silk tent standing in the very centre of the field failed to catch her interest.
Passing it, Hermione glanced back at the ornate, extravagant thing... practically a little palace of its own... and found herself thinking.
Ginny, shy as she might be, was no easy target. She promptly turned the tables, bringing up Hermione instead.
"Speaking of which, how do things stand now, between you and your study partner... that Malfoy? Have you seen him about the campsite? Did you not smell..."
"No, there is nothing between us! I was being a little silly before, but I have sorted myself out now! Draco... he is only a friend from the House next door!" Hermione blushed slightly and turned quickly, denying it to Ginny.
She no longer cared in the least about the tent, and instead tugged Ginny along, hurrying back. "Come on, let us get back... I am sure Mr Weasley and the others are growing impatient by now..."
As luck would have it, their conversation happened to reach Draco's ears... he had just stepped out of the striped silk tent to feed the live peacocks tethered near its entrance, when he saw the girl hurry past him.
Those words made him frown, just slightly.
An ordinary friend from the neighbouring House?
Her way of describing him really was... utterly indifferent. What a heartless girl!
A surge of irritation rose in him, his pale grey eyes fixed on her retreating figure, and yet he could not help but be drawn to her all the same.
Just look at her, in those Muggle jeans and a pale denim jacket, so full of youthful energy.
She really did have a knack for making friends; nothing at all like that little girl from last summer, who had claimed she "could not make a single friend in Bath."
In just a few days, she had already been walking arm in arm with someone else, behaving as though she and that red-headed were destined companions for life, and yet had the nerve to claim she and Draco were nothing more than ordinary friends.
He sighed, thoroughly put out, set the peacock feed down on the ground, and found himself wondering... was she trying to befriend every redhead she came across?
Did she truly like red hair so very much? Should I dye my hair as well?
Fred and George did not give Draco much time to brood over the question. The red-headed twins leapt suddenly from behind him, startling Draco badly. He jerked his wand towards them, and the bag of peacock feed tumbled to the ground.
"Whoa... steady on, steady on, it is only us!" Fred said, throwing up his hands in surprise. "Are you not overreacting, just a touch?"
"Could you not simply walk up to me, like normal people?" Draco grumbled, putting his wand away. "Why must you always play these tricks?"
"We could not resist." The two of them, one either side, tilted their heads and grinned at him, their identical faces wearing the very same sly expression.
"That is not the least bit funny!" he said, frowning, bending to pick the feed bag back up off the ground.
"All right, enough chatter. We need a word with you. Come along."
George glanced about and lowered his voice. "Far too many people about, here."
They walked on through the bustling crowd, chatting about how "the roads down to the grounds were dreadfully crowded" and gossiping about "where the Weasleys had ended up camping," until they reached a quiet, empty little copse of trees, and finally got down to business.
"The Shield Hats have been a real success!" Fred exclaimed eagerly. "We have found ourselves an adviser, an expert in Defence Against the Dark Arts!"
"Yes, you will be thoroughly surprised, once you see who it is!" George smiled faintly at Draco.
"I can hardly wait..." Draco leant back against an oak tree, looking thoroughly unbothered, still rather stung that Hermione had called him only a "friend."
The twins opposite him exchanged a glance, their expressions oddly telling.
"He has not started work yet. We have arranged to meet him at Hogsmeade's open day, once term starts, to sort out the details. The change in staff wants your say-so, so you will need to come along too," George said, mysteriously.
"Very well." Draco looked at him, puzzled.
Who on earth was this adviser? Why were the two of them so worked up about it?
"Here you are, then..." Fred drew the Marauder's Map from his jacket pocket. "We shall not be needing this any more."
"You have already worked out the trace-magic behind it?" Draco asked, astonished, taking the Marauder's Map from him.
"No, we have found something better. Our adviser is every bit as capable as whoever made the Marauder's Map," Fred said with a grin. "He knows a great deal about tracking magic, and we are hoping to learn from him, and see what we might improve on, using that."
Draco rather doubted this.
Could they truly not see how ingeniously the Marauder's Map had been made? Very few people could ever hope to surpass its creators.
Still, judging from their tone, this person did sound rather knowledgeable.
"I look forward to seeing what you come up with, then."
With a flicker of curiosity, he slipped the Marauder's Map into his pocket, and took his leave of the Weasley twins.
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