We were on our way to a box with the Flints at the Quidditch world cup when my whole life went sour. I was never supposed to come. My brother Landry was working with Marcus Flint as obliviators at the Ministry for Magic, and so our families had become even better acquainted. Our fathers had business to discuss, and my brother was still trying to set me up with Marcus Flint, even though he had recently graduated, and I had yet to begin my sixth year at Hogwarts.

I had managed to slip out of Marcus Flint's grasp for a minute, sneaking away as Landry asked him a question. From there, I made my way up a few flights of stairs, hoping to get a better view of the pitch. With my eyes behind me, I wasn't looking where I was going, and so I stumbled into a boy.

"Sorry," I muttered, finally turning to the boy in front of me.

It was Harry Potter. The Harry Potter. I'd caught glimpses of him in the library, between classes, but I'd never really seen him this close. His scar was dark red, almost as if it was still fresh. Some wounds never do heal, I guess.

"It's alright," he didn't even look up at me. Instead, he kept his eyes staring down the stairs at someone else.

"Larkin Travers," a voice from below called. I followed Harry Potter's eyes to find Draco Malfoy staring at me. He was grinning a wide smile. "You're quite high up, aren't you? I thought you were renting a private box with the Flint family."

"I am," I straightened my spine and wiped the blush off my face. Draco and his father Lucius were always to be impressed. If my parents ever thought that we would have a chance at making me a Malfoy, they would stop this nonsense with Flint.

Draco couldn't be more than 14 though, so the thought of having anything to do with him made me want to gag.

"Right, well were in the Minster's box," Draco chuckled, looking over at his father. His father's upper lip seemed to stiffen at the comment, the quirk of a smirk on his face.

I nodded my head, backing away from the Malfoy's. "Enjoy yourselves."

From there, I slipped between a crowd of Weasley's.

One of them caught my eye. Maybe I caught his or he caught mine, I can't remember, but I remember out eyes becoming intertwined. Locked together, his brown and deep on blue. Warm, like firewood.

The Weasley's were as pure-blooded as they come. Their issue stemmed from an unfortunate habit of associating with muggle-borns, and even worse, muggles. Even at the moment, they had a muggle-born witch in tow.

Even though this should have stopped me, it didn't even give me pause. I kept staring at the ginger boy, who cocked his head to the side and bit his lip at the sight of me. I knew that I needed to get back to my box and Marcus Flint, but I didn't want to move.

I remember furrowing my brow and shaking off the look. I didn't even know the Weasley's name, even though he was in my year. One of two. Both with muggle-sounding names that I don't remember. They haven't talked to me since first year.

When I left though, the Weasley followed after me. With another Weasley in tow, one that looked identical to him. I was headed back to Marcus, but I could hear them calling after me. Calling my name. I wasn't sure why at the time, but I just wanted to be back with my brother and forget about my encounter with Harry Potter, with Draco Malfoy, and with the Weasley.

Finally, I spotted Landry and Marcus talking together, waiting on the stairs. Undoubtedly for me, since I had slipped through the crowd. As I was about to catch up with them, I felt a hand on my arm.

"Hey, Larkin," the boy said. "You dropped this when you bumped into Harry."

I looked up at him, and he handed me a coin purse. Mine, undoubtedly. I felt the pockets of my cloak and discovered that he was right. My deep pockets rarely failed me, and even today I am surprised they did then.

"Thanks," I managed, furrowing my brow.

"You were headed off so quickly, we didn't think we'd catch you," the other brother pointed out.

"What are you running from? We don't smell that bad, do we?" the first laughed.

I found myself taking a deep breath, trying to pretend that I wasn't being watched. There are eyes everywhere, especially in the middle of a crowd. Especially with Landry and Marcus standing behind me.

"I really ought to be going," I told the pair of them before I turned around and headed back over towards my brother and his friend.

I felt my brother's dark stare on me. I waited for an acknowledgement, for a comment that I knew wasn't coming. After all, we were in the presence of a Flint, and it was better to pretend my transgression didn't happen in case Marcus hadn't seen it than to publicly berated me.

"Were you with the Weasley twins?" Marcus asked me.

"Not really," it was mostly the truth. I wasn't with them. They were with me. "I dropped my coin purse while talking to the Malfoys. They are here with the Minister for Magic, according to Draco."

It was enough to satisfy Marcus, but not Landry. I would later go on to hear a rant by my father about how we are not to associate with blood-traitors in public. Better people with dubious bloodlines, like the Goyles, than with that family of gingers. This would go on until it was time for me to pack my bags and head off to Hogwarts.

Marcus Flint kept paying me visits, and I promised to write to him even though I didn't want anything to do with him. Not because he wasn't nice, but because he didn't have much to talk about besides Quidditch and his job. We had little, if anything, in common.

Except for our blood status of course.

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Welcome to Purify! I will better format this later, but for now this should do. I'm really excited to get going!