The Irish team came out first, to a noise that Blake felt in his chest more than heard. He'd read about professional Quidditch for two years, knew the statistics and the formations and the tactical history of both sides - it was still nothing like watching it.
Between the warm-up and the first whistle, he found himself pulled into a conversation with Cyrus about the Irish Seeker's positioning, which led to a longer discussion about the Bulgarian defensive setup and whether Krum would go for the Snitch early or wait it out.
"He'll probably go for it immediately, but realistically, he's going to end up waiting soon," Blake said. "Ireland's Chasers are too good - if he takes it while Ireland have a sufficient lead, he wins the catch and loses the match. He'll know that."
Cyrus looked at him for a moment with an expression Blake couldn't fully read. "You follow the game closely."
"Started second year. I figured it's such an important part of wizarding culture I should at least know how it works - that, and Tracey and Zabini wouldn't stop arguing about it."
Something in Cyrus's face shifted - only slightly, but Blake caught it. Yes! he cheered internally, as if he'd just scored a point.
He noticed Daphne was smiling. Blake watched her for a second, then looked back at the match.
Why's she so happy? he thought. She's been like this all morning.
He considered a few possibilities. Astoria seemed well today. The weather was decent. The match was good.
Nothing specific, he concluded, and returned his attention to Krum, who was circling the upper airspace slowly, patient and confident.
For some unknown reason though, Blake didn't like it. Or more specifically, I don't like him.
/
They broke for the interval, and it was then that Celia said, without particular preamble, "We were glad to receive your reply." Her tone's different to before, Blake thought. Way more serious.
"I'm glad to have sent it," Blake responded neutrally.
"You accepted the research position," Cyrus said.
"I did." Blake paused for a fraction of a second. "I want to be straightforward about something, though, if that's alright. I'm accepting the Field Research Analyst position, but regarding the CDPO role - I'd be lying if I said I was comfortable taking it as an employee. I do like and want the role, and I'm sure I'd be good at it - but honestly, and I mean this with respect, I don't plan on working as an employee after I finish Hogwarts. If I were to take a position, it would be as a partner, not an employee."
Blake tried to read the expressions on the Greengrasses' faces as he paused for a microsecond, but, as he should have expected, it was futile.
"But, obviously, I don't expect a position or offer like that without serious proof of talent and ability, and I intend to spend the next couple of years in Hogwarts proving myself and making a name for myself within wizarding society in general. I'm letting you know my expectations and ambitions now, instead of dropping this on you right before any formal employment begins."
Silence. Cyrus looked at his wife, and it seemed like the two were having a silent conversation. I guess marriage will do that to you, he thought dryly.
"We can have that conversation when the time comes," Cyrus said, finally. "Your frankness is noted."
Celia was watching Blake with an expression that reminded him, unexpectedly, of McGonagall on a good day.
"Daphne said you were direct," she said.
"She said it like it was a warning," Daphne added, not looking up from the match.
"It wasn't entirely," Celia said.
/
The second half was better than the first, which was saying something. Krum made his move later than almost anyone in the stands had predicted - Blake had been right about that, and pushed down the desire to gloat, given his proximity to Daphne's parents. The catching of the Snitch itself was the kind of thing that happened once in a generation if you were lucky enough to be watching.
However, Ireland still won, and Ron Weasley could apparently be heard celebrating from several sections over. Connor, from what he could see at that distance, was celebrating with him. Blake rolled his eyes. You never change, Connor.
/
The Greengrass tent - which was, again, technically a tent in the way that Hogwarts was technically a school - was different in the evening. The match energy had settled into something looser. Someone had arranged a long table and a feast had appeared on it that was not casual in any way despite looking effortless, which Blake suspected was entirely deliberate.
Carol had found her footing somewhere between the interval and now, and by dinner she was properly in stride. She explained double-decker buses to Astoria, who asked three separate follow-up questions. Connor, apparently deciding he had the expertise to contribute, spent ten minutes attempting to describe a roundabout, which went badly in the way that Connor's explanations sometimes did when he got ahead of himself.
"But why's it a circle?" Astoria asked.
"It just - it works," Connor said, gesturing helplessly.
"Does it?"
"It's supposed to."
"Then how do you get out once you're in?" Zabini asked.
"There's roads connecting the outside, obviously!"
"But why wouldn't they just make roads directly to wherever they want to go?"
"Because - well-"
"Connor," Carol said, in the tone that meant please stop.
"Sorry, Mum."
Tracey was explaining to Celia the migratory patterns of Nifflers - very aptly, based on what Blake had read, and with such total conviction that nobody interrupted. Maria and Carol had resumed whatever conversation they'd started on the walk over, and were deep enough into it that Blake suspected they'd probably exchange contact details before the night was done.
He'd made his way down toward the quieter end of the table.
Charlotte was sitting slightly outside the main noise of the group - not conspicuously, not in a way that was asking for attention. Just a bit further from the warmth than the rest of them. He sat beside her.
"Good match," he said.
"Yeah," she agreed. "Really good."
Blake felt the similar sadness for Charlotte that always came whenever they were discussing family matters and experiences when Charlotte was there. I'm sorry, Charlotte.
But he didn't push it. He refilled her glass and started talking about the second half - Krum specifically, which he knew she had opinions about from a conversation she'd had with Tracey in second year - and thankfully, perhaps picking up on his effort, she answered. One answer led to another, until Tracey arrived from the other end of the table to start an argument about Ireland's Seeker and Charlotte laughed properly for the first time all evening. Blake let out a sigh of relief.
Finally, he thought.
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