"Hurry up, Y/N!" Hermione's voice echoes up the staircase from the girls' dormitory, filled with urgency. "First class of your first day, and you're going to be late!!!"
"I know, I know!" you yell back, frantically tossing items out of your trunk in a whirlwind of motion. Your arms move like a windmill as you search for your belongings. You and Cedric had ended up talking late into the night, and to say you overslept would be an understatement. Parvati, Lavender, and Kellah didn't even bother to wake you up. Only Hermione came to your rescue, casting a spell to rouse you from bed after breakfast.
"You go on!" you shout, finally locating your Defense Against the Dark Arts book. "I'll catch up!"
"Are you sure?"
"Positive!"
"Okay—please, do hurry. I'll see you in class."
By the time you arrive at the Defense Against the Dark Arts class, you're already fifteen minutes late. All the tables are filled except one, situated next to the center aisle, occupied by someone who looks even more tired and disheveled than you somehow—Draco Malfoy.
"Malfoy," you say softly as you walk down the aisle, noticing his worn appearance. He stiffens in his seat as you approach. "May I sit here?"
He stares at you, his expression a strange mix of hostility, guilt, and hunger. You quickly avert your gaze, feeling yourself blush.
"Be my guest."
As you make your way to your seat, you stumble over a book in the walkway, catching yourself on the edge of a table. Lavender Brown, the girl sitting nearby, giggles, but her laughter is swiftly silenced by a sharp glare from Draco.
You keep your eyes down as you settle into your seat next to him, feeling bewildered by the antagonistic atmosphere. You sense Draco leaning away from you, his posture tense and guarded. Ignoring his reaction, you let your hair fall over your shoulder like a dark curtain, creating a barrier between you, and try to focus on the teacher who has just entered the room.
The teacher, who Harry told you served at his prosecutor at his hearing, appears peculiar, to say the least. Resembling a large, pale toad, her broad, flabby face and wide, slack mouth give her an amphibian-like appearance. Bulging, pouchy eyes and a short, thick neck complete her toad-like features. A black velvet bow perched atop her mousy brown hair only adds to the resemblance, looking as if it's precariously positioned above a fly. She's dressed in bright, gaudy pink robes that seem out of place against the dreary backdrop of the classroom.
"Ordinary Wizarding Level Examinations," Umbridge announces in her high-pitched voice, causing you to bite your tongue to stifle a laugh as she writes on the blackboard with her wand. You can't help but peek through the screen of your hair at the boy next to you. He remains stiff, sitting as far from you as possible, with his hand clenched into a fist on his left leg, tendons standing out under his pale skin. He never relaxes, even as the sleeves of his white shirt are pushed up to his elbows.
Your eyes meet, and you see that he's also struggling to contain his amusement. Quickly, you look away.
"...O.W.Ls... More commonly known as 'owls'," she finishes, her voice rising in pitch at the end, her smile saccharine as she surveys the room. "Study hard, and you will be rewarded. Fail to do so, And the consequences may be....Severe." Her words hang in the air, ominous and foreboding, sending a shiver down your spine.
"I am Dolores Umbridge," she smiles "And I will be you Defense Against the Dark Arts Teacher from now on. I hope we can become best of friends."
"Not likely," Draco mutters under his breath as you you giggle under your breath.
"You previous instruction on this subject has been disturbingly..." she hums "...Uneven. Hence, from now on, you will be following a carefully structured, Ministry approved course of defensive magic."
A surge of frustration courses through you, the memory of Cedric and Harry's narrow escape fueling your determination to speak up. Your hand shoots into the air, defying the oppressive atmosphere of the classroom.
"Yes?" Umbridge chirps, her gaze flitting to you with feigned interest.
"Will we still be learning actual spells?" you inquire, your voice resolute despite the nerves churning within.
"Actual spells?" Umbridge snickers, her laughter grating on your nerves "I can't fathom why you'd need to cast spells in my classroom!"
"We won't be learning magic in a school for witchcraft and wizardry?" Hermione interjects, her hand shooting up as well.
"We'll be learning magic in a safe, controlled environment," Umbridge asserts.
"And what good is that if we're faced with danger?" you retort, frustration seeping into your tone "The real world isn't risk-free, especially in these times-"
"Students will raise their hands before speaking in my class," Umbridge cuts in sharply, shutting down any further discussion. "It is the view of the ministry that theoretical knowledge would be sufficient to get you through your examinations," Umbridge returns to her saccharine voice, her smile is tight "Which is, after all, what school is all about!"
"And how's theory supposed to prepare us for what's really out there?" you challenge, your tone laced with frustration.
"There is nothing out there, dear!" Umbridge says sweetly, her eyes glinting with false reassurance "What do you imagine would attack children such as yourselves?"
You let out a bitter laugh, your face flushing with indignation. "Oh, I don't know," you retort sarcastically, "Maybe Lord Voldemort!"
Umbridge's smile falters for just a moment before she composes herself, her toad-like eyes narrowing. "Such baseless fears are exactly what we seek to dispel here at Hogwarts," she says, her voice icy despite its sugary tone. "There is no need for alarmist fantasies in my classroom."
You open your moth to protest further, but Draco grasps your hand. you shoot daggers at him as he shakes his head. For the first time, your intuition tells you that you ought to listen to him.
You clench your fists, feeling the weight of frustration and anger building inside you. It's clear that Umbridge is determined to enforce her restrictive curriculum, regardless of the dangers lurking outside the castle walls.
"It's not a fantasy."
"What was that, Mr. Potter?" Umbridge pipes up. "Is there anything that you would like to share with the class?"
"I said that the return of Lord Voldemort is no fantasy!" Harry is screaming now. "I saw it with my own eyes! He tried to kill me and Cedric! I-"
"Detention, Mr. Potter!" Umbridge screams over Harry, her face flushed. "I will see you in my office. As for you, Ms. Y/L/N," she glares at you. "As this is your first day, I will allow you to slide this time. But such behaviors will not be tolerated any longer. You are no princess or heiress here, Ms. Y/L/N. Your wealth, beauty, popularity and charms will do you no good with me as they did with Mr. Diggory, Malfoy, Potter and Krum."
You slump back into your seat as the entire class, except for Draco, Harry, Ron, and Hermione, glares at you with jealousy and judgment. Umbridge has successfully embarrassed you into silence, and you can only be grateful for Harry, who at least took his detention with dignity.
°˖✧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚✧˖°
Umbridge went to the board, writing lots of Latin and Greek spell names onto the board, calling upon students to read from the book, making the class sinfully boring. Hermione took mad notes, her quill scratching furiously against parchment, sending seismic vibrations that Draco could feel.
Draco's gaze flickers momentarily to you. Your hand, gripped tightly in the folds of your robes, moves to your face, dabbing at the tears that betray the turmoil within you. Despite your grief, you persist in taking notes with your other hand, determined to maintain some semblance of composure. Draco contemplates abandoning his facade of indifference, considering reaching out to you once the class concludes.
"Are you alright?" Draco's interruption slices through the oppressive silence, drawing startled glances from his classmates.
You startle at the sudden intrusion, surprised by Draco's unexpected concern. Draco's own unease manifests in clenched fists and rigid shoulders as he awaits your response. After a beat, you nod quietly, still wiping away tears before hastily gathering your belongings.
"Yes," you reply, your voice strained with a hint of defensiveness. "I'm fine."
Draco's brow furrows at your unconvincing assurance, but before he can press further, you cut him off with a sharp retort, your frustration bubbling to the surface.
"Shut it, Draco," you snap, your tone laced with pent-up anger. "You don't get to inflict such pain on me, shut me out, and then presume to understand how I feel."
Draco winces at your words, the weight of your accusations landing heavily upon him. He opens his mouth to respond, but you silence him with a decisive gesture, your anger palpable.
"Don't," you insist, your voice trembling with emotion. "I don't want to hear your excuses or apologies. What I want is an explanation. It's long overdue."
Draco shifts uncomfortably in his seat, his gaze fixed on the floor as he struggles to find the right words. "I know," he murmurs, barely audible above the ambient noise of the classroom. "I should have told you sooner. I just... I didn't know how, Y/N. I didn't know how to face you after everything."
You cross your arms, your expression hardened by the pain of betrayal. "So you chose to avoid me instead? To pretend like nothing happened?" Your voice wavers with emotion. "Did you ever consider how I was coping? Did you ever worry about me?"
Draco's shoulders slump under the weight of your words, his eyes betraying a mix of guilt and regret. "I'm sorry," he whispers, his voice barely audible. "I should have been there for you. I should have been honest from the start."
You watch him carefully, the anger in your eyes softening slightly at his apology. Yet, the hurt remains, lingering like a shadow between you. "I don't know if I can forgive you," you admit, your voice wavering with uncertainty. "But I need to know why. Why did you choose to follow him?"
Draco hesitates, his gaze flickering with a mixture of shame and remorse. "I was scared," he confesses, his voice barely above a whisper. "Scared of what would happen if I didn't. Scared of disappointing my family. Scared of being alone."
His admission hangs heavy in the air, the silence stretching between you as you absorb his words. Despite the pain he's caused, you can't help but feel a twinge of sympathy for the boy standing before you, burdened by the weight of his choices.
Draco raises his eyes, meeting the gaze of Harry, Ron, and Hermione, who stand at the doorway, their presence a silent show of support.
"Your parents..." Draco's voice trembles with emotion as he relays a message he's carried all summer. "...They wanted me to tell you that they're proud of you, no matter what," he says softly. "They urged you to stay strong, to keep fighting. They assured you that they'll always watch over you. They'll always be with you. And with both of us. Always."
As Draco speaks, your composure crumbles, tears streaming down your cheeks as you're overcome by grief. Draco reaches out tentatively, his touch a gesture of comfort amidst the storm of emotions.
In Draco's embrace, you find solace, a beacon of warmth amidst the darkness. His whispered words offer a glimmer of hope, a reminder that even in the face of loss and betrayal, there are bonds that cannot be broken.
As you cling to each other, the weight of your grief feels a little lighter, shared between two souls seeking solace in the midst of turmoil. And in that moment, despite the pain and heartache, there is a flicker of understanding, a fragile bridge between two fractured hearts.