in the end ~ d. malfoy

Chapter Thirty-Nine

June 2016

June arrives, but to fifth-years like Maya and Harry, this means only one thing: their OWLs are upon them at last.

Their teachers are no longer setting them homework; lessons are devoted to revising those topics the teachers think most likely to come up in the exams. The purposeful, feverish atmosphere drives nearly everything but the OWLs from Maya's mind, and for good reason, too. Her revision is abundant, Maya finds herself waking up at five every weekday to cram a few dozen Arithmancy formulas before her classes start. It doesn't matter if she's allowed to go to Hogsmeade or not, Maya doesn't even want to, with the amount of mocks throughout the week, she's genuinely spending all her free time studying. Hermione is even worse; she's completely stopped knitting clothes for the elves.

But her curly-haired friend is not the only person acting oddly as the OWLs draw steadily nearer. Ernie Macmillan has developed an irritating habit of interrogating people about their revision practices.

'How many hours d'you think you're doing a day?' he demands of Harry and Ron as they queue outside Herbology, a manic gleam in his eyes.

'I dunno,' says Ron. 'A few.'

'More or less than eight?'

'Less, I s'pose,' says Ron, looking slightly alarmed.

'You, Maya?' demands Ernie, startling Maya, who's scrolling through e-mails on her phone, waiting to see one from 'Vox Angelus'. She sent in her essay last week (finally!). The results aren't supposed to come out until after exams, but one can only dare to hope . . .

"I don't know, about seven, I think?" She replies, shrugging, "I don't really count but I do about the entire day during weekends, "

'I'm doing eight,' says Ernie, puffing out his chest. 'Eight or nine. I'm getting an hour in before breakfast every day. Eights my average. I can do ten on a good weekend day. I did nine and a half on Monday. Not so good on Tuesday — only seven and a quarter. Then on Wednesday — '

At that moment, Professor Sprout thankfully ushers them into greenhouse three at that point, forcing Ernie to abandon his recital. Meanwhile, Draco Malfoy has found a different way to induce panic.

'Of course, it's not what you know,' Maya hears him tell Crabbe and Goyle loudly outside Potions a few days before the exams are to start, 'it's who you know. Now, Father's been friendly with the head of the Wizarding Examinations Authority for years — old Griselda Marchbanks — we've had her round for dinner and everything . . .'

'Do you think that's true?' Hermione whispers in alarm to Harry and Ron.

'It's about as likely as Harry being good with girls, ' Maya snorts. Harry glares at her and she gives his shoulder a friendly punch, 'Lighten up, Romeo, you know I was joking, '

'Nothing we can do about it if it is,' says Ron gloomily.

'I don't think it's true,' says Neville quietly from behind them. 'Because Griselda Marchbanks is a friend of my gran's, and she's never mentioned the Malfoy's.'

'And she's never come over to our house, either, ' Diana pipes up, suddenly joining them. She wraps an arm around Maya's shoulders as the smaller girl frowns, 'I don't know what my brother was on about, but you'd do best not to believe his crap, '

'Where were you?' Maya questions, 'I never see you come back to our dorm anymore, '

'Oh, I was helping Luna paint her bedroom ceiling, ' Diana says, nonchalantly, looking at her silver-painted nails, 'She needs help finishing up her constellations, '