DRIPS OF FANCY - draco malfoy

↳ 𝑐ℎ𝑝．30

The next morning arrived with an all-too-familiar sense of dread hanging over Alvena. Stormy, already glaring at the sky through the window, had been grumbling ever since they woke up. The two girls had an hour to prepare for their first Defense Against the Dark Arts class with the newly appointed Professor Dolores Umbridge.
"Ugh, why are we even going?" Stormy muttered, pulling her robes on with a dramatic flair. "This is going to be a waste of time. I just know it."
Alvena didn't answer immediately, tying her shoes with a frown. She didn't mind Umbridge as much as Stormy did—there was something unsettling about the woman's saccharine smile, sure, but Alvena found her more irritating than outright dangerous. That said, the idea of spending the next hour being lectured by someone so annoyingly patronizing made her feel physically ill.
"I'll tell you why," Stormy continued, as if reading her mind. "It's because she's a joke of a teacher. How are we supposed to learn anything with her in charge?"
Alvena let out a long, resigned sigh, shouldering her bag. "Because the school's stuck with her for the year, I suppose."
Stormy snorted, and they made their way out of the dormitory. The entire Slytherin tower was quiet, the morning calm only broken by the sound of their shoes echoing down the stone corridors. As they entered the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, the sight of Umbridge sitting at her desk, hands folded neatly on top of a stack of papers, made Alvena's stomach twist in a way that no amount of tea could soothe.
"Good morning, girls," Umbridge said, her voice a sugary sweetness that made their teeth ache. "How lovely to see you both. Please, do take your seats."
The room was already crowded, the rest of their classmates murmuring amongst themselves as they filed in. Alvena, without a word, took her usual spot next to Stormy. They exchanged a silent look, both of them sighing in unison as they lowered themselves into the hard wooden chairs.
As Umbridge began her spiel about how things were going to change this year, Alvena tuned out, her eyes darting across the room. Harry Potter was sitting at the front, his expression already one of frustration. She caught his eye for a moment, offering him a quick, sympathetic smile. But he didn't reciprocate it.
The class was tedious, and Alvena was slowly losing the will to live with every word Umbridge uttered. But what broke the monotony—and what sparked a small, wicked grin from her—was the inevitable clash between Harry and the professor.
Umbridge was droning on about how students would no longer be allowed to actually practice defensive spells but instead would study theoretical knowledge. Harry, unable to hold back anymore, raised his hand.
"Professor, that's not—" Harry began.
"Yes, Mr. Potter?" Umbridge interrupted, her smile never faltering, her eyes glinting with something cruel underneath the façade.
"That's not how Defense Against the Dark Arts is supposed to work!" Harry snapped, unable to contain his frustration any longer. "We're supposed to be learning how to defend ourselves, to protect ourselves."
Umbridge's eyes narrowed slightly, her expression turning sharper, but her voice stayed sickly sweet. "Well, Mr. Potter, perhaps you're forgetting that not everyone needs to know how to perform spells. In fact, I'm sure you'd agree that your penchant for rash action has made you somewhat of a... troublemaker. It seems you are under the impression that someone would want to harm young students, but I can assure you it is false" She let the word hang in the air like a snake coiling.
Alvena couldn't help herself. In a quiet murmur, just loud enough for Stormy to hear, she muttered, "As if that's what this is about, what a joke of a teacher she is."
Stormy's lips twitched in an almost-smile, but she kept her gaze fixed forward, watching the scene unfold. Umbridge's eyes flicked toward Alvena briefly, but she didn't seem to care much, continuing to focus on Harry.
"Mr. Potter, detention. After class," Umbridge announced with a glimmer of satisfaction in her eyes.
Harry's face darkened, his mouth setting into a grim line, but he didn't argue. Instead, he simply turned back to his desk, hands clenched into fists on the wood. The tension in the room was palpable.
Alvena, who had spent the last few moments whispering snarky comments under her breath, didn't think much of it—until Umbridge's eyes turned toward her. For a split second, Alvena caught the professor's gaze, and something in her expression hardened.
"You too, Miss Blythe, don't think your words went unnoticed" Umbridge said, her voice suddenly sharp. "I'll see you after class."
Alvena blinked, surprised. She hadn't said anything to warrant detention, had she? But she wasn't about to argue. "Fine," she muttered under her breath, just loud enough for their teacher to hear.
Stormy shot her a sidelong look. "You've got to be kidding me. This is ridiculous."
Alvena simply gave a small, tight-lipped smile in return. She wasn't in the mood to argue about it.
When the class finally ended, Alvena made her way out of the room, storming straight to the Slytherin common room. The rest of the students dispersed, and the only thing on her mind was her growing frustration.
As she entered the common room, she was greeted by the sight of Sage lounging lazily in one of the armchairs. Her casual demeanor did nothing to settle her nerves.
"What's up?" She asked, glancing at her as she stormed toward the fireplace.
"I got detention," Alvena muttered bitterly, her fingers running through her hair in frustration. "And it's for nothing—for making a few comments while Harry and Umbridge were having a lovely verbal sparring match."
Sage raised an eyebrow, genuinely surprised. "Seriously? That's... ridiculous."
"I know," Alvena snapped. "But I'm not about to let her get under my skin. She's not worth it." She let out a frustrated sigh. "But it still makes me angry."
As if on cue, Blaise slouched into the room, his usual cocky smirk already playing on his lips. He raised an eyebrow when he saw Alvena, clearly sensing her mood. Without saying a word, he sat down beside her on the couch, his presence somehow calming. He pulled her legs into his lap, as if he knew exactly what she needed.
Alvena let herself relax for a moment, closing her eyes.
"Maybe we should just throw a party," Stormy suggested suddenly, her voice light and teasing. "I mean, who says we can't? A Slytherin party—throwing it right here in the common room for once, not just our room."
Sage let out a laugh. "That's actually a pretty good idea. I'd be down for it."
Blaise smirked. "I'm in. Though, it'll probably end up being a bit of a mess."
Alvena finally looked up, considering it. "You know what? Why not? I'm in the mood for a distraction anyways, I'll make sure the other prefects don't suspect anything."
Theo, who had been leaning against the doorframe, wandered over. "A party?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Yeah," Alvena said. "What do you think?"
Theo shrugged but grinned. "I'm in. It'll be fun."
Alvena gave a small smile, but before she could respond, Draco walked in, his gaze immediately falling on her. For a moment, his expression darkened when he saw her sprawled on Blaise's lap. It wasn't jealousy—it was something else. Something that Alvena couldn't quite place.
"What's going on here?" Draco asked, his voice sharp.
Stormy raised an eyebrow. "We're planning a party, Malfoy. No need to get upset."
His eyes flicked briefly to Blaise before turning back to Alvena. "I didn't realize you needed someone's lap to sit down."
Alvena's heart skipped a beat, but she didn't let her face betray her. "I don't. But it doesn't mean I won't enjoy it."
Draco opened his mouth to say something more but stopped himself. Instead, he glanced at the clock and sighed. "I'll meet you guys later. I've got prefect rounds."
Alvena's stomach clenched again. She hadn't told him yet. "Actually, Draco... I won't be joining you tonight. I have detention with Umbridge."
The words hung in the air, and Draco's face hardened for a moment. "Right. Well, I'll see you later then." But his expression remained strained, and he turned on his heel before she could say anything else.
Alvena stood up, pushing past him as she grabbed her bag. Blaise followed her silently, his arm casually wrapping around her shoulder. Together, they headed for the door.