DRIPS OF FANCY - draco malfoy

↳ 𝑐ℎ𝑝．31

The corridors of Hogwarts were eerily quiet as Alvena made her way toward Umbridge's office. The flickering of the torches cast long shadows on the stone walls, and the weight of the night hung heavy in the air. Her detention was the last thing she wanted, but she had no choice. She couldn't afford to make things worse for herself, not when things were already so complicated.
Her footsteps echoed in the silence, each one a matching with the pounding of her heart.
As she approached the door to Umbridge's office, Alvena drew in a deep breath and turned the handle. The door creaked open, revealing a room filled with that sickly sweet pink decor. But what caught her attention almost immediately was the figure already sitting at the desk, waiting for her.
Harry Potter.
He sat with his arms crossed, looking every bit as frustrated as she did. He didn't seem surprised to see her. She wasn't sure if that made her feel better or worse.
"Potter," she said softly, stepping into the room and closing the door behind her.
"Great," he muttered under his breath, not meeting her gaze. "I had forgotten that I'd be stuck with you, just another insufferable person." His tone was dry, bordering on sarcastic.
Alvena shot him a glance but said nothing, choosing instead to focus on the professor standing by her desk. Umbridge was beaming at them, though her smile was tight, almost forced.
"Ah, Miss Blythe, how lovely to see you," she cooed, her voice dripping with that same sickening sweetness. "I must say, I'm terribly disappointed in you. I expected better behavior from a student of your caliber."
Alvena's jaw tightened, but she kept her composure. "I'm sorry, Professor. I didn't realize expressing a personal opinion would earn me detention."
Umbridge raised an eyebrow, her smile faltering for a moment. "You should have realized, Miss Blythe. But that's beside the point now. I trust you'll learn the value of respecting authority by the end of this evening."
Alvena held back a sharp retort, instead taking her seat next to Harry. The discomfort in the room only deepened as Umbridge cleared her throat.
"Now," she began, "let's get to work. I trust you both know the procedure." She gestured to a stack of parchment and two quills that sat ominously on the desk. "You'll both be writing lines, of course. But I've prepared something special for you, Miss Blythe. I'm sure you'll appreciate the opportunity to reflect on your... behavior."
With a flick of her wand, Umbridge conjured a long silver quill and dipped it into an inkwell, before pointing it toward the two students.
The moment the quill touched the parchment, Alvena felt a strange pull, almost like a tug in her chest. Her fingers brushed the quill, and the words started to appear on the paper: "I must not speak out of turn."
But something was wrong. In itch was burning into her hand, leaving a faint, searing line across her palm. She gasped, her eyes widening as the bleeding began. She gritted her teeth against the pain, but her writing didn't stop. It seemed to feed on her frustration and her anger, carving deeper into her flesh with every word. She could hear Harry's pained breath beside her, but she couldn't bring herself to look at him.
"You see, Miss Blythe," Umbridge's voice came from behind her, thick with satisfaction. "Disrespecting authority comes with consequences. But I'm sure you'll learn to be more obedient soon enough."
Alvena clenched her jaw, determined not to give her the satisfaction of seeing her suffer. But the pain... it was unlike anything she'd ever felt before. Each letter felt like a new wound. She could feel the blood drip down her wrist, but the quill kept moving, writing her punishment.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the quill pulled away from her hand, leaving the words burned into her skin. She could barely lift her hand to inspect it, the mark already searing into her flesh like a brand. Harry, too, was silently enduring, though he looked like he was about to lose his composure.
"Both of you will have plenty of time to think about your actions," Umbridge said with that same sickeningly sweet smile. "Now, off you go. I do hope you've learned your lesson."
Harry and Alvena stood wordlessly, the tension in the air thick as they made their way to the door. Alvena barely registered her surroundings as they walked into the corridor, her hand still throbbing, the skin raw and bleeding beneath her robes. She couldn't look at Harry—she couldn't think about what had just happened. Her mind was already racing, piecing together the remnants of the night.
Harry broke the silence. "You should've told me," he said, his voice quiet but sharp.
Alvena turned to face him, her brows furrowing. "Told you what?"
"About being a Death Eater," Harry said, his eyes narrow and intense. "Hermione guessed it, she saw you hiding your wrist." He was speaking quickly now, his words tumbling out as though he had rehearsed them. "You've been marked. Don't lie to me."
Alvena stood frozen for a moment, her heart pounding. She had never spoken openly about her past, about the decisions that led her here. And now Harry was accusing her of being something she never chose to be.
"I'm not—" she started, but then stopped herself. There was no denying the mark. She had it, felt it, just like felt his scar.
"You're wrong, Harry," she said quietly. "I'm not a Death Eater... and I'll never be. Not truly."
He didn't seem convinced. "Why—"
"Because sometimes, Harry," she cut him off, her voice low and steady, "people don't have a choice. And sometimes, they have to do things to protect the ones they love. Things you wouldn't understand."
He looked taken aback, his mouth opening and closing in frustration. "What do you mean? What kind of things?"
Alvena could see the concern in his eyes, but it was laced with something else. Fear? Disappointment? She couldn't tell.
"Just... stay away from me," she said softly, the words coming out in a breath. "For your own safety. It's better this way."
Harry stared at her for a long moment, as if weighing his next words. Finally, he nodded curtly. "Fine. But you're making a mistake, Alvena. Don't let it be too late."
With that, he turned and walked off down the corridor, leaving Alvena alone with her thoughts. She had never been this conflicted in her life, not about anything. Her heart told her that she needed to find a way out of the mess she had gotten herself into. But she had no choice... she was born without a choice.
As she walked down toward the dungeons, her thoughts still swirling, she almost didn't notice Draco standing by the stairwell, his arms crossed, staring at her with an unreadable expression.
"Blythe," he greeted her coolly, his eyes scanning her face. "Out on your own at this hour?"
"Just finished with Umbridge," she muttered, trying to sound indifferent.
He raised an eyebrow. "Detention with her, huh? Wonder what that's like."
"Not as bad as it could be," she said, glancing around. She didn't want to discuss it further. The last thing she needed was more people asking questions.
Draco's gaze shifted for a moment, his eyes narrowing. "So, what's going on with you and Blaise?"
Alvena blinked, surprised by the question. "What do you mean?"
"Don't act like you don't know," he pressed, his voice lower now, more serious. "I've seen the way you two look at each other."
She sighed, frustrated. "We're just friends, Draco. Nothing more. You're overthinking it."
Draco didn't look convinced. He opened his mouth to say something more, but then his eyes flickered to something else. He looked... tired. More so than usual. The dark circles under his eyes seemed darker, his posture more hunched.
"Go get some sleep," she said quietly, her voice softer than she had intended. "I'll handle the rounds tonight."
Draco hesitated, his gaze flicking between her and the hallway beyond. He opened his mouth as if to argue, but he simply nodded instead, his expression unreadable.
"I'll see you later," he muttered before walking off toward the staircase, leaving her standing alone in the corridor.
Alvena stood still for a moment, the weight of the night settling on her shoulders. But as she began walking again, a strange sensation crept over her—a feeling that she was being watched. Her skin prickled with unease. She glanced over her shoulder, but the hallway was empty. The shadows seemed to stretch longer now, darker.
She quickened her pace, her footsteps growing louder as she hurried through the corridors, looking over her shoulder again.
But before she could get out of the hallway, her foot caught on the uneven flooring and she went tumbling forward. A sharp gasp escaped her as her arms flailed to catch herself, but she couldn't stop the fall. The ground rushed toward her, and everything went dark.
When Alvena opened her eyes, she was no longer in the cold, damp dungeons of Hogwarts. Instead, she found herself lying on soft, cool earth, the air filled with the scent of damp leaves and wildflowers. The ground was uneven, but warm. The moonlight filtered through the thick canopy of trees above, casting fractured shadows across the forest floor.
Her breath caught in her throat as she sat up, eyes wide in disbelief. The forest stretched endlessly before her, trees towering over her in dark silhouettes. There was no sign of the dungeons, no trace of Hogwarts—just the quiet rustling of the wind and the soft chirp of distant creatures.
She rubbed her head, trying to make sense of the disorienting shift.
"Hello?" she called out, her voice unsteady in the unfamiliar quiet.
Nothing answered. But as she looked around, her eyes caught movement in the shadows ahead. Someone was there—someone who had been waiting for her.
A figure emerged from between the trees. The figure was cloaked in deep shadows, her features obscured by the cloak's deep hood, but her presence was undeniable. The air around her seemed to shimmer with an unspoken power, an ancient weight that pressed against Alvena's chest.
Alvena stood slowly, her legs unsteady as she took cautious steps toward the figure. She felt a pull toward the woman, something intangible—something that whispered to her very core. The forest seemed to hold its breath as they closed the distance.
It was a woman. She simply stood, watching Alvena with an expression that was unreadable, her gaze locked on her with an intensity that sent shivers down Alvena's spine.
When Alvena reached her, the woman finally stirred. Without a word, she raised her hand and cupped Alvena's face, her fingers cold but strangely soothing, like the touch of the night itself.
The woman looked at her for a moment longer, her gaze piercing and full of understanding, then slowly, she lowered her hand. Without speaking, she reached down to the earth, her fingers brushing the ground gently. When she rose again, she was holding something small—a pendant.
The woman held it out to Alvena, who instinctively reached forward and took it into her hand. As she looked down, her breath caught.
A symbol was etched into it. The Deathly Hallows.
She blinked, unable to believe her eyes. The symbol, the very same one that haunted the pages of dark legends and whispered warnings through the halls of Hogwarts, was now in her palm. It was smooth, made from some dark, cool material—obsidian or stone perhaps, but she couldn't look away from the mark that was now branded into her memory.
"What is this?" she breathed, unable to stop the words from escaping her lips. "Why are you giving me this?"
But the woman didn't answer. She merely stepped back, her presence already receding into the shadows of the forest.
Alvena's eyes darted around the clearing, her breath quickening as the weight of the moment settled on her chest. "Wait! What does this mean?!" she called out, but the woman was gone. She had vanished as silently as she had appeared, leaving Alvena alone in the eerie stillness of the forest.
The wind picked up suddenly, whirling around her with an almost violent force. The trees groaned under the pressure of the gusts, and Alvena stumbled backward, struggling to regain her balance. She felt something pushing at her, pulling her backward.
Before she could react, the wind shoved her with unrelenting force. She fell, her body slamming into the cold earth with a thud that rattled her bones. The air seemed to shift around her, becoming heavier, more oppressive. She opened her eyes to see nothing but darkness—complete and total.
And then, as though pulled from the depths of her own mind, the darkness receded, revealing something—or someone—looming above her. She could see them now, their form a silhouette against the moonlit sky. But this wasn't just anyone.
It was Opphiuccus.
"How did you find me?" she managed to whisper, her voice shaking. But the snake did not answer and only rested itself on the girl's shoulders.
Alvena stumbled to her feet, her legs shaky beneath her. The whole night had left her disoriented, confused. She had to get back to the common room. To sleep.