DRIPS OF FANCY - draco malfoy

↳ 𝑐ℎ𝑝．32

The morning light filtered through the curtains of Alvena's room, bathing everything in a soft, pale glow. For a moment, she remained nestled in her blankets, the remnants of the night's bizarre experience clouding her mind. The strange, vivid visions, the eerie figure, the strange object she had found—it all felt distant.
But as the morning settled into her awareness, a sharp sting cut through the fog of confusion. Her hand throbbed as though it were on fire, and the pain seemed to seep into every corner of her body. She winced, lifting her hand to inspect the injury that had been left by Umbridge's cruel quill. The mark that had been carved into her skin the night before was still there—bright, raw, and now stinging.
She groaned, sitting up, and swung her legs over the side of the bed. Her hand shook slightly as she lifted it toward her face, trying to understand why it hurt so badly. The pain was different today—more acute, as if the mark had somehow deepened overnight. It felt as though it were still burning beneath her skin.
Rubbing her face with her free hand, Alvena stood up slowly and made her way to the bathroom. She needed to wash the cut, to do something—anything—to make the sting stop.
As she turned on the tap and slid her hand under the cool water, a shock of excruciating pain shot through her. She gasped and pulled her hand back, stumbling backward with her chest heaving. The water, the very touch of it, seemed to set the cut ablaze. Her hand was pulsing, as though every nerve in her body had been electrified.
"Merlin!" she hissed under her breath, clutching her hand to her chest. The pain was unbearable. It was as if the mark was alive, growing, pushing out from her skin.
After several moments of breathing through the pain, Alvena steadied herself, her pulse still racing. She felt dizzy, the heat of the sensation radiating through her like a fever.
Once the pain subsided, she hurried back to her side of the room, taking care to cradle her hand carefully. She sat at her desk, trying to focus her mind on something—anything—but the burning sensation refused to leave.
It wasn't until her gaze drifted to the pile of school things on her desk that she remembered something else. She had an essay due. Potions.
Her eyes widened as she realized the depth of her oversight. The day ahead stretched before her—an entire free day, a luxury at Hogwarts—and she would have to spend that day writing an essay.
Shaking off the unease swirling in her stomach, Alvena took a deep breath and decided to get to work. She had time—plenty of time. The library would be the best place for it, she thought.
With her hand still throbbing and a dull ache in her chest, Alvena quickly changed into her uniform, making sure to avoid any further aggravation of the cut. She wasn't in the mood to deal with any more pain today, not after last night. She grabbed her bag, slinging it over her shoulder, and left her room.
As she walked through the quiet corridors of Hogwarts, she tried to focus on the task at hand. Her mind kept drifting back to the previous night's strange encounter—the forest, the woman, the symbol. Was it a dream? Or had it been real?
The library was bustling with students when Alvena arrived, most of them deeply engrossed in their own work, and the low hum of murmured conversation filled the air. She scanned the rows of tables, looking for a quiet spot to settle in.
It didn't take long before her eyes landed on Blaise, who was seated near the back of the library with his own Potions essay spread out before him. His usual calm, cool demeanor was unmistakable, but there was a slight tension in his posture today—a hint of something on his mind.
Alvena approached him, her steps quiet as she slid into the seat across from him.
"Morning," she greeted softly, trying not to sound too distracted.
Blaise looked up, his dark eyes meeting hers for a moment before his lips curled into a small, knowing smile. "Morning. You're awake early," he said, raising an eyebrow. "Thought you'd be catching up on sleep after last night."
Alvena nodded, feeling the weight of the memory for just a moment. "Yeah... I couldn't really sleep after that. That retched woman will be the death of me." She paused, glancing down at her hands. She didn't want to talk about it. Not yet.
Blaise's gaze followed hers, a flicker of concern crossing his face, but he said nothing, instead pushing the stack of parchment toward her. "Potions essay?"
"Right," Alvena said, her eyes flicking to the words on her own parchment. "I've got to get this done."
"Us both," Blaise murmured, turning his attention back to his own work. They both lapsed into a comfortable silence, the only sounds in the library being the quiet scratch of quills on parchment.
Alvena opened her own Potions book and began reading over the essay prompt again. It was about the properties of the Draught of Living Death and its various uses in magical medicine. She had studied the potion before, but writing about it in-depth was proving to be more challenging than she had anticipated. She could feel her concentration slipping, her mind wandering back to everything that had happened last night—and the mystery that had formed in its wake.
She glanced over at Blaise, who seemed completely absorbed in his work. His quill moved quickly over the page, and his posture was relaxed, but there was something about him that seemed... distant. Like he was on the verge of saying something, but wasn't sure if he should.
Alvena cleared her throat and tried to focus. "Have you finished that potion essay yet?" she asked, hoping to break the silence.
"Not quite," Blaise replied, glancing up briefly before returning his attention to his parchment. "But I'm getting there. What about you?"
She sighed, looking down at her own work. "Slow progress. I just can't seem to focus."
Blaise gave a small smile, his eyes glinting with the same amusement he often showed when talking to her. "You're always distracted. It's like you're thinking about something else all the time."
Alvena hesitated before answering. "Yeah, I suppose I am. It's just... a lot going on, you know?"
Blaise raised an eyebrow, his voice softer now. "Want to talk about it?"
Alvena opened her mouth to respond, but before she could, something caught her attention—a flicker of movement in the shadows of the library. She glanced over her shoulder, but no one was there.
"No, it's fine," she said quickly, shaking her head. "Just a weird night, I guess."
Blaise didn't press her further, but she could tell he was still watching her closely, his curiosity piqued. He seemed to have a knack for sensing when things weren't quite right.
For now, though, she needed to focus on the essay. There was enough time in the day to deal with her thoughts later.
————
A few hours later, Alvena's hand ached with every movement as she gathered her things and stood up from the table. The Potions essay was finally finished, Blaise, already halfway through gathering his own work, stood beside her with a relaxed smile.
"Done?" he asked, sounding a little more relieved than she felt.
"Yeah," Alvena replied, a small sigh escaping her lips. "It's all wrapped up. I think I deserve some food now."
Blaise chuckled and they both headed toward the library's exit. Alvena didn't want to spend another moment alone with her thoughts, so a trip to the Great Hall seemed like the perfect escape.
They walked side by side through the corridors of Hogwarts, the buzz of students in the hallways echoing around them. There was a calm in the air this morning, though Alvena couldn't shake the gnawing feeling at the back of her mind—the mark on her hand, the strange woman in the forest, and the cryptic symbols. She hadn't even told anyone about any of it yet, and she wasn't sure she could. Not yet.
As they turned a corner toward the main staircase, a sudden, raised voice caught their attention. The sound of two familiar voices arguing—one shrill and the other stern—broke through the hum of students' chatter.
"You've gone too far, Dolores!" McGonagall's voice was unmistakable, sharp and cutting.
"I will not tolerate insubordination!" Umbridge's voice shrieked in return. The words were unclear, but the hostility was unmistakable.
Blaise and Alvena exchanged a quick look, both of them stifling laughs. It wasn't the first time they'd heard Umbridge and McGonagall clash. It had become a running joke among the students, the way Umbridge's overbearing authority met McGonagall's fierce, unwavering pride.
They didn't linger to listen to the rest of the argument, though. Instead, they shared an amused smile and shook their heads as they continued down the stairs toward the Great Hall.
"This school will be hell if Umbridge stays in charge," Alvena muttered, rolling her eyes. "I mean, the way she wields that quill like a weapon... it's like she thinks she's untouchable."
"She'll regret it," Blaise said with a small, wry smile. "McGonagall may be calm, but that woman knows how to fight back."
"Good luck to her with that," Alvena said, shaking her head. "I'm pretty sure Umbridge will find some way to make it worse before she gets anywhere."
As they entered the Great Hall, they were met with the usual hustle and bustle of students sitting at the tables, talking and laughing between bites of food. Alvena immediately scanned the Slytherin table and spotted her friends—Sage, Matteo, and Draco—sitting near the center.
Blaise and Alvena joined them, taking their seats. The conversation shifted easily as they dug into their food, exchanging light banter and catching up on the latest Hogwarts gossip. But it wasn't long before Matteo, who had been talking with Sage, stopped mid-sentence and stared at Alvena with wide eyes.
"Alvena..." Matteo said, his voice oddly serious, making her pause mid-bite. "Your hand. It's—" He motioned toward her hand.
Alvena looked down, instantly realizing what Matteo had noticed. Her hand, the one that had been marked by Umbridge's quill, was bleeding again. She hadn't even realized it until now, but fresh blood was dripping from the cut, pooling slowly onto the surface of the table.
"What the hell?" Draco's voice was sharp, and Alvena could feel his gaze on her. He leaned forward, looking at the blood on her hand with an expression that was both angry and concerned.
"Alvena, what happened?" he demanded, his tone growing darker. "This isn't normal. You need to tell me who did this." His voice was tight with frustration, and Alvena could see the anger flickering in his eyes. He was already standing, clearly about to march off in search of an explanation, when she grabbed his arm.
"Draco, stop," she said quietly, but firmly, locking eyes with him. "There's no point in making a scene. It's just from last night. It's nothing."
Draco's face contorted in disbelief. "Nothing? Nothing? Alvena, this is serious. If someone's hurting you—"
"It's fine," she interrupted, her voice steadier than she felt. "It's not worth starting a fight over. Please, just let it go."
Draco's eyes flicked between her and her hand, clearly unconvinced. He didn't like being told to back down, especially not when it came to someone he cared about. But, after a long moment of silence, he seemed to begrudgingly settle back into his seat.
"You're too stubborn for your own good," he muttered, slumping into his chair. He shot one last, disapproving glance at her hand, but said nothing more.
The tension in the air seemed to subside slightly, but then Sage, who had been quietly observing the interaction, spoke up. "Enough," she said, her voice calm but firm. "You two are going to cause a scene. We don't need that today."
She sighed, then glanced around at the others before offering a suggestion. "How about we go to Hogsmeade? Before the snow falls. A day out would be good for everyone."
Alvena looked up at Sage, grateful for the change of subject. "That actually sounds perfect," she said, her voice lightening. "I could use a break from this place."
Sage smiled, a hint of mischief in her eyes. "I think we all could."
Alvena nodded, looking back at Draco, who was still giving her a heated, silent glare. She offered him a small, apologetic smile, hoping that would be enough to settle him down. He didn't respond, but after a moment, he looked away, his focus shifting back to his breakfast.
The conversation turned lighter as the group continued eating, though Alvena couldn't entirely shake the feeling of Draco's simmering anger from her thoughts.