Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. All rights to JK Rowling. Some of this chapter (with direct quotes from JK Rowling's words) was taken from scenes from Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix (US hardcover edition) pp 401-419
X. The Lioness
October extinguished itself into a rush of howling winds and driving rain and November arrived, cold as frozen iron, with hard frosts every morning and icy drafts that bit at exposed hands and faces. The skies and ceiling of the Great Hall turned a pale, pearly gray, the mountains around Hogwarts became snowcapped, and the temperature in the castle dropped so far that many students wore their thick protective dragon skin gloves in the corridors between lessons.
The morning of the match between Slytherin and Gryffindor dawned bright and cold. Draco was one of the first to awaken. He quietly changed and prepared for the day, making sure to clip the crown-shaped badge he had made onto his robes. He and Blaise had worked quite jokingly on the poem and song that went with it, employing an older student to cast the charm to duplicate the curious badges. Draco wanted to be sure to see Weasel's expression when he discovered them.
Draco went down to breakfast early, after sending a letter detailing his latest interactions with Arabella to his father, even though they would see each other after the match that very day. Draco and Arabella had, indeed, continued a weekly study session—finding a corner in the library or an empty classroom to quiz each other or work on essays. In the letter, Draco tried to make it sound like there was more romance than was actually occurring. In reality, Arabella was all business. He had, however, discovered her father-approved nickname during one of these study dates:
"Here's an empty classroom—we can work on memorizing the names of those moons in here," Draco had said, guiding Arabella into a room with a large chalkboard that was rarely used. With a wave of his wand, he had copied the section of the night's sky onto the chalkboard. He handed a piece of chalk to Arabella so that she could begin writing down the names of the stars and moons from memory. He looked at the labeled parchment in hand while she did so.
"Merlin, I can never remember the order of these moons," she came to Neptune. "I know there's Despina and Proteus and Triton, and those two that start with N that I can't ever remember..." she trailed off.
"Here, let me help," Draco said, standing from where had perched on an old desk.
"No, I can do it! I'll get it!" Arabella was stubborn.
Draco watched her struggle for a bit longer, "Ari, stop. Here," he took up another piece of chalk, "I always remember it this way: 'Narcissa thinks Draco gallantly launches potentially trite niceties.' He wrote the little pneumonic device on a distant corner of the same chalkboard."
"What?" Arabella looked at him as if he were mad.
Draco began to write the names of the moons beside the words of the device:
Narcissa: Naiad
Thinks: Thalassa
Draco: Despina
Gallantly: Glatea
Launches: Larissa
Potentially: Proteus
Trite: Triton
Niceties: Nereid
"Oooooo!" Arabella said as she realized. "Clever! I don't think I'll forget them now!"
"You just have to remember Narcissa starts with "N-a" like Naiad to differentiate it from Nereid," Draco pointed it out.
"Wow, this is great! Thank you, Draco!"
Draco nodded and returned to his perch, looking down at the parchment again. After a few moments, he realized he hadn't heard the chalk on the board again and looked up to discover Arabella was looking at him with a smirk.
"What?" he asked innocently.
"Ari? Really?" she glared playfully. "Father approved or something?"
Draco slapped an arrogant smirk on his own face, "Actually it just slipped out, but I'll be sure to get it approved by Monday. That way we don't all have to say your mouthful of a bloody name."
"Hey," Arabella put her hands up in defense, "take up your complaints about my name with my father. I'll stand right there with you."
"So Ari it is, then," Draco said, smiling genuinely now.
"Bella," she insisted.
"So Ari it is, then," Draco said again, as if she hadn't spoken.
Needless to say, Draco was happy with this new name for her, though it seemed to bring her part-mirth, part-extreme annoyance.
When Draco arrived at the Great Hall it was fairly empty. He sat and enjoyed his breakfast in relative silence before his teammates arrived. He kept his eyes pealed—Arabella—now Ari—had walked in with Granger, decked out in crimson and gold. Her hair was tightly braided such that it would have given her a severe look if not for her rosy cheeks, vivid eyes and easy smile.
She sat and ate with Granger and Weaselette. He could feel her anxiety across the room as she continued to look up at the entrance, waiting for her other teammates. The Grat Hall was filling up fast when Weasley and Potter finally arrived. His fellow Slytherins, in their geen-and-silver scarves and hates, with crown-shaped badges, all waved emphatically with huge smiles and laughs at Weasley. Potter peered at the badges, but his eyesight was bad enough he probably couldn't make them out. He steered Weasley purposefully toward the Gryffindor table, where they were met with a rousing welcome. Arabella, seeing this exchange, sent a piercing stare Draco's way. He was about to meet it when she redirected her attention to Weasley and Potter, trying to raise Weasley's obviously failing morale with an artificially cheery smile.
Draco returned to the last cup of coffee he would allow himself before he needed to push the water. Montague was talking to each member of his team in turn, giving them each a specific last word of "wisdom"—if you could call it that—before they headed down to the pitch. Most of the team got up to leave with Montague, leaving Draco with Crabbe and Goyle to finish his water. As the Slytherin team left the hall, Draco noticed Arabella whisper something to Granger before standing as well. He caught her eye as she made her way out of the hall, but was taken aback when she didn't leave—instead making her way toward him. She tried to ignore the prying eyes and whispers that followed her in this action, but she was obviously aware of them. She squared her shoulders and lifted her eyes, continuing firmly on her intended path. When she reached Draco, she sat beside him, backwards on the bench so she didn't have to go through the trouble of tucking her legs under the table.
"What's this about?" she narrowed her eyes at the badge.
"Good morning to you to," he said, taking a swig of water.
She narrowed her eyes at him pointedly.
"Just a little fun," he smirked.
"I don't like it—"
"You don't have to—" he cut her off.
She huffed, "You are so infuriating sometimes! You're making it so difficult!"
"Making what so difficult?" he asked quietly.
"So difficult—" she cut herself off this time and sighed heavily, "Never mind."
"No, Ari..."
"Never mind, Draco!" she whispered forcefully.
He nodded, but knew he wouldn't.
"Good luck today," she said after a deep sigh, putting out her hand for him to shake.
"And to you," he said, taking it. But instead of shaking it, he pulled her closer and placed a tender kiss on her cheek. "And be safe."
She blushed furiously, nodded and stood to leave, but didn't tell him off. He smirked in triumph.
The Slytherin team changed quickly, placed their badges securely on their uniforms and took to the pitch early, standing to wait for the Gryffindors who seemed to be taking their sweet time. Draco smirked when he saw a pale Weasley being led by both Ari and Potter, who were sharing a significant look. Draco felt his stomach flip—partially in jealousy at the thought of Ari linking arms with Weasley, even if he was being pathetic—and partially because she looked both beautiful and fierce in her Quidditch uniform.
Draco took his place to the side of Montague and in front of Crabbe and Goyle, who stood swinging their new Beaters' bats. When he caught Potter's eye, Draco smirked, tapping the crown-shaped badge on his chest.
"Captains shake hands," ordered Madame Hooch, as Johnson and Montague reach each other. It seemed Montague was trying to crush Johnson's fingers, though she did not wince, "Mount your brooms..."
Draco stole one last glance at Arabella, who was focused on the Quaffle that would be released on the whistle. When the whistle sounded, the balls were released and the fourteen players shot upwards. Draco took to the sky, making a lap around the pitch, looking for the glint of gold. He saw Potter doing the same, and as he made his way back towards the Slytherin goal posts, he spotted his father in the crowd, seated with the professors—right between Snape and Umbridge.
"And it's Johnson, Johnson with the Quaffle, what a player that girl is, I've been saying it for years but she still won't go out with me—"
"JORDAN!" yelled Professor McGonagall
"Just a fun fact, Professor, adds a bit of interest—and she's ducked Warrington, she's passed Montague, she's—ouch—been hit from behind by a Bludger from Crabbe...Montague catches the Quaffle, Montague heading back up the pitch and—nice Bludger there from George Weasley that's a Bludger to the head for Montague, he drops the Quaffle, caught by Bella, that's—what professor? -Ah yes, Arabella Riddle of Gryffindor—sorry about that—reverse passes to Alicia Spinnet and Spinnet's away—"
Lee Jordan's commentary rang through the stadium, but Draco could still hear through the wind and the din of the crowd the words of the song he'd wrote.
"—dodges Warrington, avoids a Bludger—close call, Alicia—and the crowd is loving this, just listen to them, what's that they're singing?"
Draco smirked as the lyrics finally rang through when Lee paused to listen:
Weasley cannot save a thing,
He cannot block a single ring,
That's why Slytherins all sing:
Weasley is our King.
Weasley was born in a bin,
He always lets the Quaffle in,
Weasley will make sure we win,
Weasley is our King.
"—and Alicia passes back to Angelina!" Lee shouted. "come on now, Angelina—looks like she's got just the Keeper to beat!—SHE SHOOTS – SHE—aaahh..."
Bletchley, the Slytherin Keeper, had saved the goal; he threw the Quaffle to Warrington who sped off with it zigzagging in between Alicia and Arabella; the singing from below grew louder and louder as he drew nearer and nearer Weasley—
Weasley is our King,
Weasley is our King,
He always lets the Quaffle in,
Weasley is our King.
Draco continued his search for the Snitch, smug in knowing Weasley would crumble with the pressure and embarrassment of the song.
"—and it's Warrington with the Quaffle, Warrington heading for goal, he's out of Bludger range with just the Keeper ahead—"
A great swell of song rose form the Slytherin stands below:
Weasley cannot save a thing,
He cannot block a single ring...
"—so it's the first test for new Gryffindor Keeper, Weasley, brother of Beaters, Fred and George, and a promising new talent on the team—come on, Ron!"
Draco snorted forcefully at this compliment from Lee, and continued his search. The game continued in the same fashion, the song growing louder and louder to put Weasley ill at ease—and it worked. Draco took great relish in joining in the song as he passed Potter midway around the pitch going in opposite directions.
A good twenty minutes later, Arabella made the first score for Gryffindor, making the score forty-ten Slytherin. As Pucey neared the Gryffindor goal posts, and the song swelled, Draco finally caught sight of the tiny fluttering Golden Snitch, hovering feet from the ground at the Slytherin end of the pitch. Unfortunately, so had Potter, as he was already diving towards the small flittering object. Draco was on Potter's left in a second, lying flat on his broom.
The Snitch skirted the foot of one of the goal hoops and scooted off toward the other side of the stands; its change of direction suited Draco, who was nearer. Draco smirked as he reached out his hand, but somehow Potter's hand had grasped around the Snitch, and Draco's fingernails scrabbled the back of Potter's hand hopelessly. Potter pulled his broom upward, holding the struggling ball in his hand and the Gryffindor spectators screamed their approval...
Something black and moving quickly zoomed past Draco's head, creating a tunnel of wind that lifted a tuft of hair, just before:
WHAM!
A Bludger hit Potter squarely in the small of the back and he flew forward off his broom. He was only five or so feet off the ground and appeared only slightly winded when Madam Hooch's shrill whistle could be heard over the uproar in the stands compounded of catcalls, angry yells and jeering. Arabella arrived shortly followed by Johnson.
"Are you all right?" Johnson asked Potter as Arabella helped the Scarhead to his feet, brushing the grass off his back.
"'Course I am," said Potter grimly.
Draco turned to see Madam Hooch make her way toward Crabbe, who had been the one to whack the Bludger the moment he'd seen Potter catch the Snitch. Draco couldn't say he disapproved too much of Crabbe's behavior. Anything that put Potter in his place was enough for Draco. He snorted in derision as he landed behind Potter.
"Saved Weasley's neck, haven't you?" he said to Potter. "I've never seen a worse Keeper...but then he was born in a bin...Did you like my lyrics, Potter?"
Potter didn't answer, but instead turned to meet the rest of the team who were now landing one by one, yelling and punching the air in triumph. Draco managed to catch sight of the Weasel, who was making his way back toward the changing rooms alone.
"We wanted to write another couple of verses!" Draco called, unable to resist the temptation to get the Gryffindors riled up.
"Malfoy, shut it!" Arabella hissed.
Draco continued, ignoring her: "But we couldn't find rhymes for fat and ugly—we wanted to sing about his mother, see—"
"Talk about sour grapes," said Johnson, casting Draco a disgusted look, which he returned in kind. But Draco could see Potter's gaze linger on him with hatred. He smirked as he felt the triumph near.
"—we couldn't fit in useless loser either—for his father, you know—"
The Weasley twins had suddenly realized what Malfoy was talking about. Halfway through shaking Harry's hand they stiffened, looking around at Malfoy.
"Malfoy, don't push it," Arabella stepped forward, her eyes narrowed.
"Leave it," Draco heard Johnson say at once, taking one of the twin's arms. "Leave it, Fred, let him yell, he's just sore he lost, the jumped-up little—"
"—but you like the Weasley's, don't you Potter?" Draco said sneering.
"—Draco Malfoy—" Arabella's gritted through her teeth in warning. "Don't you dare."
"Spend holidays there and everything, don't you? Can't see how you stand the stink, but I suppose when you've been dragged up by Muggles even the Weasley's hovel smells okay—"
Potter grabbed hold of the other Weasley twin—must've been George—Draco couldn't keep them straight; meanwhile it was taking the combined efforts of the three girls to stop Fred leaping on Draco, who was now laughing openly. Potter and Arabella caught each other's eyes, and then Ari glanced away, probably looking for Madam Hooch, but she was still berating Crabbe for his illegal Bludger attack.
"Or perhaps," said Draco, leering as he backed away...
… "that's right, Malfoy, walk away," Arabella said, her eyes flaming in anger.
"...you can remember what your mother's house stank like, Potter, and Weasley's pigsty reminds you of it—"
Draco wasn't aware that Potter had released the Weasley twin until he saw that both of them were sprinting towards him. And before he had time to turn and run or pull his own wand, he felt Potter's fist, with the Sntich still tightly clutch inside, sink into his stomach.
Girls' voices screamed, someone swore, a whistle blew, but Draco was already on the ground, clutching his stomach as Potter continued to go at him. He could just sense Arabella trying to pull Potter off of him when someone yelled "IMPEDIMENTA!"
"What do you think you're doing?" screamed Madam Hooch, and everyone sprang away. Madam Hooch began laying into the Weasley twins and Potter for fighting, but Draco's attention was diverted to his bleeding nose until he saw Arabella take a knee beside him.
"What in Merlin's name was that?" she hissed, pulling out her wand. "Here—" she stopped the bleeding, healed the broken nose and washed him up with three consecutive and elegantly cast spells.
"That was Potter attacking me," Draco said bitingly as he pushed himself up onto his elbows.
Ari rolled her eyes, "That's not what I was referring to."
Briefly her attention was stolen away as professors and other spectators were making their way from the stands. She cast one last look over her shoulder at the Gryffindor boys who had been sent to McGonagall's office,standing as she did so. She crossed her arms in front of her, turning back to Draco and tapping her foot irritably.
"Help me up?" he gave her his most disarming grin and reached out a hand. Ever immune to his charm, Ari simply raised her eyebrows at him and frowned, more like a mother than a peer.
"Or not..." he mumbled resentfully, struggling to stand on his own. He brushed some dirt and grass off his robes, and then ran his fingers through his hair to ensure it wasn't too tousled.
With no warning, Ari was upon him, her sharp pointer finger jabbed at his upper chest painfully.
"Hey—!" he exclaimed.
"How dare you?" she hissed. She poked him again, he took a few steps backward in defense, recalling where his wand was just in case, even though she made no move to draw her own.
"How dare you write a song to insult a fellow classmate? How dare you insult his parents?" she continued to poke him with each rhetorical question. "How dare you insinuate that Muggles smell or that the Weasleys or the Potters do, too?"
"Well, Arabella," he hissed back, standing his ground with the last poke, so as she advanced they were almost nose to nose, "I dare because I am Pureblood."
Her eyes flashed dangerously, and for a moment Draco saw her rage, pure and simple. He was reminded of who her father was and wondered for just an instant whether or not she was capable of...surely not he scolded himself internally. She wouldn't hurt a spider if it could be saved.
"A Pureblood," she spat, tauntingly. "And in your Pureblood superiority, did you not once contemplate how I, your future wife, would feel about you insinuating that I smell badly?"
"I never insinuated anything about you—" Draco said, meeting her anger now at her accusation, quietly cheering at her admittance that she would be his wife—something she'd been loathe to mention prior.
"Oh? Because I wasn't raised in a Muggle orphanage?" she poked him again. He took a step back and she advanced, "And I didn't spend the past few holidays with the Grangers or Weasleys, did I?"
Draco suddenly felt his stomach drop and a fine glean of sweat break out above his brow.
"So I repeat," she gritted through clenched teeth, "How dare you?" and with that she planted two hands on his chest and pushed him back to the ground with more force than he'd thought she'd had in her.
"Arabella Rose Riddle!" came a stern voice full of reproach.
Draco glanced up to see his father and Professor Snape join them.
"What is the meaning of this?" his father motioned to the scene before him.
"He deserved it," was all Arabella could say for herself. "And I wouldn't mind never seeing him again."
With that, she turned on her heel to go, picking up her broom as she made her way toward the locker rooms. And frankly, given the circumstances, Draco couldn't disagree with her. If it had been anyone else, Draco would've been cursed to oblivion and back. But Arabella could cut much deeper with her words and her eyes than with her wand. Draco scurried to his feet before his father had a chance to send him a glance of disdain.
"Arabella Rose you will return this instant."
Much to Draco's surprise, Arabella halted, turned slowly and began her return, looking very much as if she were doing so against her own will.
"I will ask only once more, what is the meaning of this?" Lucius said calmly but sternly. This was nothing like the disciplinary actions of Draco's youth, and he squinted suspiciously at his father, not quite recognizing him for his lack of temper.
"Your son thought it would be cute to insult those who were raised by Muggles and who were welcomed into the homes of the Weasleys during holidays for lack of another place to go," Arabella glared at Draco while she said this, her voice filled with an unfamiliar venom that stang Draco and made his blood burn uncomfortably.
Lucius raised his eyebrows, turning to his son, "Is this true, Draco?"
Draco cleared his throat, trying to form a coherent sentence in his head. His father thought stuttering despicable.
"No sir," Draco said and Arabella opened her mouth to protest, only cut off by a hand raised by Lucius Malfoy to stop her interruption. "I did not think it would be cute. I only intended to insult Weasley and later, Potter. I merely wanted to intimidate Weasley and Potter to throw them off their game."
"This was after we won! It had nothing to do with—"
"That is quite enough Arabella Rose Riddle" hissed Lucius. "It is not becoming of a young witch to interrupt."
Draco saw Arabella purse her lips, roll her eyes and barely refrain from stomping her foot in childish indignation.
Lucius gave a pointed look to Draco, who turned to Arabella, trying to ignore his attraction to her with her cheeks, rosy with the heat of exercise and anger, and her hair, falling in wisps from her french braid to fall and frame her face in perfect waves.
"I apologize, Arabella. I had no intention of insulting you. I wasn't thinking."
"No. You weren't," came her tart reply.
Lucius cleared his throat.
She sighed heavily, "You're forgiven, Malfoy."
He cleared it even louder.
"Draco. You are forgiven, Draco," she corrected.
Very well, you two can kiss and make up.
Arabella looked up at her guardian appalled, and Draco hid his grin at her reaction by locating his broom.
"Now, Miss Riddle," Lucius returned to her formal title now that he wasn't acting as a disciplinarian father, "why don't you go clean up. We'll meet you for lunch in the entrance hall in half an hour."
"Yes, sir," she said without question, taking her leave. As she lifted her broom to carry beside her, trudging toward the showers, Draco could have sworn he heard her mumble, "Kiss and make up. Huh. Over my dead body."
Draco let himself chuckle as he bent for his broom, but wiped his face clean of emotion by the time he rose to meet the gazes of Snape and Lucius. The two men looked at Draco for a moment. Draco looked back. There was silence for a long moment.
"I received your correspondence this morning, Draco," Lucius spoke first.
"Yes, sir?"
"You made it sound like Arabella was coming along in her behavior."
"She was."
"I didn't look like it," came the curt and cutting reply.
"I have a...talent...of provoking her, sir," Draco said snidely.
Draco caught the twitch of Snape's lips over his father's shoulder. His professor was obviously holding back a smirk.
"You are getting too old for these childish games, Draco," Lucius said waving his arm around in the air. "Songs and screaming insults will need to be left behind in...your future service."
"Yes, sir," Draco simply nodded, understanding his father's allusion to the Dark Lord's Death Eaters.
"You should begin perfecting silent curses, Draco. Professor Snape has agreed to help you. Veiled insults and unseen curses are all you will further employ in these duels with Potter."
"Yes, sir."
"It's time for you to grow up, Draco," Lucius spat.
"Understood, sir."
Lucius sighed and shifted his hair so it was flowing down his back instead of over his shoulders. Draco stepped into stride with the two older men as they made their way from the Pitch.
"Shower quickly, Draco. And dress for lunch."
Draco took this dismissal with relief. He was not keen for another lecture.
"And don't think that you don't have a lot of work to do with Arabella," his father called after him, almost tauntingly. Draco stopped in his tracks, wanting to hiss under his breath before lifting his broom once more and descending into the darkness of the locker room.
AN: Please please please review!