Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. In order to keep flow with the canon, direct quotes are taken from the United States version of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. (pp 675-710). Those words, where they appear, are not mine, they are JK Rowling's.
XXI. Calm Before the Storm
The story of the Weasley's departure was retold so often over the next few days, Draco wanted to tear his hair out by the end of it. The twins did not leave instructions on how to remove the swamp, and Umbridge and Filch were unable to do so themselves. Eventually the area was roped off and Filch, gnashing his teeth furiously, was given the task of punting students across it to their classrooms. Draco didn't blame him, he'd be furious too. What a waste of time and school resources.
Seemingly inspired by the Weasley twins' lunacy, a great number of students were now vying for the newly vacant positions of Troublemakers-in-Chief. Someone managed to slip a hairy-snouted niffler into Umbridge's office, which promptly tore the place apart in search for shiny objects, leapt on Umbridge on her reentrance, and tried to gnaw the rings off her stubby fingers. Dungbombs and Stinkpellets were dropped so frequently in the corridors that it became the new fashion for students to perform Bubble-Head Charms on themselves before leaving lessons, which ensured them a supply of fresh clean air, even though it gave them all the peculiar appearance of wearing upside-down goldfish bowls on their heads. All of these little disturbances resulted in Draco and Arabella, as leaders of the Inquisitorial Squad, being called out of class or away from studying to help Umbridge. Draco couldn't decide who Arabella wanted to kill more—Umbridge or himself.
Filch prowled the corridors with a horsewhip ready in his hands, desperate to catch miscreants, but the problem was that there were now so many of them that he did not know which way to turn. The Inquisitorial Squad were attempting to help him, but odd things kept happening to its members. Warrington of the Slytherin Quidditch team reported to the hospital wing with a horrible skin complaint that made him look as though he had been coated in cornflakes. Pansy Parkinson missed all her lessons the following day, as she had sprouted antlers.
Meanwhile, it was clear just how many joke-kits, or whatever they were, the Weasley twins had managed to sell before leaving Hogwarts. Umbridge only had to enter her classroom for the students assembled there to faint, vomit, develop dangerous fevers, or else spout blood from both nostrils. Shrieking with rage and frustration she attempted to trace the mysterious symptoms to their source, but the students told her stubbornly they were suffering "Umbridge-itis." After putting four successive classes in detention and failing to discover their secret she was forced to give up and allow the bleeding, swooning, sweating and vomiting students to leave her classes in droves. Draco was starting to realize what Arabella had meant by so many students being disgruntled with Umbridge. Defense Against the Dark Arts lessons were turning into a complete waste of time (as if they hadn't been already, Arabella reminded him).
But nothing could compete with the master of chaos, Peeves, who seemed to have taken the Weasley twins' parting words deeply to heart. Cackling madly, he soared through the school, upending tables, bursting out of blackboards, and toppling statues and vases. Twice he shut Mrs. Norris inside suits of armor, from which she was rescued, yowling loudly, by the furious caretaker. He smashed lanterns and snuffed out candles, juggled burning torches over the heads of screaming students, caused neatly stacked piles of parchment to topple into fires or out of windows, flooded the second floor when he pulled off all the taps in the bathrooms, dropped a bag of tarantulas in the middle of the Great Hall during breakfast and, whenever he fancied a break, spent hours at a time floating along after Umbridge and blowing loud raspberries every time she spoke.
None of the staff but Filch seemed to be stirring themselves to help her. To cap matters, Montague had still not recovered from his sojourn in the toilet. He remained confused and disoriented and his parents were observed one Tuesday morning striding up the front drive, looking extremely angry.
To make matters worse, Slytherin lost to Hufflepuff in their last match of the season that Saturday. And as if to foreshadow the pain and misery to come, Gryffindor beat Ravenclaw in the Quidditch final, securing the Quidditch Cup. Without Potter. Without the Weasley twins. And with Ron Weasley as their dismal Keeper. A round chorus of "Weasley is Our King"-with genuine lyrics—sung by the Gryffindors ran through the halls all weekend, putting Draco in a foul mood.
So by the time the first week of June rolled around, with O.W.L.s looming imminently, Draco had nearly forgotten about his birthday. Nearly.
"Hey, Mate," Blaise slid onto the bench beside Draco on the morning of his birthday. "Happy Birthday!"
"Yeah...thanks," Draco said offhandedly.
"Any big plans?"
"Does studying count?"
Blaise laughed, "Not really."
Crabbe and Goyle arrived then, insisting on signing loudly and off-key to Draco, which was quite embarrassing and barely appreciated. He looked up to see Arabella in deep conversation with Granger, apparently ignoring the show.
The post arrived when Draco was halfway through his porridge. Two scruffy owls carrying a package between them dropped in front of Draco's spot, splashing his coffee all over Blaise's eggs.
"What's that?" Crabbe asked.
"No idea," Draco replied, looking at it with apprehension.
"It must be for your birthday," Goyle supplied, ever the observant one.
"Yes, but it's definitely not from home," Draco said, using his wand to cut the tape holding the box together.
A pile of green tissue paper hid whatever was in the package from view, but taped to the inside of one of the box flaps was a little slip of paper. Draco carefully removed it from the cardboard, unfolding it to reveal a very short note:
Wishing you the happiest of birthdays, despite imminent examinations.
There was no signature, just a sketch of a rosebud that was enchanted to bloom into a purple-colored rose.
"Who's it from?" Crabbe finally interrupted.
"And what is it?" Goyle asked.
"It's from Arabella," Draco said, looking across the Great Hall. The young lady of interest was deep in conversation with St. Potter, so Draco turned back to the box.
He uncovered the tissue paper from the top of the box to reveal a care package of sorts. It included his favorite Honeydukes sweets, a stress ball in the shape of a snitch, a stuffed animal that looked like a vampire bat, among other trinkets. Another wrapped box was placed inside with a note stuck to it:
Here's a birthday-themed gift to go with your care package.
PS: Don't open it in the Great Hall, please.
Draco covered the box up, looking up directly to Arabella. She was looking in his direction now, obviously trying to gauge his reaction.
"Something good?" Blaise interrupted his thoughts between shovels of eggs entering his mouth.
Draco realized he was smiling and he hurriedly hid it with his usual sneer.
"Rather."
Draco took one last gulp of coffee before standing from the table to store the box before class.
When he got to his room, he placed her notes on the bulletin board above his bed, where all her letters were stashed in a little wire basket. He hid the plushie under his pillow and placed the snitch stress ball on his bedside table. He sat on his bed to open the last gift. The box was relatively flat and wrapped in green and silver wrapping paper. Draco opened it carefully, lifting the lid of the box almost fearfully. What could she have possibly gotten him that she would not want opened in the Great Hall?
Silver tissue paper covered the object, and when Draco lifted it away he gasped. It was a beautifully carved piece of wood. He lifted out of the box and examined the carvings. The Malfoy crest, swirls of magic, a Snitch, and various other things important to Draco were carved into the wood. He turned it over in his hands and realized the block of wood had a hinge, meaning the object was closed like a book. Draco opened it carefully to reveal a two-sided picture frame complete with two photographs—recent ones. Narcissa had insisted on getting a new set of family photos after Arabella joined the family. The photo on the right was of Draco and Arabella in the parlor. Dressed in fine robes, Draco was standing behind her, obviously posed. Above that photo, engraved in the wood, were their names. A rose was carved beside Arabella's name, the constellation Draco carved next to his name. The photo on the right included Draco's parents. "Family" was inscribed at the top. Of course, they were moving photos, so Narcissa was beaming, gazing at the camera and then back at her family. Arabella was smiling but fidgety. Lucius looked bored. Draco, in a moment of weakness he knew he would pay for later, placed the frame on his bedside table, propped open so everyone could see. He was sure to get teased for it later. But it was the best gift he'd ever received, and one he knew Arabella would have struggled to give. She didn't like associating herself with the Malfoy family, and he knew it. He'd have to thank her extensively in person later.
After feasting on roast and cupcakes at dinner that night, Draco and the rest of the 5th year Slytherin boys went back to the Common Room to relax and study. (But mostly to relax.) They sat chatting for quite a while, until at last Nott challenged Draco to a round of Wizard's Chess.
"I'll go grab my chess set," Draco said, heading for the dorm room. "I'll be right back."
At the last second he could have sworn Blaise muttered something like "if you say so."
Draco descended the dark spiral staircase to the dormitories. When he entered the fifth year boys' dorm room, he stopped in his tracks. The curtain on his four-poster bed was drawn. He'd not been in the room since that morning, when he'd stashed the box from Arabella...but he was sure he'd left the curtain open as usual. He only ever closed it to sleep or block out the others' chatter.
He approached the bed quietly and cautiously, raising his wand to the ready. In one quick motion, he ripped the curtain open, preparing to hex whatever or whoever dared to hide among his things.
"Drakey!"
"Merlin, Pansy!" Draco clutched at his heart, which was fluttering rapidly with adrenaline. "I almost hexed you!"
"Happy Birthday, Drakey!"
"What are you...?"
"I'm giving you your birthday present!" Pansy replied.
Draco looked down at her quizzically. And then he realized she was wearing nothing more than a short—and rather thin—silk robe.
Draco groaned and turned away, running a hand through his hair in frustration. He didn't need or want this. Especially not right now, when he was trying to focus on exams and Arabella.
"Pansy..."
"Drakey, don't you miss me? Don't you miss...us?" Pansy scooted to the edge of the bed. When he turned back, she flung her arms around his neck. Draco attempted to extricate himself from her grasp.
"No, Pansy. Just stop," Draco said firmly.
Pansy deflated slightly, but continued, no less suggestively, "But you used to love my presents..."
"That was when we were together," Draco responded, grabbing her wrists gently and bringing them down to her sides.
"We can be together again, Drakey," Pansy whined.
"You know that's not possible."
"It would be possible if you wanted it to be."
"But I don't. I'm sorry."
Her lip quivered.
"I'd like to think you're doing this out of duty, but you aren't, are you? You're doing it for her!" Pansy said, standing suddenly, pointing at the picture frame on Draco's beside table.
"It doesn't matter why, Pansy, just that the answer is 'no,'" Draco continued softly.
"It does matter! The Draco I knew wouldn't bother playing by the rules of courtship if it were just a matter of duty. As long as the girl in question didn't find out—you wouldn't care!"
"I would care enough not to cheat with someone who would turn around and tell the whole school," Draco bit out the accusation. "You'd ruin my reputation in an attempt to either get us back together or make my life a living hell."
"But you don't realize you're already in hell, do you Draco? Because we both know you won't be getting any from that despicable little Mud—"
"Don't you dare call her that! You know she's not."
"She's as good as! A filthy blood traitor!"
Draco lowered his voice, "What would your father say if he heard you speaking about the Dark Lord's only daughter in such a way?"
Pansy's mouth sprang shut with the click of her teeth. She turned back to the picture frame on the beside table.
"Family," she spat sarcastically. "Ha! She'll never be like you and me, Draco. She'll never understand you the way I do. She's not one of us."
"It doesn't matter, Pansy," Draco shook his head.
"Yes it does! Why can't you see?" she picked up the picture frame. "She's nothing! You should want me!"
Pansy hurled the frame across the room, where the glass covering the pictures shattered and the hinge bent at an odd angle. She only ran from the room when she saw Draco's expression as he went to rescue the frame instead of comforting the girl in front of him. He quickly repaired the frame with a wave of his wand, cradling it gently as he brought it back to the spot on his bedside table.
He sighed and slid to the floor beside his bed, resting his head in his hands. For all the false accusations Pansy could make, she'd been right about one thing. He was following the rules for Arabella's sake. If he was going to win her love—or at least her tolerance—he would have to play the game by her rules. And that meant, as much as it pained the ferret-side of Draco, no other women. None but her.
And he was totally okay with that.
The night before the O.W.L.s were to begin, the examiners arrived. Dinner was a subdued affair. None of the fifth years really spoke. Draco could barely get food down for the nerves, even if he thought Charms would be the easiest and best subject to start with. Best to start out strong. Suddenly everyone's attention began to turn—Umbridge could be seen through the doors to the Great Hall. She was standing with a small group of ancient-looking witches and wizards. Even Umbridge looked nervous.
Suddenly, the members of the Golden Quartet were on their feet, headed in the direction of the examiners. The gall! Draco gave up on eating and, once the examiners had moved on, left the Great Hall for the dungeons.
The Common Room was uncomfortably tense and quiet. Draco immediately retired to his bed, where he reviewed a few spells before taking out a snitch to play with to distract him from everybody's stress. Unable to sleep and unwilling to study, he finally took to the halls. He walked absentmindedly, thinking through the incantations and wand motions for all of the charms they'd learned over the past five years. No big deal.
Before he knew it, he was at the Astronomy Tower. He went to the railing, leaning his elbows on it and looking down onto the grounds of the castle. All was quiet.
"Fancy seeing you here."
Draco turned to find none other than Arabella leaning against the doorway.
"Come to escape your Common Room as well, love?"
"The tension was too much to bear," Arabella said as she came to join him at the railing. Instead of looking across the grounds, however, she looked up toward the stars.
"How are you feeling about exams?" Draco asked.
"Anxious."
"Don't be. You'll do wonderfully. You're clever, hardworking, studious...and you come from one of the most powerful wizarding families in Britain."
"Thanks...I think."
They stood in silence for a moment. Arabella was the first to break the silence, pointing out Arcturis in the sky. Draco looked up from where he had been pondering the lake. They began playing one of their favorite games, if you could call it a game. They took turns naming all of the constellations in the sky, turning then to the planets and moons they could see.
"I think we've named them all," Draco finally finished off with Polaris, the easy one.
"Well, we must be ready for our Astronomy exam," Arabella giggled.
"A week too early."
"Too bad it's too early for Draco to be out," Arabella said, referring to the constellation that was his namesake. "A couple more weeks and it should be visible."
Draco, the human, looked at her. She was still looking at the sky in awe, a contented smile on her face. He cleared his throat, finding his attraction for her lodged there like bad case of laryngitis.
"I haven't had the chance to tell you...Thank you so much for the birthday gift."
"Oh?" her face lit up in anticipation. "Did you like it?"
Draco suddenly became embarrassed in his attempt to be honest, "The frame is gorgeous. It was the best gift I've ever received."
Arabella laughed, "I doubt that, but thank you for saying so."
Draco wasn't sure how to prove his sincerity.
"How was the rest of your birthday?"
He wasn't sure how to say "Pansy attacked me" without causing a fuss, so he didn't.
"Oh, uneventful. Your box was the highlight."
He could've sworn he saw her blush.
"Unfortunately the sweets didn't last long. And the stress ball Snitch came in handy."
"Oh good," she said, tucking her hair behind her ear. "The bat was a really terrible addition."
She laughed nervously. Draco didn't think he'd ever seen her on edge this way before.
"I thought about getting you a plushie owl, but everyone has owls. Owls and cats. Even Neville has a toad. But no one ever bothers to bring a bat to school, even though it's one of the few pets allowed at Hogwarts. Isn't that strange?"
Leave it to Arabella to over-think the pet policy at Hogwarts.
"Well, now you have your very own bat!"
"We could get you a real one, if you like," Draco suggested.
"Oh no! No, no, no, no...I'm not a fan of live ones. They're only cute when they're stuffed animals."
Draco couldn't help but chuckle, "Then he'll be our pet bat."
"And what shall we name him?"
"Batty?"
"Too cliche. Bartholomew?"
"Barty? A bit contrived. Bernard?"
Arabella wrinkled her nose, "Could you call him Bernie with a straight face?"
"We are talking about a stuffed bat, you know."
"Bingley! Let's name him Bingley."
Draco straightened his robes in order to look official, "Bingley it is!"
Arabella sighed in contentment, turning back to look over the balcony of the Astronomy Tower.
"The picture frame really is gorgeous, Arabella," Draco spoke softly into the night.
Arabella turned to face him, "I'm glad you like it."
Draco suddenly had a strong desire to hug Arabella. Or, even better, to kiss her. But they were not a couple. They didn't touch each other unless Arabella was being forced to. Then again, every couple had to start somewhere, right? Draco was paralyzed with indecision, unable to propel himself forward, unwilling to give up on this perfect chance to show her affection. He felt so incredibly awkward, and Malfoys just don't do awkward.
"We're getting better at this," Draco spoke finally, inching just a little closer to Arabella, who didn't seem to notice his advances or his nerves.
"At what?" she asked.
"This," he said moving a pointed finger between them.
"Tolerating each other for more than ten minutes?" she asked sarcastically with a lighthearted laugh that left Draco feeling ill.
A soft summer breeze floated by, taking Arabella's laugh into the night. It lifted her long blond hair into the air. Draco reached forward to tuck a strand behind her ear, suddenly and mercifully feeling like his confident self again.
"I'd like to think it could be more than toleration..."
Arabella stiffened as his fingers lingered against her cheek.
"You know I don't feel the same way, Malfoy."
The dreaded return of his surname. Draco let his hand drift back to the railing of the balcony as he turned away from her to gaze once again—not at the stars—but at the dark and gloomy grounds of the castle.
"Do you think you ever could?" his voice was barely a whisper, no louder than the breeze.
"I don't think so."
And she departed silently.