Chapter 11
December 9th, 1994
Within the next two weeks, Maria had thrown herself into her studies and her Occlumency lessons with Snape, determined to make progress despite the strain it was taking on her mind.
Snape, ever relentless, had pushed her harder in each session, and tonight was no different. As another grueling Occlumency lesson came to an end, Snape’s dark figure emerged from the shadows of the classroom, leaving Maria behind, exhausted and drained. But what neither of them expected was who would be waiting for Snape just outside the door.
As Snape swept out of his classroom, he halted abruptly upon seeing Draco Malfoy seated on the bottom step of the staircase just beyond the door. The boy’s pale hair glowed faintly in the dim torchlight, and his gaze was fixed intently on the doorway.
“Mr. Malfoy,” Snape’s voice dripped with its usual drawl, both a greeting and a warning.
Draco rose immediately, brushing off his robes, though his eyes betrayed his impatience. They flickered from Snape to the closed door behind him. “Is Maria finished for the night? I have something to show—”
Before Draco could finish his sentence, Snape had crossed the narrow hallway in a swift, fluid motion. In an instant, he shoved Draco against the cold stone wall. Draco’s breath caught, his wide eyes filled with surprise. He’d never expected Snape to react so violently towards him—towards any Malfoy.
“What did I tell you, boy?” Snape whispered, his voice low and dangerous. His dark eyes bored into Draco’s, leaving no room for escape. “There are things you cannot know. Things that are none of your concern.”
Draco’s shock quickly morphed into anger, and with a forceful shove, he pushed Snape off him. “And you seem to have forgotten that she’s my friend,” he spat. His voice trembled with frustration. “She tells me nothing of these lessons. You should be thankful for that.”
For a moment, Snape’s expression hardened further, his gaze piercing. “Might it interest you,” he began slowly, “that your affections for her seem to go beyond that of a simple friend? Marialynne does not have time for any distractions.”
Draco froze, his jaw tightening. His carefully composed demeanor faltered for the briefest second before he managed to rebuild his mask of indifference. “You know nothing,” he bit out, though his words lacked their usual confidence.
The tension between them hung thick in the air until the door to Snape’s classroom creaked open. Maria emerged, looking visibly drained but composed, her features softened slightly from a few well-placed charms. She blinked in confusion as she took in the scene before her—Draco leaning against the wall, and Snape glaring at him with an intensity that made her stomach twist.
“What’s happening?” she asked quietly, her voice uncertain.
Snape straightened, his expression immediately becoming unreadable. “Nothing of your concern,” he snapped, the coldness returning to his voice as he turned abruptly and strode away, his footsteps echoing through the spiral staircase as he ascended with speed.
Draco stayed against the wall for a moment longer, his eyes still fixed on where Snape had disappeared. Then, shaking himself from whatever thought held him captive, he turned to Maria, the cool mask slipping back into place.
“Ready to leave?” he asked, his voice lighter, though something beneath it remained unsettled.
“Yeah.”
December 10th, 1994
The Great Hall had undergone a transformation. The long tables had vanished and in their place, were rows of wooden pews, arranged as if for some kind of formal assembly.
At the center of the room, Professor McGonagall paced back and forth, her eyes scanning the doorway as she waited for the remaining Gryffindor students from years four through seven to arrive.
In one corner, Mr. Filch was hunched over an old gramophone, his face twisted in frustration. The occasional burst of static filled the hall, suggesting that his attempts to get it working were proving fruitless.
Maria, sitting alongside Hermione, leaned closer to her friend and whispered, “What’s going on? Why is it only Gryffindor’s here? And why are we split up with girls on one side and boys on the other?”
Hermione, looking just as puzzled, shook her head. “I don’t know,” she murmured, glancing over at the row of boys on the opposite side of the hall, her brow furrowed.
Once all the students had arrived, Professor McGonagall stopped pacing and clapped her hands together, immediately drawing the attention of the students. The soft hum of chatter ceased as she stepped to the center of the Great Hall, her gaze sweeping across the room.
“Your attention, please,” she began, her voice commanding yet calm. “You have all been brought here for a very important announcement.”
Maria exchanged a glance with Hermione, curiosity piqued. Even from where they sat, she could see Ron and Harry looking equally confused on the boys’ side of the hall.
“The Yule Ball,” McGonagall began, “has been a tradition of the Triwizard Tournament since its inception.”
Maria sat up a little straighter, her eyes widening in realization. Hermione’s eyes had also lit up with understanding.
So the rumors were true, Maria thought. A ball was really happening.
“The Yule Ball,” McGonagall said, “will be held on Christmas night, and it is open to fourth years and above — although younger students may attend if invited by an older student.”
The room buzzed with murmurs of excitement, but McGonagall held up a hand for silence.
“Dress robes will be worn,” she added, her tone brooking no argument. “And the ball is, of course, a chance for us to socialize with our honored guests. Now, the ball will be a strictly formal occasion, and I expect each and every one of you to behave accordingly.”
Maria glanced at Hermione, who was biting her lip thoughtfully. The idea of dancing and dressing up seemed exciting to the girls. On the boys’ side of the room, she could see Harry’s expression shift from surprise to mild panic, likely already dreading the task of asking someone to accompany him.
“You will represent Hogwarts and your house with the utmost respect,” McGonagall concluded, her stern gaze settling on a few of the boys, including Ron, who had just slouched lower in his seat. “I trust there will be no inappropriate behavior.”
As the students began to murmur amongst themselves, Professor McGonagall cleared her throat sharply, immediately regaining control of the room.
“There is another matter we must address,” she continued, her gaze settling on the students. “The Yule Ball is, first and foremost, a dance.”
The murmuring intensified, and a few students, including Ron, looked particularly uneasy at the mention of dancing. McGonagall, however, was undeterred.
“To that end, you will need to learn how to behave on the dance floor. Now, to demonstrate the proper way to do so…” She paused and looked directly at Ron Weasley, who had been slouching in his seat.
“Mr. Weasley,” she called, making Ron’s eyes widen in shock.
“What? Me?” Ron spluttered, his face turning a deep shade of red.
“Yes, you,” McGonagall replied crisply. “Come here.”
The entire hall fell into a hush as Ron hesitantly got to his feet, his face flushed with embarrassment. Maria, along with many others, stifled a giggle as Ron shuffled to the front, standing awkwardly beside McGonagall. Harry, seated on the other side of the hall, looked at Ron with a teasing grin, while Hermione covered her mouth to hide her smile.
McGonagall turned to face Ron and addressed the hall. “Now, place your hand on my waist.”
Ron’s eyes nearly popped out of his head as he looked at the professor with abject horror. “Where?”
“On my waist, Mr. Weasley,” she repeated, her tone firm but not unkind.
The entire hall erupted in suppressed laughter as Ron, reluctantly, placed his hand on McGonagall’s waist. His movements were stiff and awkward, his discomfort was obvious.
McGonagall took his other hand and raised it, preparing to lead the demonstration. “Now, the other hand in mine. And…we begin.”
She led Ron in a slow, formal waltz, guiding him expertly across the floor as Ron stumbled behind her, looking completely out of his depth. The students watched with amusement, some whispering and laughing, while Ron looked like he wished the ground would open up and swallow him.
As the awkward demonstration between Ron and Professor McGonagall came to an end, the laughter and murmurs in the Great Hall began to die down. McGonagall stepped away from Ron, smoothing her robes with the air of someone who had just completed a perfectly normal task.
“Thank you, Mr. Weasley," she said crisply, though her eyes held the slightest glimmer of amusement. "Now, everyone up. Stand in a line, and we’ll practice the basic steps."
The laughter disappeared immediately as the students realized what was coming next. There was a collective groan from the boys’ side of the room, and several nervous glances were exchanged on the girls’ side as they all began to shuffle awkwardly to their feet. The benches scraped loudly as students rose.
“Quickly now!” McGonagall urged, clapping her hands sharply. “Form a line and find a partner.”
Maria stood up with Hermione, exchanging nervous glances. “Oh no,” Hermione whispered, her face slightly pale. “I wasn’t ready for this.”
“Neither was Ron,” Maria murmured, stifling a smile as she glanced over at him, still looking thoroughly embarrassed.
The students formed a loose line, boys on one side, girls on the other, as Professor McGonagall paced in front of them, eyeing their hesitance with growing impatience. “Now, you will partner up,” she ordered. “And don’t make me remind you—this is mandatory.”
Maria sighed before begrudgingly standing up with Hermione. She was all too familiar when it came to steps in a waltz, having taken lessons when she was a child. However, she wasn’t looking forward to having to practice with other boys, especially now.
“End me,” she whispered to herself before stepping forward, looking to find a partner.
Dinner with the boys followed its usual course. Theo and Blaise were deep in conversation, recounting their latest mischievous escapades, while Maria quietly picked at her roast dinner, her attention more on the Daily Prophet than on her food.
Normally, she wasn’t one to indulge in gossip, but Rita Skeeter’s latest articles had sparked her curiosity. After all, Hermione had been fuming earlier about how Rita was suggesting that she was in love with Harry, and that Viktor Krum was supposedly seething with jealousy over their so-called relationship.
As Maria’s eyes scanned the page, a particular section drew her attention. There, right beside an elaborate headline, was a picture of Narcissa Malfoy standing up-right beside a man Maria didn’t recognize. The headline read: Narcissa Malfoy’s Generous Donation to Healers Researching Blood Transfusions Reaches an All-Time High!
Her interest piqued, Maria quickly skimmed the article beneath. It explained that the healers were conducting experiments involving the transfusion of blood from various sources—wizards, magical creatures, non-humans, and even Muggles. They were exploring whether a wizard’s physical or magical attributes could be altered through certain types of plasma found in different kinds of blood.
A heavy knot formed in Maria’s chest. The very idea unsettled her. What these healers were doing didn’t seem right—if anything, it bordered on dangerous experimentation. What if something went wrong? What if no potion or spell could reverse the damage?
Lost in her thoughts, she barely noticed Blaise eyeing her curiously.
“What’s got you so focused?” Blaise asked, his voice breaking through her concentration. He’d noticed the frown creasing her brow, the intensity in her eyes as she stared down at the Daily Prophet.
Maria looked up from the paper with a sigh, her expression conflicted. Without a word, she turned the newspaper over, revealing the article that had captured her attention. “Draco’s mother is…financially supporting something rather unusual,” she said, her tone measured but concerned.
Draco, who had been contentedly eating beside her, raised an eyebrow at her remark. He reached for the newspaper, his usual cool indifference faltering slightly. “What is she funding now?” he asked, a hint of skepticism in his voice as he took the paper from her hands.
Draco’s eyes skimmed the article, his brow furrowing slightly, but his expression remained cool. “My mother never mentioned this to me,” he said, handing the paper back to Maria. His tone was dismissive, though there was a flicker of confusion beneath the surface. “Not that it matters. She’s always involved in something.”
Maria watched him carefully, sensing he wasn’t as indifferent as he let on. Before she could probe further, Blaise leaned forward, glancing at the article again. “I have to admit, that experiment sounds dodgy, even for Ministry-approved research. Wizards being injected with who knows what from other creatures? Could be dangerous—unpredictable, even.”
Maria nodded, relieved that at least one of them was taking her concern seriously. “Exactly. It feels reckless… Imagine if something irreversible happens? What if magic doesn’t work the same way, or worse, damages someone?”
Blaise gave her a thoughtful look, his dark eyes softening. “You’ve got a point. I wouldn’t trust it either. Who knows what they’re playing with? Could mess with the balance between magical beings.”
While Blaise and Maria discussed the implications, Theo was entirely absorbed in his food, forking another mouthful of mashed potatoes onto his plate. He barely seemed aware of the conversation, only occasionally nodding as if in agreement, though his focus was clearly elsewhere.
As the conversation tapered out, Blaise stretched in his seat and flashed a grin, shifting the mood to something lighter. “Alright, enough about dubious experiments. Speaking of things going wrong—anyone sorted for the Yule Ball yet?”
Theo, without missing a beat, smirked as he swallowed the last of his meal. “Oh, I’ve already sorted that out. Bagged Hannah Abbott.” He winked, clearly proud of himself.
Blaise chuckled. “Abbott, huh? Good for you. As for me…” He shrugged nonchalantly, though there was a spark of interest in his tone. “Haven’t decided yet. Might go for Daphne Greengrass. Heard she’s been eyeing me since the start of term.”
Before Theo could turn the tables on Draco and Maria, a sly glint appearing in his eyes as if anticipating their answers, something unexpected happened. A boy from the Gryffindor table approached, clearly nervous, his steps faltering slightly as he neared Maria.
Draco, already attuned to any movement near Maria, stiffened subtly, and the four of them turned in unison to face the newcomer.
The Gryffindor boy, a sixth-year with shaggy black hair, fidgeted awkwardly, his eyes flicking nervously from Maria to Draco and back again. Maria couldn’t recall his name, though his red-and-gold tie showed that they shared the same house. His voice, when he spoke, was timid but clear enough to catch the attention of the Slytherins.
“Maria, uh…would you—would you like to go to the Yule Ball with me?”
The question hung in the air, and Maria blinked, taken off guard. She didn’t know this boy at all, and though she tried to remain polite, the answer came quickly. “I’m sorry,” she said softly, offering him an apologetic smile. “But my answer is no.”
She didn’t notice the darkening expression on Draco’s face as she spoke, but the boy certainly did. His attempt to hold her gaze faltered as he glanced at Draco, whose cold, sharp glare seemed to freeze the Gryffindor in place.
The boy swallowed hard, mumbling something unintelligible as he nodded in acceptance. He turned quickly on his heel, retreating back to the Gryffindor table. Blaise and Theo exchanged glances before looking past Maria and Draco, watching as the boy sat down with his friends, who were either laughing at his misfortune or patting him on the back in consolation.
Blaise smirked and muttered under his breath, “Poor bloke didn’t stand a chance.”
Theo, who had barely managed to suppress his laughter, glanced back at Maria and Draco, a spark of mischief gleaming in his eyes once more. “Well, well,” he said, leaning forward on his elbows. “Before we were so rudely interrupted, I was going to ask you two…Who are you both planning on taking to the Yule Ball?”
Draco shot Theo a warning look, but it was too late. The question hung in the air, and Theo’s grin only widened, as if he already knew the answer.
Maria, oblivious to the silent exchange between Draco and Theo, shrugged her shoulders. “Are dates mandatory for this sort of thing? I was actually thinking of just going alone, to be honest.”
“Alone? Mari, you’re Marialynne PenDragon!” Theo exclaimed, as if that fact alone made the idea absurd.
“Duly noted, Theo,” she replied dryly.
“What I’m trying to say,” Theo continued with a smirk, “is that you can’t possibly go alone. There has to be someone you want to take to the Yule Ball, right?” He leaned forward slightly, his grin widening when her cheeks flushed a light pink.
“Well—honestly, I…” she stammered, clearly flustered.
Blaise, who had been watching the conversation with quiet amusement, raised an eyebrow. It wasn’t often Maria was at a loss for words, and the fact that she was now stammering seemed to intrigue him. It was a rare sight—Maria, the girl who usually had an answer for everything, suddenly tripping over her own thoughts.
Clearing her throat, Maria tried to compose herself. “There is someone I might want to go with to the Yule Ball,” she admitted, glancing down at her plate, “but I doubt he’d want to go with me.”
“And why’s that?” Theo asked, feigning innocence, though his curiosity was clear.
“I think he just sees me as…well, just a friend,” Maria said simply, plucking a cherry from her plate and popping it into her mouth, as though that could downplay the significance of her words.
Draco had been uncharacteristically quiet throughout the conversation, his eyes focused intently on the table as if deep in thought. Theo and Blaise had noticed, but neither commented on it—until now.
“They’re stupid to think that,” Draco scoffed, his tone carrying a hint of bitterness.
Maria blinked in surprise, not expecting such a quick reaction from him. “Excuse me?”
Draco looked at her, his gray eyes narrowing slightly, but he avoided holding her gaze for too long. “I said, they’re stupid.”
Theo smirked, picking up on the tension that was starting to simmer between them, while Blaise leaned back in his seat, his amusement only growing.
“Don’t you think, Draco?” Theo teased, his eyes flicking between the two of them. “Maria’s a catch. Anyone would be lucky to take her to the Yule Ball.”
Draco’s jaw clenched, but he kept his voice steady, though it carried an edge. “Obviously.”
Maria stared at him, unsure whether to be flattered or confused by his sudden outburst. She could feel the heat rising in her cheeks again, and she instinctively looked down, pretending to fiddle with the remaining food on her plate. “Well, I doubt he thinks that,” she muttered under her breath.
Draco opened his mouth as if to say something, then stopped himself, his expression unreadable. He didn’t know she was talking about him, but something about the way she spoke unsettled him.
“Whoever he is, he’s an idiot,” Draco muttered, more to himself than to anyone else.
Blaise, sensing that Draco was skating dangerously close to realizing the truth, decided to intervene before things became too awkward. “Maybe Maria should just tell this guy how she feels,” he suggested lightly, his tone teasing but not unkind. “Who knows? He might surprise her.”
Theo grinned. “Yeah, who knows, Mari? He could be sittingcloser than you think.”
Maria threw Theo a half-hearted glare, but she couldn’t stop herself from stealing a quick glance at Draco, who was once again staring pointedly at his plate, clearly unaware of how close to the truth he really was.
She sighed.
If only Draco knew…
December 18th, 1994
It seemed unbelievable since Maria’s first day at Hogwarts, but she made it to the end of first term. She couldn’t believe it when she woke up this morning, but as she sat quietly in the Great Hall working on her last assignment of the year, her mind felt relieved. First term was nearly done and she’d managed to rank high in her classes.
Her quill scratched lightly against the parchment as she worked on her Potions essay, her handwriting neat but hurried. For the past hour, she’d been focused, the weight of Snape’s brooding presence drifting through the Great Hall like a menacing shadow somehow helping her concentrate. It wasn’t the most comforting environment, but she was glad that she was almost finished on her assignment.
The four house tables were divided, each group sitting with their housemates. Today, though, it felt more awkward than usual to be seated with Ron and Harry. Hermione, she didn’t mind—Hermione was quickly becoming one of her closest friends—but the boys, especially Harry, were a different challenge altogether. Ever since her and Harry practiced the waltz after McGonagall’s announcement of the Yule Ball, he’s barely spoken to her since.
“At this rate, we’ll be the only ones in our year without dates,” Ron muttered, his voice a mix of complaint and defeat.
Maria looked up just in time to see Snape’s hand descend like a hawk, pushing Ron’s head to face his workbook. She raised an eyebrow, the corners of her mouth twitching in amusement, before returning to her work.
“Well, us and Neville,” Ron continued, unbothered by Snape’s intervention. Harry, however, snorted quietly.
“Yeah, but Neville could always take himself,” Harry replied with a grin.
Maria glanced at Hermione, exchanging a look of exasperation. Both girls were beginning to feel fed up. They wanted to continue their assignment with peace and quiet. And sure, plenty of boys seemed nervous about asking girls to the Yule Ball, but was it really that difficult?
“It might interest you to know that Neville’s already got someone,” Hermione said, her tone pointed.
Ron groaned loudly. “Now I’m really depressed. Who?”
“Luna Lovegood,” Maria chimed in, not looking up from her essay. Both boys whipped their heads towards her, looking equal parts surprised and horrified.
“What’s with all the stalling anyway?” she continued, tilting her head towards another Weasley. “Look at Fred.”
All three of them turned just in time to watch Fred Weasley lean over and whisper something to Angelina Johnson. Her response was instant—a bright smile, a quick nod—and Fred, smug as ever, threw a wink in Ron’s direction.
“Oi, Hermione, Maria,” Ron said, looking between the two girls now. Maria caught sight of Snape drifting back towards their table, clearly irritated that Ron was still talking. Harry noticed too and elbowed Ron hard in the ribs, but it did nothing to stop him.
“Come to the ball with the both of us—ow!”
Snape, having arrived just in time, brought down a heavy book onto the top of Ron’s head with a precise thump. To Maria’s amusement, he gave Harry the same treatment for good measure.
Ron leaned in closer, rubbing the back of his head but lowering his voice. “Maria, you’ve turned down loads of guys. And surely no one’s asked you, Hermione—”
“Ron,” Maria warned, her tone sharp, but her caution fell on deaf ears.
“It’s one thing for a bloke to show up alone,” Ron continued, now with an almost gleeful taunt. “But for a girl? That’s just sad.”
Maria glanced at Hermione. The fury on her friend’s face was unmistakable, and truthfully, Maria felt the same. She’s rejected the people who’ve asked her because she was waiting for a certain someone to do it instead. But never mind that right now, Ron had no idea how close he was to getting hexed.
“I won’t be going alone, thank you very much,” Hermione snapped, her voice trembling with indignation. “Because believe it or not, someone’s asked me.”
With that, she slammed her notebook shut, stood abruptly, and marched over to the front of the hall to hand her essay to Snape. She returned just long enough to grab her things.
“And I said yes!” she angrily whispered to Ron and Harry, agitation evident in her voice. With that, she stormed out of the Great Hall entirely.
Maria sighed as she began packing up her own belongings.
“What about you, Maria—” Ron started, but she cut him off, her voice sharp.
“Do all of us a favor and shut up, Ronald.”
Without another word, she slung her bag over her shoulder and swept away from the Gryffindor table, heading straight for the Slytherin side. Spotting an empty seat beside Draco, she dropped into it.
The boys watched as Draco glanced at her, exchanging a few hushed words, before he shifted his gaze up towards Ron and Harry. A smug smirk spread across his face, but he kept silent, returning to his work.
Maria hummed quietly as she finished the letter to her father. Around her, the soft rustling of feathers and the occasional hoot of owls filled the air in the Owlery, a familiar sound that brought her a strange form of comfort. The high tower might have been cold today, with the snow beginning to pile up, but she found solace in the company of the birds, their presence soothing her thoughts.
“Mother’s wondering if you’re attending the gala,” Draco’s voice broke through the quiet, startling her from her peace.
He stood by the window, the breeze ruffling his pale hair slightly as he watched her, though Maria could tell he had something else on his mind. After finishing their Potions essays, she’d mentioned needing to send a letter, and Draco had decided to accompany her—likely for an excuse to get away from Snape.
Maria didn’t look up as she stamped the folded letter’s edges with her family seal, the PenDragon crest pressed into the warm wax. “It depends on my mother’s condition,” she replied softly. “It’s hard to say. She’s fallen into another coma.”
At her words, the mood in the Owlery shifted, the lighthearted air growing heavier. Draco, his usual confident demeanor faltering, didn’t speak right away, his silence saying more than words could.
Maria glanced up. “Sorry,” she murmured, her brow creased with concern. “I didn’t mean to dampen the mood like that.”
Draco shook his head. “Don’t worry about it, Maria.”
She offered a small, grateful smile before turning back to her owl, Calci, who hooted expectantly from her perch. With practiced hands, Maria tied the letter securely to the bird’s leg, giving the knot a gentle tug to ensure it was secure. Calci, however, ruffled her feathers and let out a low chirp of protest, tilting her head towards Maria as if to say she wasn’t quite ready to leave.
“Sorry, Calci,” Maria said with a quiet laugh, stroking the owl’s feathers. “I didn’t bring any apples or dried sausages this time.”
The owl, unimpressed by this excuse, nipped gently at Maria’s finger, though not hard enough to hurt. Maria chuckled at the familiar gesture, shaking her head in amusement.
“You’re impossible,” she said fondly, though Calci remained stubborn, eyeing her as if still hoping for a treat.
Draco, who had been watching the exchange in quiet amusement, pulled a small pouch from his robes and tossed it into his palm. “Here,” he said, with a slight smirk. “She might accept a bribe.”
Calci’s sharp eyes immediately focused on Draco as he opened the pouch, the scent of dried apples wafting through the air. Before Maria could protest, the owl swooped from her perch and landed on Draco’s arm, greedily snatching up the pieces of fruit from his hand.
“Well, she certainly likes you now,” Maria said, shaking her head as Calci devoured the offering.
Draco chuckled, brushing off the owl’s antics. “Stubborn bird,” he said lightly, though there was an affection in his tone that belied his words.
“Thank you, Draco,” Maria said, her smile softening as she watched Calci flap off into the evening sky, her wings carrying the letter far away to the PenDragon estate.
For a moment, silence fell between them again, broken only by the gentle coos of the remaining owls. The sunlight was beginning to fade, casting a golden hue across the Owlery, and Maria found herself watching the shifting light with a thoughtful expression.
Draco cleared his throat after a beat, turning towards her with a more serious look in his eyes. “Maria…there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.”
Maria blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in his tone. “Oh? What is it?”
Before Draco could respond, the sound of soft footsteps echoed through the Owlery. They both turned to see Cho Chang, a fifth-year, entering with her hair falling neatly around her shoulders as she carried a letter in one hand. She offered them a polite smile.
“Sorry to interrupt,” Cho said lightly, her gaze shifting between the two of them. “I just needed to send this off quickly.”
Maria smiled back, nodding. “No worries, Cho.”
Draco, however, stiffened, his mouth snapping shut. He folded his arms, casting a wary glance at Cho as though her presence had completely derailed his train of thought. He muttered something under his breath, though it was too quiet for Maria to catch.
Cho didn’t linger. She tied her letter to a waiting owl with swift hands, giving the bird a gentle nudge. “Alright, off you go.” The owl took flight, disappearing into the evening sky. With a final wave, Cho turned back to Maria and Draco.
“See you around,” she said cheerfully, before heading out of the Owlery as quickly as she had come.
Draco stared after Cho, clearly thrown off by the interruption, but when she was gone, he turned back to Maria, his usual composure faltering. He dragged a hand through his hair, feeling the weight of the moment pressing down on him. His mind was racing—he needed to ask her now, before he lost his nerve.
“Right. I…” he started, unable to meet her gaze for a moment. He shifted awkwardly on his feet, a frown pulling at his lips as he searched for the right words. Why was this so difficult? It was just Maria, after all. They’d known each other for years.
But that’s exactly why he couldn’t afford to mess this up.
“So…the Yule Ball is coming up,” he said, his voice sounding more unsure than he wanted it to. “And I was thinking…maybe we could go together. You know—” His throat tightened, the words he didn’t want to say slipping out before he could stop them. “As friends.”
As soon as the words left his mouth, he regretted them. His heart sank, and he could feel his confidence crumble like fragile parchment. Inside, he mentally cursed himself. As friends? Really?
Maria’s breath hitched slightly, her mind struggling to catch up. Friends? She had expected—hoped—for something different.
Were all those fleeting moments we shared together…did he not feel the same?
The butterflies that had been fluttering inside her chest felt like they had vanished, replaced by a sinking feeling of disappointment. Still, she put on a brave front, pushing down the hurt that threatened to rise to the surface.
“As…friends?” she repeated, her voice sounding a little too controlled. She studied him carefully, searching his face for some sign that he didn’t mean it. Maybe this was just his way of covering his nerves. “Is that what you meant?”
Draco nodded stiffly, unable to trust his voice. His heart continued to pound in his chest, but now it felt like a hollow echo. He couldn’t bring himself to say more, his throat constricting under the weight of what he really wanted to say.
Maria’s smile faltered slightly, though she tried to keep her expression neutral. She didn’t want to make this any more awkward than it already was, but it hurt—a lot more than she was prepared for. She had always felt there was something more between them, but now she wasn’t sure anymore.
“Alright,” she said quietly, nodding as if it didn’t bother her, even though it did. “As friends, then.”
Draco gave a brief nod, still unable to speak. A knot had formed in his chest, tightening with every passing second. He hated himself at that moment, hated that he hadn’t been brave enough to say what he truly felt. But the fear of complicating things between them had been too strong.
The silence that followed was thick and heavy. Both of them stood there, staring out into the fading light of the Owlery. It felt colder now, the warmth of their earlier banter completely gone.
Maria hugged herself slightly, feeling a strange emptiness settle in her stomach. She hadn’t realized how much she had been hoping for something more until Draco had taken it away with two simple words: “as friends.” She wasn’t sure why she felt so hurt, but the ache in her chest made it hard to breathe.
Draco, meanwhile, stared down at his shoes, his mind a whirl of frustration and regret. He hadn’t meant for it to turn out like this, but now it was too late. He had ruined it.
Neither of them spoke again, both lost in their own thoughts, standing side by side in the Owlery, each feeling the weight of their unspoken words and unacknowledged emotions.