BORN TO DIE ╱ DRACO MALFOY
꒷꒦ · ˚.‧ . written by ella . . . © -lostgardens
083 ━━━━━━━ ❛ the new professor ❜

She was late. Olivia was late to her lesson. Snape had kept her after class to discuss the tales that had been spun in the Prophet as of late and now she was heading down the corridor with hasty steps to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. She wasn't looking forward to being taught by Professor Umbridge, seeing as the witch was placed in the school by the Ministry (this was already a thought in Olivia's mind but was confirmed when she talked to Potter that morning and he explained that Umbridge had been at his hearing).

As she opened the door of the classroom, Umbridge, who had been going over something, fell quiet. She was standing at the front of the room, her back facing Olivia, until she turned around and looked at her with a tight expression. On the chalkboard was written:

          Ordinary
          Wizarding
          Levels

Olivia realized that she'd probably been talking about the O.W.L.s, which were tests much like the N.E.W.T.s. She'd heard of both of them, but she hadn't yet taken them, seeing as the O.W.L.s were taken in a student's fifth year and the N.E.W.T.s were taken in their seventh year. She knew that the next three school years were set to be more difficult than ever as they prepared for these tests.

Everyone continued to stare at Olivia in silence as she stood in the middle of the aisles between desks, including Umbridge, who was staring at her with a tight smile that somewhat masked the annoyance of the fact that the girl was late to her class. "How wondrous it is for you to join us, Miss..." the woman's high-pitched and high-strung voice trailed off as she waited for Olivia to inform her of her surname.

"Mallard," Olivia replied, her tone and expression flat. A bit of her was surprised that the professor hadn't immediately recognized her since her photograph had been plastered in the Daily Prophet for months. "Olivia Mallard."

She saw a flicker in the professor's expression at the sound of her name, which she quietly reveled in. Then she watched the pink-wearing woman take a step forward, with her wand clutched tightly in her clasped-together hands and her eyes boring into the girl's.

There was something off about this witch, and Olivia, from years of experience at Hogwarts, knew that if she had an odd feeling about a new professor, she ought to trust it.

"Well, Miss Mallard," the professor went on, with a tight smile, "please take your seat. I was just beginning my lesson on the OWLs."

Olivia did just that, surprised that she wasn't giving her detention for being late—not that she was complaining. It was only by a few minutes, but Umbridge seemed the type to not take kindly to tardiness. Olivia took her seat next to Pansy, who had conveniently placed her bag next to her so no one could take the spot. Both girls offered each other small smiles and then placed their bags on the floor next to their feet before focusing on the witch in front of them, along with everyone else.

"As I was saying, study hard, and you will be rewarded," Umbridge continued, picking up where she had left off. "Fail to do so, and the consequences may be severe."

Olivia furrowed her brows, wondering what the professor meant by that and also wondering why she had a bright smile on her face when she said it, as if she were enjoying the thought. She then watched as Umbridge flicked her wand, and stacks of books began levitating off the large desk at the front of the classroom and behind the woman. The books moved down each of the aisles, passing themselves out to each student by landing in front of them on their desks.

"Your previous instruction in this subject has been disturbingly uneven," the witch added, as the books continued to set themselves on the tables.

When Olivia received hers, she looked down at it and did her best to hold back a laugh. It was a book for beginners; why did this woman think it was fit for fifth-year students?

"But you'll be pleased to know, from now on, you'll be following a carefully structured, Ministry-approved course of defensive magic," she explained, causing Olivia to roll her eyes as she flipped through the pages of her new course book.

Then Granger raised her hand.

"Yes?" Umbridge called upon the girl.

Hermione dropped her hand, looking down at the book in front of her. "There's nothing in here about using defensive spells?" She asked, focusing on the new professor, though it hadn't been much of a question but rather a statement.

"Using spells?" Umbridge questioned the girl's words as if the idea were absurd. Then she let out a rather squeaky laugh, causing Olivia to look up at her again with a disgusted look. "Well, I can't imagine why you would need to use spells in my classroom," she admitted, taking a few steps towards Granger.

Because they're young witches and wizards, and the best way to learn is through practice? Olivia thought to herself, her face twisting in confusion at what the professor meant. Ever thought of that one, Professor?

"We're not going to use magic?" asked Weasley, his expression quite the same as Olivia's.

Umbridge turned her body toward him, but her eyes roamed the rest of the classroom. "You'll be learning about defensive spells in a secure, risk-free way."

But isn't the best way of learning by practicing said spells?" Olivia inquired, raising her brows as she snapped her book shut and rested her folded hands on top of it. She, feeling the eyes of some of the others find her, watched as Umbridge sent a pointed look in her direction, keeping her tight smile on her face.

"Yeah, what use is that?" Harry added, agreeing with Olivia. "If we're going to be attacked, it won't be risk-free."

Umbridge turned her back on them. "Students will raise their hands when they speak in my class," she said, her voice sharp and stern, reminding Olivia much of her mother, though this woman's voice was a bit more high-pitched and squeaky, like a rat. It made Olivia's ears bleed and her head ache. The room felt silent as she took a few more steps forward, her heels clicking against the floor. Then, slowly, she turned to face them again, her smile still tense and unamused—clearly fake. "It is the view of the Ministry that a theoretical knowledge will be sufficient to get you through your examinations, which, after all, is what school is all about." 

Not this school, Olivia thought, sighing.

"And how's theory supposed to prepare us for what's out there?" Harry asked, sounding quite annoyed himself.

"There is nothing out there, dear," Umbridge countered, her voice turning soft.

"At least that's what the Ministry wants us to think," Olivia muttered under her breath, but it was quite loud enough for everyone to hear.

"Who do you imagine wants to attack children like yourself?" Umbridge questioned the boy, holding her hands together in front of her, and ignored Olivia's remark.

Olivia and Harry gave each other knowing looks, then faced the professor. "Oh, I don't know. Maybe Lord Voldemort," they both said in unison, their tones sounding like the thought had just come to mind, like a light bulb had just gone off in their heads, and they thought they'd share with the class.

Some gasped and whispered around them, shocked at their use of the Dark Lord's name so easily and without flinching, and Olivia rolled her eyes. The mutters were so loud, but the classroom felt completely silent at the same time. It was just a name for Merlin's sake.

Umbridge just stared at them with a blank look, her irritated smile still curled at her lips. Her expression faltered slightly, though. "Now, let me make this... quite plain," she finally continued, beginning to take a few steps forward, sending short glances at the other students. "You have been told that a certain dark wizard is at large once again."

"We all know who the real murderer is," Seamus Finnigan mumbled, glancing over his shoulder at Olivia, who just glared at him in return.

"This is a lie," Umbridge stated matter-of-factly, coming to stand next to Harry, but her eyes weren't on him.

"It's not a lie," Harry retorted, causing everyone to look at him, his tone eager for them to believe him, while the professor grew more frustrated. "Olivia and I saw him," he recounted quickly, raising his hand to Olivia, who sat a few seats behind him and to his right before focusing it on himself. "I fought him."

"Detention, Mr. Potter!" Umbridge ordered, then turned around and walked back to the front of the classroom.

Everyone remained silent, but Harry wasn't giving up that easily. He was clearly upset and angry over the fact that no one seemed to believe him or Olivia. Or, at least, they didn't want to believe them, and he didn't blame them for that. But the facts were there, and yet they chose to turn a blind eye because they were scared. Now wasn't a time to be scared; it was time to be strong and fight back. "So, according to you, Cedric Diggory dropped dead of his own accord?" he asked rhetorically, and Olivia flinched at the mention of the boy and what had happened to him.

The professor turned around to face him again. "Cedric Diggory's death was a tragic accident."

"It was murder! Voldemort killed him! You must know that!" Potter countered.

"Enough!" Umbridge shouted, almost causing Olivia to be startled at the loudness of her voice. Almost—she wouldn't let the woman get to her that easily. "Enough," she repeated more quietly, having calmed herself a bit. "See me later, Mr. Potter." She let out a few heavy breaths, seeming to be worked up from the back-and-forth she just had with Harry. "My office." Then she, with a small smile on her face, let out a small giggle that sounded like nails scraping a chalkboard to Olivia.

Olivia already despised this witch.

≀⋆⁺₊⋆ ꗃ 𖦹⨳✺

"She was bloody mental, shouting at Potter like that and refusing to even entertain the idea of Voldemort being back, as if we've been making the whole thing up," Olivia explained as she paced back and forth in front of Snape's desk. The professor had his hands clasped in front of him.

They'd already had their weekly meeting that morning, but Olivia felt that it was best if she came to him about this. Her friends—excluding Lucas and Draco—didn't know what had happened in full detail, and she wasn't sure if she was ready to explain it to them. Snape did, though.

"She's lucky that I didn't curse her. I was close to it," she continued, sending him a glance. "So close to doing it."

Snape just stared at her blankly.

Olivia paced for a few more seconds before she stopped in her tracks and turned to face him with her hands on her hips. "Are you not going to say something? Or am I just going to spend this whole time speaking with myself?" she asked, furrowing her brows with a scowl.

The man didn't blink or move for a moment, as if he were frozen in place. Then he dropped his eyes from hers and inhaled deeply as he restacked some parchment on his desk. "I'm not sure what you expect me to say, Olivia. Everything that I know, you know. Umbridge is here on request of the Minister; that's all I can tell you, and there's nothing I can do to stop her from behaving the way she seems fit or has been told to."

She narrowed her eyes suspiciously, taking a step forward. "All you can tell me, or all you know?"

Snape just gave her a bored look since he'd already answered that question. It was all he knew; that was the truth. "Olivia, focus on your studies. We'll speak later." He paused for a second, seeming to be waiting on her to leave. "I have papers to mark," he added, which was his way of telling her to leave without actually telling her to leave.

Scoffing, she just rolled her eyes, gathered her bag, and folded her robe over her arm. "Fine," she clipped, dropping her hands off her hips and to her sides. "Good day, Professor." She sent him a tight and sarcastic smile before she whipped around and practically stormed out of his classroom. She was in a piss-poor mood, and it had nothing to do with Snape. Or with Umbridge, for that matter, as much as she hated to admit it.

She only got so far down the corridor before a familiar curly-haired boy turned the corner, and his eyes caught onto hers. "Ah, Olivia, there you are!" Theodore beamed with a smile, opening his arms welcomingly as he walked towards her.

She just smiled at him, feeling happier to see a well-known face that wasn't being followed by the one she wanted to see the least. Even knowing what his father was and where his loyalties lied, Theodore was not his father.

"I've been looking everywhere for you. Searching high and low throughout all of the corridors and classrooms," he continued, sounding like the task had been gruesome. She knew he was exaggerating, but his point still stood as he came to her side. He placed his arm over her shoulder and pulled her closer to him. "Where have you been?"

"I was talking with Snape," she admitted.

"Oh?" He raised his brows as they continued to walk. "Blimey, Olivia. If you wanted company away from The Blonde One, then all you had to do was come to me. You didn't have to torture yourself by spending your free time with Mr. No Fun-or-Emotions," he teased, smirking as she looked up at him with a bored gaze.

"Well, Theodore, I thought you might've been busy, and I didn't want to bother you," she explained, going along with his joke. "I swear, next time, you'll be my first consideration." She offered him a kind smile.

"I'll never be too busy for you, Olivia," he said softly, his tone sincere.

"How sweet," she replied, just as softly.

The two of them continued down the corridor of the dungeons, with Theodore seeming like something was on his mind and Olivia not even noticing the fact, until they reached the blank wall of the common room. And just before Olivia could speak the password, Theodore stepped in front of her, looking down at her with pleading eyes, and she met his gaze with a curious one of her own.

"I'm not like my father, just so you know," he clarified randomly, seeming eager to get his point through to her and as if he were worried that she wouldn't believe him. Olivia opened her mouth to speak, but he continued before she could. "Sure, I may make jokes towards Potter, Granger, and Weasley sometimes, but that's just to mess with them. I don't truly believe that people should be killed or suppressed just for being different," he explained, then let out a breath, like he had been wanting to say this for some time now and was glad that he finally got to.

Olivia smiled at him. "Theodore, I never, not even for a second, thought that you were," she told him, watching the relief turn at his features. "I know you too well to ever think that you truly subscribe yourself to all of that rubbish."

"Really?"

She nodded. "Really."

And with that, they said the password and entered the common room. Their friends were gathered on the couches, per usual, and they walked over to join them. Pansy and Lucas seemed to be in a deep discussion, while Blaise and Draco just watched in amusement as the two bickered.

Olivia brushed past Lucas, going to sit on his right side, while Theodore sat on his left. "What are we discussing?" she asked, setting her bag on the floor at her feet and placing her robe over the armrest of the couch. Then she dug out her book from her bag and flipped it open.

"The new professor," Pansy answered, giving her a knowing look as she referred to Umbridge.

"Ah, I think she's bloody mental," she admitted, placing in her two cents. "And she wears too much pink. It hurts my eyes."

"I happened to like her," Draco countered, disagreeing just to disagree as he carelessly slumped against the back of the couch.

Olivia rolled her eyes, then offered him a fake and sarcastic smile. "Of course you did. She doesn't believe Harry about Voldemort."

Draco narrowed his eyes at her as he sat up straighter, the air around the group immediately turning tense. "So he's Harry to you now, not Potter?" he inquired, sounding rather... annoyed with the fact.

That was a feeling Olivia enjoyed at the moment, and so, wanting to annoy him even further, she said, "Yes, because he is my friend." It was the truth; the night in the graveyard—the tournament as a whole—had bonded her and Harry, and she'd realized that he wasn't bad. Neither was Hermione. Weasley, on the other hand, was still a work-in-progress.

Draco scoffed, sneering at her with clear irritation. "Don't think I forgot how you used to call me by my surname before you were able to tolerate me and we became... friends." The way he emphasized the last word made it clear that he was alluding to something.

Olivia had no clue as to what it could be. No clue at all. (She was lying to herself.) She raised her brows with an innocent expression, taking over her face, but in her mind she was thinking about making a dig at him. Perhaps she could suggest taking Harry to the Black Lake, as she had done with Draco. She was much more experienced in the snogging department than she had been the first—and only—time she kissed a boy in that lake, after all.

But she didn't, seeing as she had no actual desire to do so.

Instead, she asked him, "Who says I can tolerate you?"

"You did," Draco gritted out, glaring at her.

"Perhaps I was lying; I tend to do that." Olivia shrugged carelessly. "Perhaps I was just bored and you were there, pining after me like the desperate little twat you are, always looking for affection anywhere you can find it so that you can actually feel something." It was true; he was. Always following her, staring at her, driving her mad. He never seemed to be able to leave her alone. But that's not why she pursued him. He didn't have to know that, though. "Why is that, Draco? Does Daddy not pay enough attention to you? Is that why you're always acting out like a child?" She hoped her words stung.

"That's rich coming from you," Draco retorted, irritated. Her words clearly did hit him close to home, like a punch to the gut. His eyes were still narrowed, and he continued to sneer at her. She had brought up his father, so he was going to dig just as deep for her. "Your mother can't even stand you; at least mine actually loves me."

Olivia paused for a moment, holding in her urge to hex him for his words. She kept her face blank and emotionless. "See, Malfoy," she said, raising her chin carelessly, her tone flat, "that would hurt if I truly cared how my parents felt about me, unlike some." She looked him up and down with disgust.

Draco's annoyance turned into smugness, with his usual smirk turning up the corners of his mouth. He looked as if he thought he knew something she didn't. "You always claim to feel nothing about things," he continued, his tone suddenly turning calm and confident. "You said that we were 'just friends' for a time, then all but lost your mind when I asked Daphne to the ball last year," he reminded her, and she felt like rolling her eyes, but she didn't.

She wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of thinking that he had proven her careless act to be just that—an act. No, she couldn't let him. He'd hold it over her head for as long as he could. "That is because I hate Daphne," she told him calmly. She had almost lost her mind because of his asking the girl she despised, but she wasn't going to admit that. (It was clear that it was because of him; she had practically told him as much the night in question.) "And the only reason I hate Daphne is because she killed Tommy; it has nothing to do with you." That wasn't completely false.

"Really?" Draco raised his brows, knowing that she was lying through her teeth. "So if I went on and snogged her right now, you wouldn't care?"

Olivia felt something peg at her heart and a pit form in her stomach, but she didn't let her blank expression falter from her face, staring at him with an empty gaze. "By all means, go right ahead and continue to lead her on." She gestured her hand for him to stand and go away, almost as if she were offering something. Then she dropped her hand back to her lap. "But trust me when I say that it's only entertaining to you."

Then she inhaled deeply, and it was then that she realized that their friends—along with some nosy others in the common room—had watched the whole thing, flickering their eyes between the two with their mouths slightly agape. She didn't pay them much mind, needing to get away from Draco as quickly as possible.

She snapped her book shut and stood up from the couch. "Now, if you'll excuse me, your voice is making my ears bleed." She picked up her bag from the floor and her robe from the armrest and began walking away, clutching her book to her chest. Everyone's eyes followed her as she brushed past Lucas and Theodore's knees. She was about to leave where the couches sat, but then an idea came to mind, and she stopped in her tracks. Slowly, she turned to face Theodore with a small smile on her face. "Theodore, would you like to take a stroll with me?" she asked the boy, seeing him staring up at her with surprise at the request.

Theodore looked away from her, over to Draco, who was scowling at both of them, then back at Olivia. His gaze then dropped down to the offering hand she extended for him to take. He hesitated for a moment, and Olivia didn't know why. It was only a bloody stroll around the school that she was offering. But then he finally grabbed her hand, holding it in his own as he stood up from the couch.

Her smile deepened, and she led him towards the common room door, their hands holding each other's as everyone trailed them with their eyes. And just before she opened the door that she and Theodore had just entered a mere five or so minutes ago, she glanced over her shoulder. Theodore was blocking some of her view of their friends on the couches, but not enough for her to see Draco glaring at them with fury. She smirked cunningly as his eyes found hers.

She and Theodore exited the common room after that. They walked into the corridor of the dungeons once more, Olivia pulling her hand from his once the door was closed behind them. Both of them didn't speak for a moment, and then Theodore, with his hands in his trousers pockets, stated the obvious: "So, it's clear that you and Draco are having bigger issues than we all thought."

"He doesn't believe me," she replied, biting back her emotions—the red of her anger now turning something more blue. "It's his fault for our issues. He told me that he believed me in our letters over the summer, but now he doesn't think Harry is speaking the truth about what happened, which means he couldn't possibly think that I am. Our stories are one in the same."

"Yeah," Theodore muttered, falling silent for a long moment as they continued to walk. He occasionally glanced over at Olivia, seeing her just staring forward, lost in her mind and in her thoughts. And then he broke through her thoughts, asking, "You really care what he thinks that much? You care about him that much?"

There was a hint of something in his tone, but she couldn't place what it was. It wasn't sadness or annoyance—it was something else. The answer was right on the tip of her tongue, but she just couldn't place it. So, instead, she answered him. "Unfortunately."

≀⋆⁺₊⋆ ꗃ 𖦹⨳✺

It was later that night, just before dinner was to start. Olivia had gone back to her room and sat at her desk after walking with Theodore for about half an hour, and Pansy was in there as well, lying on her bed. The girls hadn't spoken since Olivia returned besides saying their greetings, and Olivia would've said that it was comfortable silence if only it were. She could tell there was something on Pansy's mind, but the girl hadn't made an effort to say it, and Olivia wasn't going to push her, not quite in the mood for advice or whatever her best friend may have given her.

Olivia continued to work on her schoolwork when a knock rang against the door. Pansy got up from her bed, walked over to the door, and opened it. She greeted whoever was there, and then they asked if she could give him and Olivia a moment in private. Olivia recognized the voice, but she didn't even acknowledge it. Pansy glanced back at her best friend, then turned to the person again and agreed, pulling the door a little further open and letting the person enter. Then she left, closing the door behind her.

Draco stood with his hands in pockets for a moment, watching Olivia as she clearly ignored his presence. "Olivia," he said, but she didn't respond, not even making it known that she heard him in the slightest. He sighed, moving closer to her. He repeated her name, and she continued to pretend he wasn't there. So he leaned down, bringing his mouth right next to her ear, using a single finger to tuck a bit of her hair behind it at the same time.

A chill ran down her spine with his touch and his breath fanning over her skin, but she paid it no mind, continuing to look between her parchment and her book and writing the information required. She felt his words against the side of her face as he spoke, and she tried her best not to react to them.

"I'm sorry, Olivia," he whispered into her ear. Then he paused to glance at her face, trying to see her reaction. Her expression was blank, seeming as if she didn't even know he was there. She knew, all right, that she could feel him in her bones, but that wasn't something she was going to share with him. He moved his mouth back beside her ear. "I truly am. I know that you're telling the truth, and I believe you." His hand raised to cup the side of her face that he was not standing next to, and he turned her head, making her look at him.

Their faces were so close that their noses almost brushed. She just stared into his eyes with an empty look while he was pleading, wanting her to forgive him so that they could go back to how they were over the summer. But she wasn't going to give in that easily. She'd always done that before, always forgiving him too soon and too fast—not this time, though. This time, she was genuinely upset, and she couldn't move on from it quite yet. Especially when she didn't believe that his apology was sincere in the slightest.

"If you think that Harry is lying, then you think I am lying too, Draco," she told him softly, knocking his hand away from her face. She scooted back her chair and stood as he straightened his spine, looking at her with confusion. Her hand fell against his chest as she began walking forward, pushing him backwards and towards the door. She used her other hand to grab the doorknob and pull the door open, and then she continued to move him backwards until he was standing outside her room.

He opened his mouth to speak, but she closed the door before he could get out another word.

Olivia went to bed sad yet determined that night.

≀⋆⁺₊⋆ ꗃ 𖦹⨳✺

━━━━ ella's speaking !
i feel like the beginning of this chapter could be a bit better but i like it nonetheless! it is a tad bit of a filler chapter, but i hope you enjoyed it!!

make sure to comment and vote 🫶🏻

kisses.

━━━━━━━━━━ born to die,
© -LOSTGARDENS, july 2024

word count: 4845.   written: 6.10-11.24.   published: 7.9.24.