‧ ‧ ‧ ‧ ‧

booksmarts and broomsticks
act iii , turning tables
chapter fifty-three , caroline

‧ ‧ ‧ ‧ ‧

➖SIRIUS BLACK➖
june 1994

THE SEVENTH YEARS' exploits on the Quidditch pitch had lasted well into the evening that Sunday night and probably would have lasted a while longer if Nate hadn't got as overzealous as he did and sent one of the Bludger crashing into the broom shed, narrowly missing Hettie as he did ("I told you his aim was shit." "Fuck off, Jackie!").

This series of events promptly led to a very determined Penny attempting to persuade a particularly uncooperative Jackie to call it a day — an attempt, of course, which was made in vain as the Irish girl passionately objected.

    And so, after fifteen minutes of negotiations — during which the rest of their cohort bailed and started making their way towards the castle — Oliver managed to wrangle the Bludgers back into the supplies trunk and Lorcan managed to wrangle Jackie back up to the castle ... having thrown her over his shoulder.

"Sometimes the most effective way to handle her is just to let her tire herself out."

With amused smiles, the rest of their party slowly made their way back up to their respective common rooms, feeling considerably lighter than they had hours previously — all thanks to Jackie O'Hare and a couple of Bludgers.

     Dria was surprised when sleep came easily to her that night. In her previous experience, she found that the night before any exam, her mind would be racing a million miles an hour, leaving her waking the next day with a pounding headache and immense anxiety ahead of the test itself.

    Instead, she woke softly at six the next morning, feeling the bright summer sunlight on her face as it streamed in through the worn drapes of her dormitory. Wincing as she stood, her feet cold on the stone floor beneath her, the blonde made her way to the window and cracked the top pane a little, allowing the fresh morning air to brush her cheeks.

    She let out a gentle exhale, her eyes catching the shape of a phoenix soaring across the grounds, the morning sunlight catching on its fiery feathers, making it almost look alight in the sky. Dria smiled at the sight of the familiar bird as she raised her hands over her head, stretching out.

     Another breath left her.

    "Alright." She muttered to herself. "Bring on the NEWTs."

    However, her brief morning reverie was all too quickly interrupted by the obnoxiously loud groan of Tess, who had stirred in her own bed.  

     "Dria, shut the fucking curtains!"

     The blonde only chuckled at the outcry, perhaps she felt ready in the face of the NEWTs, but it appeared the same could not have been said for Tess.

***

     "ISN'T THIS BORDERLINE animal abuse?"

    At the sound of her boyfriend's query, Dria was forced to look up from her pages of Transfiguration textbook and meet his perplexed look with one of mild humour.

    "Seven years into practicing Transfiguration and now's the time you start concerning yourself with animal welfare?" She arched a brow at him, a small smile on her lips.

     The couple had been sat on the large sofa in the Gryffindor common room since coming back from dinner that evening and had buried their heads in their Transfiguration revision ahead of their practical exam the following day.

     The seventh years were about half way through their examination season — with all the various exams taking place across three weeks — and would all collectively agree that their brains were verging on the edge of frying.

    The only one of Dria's subjects that had completed assessments was Defence Against the Dark Arts — having had a two essay based exams and then a practical assessment against an actual Dementor.

    The blonde had been slightly confused as to how they'd managed to find a Dementor willing to have fifteen students cast the Patronus charm at it. Jackie theorised the Minsitry officials had promised that it would be the one to kiss Sirius Black once he was discovered — the thought sent a shiver down Dria's spine.

     Now, the only outstanding exams Dria had were in Potions, Herbology, Charms and Transfiguartion — the latter of which she and Oliver had spent their evening meticulously revising ... or rather, debating the ethics of such magic in Oliver's case.

    "I'm just saying I'm not sure tortoises really want to be transfigured into trumpets?" The Keeper sat upright, pointing out the spell detailed in his textbook with a soft frown. "Why are we doing that to them?"

    Dria looked up, a soft smile on her lips as she spotted the slight crease between his eyebrows as he frowned on the pages. She reached out and stroked his arm in consolation, her fingertips brushing the muscle of his bicep beneath his t-shirt.

    "You know if Quidditch doesn't work out for you, there's always animal rights activism."

     Oliver merely rolled his eyes at her comment, taking her hand in his briefly and pressing a soft kiss upon it before shrugging her off, at which she gave a chuckle and returned her attention to her textbook.

     The rest of their cohort had found other ways with which to spend their time that Thursday night — Jackie and Lorcan had disappeared somewhere hand in hand with mischievous smiles, Penny and Percy were in the library planning the end of exam social for the seventh years meanwhile Tess had retired to her dormitory claiming that History of Magic would be the death of her as she went.

      "How are you getting on with your non-verbals?" Dria muttered a soft question to her boyfriend, her gaze still firmly on her textbook.

     Her brows furrowed a little as he made no response. Lifting her gaze from the book, she turned to look at him, only to find he had discarded his own textbook and was regarding her with a fond expression.

     "What?" She chuckled, feeling her cheeks get a little hot at his attention.

     "Nice this, isn't it?"

     "Huh?"

     "Bit full circle." Oliver shrugged, throwing his arm across the back of the sofa, turning his body to face her. "You, me, fireplace, Transfiguration revision."

     "Didn't know you were the sentimental sort." The blonde chuckled, her gaze firmly back on her textbook following his distraction.

     "Dria?"

     "Hm?" Her gaze remained on the pages.

     "You need to relax."

     The blonde looked up quickly, her brows furrowed in confusion, her voice a pitch higher as she quickly retorted.

      "I'm perfectly relaxed!"

     "Love—"

     Dria shook her head as she turned her body to face him, her grasp on her textbook still firmly as she cut him off.

     "Look, I talked to my Dad and he was saying that Transfiguration is the NEWT that most people fall down on—"

     "Dria, you'll be fine." Oliver replied, his tone even as he set his hand upon hers.

     The blonde let out a gentle sigh, her defensiveness leaving her at the feelimg.

     "This grade could determine whether I get accepted or not." She explained, nervousness lacing her words.

    Oliver cocked his head to the side as he kept her hand in his.

    "Love, staring at the same page in your textbook for the next twelve hours won't help you." He nodded at the book in her hands. "Put it down, come on."

    Dria begrudgingly obliged as Oliver removed the book from her grasp, closing it and setting it upon the coffee table before them, before shooting her a smug smile.

    "See? Was that so hard?"

    "You're far too relaxed." Dria countered.

     "No point in tearing my hair out, is there?" He shrugged, shuffling back upon the sofa and pulling her with him. "Come on, get over here."

The blonde gave an objectionable groan at which the Keeper only chuckled as he pulled her onto him, wrapping his arms around her as she rested her head upon his chest.

Dria could feel the chuckle rumbling through his chest, a content sigh leaving her as she curled into him.

"You're comfy." She mumbled, as he gave her a slight squeeze in response.

"Yeah?"

"Hmm."

"Good." The Keeper chuckled once more, pressing a soft kiss to her hair before letting out a soft sigh as they fell into a comfortable silence.

Dria allowed her eyes to close softly for a moment, focusing her racing mind on the gentle rhythm of his breathing, finding comfort in the rise and fall of his chest. The blonde tried her best to match his calmness, yet tension still hung in her shoulders where she lay.

"What is it?"

"What do you mean?" The blonde mumbled, not lifting her head.

"It's not just the exams, is it?" Oliver's voice was barely a whisper as he spoke to her, his hand absentmindedly stroking her hair as he spoke.

Dria let out a soft sigh, her eyes still closed as she dismissed his question.

"It's nothing."

"Oh, wrong answer!"

The sudden increase in volume in her boyfriend's voice caused the blonde to let out a small yelp of surprise which quickly morphed into a groan as he shuffled in his seat, sitting more upright and upsetting her comfortable position.

"No, I was comfy!" Dria objected, as she was forced to sit up and face the boy beside her. "You're evil."

Oliver merely chuckled as he pulled her closer to him once more, her back against his chest as they lay back on the sofa.

"Talk to me, hmm?" He mumbled against her hair.

Dria was silent for moment as she considered. Her hand idly found his and she found herself brushing her fingertips over the callouses on his palms.

"I think it's just dawned on me that we're not coming back next year, you know?" She muttered. "We sit these last exams and then we're done. Just like that."

"Yeah." Oliver responded after a moment, his words laced in a sigh.

"It's a lot of change."

"We don't have to change."

Dria craned her neck so she could meet the Keeper's gaze, which was sincere as he looked on the blonde.

"Maybe we're leaving school, but I'm not going anywhere." He assured her with a soft smile. "Dria, I just got you. You're not getting rid of me anytime soon."

"No?" She quirked a brow, as she rolled in his grasp as he continued holding her close.

"You're stuck with me now."

Dria chuckled, a small smirk on her lips.

"Really drew the short straw there, didn't I?"

     Oliver wrinkled his nose at her comment giving her another light squeeze at which she mirrored his expression.

      "Change can be exciting too, you know?" The Keeper continued, disregarding the blonde's statement. "I know there's a lot that I'm excited for."

     "Hmm, like what?"

     "Lots of things." Oliver pursed his lips as he answered her query. "Going new places. Getting some independence — it will be great to not have to share a bathroom with Heidi anymore. Quidditch, of course—"

       "Naturally." The blonde chuckled, bringing his attention back to her as he looked on her with a small smirk.

       The Keeper cocked his head to the side a little, before reaching forward and tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

      "And this."

      Oliver closed the gap between them in a soft kiss, eliciting a gentle chuckle from Dria as he pulled away. 

     "Yeah?" She hummed, her voice barely a whisper.

    The Keeper merely chuckled in response before giving her a small nod, the tip of his nose brushing hers as he did.

     "Lots more of this."

     Oliver closed the distance between them once more, pressing his lips to hers, his hand travelling from her hair to the back of her neck, pulling her closer — if possible — to him.

     Dria let out a small hum as their kiss became more heated, all thought of Transfiguration revision forgotten, as their lips danced against one another's, ragged breaths leaving them as they gasped for air between kisses.

     The blonde felt the Keeper's other hand move to her waist, his strong hands brushing the exposed skin there and making it feel as though it were on fire. She brought her own hands to the nape of his neck, running her fingers through his hair as he pulled her body flush against his.

     Dria gave a yelp of surprise as he did, that quickly descended into a chuckle which the Keeper mirrored before bringing his lips back to hers, his grip on her waist firm.

     Though, the blonde was entirely enraptured by the situation she found herself in, her attention couldn't help but be snatched away at the sound of an incessant tapping.

     "What's that?" She broke away from the kiss as the question left her lips — her curiosity piqued.

     "Ignore it. It'll just be the wind." Oliver hummed, placing a kiss on her jaw, attempting to win back her attention.

    Yet, the tapping persisted.

    Dria cast her gaze towards the window at the far side of the common room where an owl was perched outside, a letter in its beak as it rapped against the window pane.

     "It's an owl."

     "It'll go away." The Keeper tried to dismiss her curiosity, attempting to turn her face away from the window.

      "It's got a note, Ol." The blonde chuckled, removing herself from his grasp as she got to her feet, much to his dismay.

     "Ugh."

     Dria could only roll her eyes at his melodramatic reaction as he threw himself unceremoniously down upon the sofa in defeat whilst she crossed the room and opened the window.

    The owl — which she recognised to be one of the school owls — hopped through the threshold, promptly placed a small piece of parchment in her hand before turning and flying back out into the summer night.

     With a quizzical look, the blonde quickly unfolded the parchment and read the contents:

         Dear Miss Lockaby,

         My sincerest apologies for the hour
         at which I am writing, especially
         amidst your examinations, but I'm
         requesting your presence at the Hospital
         Wing immediately.

         Yours,
         Madam P Pomfrey

  
      "I've got to go."

     Oliver shot up from his horizontal position on the sofa by the fireplace.

    "What?"

    "It's Madam Pomfrey." Dria gestured to the parchment in her hand as she crossed back over to the sofa. "Hospital Wing."

     "No!" Oliver objected, taking the parchment she had outstretched to him, as she moved round the sofa and sat down upon the cushion, beginning to put on the trainers she had discarded some hours previously. "You're in the middle of exams and it's 10 o'clock at night!"

     "She wouldn't owl if it wasn't urgent." She replied, with an apologetic smile as she began tying her laces.

      "Don't you want to spend some time with your boyfriend?" The Keeper countered, with an arched brow as she let out a chuckle in response.

    "Someone could be dying, Ol."

    "Yes, it's me — dying with you."

     Dria grimaced, before outstretching a hand and giving him a light pat on the shoulder.

     "Okay, now I'm definitely leaving."

     "What?" Oliver objected once more as the blonde got to her feet.

      "And you can think up some better lines."

      The Keeper let out a groan, throwing his arm across the back of the sofa and shooting her an expectant look.

      "Don't be long."

      Dria only shook her head with a light chuckle as she leaned down and brought her face to his.

     "Don't wait up."

      And with a final chaste kiss, the blonde turned on her heel and made for the Portrait Hole, wondering just what possibly could have happened at such an hour to cause her summons.

***

      "WHAT THE FUCK?"

The profanity was the only thing Dria could muster upon entering the Hospital Wing and seeing the sight she saw.

On one bed was Ron Weasley, an expression of pain contorting on his face no doubt from the glaring the wound on his right shin which was bleeding profusely and looked incredibly aggravated. On the two beds along from him sat Harry and Hermione, both of whom were bearing fresh and deep cuts and scratches across their faces, necks and arms. Dria could see a dried blood stain across the front of the Potter boy's blue t-shirt as they all looked upon her.

"Your promptness is appreciated, Miss Lockaby."Madam Pomfrey greeted the blonde with a stern look. "Your language however is not."

"I'm sorry, Madam Pomfrey, but what on earth—?"

"It's a very long story, Miss Lockaby." The matron cut her off, before nodding in the direction of the red head. "If you could please see to Mr Weasley?"

The blonde made no objection as Madam Pomfrey returned to her office with a large file of paperwork, and she crossed the short distance between the door and the bed, wincing as she got nearer and got a better look at the nasty wound on the boy's leg.

"Merlin, Ron."

"How bad is it?" The young Gryffindor whimpered as his friends conversed in low whispers, causing Dria to shoot them a suspicious glance.

"I'm sure you'll live." She hummed, before turning her attention back to his leg and grimacing. "How did you manage that?"

A look of panic crossed Ron's features, his eyes widening as he stammered a response.

"I ... fell."

Dria raised her eyebrows.

"... Right." The blonde replied. "Convincing."

The boy replied with a sheepish smile before averting his gaze. Dria tutted lightly, the skin had been torn by something — teeth, she would have guessed — but what kind of creature could inflict that kind of damage?

"Well, it's going to need disinfecting, that's for sure." Dria mused, turning on her heel and making her way towards the supply cupboard.

Unlocking it, with the key in the keyhole, she opened the door with a loud creak and scanned the shelves for wound-cleaning potion.

Her eyes quickly found the small bottle of purple liquid. Seizing it in hand, she scanned the rest of the shelves for the activator, only to see the jar labelled Powdered Unicorn Horn lay empty,

"Ah, shit."

With an impatient groan, Dria crossed back over the Weasley boy and placed the bottle on his bedside before making her way towards the door of the Hospital Wing.

"I'll be right back." She called to the trio of third years, as she slipped out of the door.

She remembered that in her last session, doing supply inventory, her and Vix had noted that the powdered unicorn horn was running low — but that had been before their examinations had begun and she supposed that Madam Pomfrey had had cause to use up the remains in that time.

So, Dria set out, begrudgingly, towards the seventh floor.

It wasn't the first time that Dria had had to make the journey from the Hospital Wing in search of supplies, although in most cases it would be to either the dungeons or the greenhouses.

For reasons beyond the blonde's knowledge, whenever they ran out of powdered unicorn horn, she would make the journey, all the way from the Hospital Wing, up to the seventh floor to Professor Flitwick's office, where a large stash was kept.

    She did not know what he got up to in his spare time — nor did she want to know.
     
Dria could honestly say that her intrigue at Madam Pomfrey's letter had sufficiently vanished by this point and that she would, in fact, have much rather been in the common room with her boyfriend as opposed to dragging herself up six floors — on the very slow and unobliging staircases — at nearly quarter past ten at night.

     There was something quite eerie about walking the corridors alone that hour — the full moon outside cast a cool light through the window, all the portraits were sleeping soundly and her footsteps were echoing against the stone floor as she walked. She'd never known the castle to be so still.

     She advanced slowly down the quiet seventh floor corridor, overly conscious of the loud noise of her footsteps cutting through the silence — she couldn't quite put her finger on it, but something in the air was causing her to get the overwhelming feeling that she really shouldn't have been there. 

     Dria tried her best to shake off her unease as she turned a corner but found herself letting out a scream as she did.

    Having rounded the corner, the blonde almost collided with a tall, muscular, menacing figure. He was clad in all black robes, wore a menacing snarl on his lips, the top one of which bore a thin black moustache. However, the main reason Dria let out of the scream she had was upon seeing the large axe he carried in his right hand.

    She looked on the man with an expression of immense confusion and horror, he merely sneered in response.

     "Bit late for students to be out of bed, isn't it?"

    The blonde could utter no response, she merely gawped as the man side stepped past her towards the moving staircase and thanked her lucky stars that she'd not met her end by means of axe in the seventh floor corridor.   

    "Well, that'll scar me for life." She muttered to herself, slowly bringing herself back to the present and rounding the corner.

     She walked a few more steps along the corridor when the silence was interrupted by faint voices. Furrowing her brows, Dria peered around the next corner where the entrance to Professor Flitwick's office was located, only to find a three men in Ministry robes pacing the corridor and speaking in low voices.

      Deciding she didn't fancy another run in with a stranger, Dria opted to retrace her steps down the corridor she'd just walked down and cut around to where the back — and not so well known — door to the office was.

    Unsurprisingly, after trying the door handle, she found it locked — however, with a lazy flick of her wand, the door creaked open a fraction and allowed for her to slip inside.

    Dria shut the door behind her with a soft click and took a few cautious steps into the empty room. The moonlight, from the window, cast the room in a cool glow. The blonde pursed her lips as she tried to remember which drawer the powdered unicorn horn had been in when she'd last visited the office.

     After rummaging for a brief moment, and having been unable to see half the contents of the drawers, Dria conceded with a small sigh and drew her wand once more.

     "Lumos." She muttered, casting a small pool of light from the end of her wand.

     "Caroline?"

     "AH!"

      The exclamation left her lips in surprise as Dria found herself once again startled by another presence. Turning around from where she stood, her eyes landed on a figure that had been hidden in the shadows by the large window.

      A gaunt face with a long, tangled hair peered at her from the shadows. His clothes were ragged and torn, his face littered with the same deep cuts and scratches that Harry and Hermione's had been — his familiar deep brown eyes holding a reminiscent expression as he regarded the young blonde who reminded him greatly of another witch he once knew.

     "Sirius Black!" Dria found herself inadvertently crying, as she started back from the figure, holding up her wand in means of defence, although there was something rather unthreatening about the small pool of light that still shone from the end of the wand.

       "Sirius!"

      Before Dria could comprehend her reality, she found her attention being pulled to the large window of the office, where outside she could see a large Hippogriff hovering, aboard which sat Harry and Hermione. She blinked hard.

       "What?!"

     The window swung open wide and Dria watched, awestruck, as Sirius Black scrambled to his escape, swinging himself onto the back of the large winged animal behind the two third years, who regarded Dria with eyes wide in panic.

    The Hippogriff let out a loud shriek flying off from the office window taking Harry, Hermione and Sirius Black with it.

     Before Dria could stop herself, she found herself stumbling over to the window, watching as the Hippogriff flew away, the full moon on its wings, soaring into the distance.

     "Holy shit!"

     Her mouth still agape, Dria regarded her surroundings and very quickly determined that she did not want to be discovered at the scene of — what she was ninety per cent certain was —  a crime.

     So, she did what any self-respecting citizen would do in her shoes — she bolted.

     Back out of the office, she ran, not bothering to lock the door behind her, and back down the seventh floor corridor, now much less concerned by the volume of her footsteps.

     She found herself rather peeved by the staircases on her descent — they seemingly didn't sense her urgency and insisted on travelling at the same pace at which they had on her journey up.

     Once she had safely landed back on the first floor, Dria willed her legs to go as fast as they could — Jackie would have been very proud — despite their aching from their previous exertion.

    Rounding the corridor towards the Hospital Wing, Dria felt an immense sense of relief upon spotting the figure of an older wizard, who was exiting out of the door into the corridor that she was fast approaching down.

     "Professor Dumbledore!" She cried urgently in greeting, coming to a halt before him, her face flushed and breathing heavy.

      "Miss Lockaby." He greeted calmly, with a soft twinkle in his eye.

     "Professor, there was— I think I just saw— in Professor Flitwick's office—" She stammered.

    "A pleasant summer evening, is it not?" The professor responded, seemingly unaware of the blonde's distress. "I was just taking a rather peaceful stroll, were you doing the same? Although, it is quite late for students."

     "No, I—" Dria shook her head as she caught her breath and attempting to answer his question. "Madame Pomfrey called me to the Hospital Wing but we ran out of powdered unicorn horn so I tried to find some, but then I walked in and I saw Sirius—"

     "Powdered unicorn horn, you say?" Dumbledore chuckled, "How remarkable! I just so happen to have some on my person. You never know when it will come in handy."

     Dria regarded the man with an expression of confusion as he fumbled through his robes and presented her with a small jar of exactly what she'd been looking for.

     "Oh." The blonde mustered a meagre response, taking the jar from the headmaster — her brain almost completely frazzled from the succession of events she'd just experienced. "Thank you."

     "Good night, Miss Lockaby." Professor Dumbledore smiled, sparing her a wave as he walked away from her, leaving her even more perplexed than she had been.

      Trying to form any words proved challenging for Dria as she tore her gaze away from her headmaster's retreating figure and pulled open the door of the Hospital Wing.

     Stepping through the threshold, Dria looked up only to see Harry and Hermione meet her gaze from where they stood at the end of Ron's bed, a large necklace of sorts looped around both their shoulders.

     Before Dria could even muster a question, she watched as the pair disappeared before her very eyes.

    She blinked hard again — her mood verging on the cusp of annoyance as she struggled to make sense of any part of her evening since she'd arrived at the Hospital Wing.

    "Where did they go?!" The blonde gasped helplessly at Ron, as she crossed the room, although he appeared to be just as clueless as she was.

     At the sound of the Hospital Wing doors opening behind her, Dria whipped around where she stood and let out another yelp of surprise at the sight of two figures walking through the door over to her.

      "What?!"

     "You alright, Dria?" Harry asked with an arched eyebrow, at which the blonde looked at him with an expression of complete astonishment.

      "You were there—now you're—and then upstairs with the Hippogriff and— I need to sit down."

      "Ow!"

      "Sorry, Ron."

      "I think you've been revising too hard, Dria." Harry told the seventh year with a small smirk, as he walked past her to sit by Ron's bedside.

      "Yes, how are the NEWT exams going? Word has it they're frightful." Hermione asked the blonde with an expression of excitement all the while Dria regarded them with a suspicious stare.

    "Don't try and sweet talk me with exam talk, Granger." She countered the young witch. "What messy business are you up to now?"

     "I haven't the faintest idea what you're implying." Harry chuckled, looking a little too smug for Dria's liking.

     The blonde let out a low groan as she set the jar of powdered unicorn horn next to the inactivated wound-cleaning potion. She rolled up her sleeves, before raising a hand to her temple.

     "You know what?" She looked on the three third years. "If I wasn't developing a migraine right now you'd all be toast."

𝖙𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖆 𝖘𝖕𝖊𝖆𝖐𝖘!
out of curiosity,
what would you do
if i were to tell you
that there's only one
more chapter left ...?

═══════════════════════════════════