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booksmarts and broomsticks
act iii , turning tables
chapter forty-seven ,  slags r us

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➖DRIA LOCKABY➖
january 1994

THE REST OF THE Lockaby Christmas of 1993 had passed Dria by in a haze of mince pies, games of Exploding Snap and very poor Chris Rea impressions from her father.

"For the love of Merlin, Dad! It's he's just the same, not just insane!"

Her attempt at making Christmas dinner had only encountered two hiccups — one of which was resolved by her father and a fire distinguishing charm and the other, by Maisie and the salt grinder.

But, all in all, the feast turned out far better than any of them had anticipated. Even Michael who, the very day before, had been preempting what he assumed would be his imminent food poisoning was seen diving in for third helpings of bacon Brussel sprouts.

The blonde found herself incredibly contented in her company and very nearly declared it their best Christmas yet — however, upon noting that their last Christmas involved her storming out and not talking to her mother for months, she acknowledged that the bar was extremely low and held her tongue, deciding to see how it would measure up in years to come.

However, on the face of it, it did truly seem like the perfect Christmas.

From Maisie's excited squeals at the sight of a pair of Keeper gloves and Michael's laughter upon receiving the pair of shoes he'd been idolising in a Muggle magazine, Dria found it a very hard day to fault.

Although if she did have to pick a moment, she would hands down have to go with when she opened a present a certain Scottish Keeper that had been delivered by owl post that very Christmas morning.

The parcel had been very small — much to the delight of the owl that had delivered it, however the delight was very short-lived once Gizmo had clocked another owl on his turf and very nearly sabotaged their Christmas breakfast in his pursuit of his attack of it.

"We really need to get him checked out, that can't be healthy." Maisie had remarked.

Upon receiving the parcel — in whatever kerfuffle it might have been — Dria was quick to place it under the tree with the rest of the presents and dutifully return to her cooking, choosing to ignore the pounding of her heart in her chest at the thought.

When the time came around to opening it, Dria had tried her best to be indiscreet but had been quickly called out by her brother.

"You were much less annoying when you were possessed, you know."

"Dria!"

And so, under her family's scrutinising gaze, Dria bashfully unwrapped the small parcel, revealing a small box.

Trying desperately to pretend as though her family weren't there, she opened the box and withdrew a simple necklace.

The chain was gold and thin, and on the bottom hung a small pendant in the shape of a Quaffle. Dria stifled a small chuckle as she ran it through her fingers, a small blush dusting her cheeks.

However whatever personal reaction she had hoped to have had very quickly came crashing down around her.

   "It's from her boyfriend!"

   "Let me see it!"

   "Oliver's your boyfriend now?"

"He's not my boyfriend!"

   "Oh Dria, darling. It's lovely!"

"I quite liked him Dria, he should be your boyfriend."

   "Thank you everyone so much for your insights."

Yet, despite her tone, the blonde couldn't hide the smile that made its way onto her face as her family laughed before moving to the next present.

***

"HAPPY NEW YEAR, YOU SLAGS!"

Jackie's tone was almost song-like as she waltzed her way towards her three friends upon Platform 9¾, who surveyed her with wide eyes and appalled smiles.

"Wow, that must be a new record." Penny mused as the Irish girl enveloped them in a group hug. "Not even within ten feet of you and you manage to insult us."

   "Nah, I definitely done better." Jackie disagreed, as the sharp sound of the conductor's whistle rang across the platform and the four friends hurried aboard the train. "Besides it is really insulting if it's true?"

"Excuse me?"

"Slag. Slag. Slag." Jackie pointed at each one of them in turn as she spoke, her wicked grin never fading.

   "How?" Dria objected, her eyebrows furrowing as they made their way down the narrow corridor of the train in search of a compartment.

   "I'm in a committed relationship." Penny reminded Jackie, at which Tess started furiously nodding in agreement.

"Same!"

Jackie cleared her throat, clearly intent on delivering her apparent hypothesis, as they tumbled into a compartment, beating out a group of second years in the process.

"Tess is a slag by nature." The Irish girl declared, as Tess let out an offended scoff. "Sorry, babe, can't change with God gave you."

Tess gave a nonchalant shrug from where she sat beside Dria, slouching in her seat as she kicked off her shoes.

   "She has a point, my slag days were great."

   "It's a miracle you didn't catch anything." Dria tutted, shuffling in her own seat in an attempt to get comfortable.

   "Remember that week I had the flu?"

   "Uh-huh."

   "Mono."

"Tess, that's contagious!" The blonde swatted at the girl, attempting to put some distance between them

"Calm your tits!" Tess threw her hands up in surrender, while Jackie and Penny laughed on like children. "It's not like I was throwing myself across the dorm to make out with you."

   "Tequila Tess does that though." Penny chimed in, causing Tess to look over with a mildly impressed expression.

"Really?"

"Now, you." Jackie turned her attention to Penny, whose eyes widened at the direct address. "Right slag."

   "Penny had a very slaggy sixth year." Tess agreed,

"What?" The Ravenclaw objected.

"Oh, you did."

   "Yeah, you really did, Penny." Dria winced sympathetically at the girl.

"Sneaking around." Tess began listing, counting items off on her fingers. "Making out in broom cupboards. Prefect meetings."

"Which we all know now is code for orgy." Jackie added, at which Penny gave an accepting nod.

"Yeah, that's like a universally acknowledged thing now?" Penny turned to Jackie with a mildly impressed smirk.

   "Wow, I'm a trend setter."

"There's a distinct lack of people applying to be prefects now." The Ravenclaw went on, wincing slightly.

"Yeah, I wouldn't want people thinking I'm a pervert." Tess grimaced.

"That's the rep you get for being a prefect." Dria shrugged, an amused smile playing on her lips as Penny rolled her eyes, before nodding along.

"It's true."

"Scarlet woman right there."

"Slag." Jackie concluded, before turning her attention to the blonde Gryffindor in their compartment. "Moving on; Dria Lockaby."

"I'm way too anxious to be a slag." The blonde presented her defence, holding her hands up.

"I present to you, the unwitting slag."

"Oh God."

"My brother." Jackie stated, pursing her lips and narrowing her eyes at the girl.

"Your brother?" Dria repeated, with an appalled expression. "I've had like three conversations with him."

"He called you gorgeous in one of them — that's slaggy!"

"Sounds like something that's his fault but okay—"

   "You're a slag!" Jackie cut her off, her eyes still narrowed, although Dria could still see the mischievous glint in her eye. "Need I remind of the whole Lorcan and Nate dilemma?"

Dria opened her mouth to argue but found her words dying very quickly, and instead opted to let out a large exhale, choosing not to dive into that can of worms again and instead accepting her fate.

"... Fair point."

Jackie offered her a smug smile in response.

"A little birdie also tells me you were getting off with Oliver Wood in a cloakroom over Christmas but—

"Tess!" The blonde whipped around to face the Robbins girl who looked back with a sheepish smile. "I can't believe you!"

  "You did what?"

   "I did nothing! Nothing happened."

"She's a slag!" Jackie grinned victoriously, looking at the chaos emerging before her with a fond smile, as the Hogwarts Express pulled out of the station.

***

DESPITE JACKIE'S inciting presentation starting off their journey on rather lively note, it didn't take long for the group of them to settle into a rather calm climate.

Tess had promptly curled into a ball and, using Dria as a pillow, happily drifted off into a nap. Penny had buried her head in a large pile of parchment, briefly explaining that it had something to do with her Ministry internship application, and Jackie had pulled out a tattered copy of Nicholas Nickleby and was slowly turning it page by pages she read.

"I thought you were reading Wuthering Heights?"

   "Yeah I was. Lost it."

"Careless of you."

   "Hardly." She objected nonchalantly, not lifting her eyes from the page. "I got beat up by a stray dog who stole it from me."

"... Huh?"

Jackie didn't seem to think that her statement required any more explanation and so the calm environment enveloped them once more.

The rest of their journey was rather uneventful, unless you include Dria being unceremoniously shaken awake by Penny upon arriving in Hogsmeade — the blonde having fallen asleep herself, comfortably curled up beside Tess on their side of the compartment.

Her sleepy haze was rather persistent all through their carriage ride upon to the castle and the New Year feast. It was only when Dumbledore made an off-hand remark about their mock exams that Dria felt all of her sleepiness disappear and she became alert once more, as the realisation of their impending tests descended upon her.

This, therefore, meaning that any former plans she had of having an early night were cast aside in place of commencing her intensive revision plan.

However, she was seemingly the only Gryffindor that seemed concerned with such plans as she watched Tess along with many of her fellow housemates crawl up to bed in order to, as Tess had put it, bask in their food comas.

Thus, leaving Dria alone in the common room, sat comfortably cross-legged on the floor before the roaring fireplace, Figaro by side, a hot mug of tea in hand as her tired eyes scanned the pages of the Potions textbook in her lap.

Fighting off a yawn, she lifted her mug to her mouth and took a small sip on the hot drink, her eyes still firmly on the page, not even looking up as she sensed another figure lower himself down onto the floor and sit beside her.

   "Hello." She muttered, a small smile emerging on her face, her eyes still on the textbook.

   "Hello yourself." Oliver smirked, leaning back a little on the coffee table behind them. "Figured you might here."

   "Am I that predictable?" She replied, her voice low, her attention clearly elsewhere much to Oliver's chagrin.

"Let's see? Mug of tea, roaring fire and ... what's that? A Potions textbook— a Potions textbook?"

With a small exhale, Dria finally prised her eyes from the pages and brought herself to look at the boy beside her, who was looking at her with an amused smirk.

His hair was looking untidy, as if he'd just woken up from a nap, and considering half of their cohort had all but slept through dinner, Dria wouldn't have put it past him. He wore his Quidditch jumper with the sleeve rolled up to his elbows and checked pyjama bottoms. She thought he looked incredibly cosy and fought all the impulses that wanted her to curl into him and doze off to sleep.

"Dria, it's like eleven, is this your idea of a relaxing read?" He chuckled, eyes darting to his wrist as he checked the time. "Did I miss something? Oh my God, are you boring?"

Dria let out a light chuckle at his teasing.

   "No." She narrowed her eyes playfully, giving him a light smack on the arm. "I'm just cramming."

"Dria?" He said gently.

"Yes, Oliver?"

"The mocks aren't for two weeks." He continued, reaching out, his hand grabbing the book and slowly pulling it from her grasp.

   "I know, but still I just think—" Her hands still gripping the textbook hard as she attempted to stop his action.

"Put it down."

"Oliver, no—"

"Close it."

Begrudgingly, Dria pursed her lips and snatched the textbook with a small sight, only to find it pulled from her grasp a final time, and promptly tossed away from them, as Oliver threw it to the other side of the common room with a knowing smirk on his lips.

"Oliver!"

   "Ah, whoops."

"Is this your attempt at getting my attention?" The blonde quirked an eyebrow.

"Is it working?" He replied, cocking his head to the side as he scooted a little closer to her and she let out a disbelieving chuckle.

"Well, yes apparently." Dria shook her head with a smile. "Now that whatever other plans I had for myself have been thrown to the other side of the common room."

He simply shot her bashful smile in response.

   "What's up?" She asked, turning more to face him, setting down her tea and giving in to his distractions. "You look far too happy for a Sunday evening."

   "Didn't you hear?"

"Hear what?"

"Harry got a Firebolt for Christmas."

Dria was sorry to say that her non-Quidditch-loving jaw dropped.

"How in the—?" She faltered. "How did he afford that?"

"Who cares?" The Quidditch Captain grinned, evidently ecstatic. "I'm winning the cup!"

The blonde pursed her lips before letting out another chuckle.

"Not you and your team?"

The Keeper conceded.

"Okay, well, sure, them too."

"And here I was thinking that you were looking particularly excited down to another Quidditch related reason—?" Dria gave a light tut, attempting to pull his focus back to her.

"No, no, oh my God." He turned to her, his grin never fading. "The tickets."

Despite declaring on the evening of the Christmas party that she would not be giving Oliver any present ahead of Christmas Day, Dria did send him away with a small envelope within which had contained to VIP tickets to the upcoming Quidditch World Cup.

She'd found out that her father had been treating a man named Ludo Bagman, who just so happened to be head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports at the Ministry of Magic, and as a result had a rather serious role in organising the World Cup.

He'd taken rather a shine to her dad during his time at St Mungo's — despite him only being in for a short period of time for suspected kidney stones — and had offered up the tickets free of charge.

"And by no means do you have to bring me with you." Dria shot Oliver an understanding smile. "You can always take Heidi or someone—"

"You're kidding right?" He cut her off. "Of course you're coming with me, Lockaby."

"You sure?"

"Of course."

"You sure you won't mind it if I'm stood there with my eyes shut in fear, not having the slightest idea of what's going on?" The blonde asked, as Oliver let out a large chuckle, reaching for her hand to take in his own.

"I wouldn't have you any other way." He told her earnestly, just before a sense of shyness washed over him. "How about — er — your present? You did get it, right?"

Dria pressed her lips together to suppress a wide grin at the feeling of his thumb running gently across the back of her hand.

"Uh-huh." She nodded.

He swallowed nervously, wincing slightly.

"Is it ... okay?"

Dria gave a soft chuckle, using her free hand to tug at the collar of her shirt and pull out the gold chain that hung around her neck for him to see.

"See for yourself."

The blonde watched as his expression changed from being nerve-filled to one of immense relief, his brown eyes softening as he looked between her and the necklace, a light blush donning his cheeks.

"Heidi helped me pick it out." He muttered, scratching the back of his neck bashfully.

"Was the Quaffle her idea too?" Dria asked, her own gaze now on the necklace, the pendant of which she was absentmindedly fiddling with.

"Oh, you mean the waffle?"

Dria immediately felt whatever intimate atmosphere that had settled between disappear, as she tore her gaze from the necklace and shot the boy a sharp look, only to see him wearing a victorious grin as he gazed back at her.

"One time. I said it one time!" She argued, stifling a small laugh herself, as hearty chuckles shook through the Keeper beside her.

As their laughter settled in a warm ambience of the fire, Oliver cocked his head to the side and looked at the blonde girl with a soft smile.

"You like it then?" He asked, in a small voice.

"I love it." She replied in the same small voice, giving into her impulses and curling into him, nestling her head upon his shoulder. "Thank you."

Oliver let out a large sigh, shuffling near her and closing any distance that had formerly been between them, as he let his own head rest atop of hers, his thumb still gently caressing the back of her hand.

"You're welcome, Lockaby."

𝖙𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖆 𝖘𝖕𝖊𝖆𝖐𝖘!
this has zero plot,
but i'm here for it

anyway have some
lockwood fluff for
your monday night

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