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booksmarts and broomsticks
act iii , turning tables
chapter fifty ,  a sunday kind of love

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➖DRIA LOCKABY➖
february—march 1994

"AHHHHHH!"

        Dria shot up in her bed upon hearing a very perilous sounding scream.

       A large thunk followed the alarming sound, quickly followed by a pained groan, Dria gazed to her left only just to make out Tess' figure upon the floor, tangled up in her duvet.

       "What in the fuck was that?!" Tess cried as she hastily got back to her feet.

         The girl winced a little as her eyes adjusted to her darkness, before sharing alarmed expressions with the other two girls in the dormitory who had also shot up at the sudden noise, before scrambling around in the darkness, seizing her wands from her bedside table.

       "Lumos!"

The blonde had been sleeping perfectly soundly following the rather eventful day that had been had. After Oliver had been successful in stealing her away from the Hospital Wing, they had made their way back to the Common Room where celebrations were still in full swing.

Dria had spent most of the evening by the fireplace where her friends had gathered while the Keeper made his way around the room. At one point, he had been physically hoisted onto the shoulders of the Weasley twins, which had made the blonde nearly spit out her drink, especially when he narrowly missed whacking his hand on the chandelier.

Their party had only ceased at around eleven o'clock when Professor McGonagall, herself, had entered the common room and sternly told them to go to their dormitories — although Dria was adamant she had seen the Professor look mildly amused by their celebrations.

Upon returning to their dormitory, Dria had helped Hettie put a rather fussy Isolde to bed, the girl having had a little too much Firewhisky for one evening.

"I had to physically pull her off Malcolm Preece."

       Dria grimaced, before descending into a light chuckle as she tucked her roommate in and make her way back over to her own bed — only to be woken, what she guessed was, maybe three or four hours later.

      "Is everyone alright?" The blonde heard Hettie ask as her sleepiness began to fade, finding herself becoming more and more awake as the rest of the girl lifted their own wands to light the room.

      "That was a scream, right?" The blonde scanned her three roommates' faces who all responded with affirmative nods.

      "Who's screaming at this time of night?"

      "It didn't sound like they were doing it for fun, Tess." The blonde scolded her friend who had happily tucked herself back up in her bed.

       "Hey, I don't know what people are into."

       Before Dria could admonish her friend any further, the sound of sharp knock at their door caused her attention to falter.

       Sharing a quick look with Hettie, Dria hastily jumped from her bed — taking a quick minute to put on her slippers, upon feeling just how cold the stone floor was — and scurry over to the door.

         Wand still lifted to illuminate her surrounding, the blonde pulled open the door to see Heidi Wood standing there with an slanted expression on her face, as Alicia and Angelina stood by.

       "Hey!" Dria greeted with a weary smile as the brunette peered into the dormitory where the other three girls were beginning to climb out of bed.

        "You guys heard that too, right?" The Scottish girl asked, with a raised eyebrow. 

       "What's going on?" The blonde furrowed her brows in confusion, at which Heidi merely shrugged.

      Casting a glance along the corridor, Dria could begin to make out most of the Gryffindor girls step out of their dorms in alarm.

        "What happened?"

        "Are we sure this isn't this a fire drill?"

        "Tess!"

        "Sounded like it came from the boys." Angelina muttered, as the younger girls looked to the older blonde to guidance.

        Dria let out a small sigh, sparing a glance at Hettie who now stood beside her in the doorway and only responded with a tight-lipped smile.

       "SIRIUS BLACK!"

       Another startling cry pierced the quietness of the night, soon sending the majority of the girls lining the corridors into a panicked frenzy.

       "Okay, downstairs everyone, let's go!" Hettie stepped out into the corridor and waving her arms up, encouraging the younger girls to follow, which they did very speedily.

       Stepping back inside the dormitory very briefly, tucking her wand away, Dria pulled on her dressing gown and scooped Figaro up in her arms, before looking back over to Tess' bed, where her friend sat looking very unimpressed.

       "Tess, come on!"

        With an objectionable groan, the Robbins girl followed the blonde down the stone staircase into the common room with the rest of the Gryffindor girls.

        Dria's eyes quickly adjusted to the bright light of the common room, the lamps having automatically ignited to their fullest brightness upon sensing all the commotion.

       "What is going on?"

        "Who shouted?!"

         "Professor McGonagall told us to go to bed!"

        "Excellent! Are we carrying on?"

        "Everyone back upstairs!"

        The pair continued bustling through the panicked crowd until they found themselves bearing the centre of the room, where the culprit of the scream revealed itself.

       Ron Weasley looked positively shellshocked, an expression of fear written clear across his face as he pleaded with his older brother who was attempted to control the chaos.

        "Perce— Sirius Black. In our dormitory! With a knife! Woke me!"

        "Nonsense!" The Head Boy dismissed him.

        "You've had too much to eat, Ron."

        "I'm telling you—"

        The boy words descended into mumbled as Alita Byrnes through a comforting arm around his shoulder and offered him a sympathetic smile, while Percy continued shouting to the crowd.

        Slipping past him, Tess and Dria managed to settle themselves slightly away from the action, resting on the back of two arms chairs as they spectated the unfolding action — Figaro, still in the blonde's arms, had seemingly settled in her grip and also keenly watched the events around him with narrow eyes.

        The blonde hadn't quite processed what had happened exactly between her waking up to where she now stood in the Common Room. She was feeling a slight sense of panic but she reckoned that was probably the case for most of the students — apart from Tess who had rested her head on Dria's shoulder and was attempted to fall back asleep.

        Dria wondered for a moment why she hadn't felt more concerned but then again the seeming lack of imminent danger was probably a large factor — aside from Ron's apparent distress and claims, there was really nothing to fear.

        Scanning the crowd, the blonde wasn't exactly sure how the situation was going to be resolved, Percy was growing helplessly more and more red by the second and moral panic had evidently set in with the rest of the students. However, there was the sight of one person that provided her with a little more clarity.

      "Hey." Oliver called as he jogged over to the two girls, greeting the blonde a small kiss on the head, causing Tess wriggle away from her

       "Hi." She smiled, watching fondly as the Keeper reached out a hand and greeted Figaro with a scratch on the head.

       "You alright?" He asked the blonde, throwing an arm around her as she gave him a short nod in response.

       "Yeah, just a little drowsy."

       "Yeah, nasty wake up call, huh?"

       "You?" The blonde raised an eyebrow.

       "I'm fine." Oliver dismissed her concerns before nodding over towards the Weasley boy. "What do you reckon? Sirius Black?"

      "I mean he's done it before, hasn't he?" Dria muttered, pressing her lips together nervously. "Clearly the castle's security isn't exactly hard to breach."

       "You heard his scream, didn't you?" Oliver looked at her, eyes wide in an expression of disbelief.

       "Heard it?" Tess finally joined in their conversation from where she slouched on Dria's left — her consciousness suddenly returning to her. "It made me fall out of my bed!"

       Oliver let out a quiet snort of laughter. 

       "Alright, Tess?"

       "Nice pyjamas, Wood." The girl smirked, causing Dria to regard the boy beside her, who was standing talk in his tartan pyjama set.

        "Nice nose strip." He quickly retaliated, causing the Robbins girl's smirk to vanish.

        "Oh, for shit's sake!" She cursed, hands flying to her nose where her medical nose strip was stuck, before letting out a whine and beckoning for her friend's help. "Dria!"

         Quickly giving into her friend's demands, the blonde handed Figaro over to Oliver before turning around and beginning to slowly peel the nose strip of the bridge of Tess' nose, all the while girl let out small yelps of pain. 

         "Now, really, enough is enough!"

        Handing Tess back her nose strip, as her attention drifted to the brusque voice of Professor McGonagall who had just entered the common room, clearly having been awoken by all the disruption.

"I am delighted that Gryffindor won the match, but this is getting ridiculous!" The professor chastised the students, as she easily took control of the room, casting a glance towards the Head Boy. "Percy, I expected better of you."

       "I certainly didn't authorise this, Professor!" The red-head was quick to object. "I was just telling everyone to get back to bed. My brother, Ron had a nightmare—"

       "IT WASN'T A NIGHTMARE!"

       "Jesus Christ!" The blonde exclaimed, alarm flooding her at the boy's sudden outburst — a feeling that was shared by the majority of people around her who also started at the noise.

      "Well, now I'm awake!" Tess grumbled, at last straightening up from her slouched position and fixing the young boy with a glare.

       "PROFESSOR, I WOKE UP, AND SIRIUS BLACK WAS STANDING OVER ME! HOLDING A KNIFE!"

       "Don't be ridiculous, Mr Weasley, how could he possibly have gotten through the portrait hole?"

       "Ask him!"

       His face, as flushed as Dria had ever seen it, still bore a frightened expression as he pointed towards the portrait hanging above the fireplace where Sir Cadogan was happily brandishing his sword in attempt to impress the inhabitant of the picture he'd invaded.

       Professor McGonagall shot Ron a slightly disbelieving look before clearing her throat and turning her attention towards the Gryffindor Common Room guardian.

       "Sir Cadogan, did you let a man enter the Common Room just now?"

      "Certainly, good lady!"

       A sudden silence fell over the room, the answer of the guardian causing every occupant to falter from their muttering.

       "I knew that twat would be the end of us." The blonde groaned, pressing her hand to her eyes, trying wipe away what remained of her sleep.

      "Y—you did? But—but the passwords?"

      "He had them!" The knight replied, his Co confidence never wavering. "He had the whole weeks, read them off a little piece of paper."

       "Oh no."

       The silence that hung over the common room as Professor McGonagall turned back around to face the students gathered in the room, her face thunderous.

       "Which person— which abysmally foolish person write down the weeks passwords and left them lying around?"

        Dria pressed her lips together as she let out a small breath as her eyes fixed sympathetically on the young third-year who timidly rose his hand at her question:

       Neville Longbottom.

***

       WHILE DRIA HAD hoped that once Ron's story had been proved to be true, they would be able to return to their dormitories, she could not have been more wrong.

       After Neville had been given a very harsh dressing down in front of the rest of his housemates, Professor McGonagall had risen the alarm and they were informed that another search of the castle was to take place and that they would have to sit tight in the common room — under Percy's watchful eye — until it was deemed safe to return to their dorms.

       Thus followed perhaps the longest hour and a half, Dria had ever experienced.

       Once the hubbub had settled she had managed to find her brother and Kipper amid the crowd and check up on the boy, who had informed that he had been having a rather good night with regard to his recurring nightmares until Ron had disrupted his rest. Dria had remarked that it was well and truly sod's law.

The remainder of the time had been spent with Dria, Oliver, Tess and Figaro being curled up on one of the sofas exchanging small hmphs as they tried to fight away sleep.

The days following the incident in the common room had been fairly tense, Neville had become all but disgraced, having been forbade to write down anymore passwords, meaning on most occasions when Dria returned to the common room she would find the boy sat at the top of the stairs just waiting for someone to let him in.

Ron, on the other hand, had become something of an overnight celebrity, something which the blonde had gathered from his loud boasts in the Great Hall in the days following.

To her glee, the incident had finally convinced everyone of Sir Cadogan's incompetence and by the next morning, the Fat Lady had been restored to her post.

As February passed into the March, the weather began to warm over so slightly, although the final chills of winter still hung in the air despite the clocks going forward and the days getting longer.

Mock exams were well and truly over with results have been published only a week or two later. Dria had been rather satisfied with her results — she'd certainly put in enough hours of revision to deserve her marks — yet she refused to get complacent. There had been a few silly errors amid her Herbology paper and she knew that had Potions essay had a weak conclusion.

So in consequence, she was resolved to do better.

St Mungo's were notorious for being rather selective — most witches and wizards were lucky if their admittance wasn't deferred and it was considered very good form to be accepted on your first attempt. The blonde did worry she was maybe setting her hopes a little too high especially with what she had learned from her careers sessions. However, from conversations with Madam Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall, she found herself determine to beat the odds.

This explained why Dria had been spending most evenings since the mock results, either revising and delivering practice papers and also why whenever she wasn't doing that, she would be in the Hospital Wing, getting that all important hands on experience ... or more specifically, filing old medical charts.

"You're joking me?"

The sudden noise of a familiar voice startled Dria, causing her to look up from the desk at the entrance of the Hospital Wing — where she had been back-dating files from 1988 — only to meet the gaze of Oliver Wood, who was surveying her with a derisive chuckle.

"Well, hello to you too." She chuckled, setting the file down before quirking a brow. "What are you doing here? Don't tell me you've hurt yourself again."

As the Common Room break-in had happened on the night of Gryffindor's victory over Ravenclaw, in the weeks that had followed Dria knew that Oliver and the rest of the Gryffindor team had been intensively training in preparation for the final against Slytherin, scheduled for April.

And on this particular Sunday in March, the blonde knew that the Gryffindor Captain had spent his morning out on the pitch with the rest of his team. However, Oliver ignored her query regarding his health and instead let out a chuckle.

"I thought Penny was pulling my leg when she said you were here on a Sunday?"

"So?"

"Dria, come on. It's not raining, there's no homework." The boy shot her a look at which she pursed her lips in a small smirk. "Hogsmeade. Sunday roast. Let's go."

Dria cracked a small smile at the thought which a small of his own to break out across Oliver's face, however it quickly dropped as the girl let out a small groan.

"What?"

"I can't skive off." The blonde winced, as the Keeper folded his arms over his chest. "I'd be letting Madam Pomfrey down."

"I'm sure she can spare you for one afternoon."

"Oliver—"

"Dria, I will smack my head against this wall and give myself concussion if I need to."

The blonde let out an amused chuckle as he divulged his tactics in attempt to steal her away for the afternoon.

"Be my guest, it would only keep the both of us here longer."

Oliver narrowed his eyes as he levelled with her, Dria could see him thinking as he squared his jaw. Feeling fairly confident in her response, the girl merely narrowed her eyes back at him. However, before she could think up another smart quip, the boy began walking past her and towards the small office round the corner from her.

"Madam Pomfrey!"

"Oliver!"

Scrambling to her feet in pursuit, Dria was suddenly reminded at how quick the Keeper was able to walk, and immediately clenched her jaw in frustration as she spotted him, greeting the matron nonchalantly.

"Mr Wood." Madam Pomfrey replied, as Dria caught up to the boy, tugging his arm in attempt to drag him away from the woman.

"Hey." Oliver smiled, before nodding at the girl on his arm. "She doesn't need to be here, does she? It's a Sunday."

"Madam Pomfrey, I'm so sorry—"

"She deserves a break, don't you think?" Oliver cut her off, a smirk beginning to grow on his face as Dria fixed him with a sharp look.

"Madam Pomfrey, I promise I would not be here if I didn't want to be."

"Miss Lockaby, I am well aware of your enthusiasm." The matron was quick to dismiss the blonde concerns. "But Mr Wood is not wrong, it is the weekend, you don't need to be here."

Oliver let out a victorious laugh as he clapped his hands together, his smirk never fading as he looked on Dria.

"There you have it."

"Look, the more hours I put down on my application—"

"And how exactly have you been spending your morning?" The Gryffindor Captain cut her off again, arching a brow in curiosity at which the blonde faltered slightly.

"I've been ... filing."

Oliver made a light tsk sound before cocking his head and turning back to the matron.

"Madam Pomfrey?

Dria couldn't quite make out whether Madam Pomfrey was amused or completely unbothered by their interaction, but nonetheless she waved a hand in their direction.

"You may go."

A small groan escaped Dria at having to admit defeat, but the feeling slowly began to dissipate as Oliver threw an arm around her shoulder and began guiding her back around the corner with a wide smile on his face.

"Come on!" He cried, seizing her coat from the back of her chair, as they made their way out of the door. "We're getting a roast!"

"Urgh!"

***

       "THIS ROAST BETTER BE to die for."

         Oliver let out a loud laugh as he shut the door to the Three Broomsticks behind them, his hand in hers as they walked a few steps inside, before he pulled to stand opposite him and arched a brow at her.

      "Alright, come on now, misery-guts." He smiled. "You're honestly telling me that you'd rather be cooped up in the Hospital Wing?"

        Dria averted her gaze ti their conjoined hands before letting out a gentle sigh and rolling her eyes at the boy.

       "... No."

        The boy only continued to smile, offering no mention of an I-told-you-so, instead his eyes scanning the room before nudging her shoulder and nodding to an empty table across the room.

       "Fireplace?" He asked at which she fervently nodded.

       "Fireplace." She affirmed.

        The pair weaved their way through the busy pub, squeezing past fuller tables before reaching the small table next to the fireplace, shaking off their coats as they slid on the bench beside one another and let out a content sighs.

       "Happier now?"

       "Very much." The blonde offered him a sincere smile which he returned just as Madam Rosmerta arrived, having spotted them make their entrance.

        "Alright, you two, what'll it be?" The landlady smiled fondly on the couple, notepad in hand.

       "Butterbeer?" The blonde looked towards the Keeper who affirmed with an eager nod,

        "Oh, yeah."

       "Two Butterbeers, please." Dria turned back to Madam Rosmerta, who shot the girl a knowing wink before turning on her heel and leaving the pair be.

      "So why are you really in the Hospital Wing on a Sunday?" Oliver asked her, turning to face her a little more in his seat, resting his elbows on the tabletop.

       "I wasn't lying." The blonde shrugged, as she shuffled herself in an effort to make herself comfortable. "The more hours I have on my Mungo's application, the higher my chance of getting in."

       "Who told you that?" The Gryffindor Captain furrowed his eyebrows.

        "Well ... no one." The girl mustered, bashfully. "But it can't hurt to show some dedication."

       Oliver cracked a small smile at her words, pulling his gaze up from the floor to meet hers and he opened his hand that rested on the tabletop, beckoning to hold hers.

       "Dria, you realise you are a shoo-in for this programme, right?" He told her, as she slipped her hand into his and let out a nervous chuckle.

       "You don't know that." She replied, pulling her gaze from his. "They take people from all over and I'm sure people have done so much more than I have—"

       Bringing her gaze back up to meet his, and feeling the comforting sensation of him running his thumb along the back of her hand, caused her to let out a slow breath before continuing.

       "Look, just because my dad got it doesn't mean I will and I want to make sure that if I do get in it's on my own merit, you know."

      "And you're also worried that because your dad got in, you have to otherwise you'd be letting him down?" Oliver arched an eyebrow at which the blonde let out a humoured laugh.

       "See, you get it." She gave his hand a small squeeze. "But you know me, overthinking every little thing is part of my charm. Maybe I shouldn't go for this career if I'm so prone to stress?"

        It was now Oliver's turn to let out a laugh, shaking his head at the girl's words.

       "Dria, you'd find a way to stress about any career path you chose."

        "True."

        "But I think it just shows you care." He shuffled a little closer to her on the bench. "You were made to be a Healer. You're going to do great. Just please don't kill yourself over it. For your own sake."

        Dria let out a small sigh as he held her hand with his two before she placed her other hand on top of his and shot him on earnest look

        "Alright."

       "And for my sake, of course." He quickly added, a playful glint in his eye.

       The blonde quirked an eyebrows, awaiting an explanation as a small smile broke across her lips.

       "When you get into this programme—"

       "If—"

       "When!" He held up a hand, silencing her objections. "You're going to be ... what? Nine to five, Monday to Friday?"

        Dria almost snorted at his assumption, wincing a little as she corrected him.

       "Try an eighty hour week."

       "Fuck me." He shit her a horrified look. "That can't be legal."

       "That's saving lives."

       "Okay, well ... that only backs up my point more." The boy went on. "So if we have til, what? June? Then we leave school and you head off to your busy doctor life."

       "There'll be summer." She tried to reason with a small smile, a sudden sadness dawning on her at his words and the realisation that their time at school was rapidly approaching its end.

       "I know, I know." He chuckled, a slight sadness lacing his humour. "I just want to make the most of the time we have before St Mungo's steals you away from me."

        Dria pressed her lips together in a tight-lipped, giving his hand another squeeze where they sat interlinked upon the table top.

       "And what about when Puddlemere United steal you away from me?" She arched a brow with a small smirk.

       "How'd you know about that?" The Keeper's eyebrows furrowed momentarily. "Oh wait, of course—"

        "Tess." The couple chorused before descending into light chuckles.

       Tess had mentioned to her the evening prior how she had through one person or another that in his careers session, Professor McGonagall had told Oliver that some scouts from Puddlemere United would be attended the Quidditch final Gryffindor would be playing against Slytherin, meaning the chances of the Keeper getting the chance to play professionally had exponentially increased.

       "Why didn't you tell me?" The blonde cocked her head to the side at which Oliver only offered a small shrug.

       "I was going to." He spared her a smile. "McGonagall only told me yesterday. Tess tell you they're coming to final?"

       Dria gave a short nod, feeling her chest swell with a mixture of pride and excitement.

       "She really gave us the full low down, I don't know how she does it."

      "As if the pressure wasn't big enough." Oliver let out a chuckle in attempt to make the sudden nervousness that overwhelmed him.

       "So what's their deal then?" Dria attempted to distract from his nerves with questions as she caught his attentions, resting her head in her hand as her elbow rested against the table. "Say, they come and you impress them? What happens then?"

       "They scout me." He answered, shuffling in his seat, eyes not meeting here as they narrowed while he articulated his answers. "Probably for a reserve team or something. But if you want to play professionally that's the way to start."

       "Are there other teams coming?"

       "Yeah, yeah. I think some people from the Kestrels and Arrows might be coming." He nodded, before straightening up and clearing his throat. "Obviously it's not just me, they could always scout Flint."

       Dria let out a large scoff unsure as to whether the boy beside her was joking or not.

        "Bloody unlikely." She mused, pursing her lips at thought. "I know I don't know shit about Quidditch but there's no way he could ever play professionally — the way he plays just doesn't fly."

        She watched as a small smile crept onto the Keeper's lips and a soft chuckle left his lips as he brought his gaze back up to meet hers.

       "Huh, fly."

        A light laugh left Dria's laugh as she rolled her eyes at him, happy to see his humour return.

      "I should have known Quidditch related humour would have been a hit." She shook her head, as the boy shuffled next to her so they were shoulder to shoulder on the bench.

        "Two Butterbeers."

       The sound of Madam Rosmerta delivering their drinks caused Dria look away from the Keeper, a small blush dusting her cheeks as she shot a landlady a grateful smile — realising that they probably appeared to be the quintessential picture of teenage love. 

       "Oh, thank you." She said, her thanks following the lady as she stepped way from the table.

       "A toast?" Oliver arched a brow, reaching forward and wrapping his hand around the handle of his tankard.

       "Go on." Dria gave a light chuckle, sit up a little straighter, grabbing her own drink and lifting it from the tabletop. "To not failing our exams?"

       "To you getting into Mungo's." The boy sorted her a soft smile at which she rolled her eyes.

       "To you getting into Puddlemere United." She retorted, pursing her lips together in challenge.

      Oliver's shoulders shook in a gentle laugh as his eyes met hers and he let out a slow breath, before a small smirk spread across his lips.

       "To our first date." He prompted.

       The blonde pressed her lips together bashfully, her gaze momentarily drifting to the floor before his hand found herself again and she responded with a gentle nod, clinking her tankard with his.

        "I will drink to that."

𝖙𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖆 𝖘𝖕𝖊𝖆𝖐𝖘!
fifty chapters down!

& look at me keeping
my promises, who even
is she? crazy times

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