Speech Is Silver, but Silence Is Golden

It was a beautiful day. Warm. Fluffly clouds adorned the bright blue sky, never allowing the late afternoon summer-sun to become too hot. Birds were chirping in the trees, drifting playfully in the breeze which made the leaves rustle and grass flutter.

I listened to his voice, feeling sleepy and relaxed as he mumbled facts and sighed heavily more often than recounting dates. The movement of his chest, a gentle elevation closely followed by its retreat, was beginning to cradle me into sleep, the warmth of the first rays of the sun in this summer and the mild breeze brushing against my skin calming me down considerably, allowing me to forget the impending OWLs for a moment. My eyes were closed as I rested against his chest, his hands resting on my stomach while he leant against the trunk of an oak-tree a bit farther off from the path leading around the Great Lake.

"After Burdock Muldoon as Chief of the Wizards' Council, Elfrida Clagg: Outlawed hunting of the Golden Snidget and banned its use in Quidditch." He paused thinking about the next leader of the Wizards' Council, trying to remember his name. I only listened half-heartedly laughter from the direction of the lake disturbing the peace of being alone with Draco.

"Burdoon Mulock. The guy with anyone who could speak human language. And then again Elfrida Clagg who proposed anything with two legs. Both failed-"

I interrupted him sleepily, not even opening my eyes as I corrected his mistakes. "His name is Burdock Muldoon and he defined beings able to participate at governing the Wizarding World as anyone walking on two legs, Elfrida Clagg defining them later on as anyone able to speak the human language. Both failed, you're right. And then?" Questioning Draco proved to be slightly irritating since he didn't value academic knowledge as much as I did, his recitation of dates and important names rather sloppy his attention to finer detail nearly non-existing.

I couldn’t understand how he could not be intrigued by the workings of politics, the historical proposals concerning standings of creatures. Topics which even affected our daily lives today and still were not resolved. How could he not find it exciting that wizards tried to find solutions to the same problems we have now hundreds of years ago?

"International Confederation of Wizards with the Secrecy Statue and separation from the muggle world as prosecution of wizards became really threatening. And around that time the Ministry of Magic was founded and today still enforces the statue." His synopsis of the events was not incorrect but neither very profound, yet I let it slide, knowing he was satisfied with his knowledge about the history of the Ministry of Magic and thought it would suffice for exams.

My eyes flickered open as the warmth of the sun suddenly vanished, a shadow creeping over me. It was startling as the change of lighting when clouds went past the sun was slower, yet this had been sudden and was over as quickly as it had come. I blinked as the light returned, now blinding me, and caught sight of a single student simply passing by, dragging his feet through the grass, leaving a distinctive trail.

I ran my right hand through my hair and sat up a bit straighter, before letting the hand rest on Draco’s thigh. Still blinking to accustom to the bright light, my eyes fell on the colourful, hackneyed brochures on my lap, resting on top of the black skirt. Sighing, I grabbed them with my left, which was still bandaged though the wound had been healed by Madam Pomfrey, and threw a look at the first one, though I probably had memorized them all already. Training Security Trolls. I snorted dismissively as always, startling Draco who had begun to doze off, his eyes closed, his grip around me loosening.

"What're you doing?" he mumbled half-heartedly, his voice weak and muffled.

"Reading the careers pamphlets." Twisting my head to look at him, I saw how he opened one eye, fixing the colourful pamphlets with a doubting glance before shaking his head minimalistically and closing his eye again, leaning against the trunk.

"That's quite a waste of time. Again." he said or sighed, his hands sliding further upwards on the grey sweater covering the white blouse I was wearing. I felt his thumbs grazing my bra but didn't complain or try to make him stop. There was no one around who could see us at the moment and his touch wasn’t entirely unpleasant.

"What do you mean? You already know what you're going to do when you leave school?" I asked him instead, my words clearing sounding slightly accusing after having remained silent before. I had heard his complaints about my continuous lecture already today, but we had never really talked about what we would do after school. I figured he didn’t know yet as most of the students, most of all as me. My left eyebrow was raised doubtingly and I shuffled the brochures as if they were cards, quickly reading the headlines on each of them, intent on changing that sobering thought.

Muggle Relations. My second eyebrow shot up at the orange and pink coloured paper. Healer at St. Mungos. My eyes followed the emblem of St. Mungos, a bone and wand crossed, and then wandered across the requirements. E' NEWTs in Potions, Herbology, Transfiguration, Charms and Defense against the Dark Arts.

"Ministry of Magic." I looked up from the pamphlet, turning my head but only catching a glimpse of his jaw. Blinking a few times, I tried to imagine Draco working in the Ministry of Magic, but I had a hard time as it was such a boring job, so unspectacular and unfitting for him. He could do anything he wanted and I had always thought he would want to do something adventurous, though not necessarily dangerous. His father's connections surely would help him find his place though and rising in the ranks would be quite quick for him.

"Really? Trying to become the new Minister of Magic?" I asked him mockingly, a smile tugging hard on my lips as my eyes fell on another brochure. I ignored his hands which began to slide to my waist, his thumbs caressing the skin there.

Curse-breaker. Quickly skipping the text to the requirements I listened distractedly to his haughty words.

"No. I prefer pulling the strings from afar."

I looked up at that, forgetting about the job pamphlet for a moment. “You do, don’t you?” I nearly laughed, grinning broadly at his carefree smirk. His eyes were still closed and he gently pulled me back against him. I let him and rested my head on his shoulder, closing my eyes while I grabbed one of his hands, intertwining our fingers.

But the peace didn’t last long, his stomach grumbling contentlessly. I opened one eye while he decided to state the obvious.

“I’m hungry.” Sighing inaudibly, I let go of his hand, grabbed the pamphlets while suppressing a yawn, and rose to my feet. He looked at me, one eye narrowed as he had to look against the sun, his white teeth exposed as his upper lip was raised.

“Come on then.” I grabbed my cloak while he got up and quickly checking if my wand was still there, before remembering something. While he picked up his own cloak, carelessly throwing it over his shoulder, not wasting a single thought on his wand, I fumbled around with the fabric until my fingers brushed against sharp metal. I grabbed the item and pulled it out, before catching up with him. He deliberately had walked slowly, patiently waiting for me.

I held the item out to him we walked towards the castle. It glittered in the sunlight as he took it from me, inspecting it closer. “You remember?” I said with a smile, watching him closely as he read the inscription. ‘Weasley is our King.’

“You gave it to me. It was the first time you spoke to me.” He looked at me then and nodded, his forehead set in soft wrinkles, giving him a quizzical look. Apparently he was wondering why I was telling him that.

“You told me you liked me, because I was silent.” I added and he nodded again, before speaking up, sounding s if he was lost in thought.

“Yeah.” He breathed, before asking, curiosity lacking from his tone. “Where’d you find it?” He handed the silver pin back to me, before pushing his hands in his pockets, climbing the few stairs leading to the entrance hall.

“It was still in my cloak. It jabbed me when I was... you know.” I trailed off as his jaw set and he stared ahead. He still hadn’t been told anything and though he tried to not let it bother him, we had come close to fighting often those last few days.

We walked to the already emptying house table in silence and sat down. Though it was quite early for dinner, it wasn’t surprising to see that most fifth years were absent. During the past few days the obsession of rehearsing had at least doubled. No fifth year was seen without a book or notes ready at hand. Most of them were mumbling spells and facts, ingredients and charms under their breaths trying to memorize them. Strangely I had not felt the desire to do so constantly, probably because Draco was prepared much worse than me and wasn’t even the slightest bit concerned about it.

I put the cloak down beside me, the black material carefully folded, while Draco simply flung his across the bench, not even caring that it was resting halfway on the floor, gathering dust and dirt.

He had already begun to eat when I started to put potatoes on my otherwise empty plate. Sighing, I put the bowl down and flinched when a loud clinking was heard in the hall. Nearly every head snapped towards the origin of the sound.

My eyes narrowed as I saw it. Hermoine Granger had dropped her fork, her eyes widened and directed at the entrance hall. Potter and Weasley’s heads snapped around after a moment, both of them mirroring her expression. I followed her line of sight, snorting slightly in contempt at her agitation, trying to figure out what had caused it. I didn’t have to search for long.

There in the entrance hall stood Umbridge with a group of ancient-looking witches and wizards. She looked nervous, shifting her weight on her feet, her eyes flickering from person to person, keen on reading their reactions. The wizards and witches did not seem too pleased to see her though.

I raised one brow as the Golden Three left the hall, passing the group suspiciously slowly, doubtlessly to take a closer look and eavesdrop, all the while wondering who these people were, though I had a certain suspicion.

Turning to Draco, I realized that he had been looking as well, but had already lost interest. He had picked up his fork again and was about to continue eating.

“Are those the examiners?” I asked him and he looked at me, holding my gaze for a moment, before it slid past me towards the entrance hall. A loud and impatient voice carried into the Great Hall which grew quiet instantly.

“Journey was fine, journey as fine, we’ve made it plenty of times before!”

He then nodded, his eyes back on mine again. “The one speaking is Griselda Marchbanks.”

I turned around at that, looking at the woman standing only a foot away from Umbridge. She was tiny, smaller even than Umbridge, her face so lined it looked as though it had been draped in cobwebs. And figuring from her habit to speak loudly, she was a little deaf.

“Now, I haven’t heard from Dumbledore lately!” She more or less yelled, throwing a searching look into the Hall as though she thought he would suddenly emerge from a broom closet, her eyebrows already furrowed and her forehead set in deep wrinkles, showing the contempt she held for Umbridge more clearly than she was probably aware of.

“No idea where he is, I suppose?” She added and I caught a glimpse of the Golden Three, still lingering in front of the stairs to witness the scene.

“None at all.” Umbridge said stuck up and with so much self-righteousness I could nearly feel her loathing of the rightful headmaster. Even the malevolent look she shot Potter and his friends didn’t manage to appease me.

“But I daresay the Ministry of Magic will track him down soon enough.” My eyebrows shot up at that and I bit back a grin as Griselda Marchbanks voiced my thoughts very loudly.

“I doubt it. Not if Dumbledore doesn’t want to be found!” Her eyes became glossy as she stared into the Great Hall, remembering the scene vividly in front of her eyes. “I should know... Examined him personally in Transfiguration and Charms when he did NEWTs. Did things with a wand I’d never seen before.”

I wasn’t really surprised to hear that but couldn’t help but feel impressed even more with Professor Dumbledore. Even at such a young age he had already been outstanding.

“Yes... well...” My eyebrows rose even farther up my forehead when I heard Umbridge stuttering, though it was unlikely she did so from astonishment. “Let me show you the staff room. I daresay you’d like a cup of tea after your journey.” And with that she ushered the wizards and witches out of the Entrance Hall, away from prying eyes and ears.

I turned back towards my food, noticing that Draco threw me a questioning look. Smiling at him lightly, I turned to my food, popping a piece of potato in my mouth. While I was chewing, my thoughts went rampage. And so I had barely swallowed, before I asked him a question.

“So you know Griselda Marchbanks?” Draco looked at me, his mouth stuffed full with food and it took a while before he could elaborate on his nod.

“Yea. Had her around for dinner a few times.”

“What she talk about?” I inquired, fork already halfway to my mouth again, another piece of potato on it. He shrugged his shoulders, his gaze directed at his plate as he cut the steak.

“Boring stuff. Some people, high ranking in the Ministry I guess. And Durmstrang came up a few times. Though Marchbanks didn’t seem to like it. Said any institution which teaches the Dark Arts isn’t to be trusted.”

I nodded lightly and stared at my bandaged hand while playing around with my fork. Surprisingly it was him who broke the silence.

“Didn’t seem too pleased, huh?”

“Unsurprisingly not.” I responded dryly, poking the potatoes with my fork lazily, wincing when the metal pressed against my palm. The cut was still tender. Draco didn’t notice any of that, lost in thought.

“I wonder if their loyalty towards Dumbledore is a good thing for us.” He said then, causing me to furrow my brows.

“I don’t believe their loyalties affect the way they treat us, for they believe we are easily manipulated, not really able to pick sides.” He looked at me for a long time, his eyes not darting around as I expected them to. This time he was truly thinking about my words, contemplating their meaning and the slightly sour undertone I hadn’t been able to hide.

“You do not agree.” He said slowly after a while. I nodded, my eyes flickering between both of his grey ones. They were so open I could nearly see his mind working, thoughts developing before dissolving again.

“I don’t. I believe I picked sides in this fight for power and I also believe that I can support Professor Dumbledore.”

“Support him?” Draco blurted, a belittling and unbelieving expression in place before he could control it. Clearly he did not share my opinion. Perhaps he could not see himself doing anything for either of those sides yet, though he already was.

“Yes, support him.” I stated calmly, but he interrupted nearly not letting me finish those three words.

“How?” His incredulity began to anger me.

“I don’t know! For starters I don’t bust people for going against that old hag!” I snarled at him and he narrowed his eyes. His jaw muscles twitched as he was about to say something, but decided against it, turning to his food again.

But this time I wasn’t about to give in either, feeling I was right. My anger over his Inquisitorial adventure still hadn’t subsided. And so we ate in uncomfortable silence.