Monsoon Wings

Olivia was humming silently as she put a second layer of socks. It was Saturday morning, a typical snowy one, and a Hogsmead visit day. She was the first one to wake up in the dormitory. Though so, a second after she stood up from her bed, a loud shriek came from Juno Emily.

‘What? Are you okay?’ Olivia asked, brushing her rich brown hair. Juno had just fallen off her bed, disheveled and tousle-haired, tangled in her bed sheets. Klutzy move of the day.

‘What happened?’

‘What time is it?’ groaned the other girls, shielding their eyes sleepily from the morning emission created by the sun. The snow eventually made everything even shinier.

‘I-I just had a dream,’ Juno said, climbing back onto her bed. But she figured out it was nearly time to get ready, so instead she stood up again and looked at her scruffy look in the mirror.

‘And what type of dream is that?’ Hermione asked, grabbing a towel. ‘That Draco Malfoy told you to pay his bills in today’s Hogmead shopping?’ This sent the rest laughing croakily.

Juno smiled bleakly. The true answer was a yes.

Yes, at least that was what that monkey-brain had told her the other day.

‘You are going with me to the Yule Ball,’ he had said plainly, with that typical evil smile in his face.

‘WHAT?’

‘Yes. Scream till the roof fall off, it won’t matter. You will still go with me. And because you are the shabbiest, stupidest, old-fashioned ape in this whole school, we will go shopping for good gowns this Saturday. And you will be paying.’

Can you actually believe that? Juno screamed inside, as she put on her jacket and climbed out the portrait of the Fat Lady. Her feet willingly directed herself to the accustomed junction where she was asked to wait for Draco every morning for the last 3 months, carrying his bag and serving him during breakfast.

That morning, Juno actually received an owl from her father. It was an old dirty unfocused barn owl, screeching so loud like a terrified rat, soaring around the Gryffindor table at first, then forwarding to the Slytherin table and dropping the letter right into Draco Malfoy’s porridge.

‘HEY!’ he yelled angrily and stubbornly, dropping his spoon hardly. ‘I will not tolerate crazy cheap owls flying loose and dropping shit into my food!’

He glared at Juno, and Juno glared back.

‘What?! It’s a letter from my father! And I’m not the trainer of that owl! That owl doesn’t even belong to me!’

‘You mean that’s a stupid stray owl?!’ Draco yelled out.

‘Ssssshhhhhtttt!’ hushed nearby students. Both of them had noticeably created another racket in the morning, something which has become part of the daily schedule. Even the teachers did not fail to notice. Dumbledore was actually smiling to himself, while McGonagall kept looking stony-faced.

After breakfast, the students proceeded to the front door, steam rising from their mouths when they speak in the blanket of coldness. Draco and Juno had just left the gates when a shrill voice called from behind. It was Pansy Parkinson.

‘Drakie! Oh, Drakie! I am wondering if we can meet and talk at Madame Pudifoot’s at eleven?’ she blabbed.

‘Why?’

‘I have something to—ehm, to say,’ she said, noticing Juno, standing small behind Draco. ‘You’re spending this visit with her?’

‘You can join, if you want to,’ Draco shrugged.

‘No, thanks. I have some—er—up-to-the-minute business to do,’ she excused herself, sneering, and stalked away, throwing back her hair.

Both of them proceeded themselves to Grylock’s Famous Gowns, a magical retailer whose shop is located far away from Zonko’s and only visited by really rich people. The shop was a small, petite, pinky, nice building with not a single speck of dust. It was a small shop, but a single merchandise costs more than a hundred normal robes joined together.

‘Can’t we go to somewhere—er –cheaper? I haven’t got that much money,’ Juno grumbled all the way. She had started to panic when they entered the pinky glass doors. Draco didn’t respond. They walked slowly around the shop, looking at the gowns available for sale.

Mr Grylock, the owner, was a stuffy old gentleman who showed great respect to Draco Malfoy.

‘Ah! Young master Malfoy. Come, come and take a look at some of our new items—‘ he greeted, bowing, then noticing Juno, hands in her pockets, looking like a servant of Draco Malfoy. Mr Grylock ushered them to a spot and showed them a very beautiful black dress.

Juno glanced at the tag and gulped. 900 Galleons.

She couldn’t pay, she knew it. Beautiful clothes always have beautiful prices.

The disaster was, Draco was really attracted to that gown.

‘I’ve got some good gowns as well. I don’t think we’ll need to buy,’ Juno said.

‘You mean you. You need to buy. But yeah, let’s get back,’ Draco said, handing the dress back to Mr Grylock, who was busy bowing all the time, even after Draco and Juno had left.

‘Can you tell me something?’ Juno said after they have left the shop quite a distance. ‘Why do you bring me to buy gowns when we didn’t end up buying?’

‘What time is it?’ he asked stubbornly, ignoring Juno. ‘Is it almost eleven?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Madame Pudifoot’s,’ Draco said without any expression. ‘And you shall wait in the front doorstep while I have my talk.’

‘WHAT?’

‘Take this and buy yourself some candy to stuff your mouth,’ he glared, shoving her some Sickles, then walked faster on his own, leaving Juno shouting behind. ‘Remember, you must be there after I finish!’ he shouted, closing the conversation.

Pansy was already there when he arrived. He sat down across of her and ordered two Butterbeers. Beside their table, Cho Chang and Cedric Diggory were holding hands.

‘What is it you want to say?’ Draco said, tapping the table with his knuckle. It was quite warm inside, but he was still shivering.

‘Are you coming to the Ball with that slave of yours?’ Pansy said, barely touching her Butterbeer.

‘Uh-huh.’

‘You don’t like her, do you?’

‘What?’

‘Juno Emily. Do you like her?’

‘No. Can’t you see the way she always pisses me off? Anyway, look at her. Well, she’s not exactly ugly, but she’s not pretty as well. She never wears any make-up. I bet she can’t even walk on heels. Ask her about the latest fashion and she won’t know a single thing. She never curls her hair, she never throw them off her shoulder like—’ Draco had wanted to say “like Olivia does”, but caught himself in time and shut his lips.

‘But there must be some part of her which you like,’ Pansy insisted. Draco looked around the café, all full with couples. His eyes wandered outside the window and didn’t see Juno. Oh, that traditional woman is buying some candies.

‘No. There’s not a single thing I like from old fuddy-duddies like her. Is that enough?’ Draco replied, starting to get annoyed. That’s not true, anyway. Sure, he liked something from Juno. He liked her perseverance, her hard-working character, and her insistence. Maybe it was a bit impossible for him to know all these, but the way Juno always study, and the way she keeps attention in class, her face when they study together in the Slytherin common room, had given enough impression of these traits in herself. Sometimes Draco always order her to write this and that essay for him, then later transferring it into his own handwriting magically, and she didn’t seem to complain a lot.

Why, Juno? He asked. Why you never complain? Why you never got angry every Potions practical, since you are the one doing it, and me only ordering you? Why you never complain when we share the marks, though you did all the work?

And, shit. The threathening letter she got. She never shrieks hysterically like what Olivia would have done. Juno was cool and brave. Olivia was a beautiful, fragile jasmine, while Juno was a hard, tough lily.

Maybe because of this, he enjoyed her company. He was intrigued by how strong and simple she was.

He took a small sip of Butterbeer. It was warm and comforting, so he sipped some more.

‘Then why do you let her around you all the time?’ Pansy wasn’t done asking.

‘Because, I enjoy ordering people. I love it when people are helpless under my soles,’ he said, standing up. ‘You are wasting my time. I thought you had called me for something useful. Bye.’

‘You should be ashamed. If you are going with her to the Ball, at least you shall make sure she fits,’ Pansy sneered coldly.

‘Don’t worry,’ he said, walking away. ‘I will!’