The problem with being a mystery is that people invariably try to solve you.
For Orion, this meant that his peaceful transition into November was marred by two distinct annoyances: the persistent failure of the Avis spell (resulting in a classroom that smelled faintly of smoked and charred feathers), and the bumbling surveillance efforts of Harry Potter and Ron Weasley.
It was becoming a routine. Orion would leave the Dungeons; Potter would "coincidentally" appear at the top of the stairs. Orion would go to the library; Weasley would be browsing the 'Poisonous Fungi' section three rows over, holding a book upside down. It was less espionage and more like being stalked by a pair of confused ducklings.
"It is insulting," Orion complained to Blaise Zabini one afternoon as they navigated the crowded corridor toward the library. "If I were a Dark Lord, I would have killed them by now out of sheer annoyance at their incompetence."
Blaise adjusted the strap of his dragon-leather bag, looking effortlessly cool. "Maybe they admire your robes, Orion. You do wear green very well."
Daphne Greengrass, walking on Orion's other side, rolled her eyes. "Or they suspect you of hiding the missing Defense teacher in your trunk. Gryffindor logic."
Tracey Davis giggled. "Orion the Kidnapper. It has a ring to it."
They rounded a corner near the Charms corridor, and Orion nearly walked into a familiar head of bubblegum-pink hair.
"Whoa! Watch the books, there!"
Nymphadora Tonks steadied herself, a pile of parchment in her arms narrowly avoiding a spill. She looked up, ready to crack a joke, but paused when she saw who it was.
"Orion," Tonks said, surprised.
Orion stepped back, smoothing his robes. "Tonks. Avoiding obstacles as gracefully as ever, I see."
The Slytherins beside him bristled slightly—inter-house fraternization in the corridors was usually guarded—but Tonks ignored them. She adjusted her grip on her books, her expression shifting from surprise to something more serious.
"Heading to the library?" she asked, glancing at their load.
"Academic pursuits wait for no one," Orion nodded politely. "Unlike trolls."
Tonks winced slightly. "Yeah... about that. I heard the rumors. Hufflepuff badger-vine, hearing things from the one and only information-broker Hagrid, says you were in the thick of it on Halloween. They say you fought it off with... fireworks?"
Orion maintained his mask of calm modesty. "Rumors have a way of inflating reality, cousin. Professor Flitwick was the one who handled the beast. I merely provided... illumination. A few sparks to clear the air."
"Right," Tonks said, clearly skeptical. She hesitated, shifting her weight from foot to foot. Her hair turned a slightly more subdued shade of violet.
"Listen," she said abruptly, "I... wanted to say something. About the other week."
Orion waited, expression neutral.
"I was a bit of a git," Tonks admitted, rubbing the back of her neck. "With the whole 'you're a Malfoy, therefore you're evil' thing. Mum would have clipped me round the ear if she heard me. It wasn't fair to project your dad's baggage onto you, especially when you're just a first year trying to introduce yourself."
Orion's gaze softened just a fraction. An apology? From a teenager? In this economy?
"It is fine, Tonks," Orion said gently. "Prejudice is a learned behavior. And admittedly, my father and brother do very little to dispel the stereotypes. Draco is currently trying to trademark the sneer."
Tonks snorted a laugh. "Yeah, he's a piece of work. But... anyway. Sorry. Friends?"
She stuck out a hand, shifting her books dangerously.
Orion looked at the hand, then shook it firmly. "Truce. Holding onto grudges takes far too much energy. I prefer to use mine for... more productive things."
"Like conjuring fireworks?" Tonks smirked.
"Something like that."
"Well," Orion stepped back. "We really should be going. Snape has assigned an essay on moonstone properties that is bordering on sadistic."
"Tell me about it. Sprout has us re-potting several dangerous plants I won't even name," Tonks grimaced. "Alright, see you around, Orion."
She made to step past them, but paused. Her gaze drifted past Orion's shoulder, down the corridor. Her eyebrows shot up into her bright hair.
"Uh... Orion?"
"Yes?"
"Is there a reason you have a fan club?" She nodded toward the corner.
Orion turned slowly. Blaise, Daphne, and Tracey turned with him.
There, badly concealed behind a suit of armor about twenty feet away, were Harry and Ron. They were standing unnaturally close together, intently inspecting the metal plating of the armor's leg, whispering furiously out of the sides of their mouths.
"They've been there since the staircase," Daphne murmured.
"Relentless," Blaise chuckled. "Admirable dedication, really."
Orion felt a tick mark throb on his temple. Enough was enough. The spying. The whispering. The constant hovering. It was exhausting.
He looked around. The corridor was busy. Ravenclaws, Hufflepuffs, and even a few Gryffindors were passing by. It was a public stage.
"Time for a strategic detonation," Orion whispered to his friends.
He sighed. It was a loud, dramatic, theatrical sigh that echoed off the stone walls. He pinched the bridge of his nose, looking like a weary celebrity hounded by paparazzi.
"You know," Orion announced, pitching his voice to carry perfectly down the hall. "I am aware that popularity is a burden we Malfoys must bear. But this... this is becoming excessive."
Harry and Ron froze. Ron looked like he wanted to merge with the armor. Harry looked like he wished he was anywhere but here.
"Honestly," Orion continued, shaking his head tragically. "If it were witches following me, perhaps asking for an autograph or a date to Hogsmeade in two years... I might be flattered. I have an ego, after all."
A few older Ravenclaw girls stopped walking, listening in amusement.
"But having two boys follow me around everywhere?" Orion shuddered theatrically. "Waiting outside my classes? Watching me eat? Staring at me in the library? It is... disconcerting. Creepy, even."
Harry's face turned the color of a tomato. Ron's ears matched his hair.
"It sends a confusing message, gentlemen!" Orion called out directly to them now. "Now, please understand, I am a modern wizard. I hold absolutely nothing against same-gender romantic pursuits. Love is love, as they say! It takes courage to pursue your heart's desire!"
Tracey Davis had to bury her face in her hands to stifle a squeal of laughter. Even Daphne's icy composure cracked into a grin.
"However!" Orion declared, placing a hand over his heart. "You should know, for the sake of your own broken hearts... that I am regrettably, hopelessly straight. I like girls. Exclusively."
The corridor erupted in giggles. Several students stopped openly to watch the show.
"So please," Orion finished, gesturing to the mortified Gryffindors. "Stop the pining. There is no hope for love here. You are just hurting yourselves. Move on! Find someone available! Perhaps... Longbottom?"
It was the final nail.
Ron Weasley made a sound like a strangling cat. "We weren't—I didn't—bloody hell!"
Harry didn't even speak. He just grabbed Ron's arm and bolted. They sprinted down the corridor, weaving through the laughing crowd, their faces burning with a shame that would likely fuel nightmares for decades.
Orion watched them go, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips.
"That," Orion said, turning back to his group, "should buy us at least a week of privacy."
Blaise was shaking with silent laughter. "You destroyed them. socially nuked. Potter won't be able to look at you without questioning his own motives for a month."
"Brutal," Daphne approved. "Absolutely brutal."
Tonks was leaning against the wall, grinning broadly. "Okay. I take it back. You aren't evil. You're just dangerous. Remind me never to stalk you."
"A wise policy," Orion agreed. "Shall we? The library awaits."
They continued their walk, the sound of laughter echoing behind them. Orion felt a lightness in his step. The leeches were gone, at least for now.
But as he walked, a familiar sound chimed in his head.
[ ACHIEVEMENT UNLOCKED! ]
Tier: 1 (Basic)
Name: The Accidental Heartbreaker
Description: You weaponized toxic masculinity and progressive acceptance simultaneously to shame the Chosen One into retreating. By accusing your stalkers of having a crush on you, you have inflicted maximum psychic damage. Harry Potter is currently hiding in a broom closet wondering if his obsession with you is, in fact, suspicious.
Reward: 1x Pack of Valentine Chocolates. (To deal with Heartbreaks)
Orion smirked. "That sounds like something Potter would require. Oh well, I will enjoy them in his place. Keep it in the inventory for now."