𝘁𝗶𝗰𝗸 𝘁𝗼𝗰𝗸, harry potter

˗ˋ 155

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED
AND FIFTY FIVE
✧
-: fifth year :-

── IN WHICH AVIANA AND
HARRY ARE INTERROGATED

. . .

"The Potter boy...  and his girlfriend, to see you, ma'am." Filch announced, having rapped thrice upon the woman's door. Aviana had to stop herself, forcibly, from kicking the caretaker in the ankles as she passed through the door.

Umbridge's office had not changed much since her and Harry's shared detentions, nor since she      had been hauled in there with Malfoy after their duel. It remained grotesquely pink, walls covered with plates of moving cats, rearranged to hide the missing gaps. Newly, though, was the large wooden block almost spanning the width of her desk, labelled in gold lettering; Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic,  Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. She couldn't fit anymore of her titles on there if she tried. 

And it seemed, knowing that Harry was going to be there, she had placed his Firebolt, and the twins' Cleansweeps behind her desk, padlocked to a stout iron peg in the wall. Umbridge, despite the fact that Filch had announced their presence and ushered them in, was still scribbling busily upon her pink parchment. Filch hovered in the door way, and it was that which forced her to look up. 

"Thank you, Argus." Umbridge said sweetly. 

"Not at all, ma'am, not at all." Filch replied, bowing as low as his rheumatism would permit, and exited backwards, Aviana still glaring at him, now oddly concerned. Umbridge seemed to have promised Filch the return of corporal punishment to employ him as her lackey, but certainly the man couldn't be so utterly stupid to think that would actually be allowed to happen?

 "Sit." Umbridge ordered, pointing at the two chairs before her desk. Aviana glanced at Harry, before they took a seat, watching as the woman continued to scribble for a few moments. Finally, she put down her quill. "Well now, what would you like to drink?" She asked, looking amazingly like a toad about to swallow a particularly juicy fly. 

"What?" Harry blinked. 

"To drink, Mr Potter." Aviana glanced at the woman, looking similarly confused. "What would you like to drink? Tea? Coffee? Pumpkin juice? Miss Rosier, would you prefer cherry juice?" With each differing offer, she waved her stubby fingers  and a mug or glass of it appeared upon her drink. 

"Nothing, thanks." Aviana replied.

"Yeah, I'm okay for a drink, thank you." Harry added on. He glanced at the girl beside him, her hand was resting over the pocket of her robes, the indent of her wand curled beneath the tips of her fingers. 

"I wish for you both to have a drink with me." Umbridge replied, her voice becoming more sweet, dangerously so. "Choose one." She ordered.

"Fine... Tea?" Harry offered, glancing at Aviana who nodded in agreement. "Yeah, tea, then." 

Umbridge got up from her desk, and made quite a performance of adding milk with her back to them. She then bustled around the desk with it, smiling in a sinisterly sweet fashion. "There we go." She said, placing a cup in front of both of them. "Drink it before it gets cold, won't you?"