Apples and Snakes

Fire is Catching

Come, sit down, Miss Potter," Umbridge said a bit too sweetly. I nodded, already slightly disturbed by the saccharine crap that was everywhere. It was uncanny, and it already seemed to reek of overcompensation.

I sat at the desk she told me to, and bustled to get my parchment.

"No, I've got some, sweet. And you'll be using a special quill of mine," Umbridge said.

I slowly put them away, and took the sheet of parchment and the blood-red quill.

"Is there any ink?" I asked.

She turned her back to me. "Just begin your lines- I want you to write 'I must not tell lies' and I shall tell you when you've written enough."

Oh. I guess it's self-inking or something.

I began writing I must not tell lies, when I felt something in my hand, the searing pain of getting cut open. I looked, and saw the words on my hand.

I looked up at that toad, and saw a sadistic expression on her face.

"You're making me cut open my own hand!" I cried as I leapt to my feet. "What's wrong with you?"

"Sit down, Miss Potter, unless you'd like a third detention?" Umbridge said with a smirk.

"We're playing this game, are we? Fine!" I snapped, and I sat down, and wrote the words as many times as I could, despite the pain. Pain is a long-time friend, isn't it?

The hours still dredged on slowly, and my hand really had hurt after the end of it, when Umbridge finally let me go off.

"You've got one more tomorrow," she said nastily. I shot a glare right back, and grabbed my bag, swung it over my shoulder, and slammed the door shut behind me as I started towards the Slytherin common room. I had work to do.

The first person I saw lurking closer and closer in the halls was Ky Emrys. I slowly drew my wand. This wasn't just a chance meeting, if I knew anything about fate and destiny.

"Alice," he said, with a slight nod.

"Emrys," I said coldly.

"Oh, and I thought we were on a first-name basis," he said with a slight laughter pitch.

I gripped my wand tighter, when some blood splatted onto the floor. This caught his attention.

"Something wrong, princess?" He asked, still serious.

I scowled. "Don't call me that!"

Still, he ignored me, and in a swooping position, lifted my hand, and then eyed me. "Why would you do this to yourself?"

"I didn't, Umbridge made me with her bloody quill," I said, as I tried to yank my hand away. "Besides, why do you care?"

He held tight, though. "Because I might not want you to fall apart," he said.

What does he really want? He's the enemy... But you know what he's thinking, feeling. Voldemort's influence.

"Well, I'll be perfectly fine in a bit, so thank you for your concern," I said coldly.

"You always were stubborn, princess," he said, with a chuckle.

"I wish you wouldn't call me that. We're not even on the same side," I said.

"Are we?" He chuckled.

"The fact that I ran off should say something, or did you forget about that?" I retorted.