𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

𝟐.𝟗 - 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐚 𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐞𝐲𝐞

 For the next few weeks, you considered your life to be a living Hell. After Draco ran his mouth about the detention incident to his father, Umbridge made it her personal goal to make you suffer the most out of any other student at Hogwarts.

 In her class one morning, you whispered to Pansy and asked to borrow one of her quills after the tip of yours snapped off. Before she could respond, Umbridge was standing over your desk. "Detention, Ms. Firethorn. There will be no side-conversations in my classroom," she said with a satisfied snicker.

 After lunch that same day, you and Ron were walking down the corridor together, arguing loudly about Quidditch. You had raised your voice jokingly when calling Viktor Krum (his favorite Quidditch player) an overrated half-way decent athlete, just because you knew it would piss him off. Unfortunately for you, a certain pink-oriented Professor had been standing just around the bend. 

 Both you and Ron jumped back in surprise when you rounded the corner and she was standing there at the ready. "Detention, Ms. Firethorn. Vulgar language in the presence of a teacher is strictly frowned upon."

It only started getting on your nerves after the incident that occured just yesterday. At breakfast, you and Pansy had been studying for your OWLs when you accidentally spilled hot pumpkin juice down your lap. While Pansy snorted, you cussed under your breath and attempted to wipe it away with a cloth napkin. You didn't even get the napkin to your chest when you heard a peppy voice clear their throat behind you. You closed your eyes and groaned as Umbridge spoke.

 "Detention again, Ms. Firethorn. What have I told you about that vulgar mouth of yours?"

By the end of the month, the phrase 'I must not speak out of turn' had been just as engraved in your memory as it was in the skin of your palm.

 After each one of these encounters, you would receive a letter from your parents. They were concerned about your behavior, going as far as to assume that you were acting out because of what happened over the summer. Father even took time out of his busy schedule to write you a short note. 

 "From what we have seen in the paper," it read. "Professor Umbridge seems like a justly woman. You would do well to listen to her rules."

It was that letter that sent you over the edge. You prayed for anyone who caught you wreaking havoc on that poor piece of parchment in the Slytherin common room that night.

You were sitting cross-legged on a plush purple pillow in the Divination classroom, staring into the cloudy crystal ball on the table beside you. The lesson had been put on pause as Professor Trelawney discussed something with Umbridge at the front of the room.

 Draco was seated opposite of you, not that it really mattered. You hadn't been on the best of terms with him since the day you had confronted him about running to his father. Despite his good intentions, he had yet to realize just how much trouble it had gotten you into as a result.

His gaze shifted from the front of the room and back to you. Your sleeve had ridden up, exposing the fresh and noticeably deeper scar on your hand. You were barely resisting the temptation to scratch at it. Thankfully, you had grown all by numb to the pain. Every so often, it would return but it was never as awful as it was that first time.

Draco's eyes darkened and without warning, he snatched your hand and held it up to the cloudy light of the crystal ball. "What is this?" He hissed, confusion swirling around on his face. 

 You tugged your hand back and scowled, crossing your hands over the table. "You know exactly what it is, Draco."

His mouth opened up wide like a fish out of water and he whipped his head around to glare at Umbridge. "But Father said-" "I don't know what your father told you, but he didn't fix anything. She thinks it was me that got her in trouble with McGonagall and now she's hellbent on making me pay for it."