"My father is my family"

September 1995, 2 months later

The rest of the summer Circi spent dumping handfuls of dirt out of the door and windows of the greenhouse. In her gardening fervour she had somehow designed a wall around the entrance to divide her from the rest of the grounds and, with the aid of one rogue house elf named Teeley, she succeeded in spending most of her days in the building.

Her avoidance of the manor and her family angered them all.

Draco sometimes stood in the doorway and watched her doing her homework on a makeshift bed of dirt covered over with a blanket. He despised her attitude, he couldn't understand how she could hate the safety they had been promised.

Most of the time, what he thought to be homework she knew to be letters. In the dead of night she corresponded with Christian Rier, the grandfather she had rejected the year before. She had explained everything to him, recounted the events of her second year and expressed her fear of being in her own home. He responded speedily with promises to keep her safe and words of encouragement to hold on until he could get her out.

Knowledge of these letters spread to Lucius for, on one of the days where he dared attempt to make amends with her, he had politely demanded she speak to him if she had worries or concerns; that she need not involve the Riers in family business.

What he didn't understand was that she no longer considered him to be family.

The Lucius she knew was her father. He cared about her and her thoughts, he still loves her mother despite what she did(n't) do, and he would never be a death eater by choice. She would rather her mother be the true death eater. She would rather be the daughter of overt evil instead of cowardice.

She was not surprised, upon returning to Hogwarts, when the ministry placed one of their own in the position of the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor. It would have been her father's decision and everytime the woman in pink cast her eyes over her, she could feel the watchful stare of Lucius Malfoy.

There was no escape. Draco knew her timetable and was there when she approached the astronomy tower and was waiting when she left. There was no way she could get time alone with Professor Rier and it infuriated her. He watched her often in the common room and at dinner, sometimes with a harsh stare alike to her father's and sometimes reluctantly. Most days he ignored her but some days his conversation was friendly, almost loving and concerned- but she would have nothing to do with him.

Confiding in the girls in her dorm enough but not all, they took turns to monitor the common room so she could spend time with Leslie. But her best friend understood most of it. He had taken a few educated guesses and therefore encouraged her to only leave her dorm if she wanted to.

Her correspondence with Christian continued as the year progressed and Professor Rier began to split her astronomy class down. He taught smaller groups at certain points in the lesson so that the noise of the class drowned out the conversation he could sneak in occasionally for he too noticed Draco's presence and often indulged himself in dishing out detentions for being out of bed so late unprompted.

Halloween approached quickly and the longer Umbridge- the ministry official- grew comfortable, the more power she gained. Her methods of punishment were shared in whispers around the school. It was well-known that detention with Umbridge would result in pain.

So, the shock, the horror, the fear and concern on the students faces when the woman herself interrupted a third year potions class full of Slytherins and Gryffindors to summon Circi to her office was well-deserved. The walk between the desk and the door was painful and Circi could feel every set of eyes on her. Mica watched her go from the other side of the room with a weak attempt at a supportive smile and a thumbs up.

Umbridge's pink heels clicked with each step, her equally pink skirt shifted as she walked and the pink shoulder pads of her pink blazer shifted with each swing of her arms.

The students in the corridors hopped out of their way, staring, knowing, at Circi as she passed.

And in the woman's office, decorated garishly pink and filled from floor to ceiling with photographs of cats that prowled and hissed in their frames, she sat down at her desk and straightened herself with a high-pitched giggle.

Circi clasped her hands between her knees as she sat in the chair opposite and looked nervously at the cat picture on the desk. It was cute enough. But its claws were sharp.

Umbridge cleared her throat, also pitchy, and waved an addressed envelope at Circi.

"Do you know who this letter is from, Miss Malfoy?" Bouncing her leg, Circi shook her head. "No? It's from your father. He says that you have been sending letters to," she peers down at the letter as if she hadn't learned it already, "Christian Rier against his wishes."

"He's my grandfather," Circi said quietly, "I should be allowed to talk to him. He's family."

Umbridge giggled again and pursed her lips. Every sound she made was sickly sweet, artificial kindness oozed from her smile for you could see the sadistic excitement in her eyes. She let the letter fall to her desk, floating as it fell.

"Your father has requested that you respect his wishes. Considering he is your only parent, I would listen if I were you." Circi's eyes darkened, she knew the woman was trying to wind her up but it didn't take much.

"He is not my only parent."

"Oh?"

"Yeah! My mum is out there, she is innocent! My father is a coward and he's- he's not nice!" She had yelled. She didn't mean to yell but in her anger and her stuttering she had tensed up and she had yelled. Something everyone knew Umbridge despised. Talking back, yelling, using magic- she hated it all. And she punished it all.

The pink woman giggled again.

"Detention, Miss Malfoy. For yelling at a Professor." Sitting back in her seat, her pounding as she scolded herself for losing her temper, Circi closed her eyes and nodded.

"Now?"

"Very well," Umbridge put forward a piece of parchment and an inkless quill. Circi had seen the scars before on the hands of other students. "I would like you to write some lines for me. I would like you to write 'my father is my family'."

Clenching her teeth and glaring at the quill on the desk in front of her, Circi closed her hand around it and braced herself. The tip of the quill juttered as it dragged along the parchment, inkless and dry. Her skin prickled with each stroke, the back of her right hand, her writing hand, grew red and sore. Almost like embers of burning parchment, blood began to prickle as the words engraved themselves in her skin.

For a while, she powered through it. Her body spasmed and she grit her teeth but, eventually, she had to throw the quill down.

Breathing through her teeth, she stretched her fingers and blinked away tears. Shaking her hand, her knee bouncing aggressively, she looked at the repeated statement on the parchment and then at her hand. So far 'MY FATHER IS' was carved into her hand, prickling with blood and glowing bright read.

She cried. There was no point in hiding it and Umbridge enjoyed her pain either way. Her mind filled out the blank. He wasn't her family, he was responsible, a coward, evil.

Completing the final part of the statement was much easier and quicker. Her hand was full of a hazy sensation, as if her nerves were vibrating to the point of unfeeling and her words had become sloppy. But it was done.

Umbridge dismissed her with a faux smile and it was over.

Cradling her hand as she ran as far as possible, she concealed her face from the students in the corridors, unaware of where she was going but only that her hand and her body heart. Sparing a glance, she could see it written into her skin in her own handwriting. An ironic sentiment, one she could not hide. And finally, as her thoughts grew louder and the pain grew worse, she began to cry. She was choking as she sped down the corridors and down staircases. She knew that the lower she went, the closer she came to her bed.

Two hands caught her shoulders. Too distracted, her reaction was simply to look up. Mica.

"You okay?" She was carrying Circi's bag on one shoulder and her own on the other. Her brown eyes were full of concern as she waited for Circi to respond. Instead, she followed the Slytherin's gaze to the wounded hand. "Oh my goodness."

Seeing her pale, red, bleeding hand enclosed in Mica's calloused, quidditch-toughened, hands, Circi cried harder. They moved to the side of the corridor where they took a seat in a concave lined with a bench. Mica traced the words lightly, breathing heavily as well. And they sat like that for a while, the motions comforting Circi enough to stop crying.

"Circi? Mica?" They looked up, Carmen had been walking by with Bea. The two of them looked tired, Bea especially, as they parted ways. Carmen came to stand in front of the two third-years and looked at their main focus. Dropping to her knees upon seeing the state of Circi's hands, Carmen was quick to draw the girl in for a hug. "I'm so sorry, it's going to be okay." The seventh year dug through her bag, producing a small vial of clear liquid with a dropper attached to the lid. "This will help heal it." She spoke carefully, swirling the potion and waiting for affirmation from her.

Administering two drops of the potion to the wound, Circi already felt the pain alleviate. Although she ached and the wound was still red, the pain that had brought her tears disappeared.

"Thank you," Circi tried to smile. Mica, with a sigh of relief, threw her arms around Circi's neck and pulled her in for a hug.

"Anything for you, Circ," she brushed her thumb across Circi's cheek, collecting the stray tear before packing up her bag and straightening her prefect badge. "Come on, we're going to Professor Snape right now. And then I am going to write a strongly worded letter." The girls walked together, Mica had yet to let go of Circi's hand.

"To who?" The Gryffindor asked.

"Cornelius Fudge," Carmen ran her hand through her hair and spared a glance at their confused faces, "he owes me a favour."