MARA WILLIAMS

I let out a hiss as I finally slumped down on my bed, my hand still burning with a strange kind of pain, a result of Umbridge's cursed quill. This wasn't just any wound, this was magic, and a dark magic at that.
-I doubted the ache would stop anytime soon.

How the hell had The Ministry cleared the idea for Umbridge to use something like that at punishment at Hogwarts? Did Dumbledore know about this?
-Somehow I doubted it.

"...Does it still hurt?" Asked Parvati quietly as she sat down next to me staring at the back of my hand. I didn't blame her for staring, it looked pretty grimaced.

I winced, examining the wounds, "-Like a bitch."

"If it makes you feel any better I don't think it was anything personal against you or Hermione, she did the same to Harry and the Weasley twins too." Parvati pursed her lips. "...That woman's evil."

"Tell me about it." The cursive letters still looked as raw as they had several hours ago and still hurt just as much too, every time I flexed my fingers it only served to reopen the wounds which now began to bleed.

"...Still," Parvati shot me a smirk as she stood up, moving to pick something off the dresser besides my bed, "...At least now your hand and face match."

"Great." I drawled, rolling my eyes. "Guess I should go back and ask Umbridge to do my other hand next."
I'd almost forgotten about that until I'd caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror besides Hermione's bed. I looked horrific, most of the minor gashes and scrapes had almost entirely healed over by now but three long, thick scratches still remained just as prominent as ever down the right side of my face.

One begun just above my brow, absent over my eye only to return to tear down my cheekbone, the second only an inch to the right of it, and the third was a smaller, but deeper cut that ran vertically through the side of my lips and stopped at the base of my chin.

"-What's this?" Parvati asked picking up a small foreign pot of dark green paste from the dresser. I instantly recognised it, my mother had used a similar paste frequently to heal any cut or bruise I may have had growing up.
She'd used it on herself too, but her wounds were often far graver than my own...

But how had that tiny pot found its way into my belongings? It took a moment but then it clicked...
-Hermione Granger.
Last night I could've sworn I'd heard her place something on the dresser, and this must've been it, but why?

I really wasn't sure how to feel about the Granger girl anymore, especially because I had absolutely no idea how she felt about me. One minute her wretched cat was trying to claw me to death and she was practically jeering it on, the next she was sticking up for me in front of Umbridge and leaving me gifts to heal myself.

"It's Salutem Serum..." I said suspiciously, slowly taking the small pot from her and turning it over between my palms. I had never seen it outside of my mother's hands before and it felt strange seeing it so out of context. "It's for treating wounds."

"Why don't you try it on your face and hand tonight? You might find it helps."

"Yeah, that's a shout." I flexed my left hand, transfixed by watching as the wounds shifted and warped and a single scarlet tear crawled down my wrist.

"I'm so exited for next week." She whispered off topic after looking around to check that the coast was clear and we were the only two in the dorms.

"Me too." I lied. Earlier in the day I'd approached Parvati about the D.A like I'd said I would to Ron and Harry. She was sceptical at first and rightly so, but after I promised her I would be going too she changed her mind and said she would ask her sister, Padma, who I'd also met on the train, about joining.
Next Tuesday was supposed to be the first meeting of the D.A. though Ron and Harry were still yet to figure out a meeting place big enough to fit all of us and private enough that we wouldn't get caught.

Suddenly Hermione burst into the dorms, her usually frizzy hair seemed even more wild as she quickly hid herself behind the curtains of her four poster bed, though the curtains did little to block out the soft sounds of her sniffles.

Parvati and I shot each other a look as if to say, what the hell are we supposed to do? Neither of us were particularly friendly with the girl, but it didn't seem right to just leave her crying.

Pocketing the cream I went to sit besides Granger on the edge of her bed. Her face was red and tear tracks stained her cheeks as she held her bloodied hand by the wrist, staring down at the words I must not tell lies.

"...She's wicked." Her words fled from her lips as a shuddering breath as an involuntary sob wracked her chest. "I hate her."

I didn't know what to say? What could I do to comfort the girl that ruined my life?
-But that didn't matter, not right now atleast, we were united in our hatred of Umbridge.

"We'll get her back." I promised, staring dead into her red rimmed eyes. "Just you wait."

Hermione's damp eyes glowed with a shocking mix of hate and rage I didn't think she was capable of portraying. "Good."

"Do you mind if I have a look?" I asked and she nodded silently, for if she had to speak she doubted she would be able to keep the tears at bay.

Her wounds were much the same as mine, deep and ugly and red. I understood exactly how she was feeling, she wasn't crying because of the pain, she was crying because she was so angry she didn't know what to do with herself. She'd probably never been humiliated like that before in her life.

"Hermione..." I said softly, so that Parvati wouldn't hear. She looked up at me, her big brown eyes still shone. "...Thank you."
Ever so slightly her lips twitched into what could've been the faintest ghost of a smile.

"Guys come on, it's almost dinner time and I think I might starve to death if I don't eat within the next five minutes." Parvati groaned, dramatically sprawling herself across my bed and faining death with her hand over her head. I was mildly surprised at her insensitive reaction, but none the less carrier on.

"Come on," I whispered to Hermione, who dried her tears with the back of her sleeve as I helped her from the bed. "I heard we've got apple pie for desert."

• • •

Parvati looked ready to knock Seamus Finnegan clean out as desert appeared on the table before us.
"Rhubarb crumble..." She scrunched her face in disgust, "Seamus you said we were having apple pie! We had this drivel last week."

"Sorry Parvati." He replied with a shrug in his thick Irish accent. "But don't blame me, blame Nearly Headless Nick, he's the one that said it first."

"Fucks sake..." She groaned, stabbing the desert viciously with her fork right as something caught my attention just beyond the doors to the hall.
-A flash of mink brown.

I kept my eyes transfixed right where it had been just moments before as I stood up from the table.

Parvati grabbed my wrist forcing me to hesitate. "Mara wait, where are you going?"

"Toilet." I mumbled, stepping away from the bench and walking quickly from the hall.

Where are you, you little bastard?

He couldn't have gone far? I thought, patrolling the hall as I passed empty the library. I was just debating searching in there too when I could've sworn I heard a squeak from further down the hall, coming from an unremarkable and otherwise insignificant wooden door.

"Percy?" I whispered, lifting the latch and opening the door that creaked in protest as I stepped inside the small storage closet. It dank and dark, the only source of illumination coming from the hallway outside. I fumbled around the stone walls for a light switch. "Percy where are you?"

Something in the air seemed to shift, carrying with it the scent of smoke and fresh laundry and rain and danger.
I didn't have to turn around to know he was there, I could feel his presence, the undeniable sense of dread he inspired within my core. It ignited my skin with an unsated fire and made the fine hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.

His low rasp made my mouth run dry and I didn't have to turn to hear the smirk in his tone. "Looking for someone?"

"-Not you." I snapped, bending over to see if I could see Percy under any of the shelves. Only cobwebs and dirty old books stared back at me.

"You're a funny one aren't you." He drawled, and I felt the ghost of his warmth behind me, far too close, this closet was not big enough for the both of us. I stood up quickly, smoothing down my robe.
"Piss off Malfoy."

I turned around to see his handsome face pouting mockingly at me. "No, I don't think I will."

He was stood in the doorway, blocking the only exit, the realisation making my heart skip a beat. I made to shove past him but he stuck an arm out, effectively cutting me off and forcing me to stay.
"What do you want?" I hissed, folding my arms over my chest impatiently.

Malfoy's cold eyes stared into me, as if hoping that if he looked hard enough he'd be able to find what he was looking for. As if I were a riddle that he couldn't quite crack. "What have you got going on with that Weasley boy?"

***
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