My Weasel

Chapter 62 -Detention Days-

The next few detentions came just as quickly and harshly as the previous. The skin on the back of my hand became irritated easily now, red and inflamed. Soon enough, the cut would remain etched on to my hand, satisfying professor Umbridge.

I let no moan of discomfort escape though, the pain feeling like a mere scratch compared to my mark. The only trouble was making sure my sleeves were pulled down far enough when she chose to inspect our hands. I doubt she would be surprised at my mark, noticing the family with whom I lived.  No matter, it was still important that I covered my inked forearm, the fate of my life depending on it.

I was not hurt by the woman's methods in which she chose to punish us, but rather the effects it left. My skin was already tarnished by my mark, and now my hand was ruined as well. It felt as the days passed by every part of me was becoming dismantled, my entire body aching for release. The only part of the day that made me feel a twinge of emotion was detention itself.

Although I hated doing lines, my company was decently pleasant. Fred and I were on  more civil grounds ever since grimmauld place, event to the point where I found his presence enjoyable. This did not mean I liked the boy, but I no longer felt the need to rip his throat out constantly. So, you could say that the two of us were acquaintances who like to bicker rather than full blown enemies.

"Last detention today Snake, you won't get to see my handsome face nearly as much." Fred's voice approaches from behind me.

"What an absolute travesty." I smirk, grabbing him by the arm to pull him in front of me.

"How come I always have to go in first?" The ginger whines, bottom lip in a pout.

"Obviously you are my personal shield Frederick." I push the boy through the door, snickering as he gives me one last pleading glance. Following him into the room, I look to see Umbridge sitting at her desk with a sickly sweet smile on her face.

"You both know what to do." The woman gestures to the quills and parchment sat neatly in front of her desk. Giving her an emotionless nod, Fred and I both took our seats, picking up the quills used for our torture.

Starting to write my lines, I feel the cut on the back of my hand open and begin to bleed afresh. My skin continued to dig deeper, stinging as blood trickled down my wrist. The parchment was shining red, the shade much similar to the hair of the boy beside.

At this notion, I took a moment to stare at the Weasley twin, taking in the agony of his features. His mouth was screwed up, eyebrows knitted together as he concentrated on the quill. The boy had probably never known torment such as this, innocent to the cruelness of some magic. Noticing I had been staring for far too long, I turned back to my own lines, cutting my flesh once more.

"Let's see if you've gotten the message yet, shall we?" came Umbridge's soft voice an hour later.

Moving towards us, she stretched out her short, stubby fingers for examination. Taking ahold of my arm, the pain seared not across my hand, but across my forearm. Wrenching my arm out of her grip, I leapt to my feet and stared at the woman. She looked back at me, smile stretching her face unpleasantly, eyes filled with malice.

" Yes, it hurts, doesn't it?" Umbridge says in a knowing tone. I do not answer, my heart thumping hard and fast as I tried to tear away my gaze. Was she talking about my hand or did she know of my mark?

"Well, I think I've made my point to the both of you. You may go." She walks back around to her seat, bringing a cup of tea to her lips. Giving her one last withering glare, I turn on my heel and quickly leave the office.

"Woah Snake are you alright?" I hear Fred's voice question from behind me.

"Yes I'm fine, just relieved our detentions are over." I brush him off, hiding my throbbing arm.