Yours, Fred | f. weasley x reader

Chapter 39: The Grand Departure

A/N: Minor warning for injury detail!
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The day after the fireworks, Umbridge called a detention for every name she found on the list for the D.A., and for the next week you were all to spend your evenings writing with her horrible quills. You thankfully hadn't had to use one since your detention at the start of the year, but that didn't stop the pain from hurting just as much as it had the first time. Gasps and whimpers of pain could be heard in the silent hall and you glanced across the aisle from you where Fred and George were sitting and saw them wincing with pain as the words 'I will not break rules' were sliced into the back of their hands, just as they were on the back of the hands of everyone in that room.

You heard a sob from beside you and saw Bea trying to hold back tears as blood dripped down her dark skin, and you felt your blood boil as more cries echoed from other people you'd come to know quite well over the last seven months. You glared venomously at Umbridge for what must have been the hundredth time that week, and this was only the second day of detention.

You felt a tear slipping down your cheek as you once again wrote 'I will not break rules' and felt your skin splitting open over and over again. Just like before, the skin healed itself quickly so that each time the quill's magic caused it to cut open once again, it was like a fresh wound growing deeper every time. After the previous night's detention, you had paid a visit to the Hospital Wing to ask for some of the Star Grass Salve you knew Madam Pomfrey used for cuts and wounds. When you'd shown her your hand she was horrified, but she couldn't go against the disciplinary methods of the Headmistress, and you could tell that all the professors faced the same dilemma of wanting to help the students but not being able to defy the authority of Umbridge, and by extension the Ministry.

Madam Pomfrey had agreed and had discreetly given you a number of jars of the salve to use, since she could most likely get in trouble for being seen to help the students. After tonight's session, you planned on giving a pot of the salve to an older student from each house to give to the other D.A. students after detention. You kept a few extra pots since the majority of people in the D.A. detention were Gryffindors, though you knew it wasn't only members of the group who were being subjected to that method of punishment.

One evening you and the twins were walking through the corridors after another detention when you heard quiet crying from around the corner. You shared a look with them and then saw a tiny first-year Gryffindor curled up on a bench just inside the walls of the courtyard. The boy wasn't in the D.A. but you gathered from the way he was clutching his hand that he'd also had a detention with Umbridge at some point that night.

You walked quietly over to the boy and sat down next to him, "hey, it's okay," you whispered and you wrapped an arm around his tiny shoulders and he leaned into you and cried. You rubbed his back as the twins sat on either side of you, and when the boy's cries subsided into sniffles you spoke to him again, "what's your name?"

"Michael," he whispered.

"Well Michael, I'm Y/N and this is Fred and George," you told him quietly and he looked up curiously with his wet and blotchy face.

"You're on the Quidditch team," he said to you and you smiled and nodded, and then he looked at the twins with a small smile, "and you have the cool fireworks that made the scary pink lady scream."

"We sure do," Fred said, smiling kindly at the boy. Michael looked down at his hand which was trembling, "it really hurts," he whispered and his lip wobbled.

"Your hand's going to be fine, Michael," George told him gently, "it's not as bad as it seems, see? It's fading already." He showed Michael his own hand that was scarred and red, but healing.