Power ▸ Ron Weasley [1]

IV. LOVE OF A FAMILY

   CHAPTER FOUR:

LOVE OF A FAMILY

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"Quidditch tryouts for Gryffindor are today."

      Nova gave Malfoy an uninterested look as she chewed on a piece of meatloaf. She was aware of the tryouts, and also of the fact that Weasley was trying out for the Keeper position;the information was courtesy of Harry Potter, who had given a pep talk to his best friend in Potions that morning when Weasley looked sickly. "I know," she replied in a bored tone.

      "How'd you know?" Theo asked from her other side. He had ended his conversation with Greengrass and had leaned over to hear Nova's answer. Parkinson, who was sitting next to Malfoy and basically feeding him, glared when she realized the attention was on Nova once again.

      "I have detentions with Potter, remember?" she reminded, rolling her eyes. "He's been complaining all week that he can't go."

      "Well, today's the last day you have to put up with him," Zabini reminded her, as if she hadn't been counting down the days the entire week. "Speaking of which, how have detentions been with the old hag?"

      "Writing lines. Nothing awful." Nova made sure to hide her hand underneath the table as she scooped up corn with her the fork in her right hand. So far, she had done a good job at keeping the scribbled words hidden. She had thought Parkinson might have seen them, but Parkinson disliked her enough to not care. For once, Nova was appreciative.

      When Nova walked into her last detention, Potter was already seated at the table and ready to go. He sent her a minuscule smile and she nodded in response, setting her bag on the floor and reaching for the demon quill in front of her. She noticed that she could see the Quidditch Pitch pretty clearly from her place at the table, and occasionally looked up to see how the Gryffindor team was faring in their tryouts.

      Her hand started to sting as her cut opened up and blood started to flow. Clamping down her teeth to make sure she didn't make a noise, Nova continued to write lines. The sleeve of her shirt was sticking to her skin as her blood flowed down her wrist, and she could see that it was somewhat leaking through to the surface of the table.

      I must not disrespect.

      I must not disrespect.

      I must not disrespect.

      "Let's see if you've gotten the message yet, shall we?" Umbridge asked after what felt like hours later. Silently, Nova held out her hand and tried not to wince when Umbridge's grubby fingers poked and prodded at the cuts. Potter did the same, pulling his hand back before she could examine it more closely. "Yes," she whispered, "it hurts, doesn't it?"