-Chapter 12-

Please vote if you enjoy!

(Also quick trigger warning as we cover Clara's detentions which involves the quill that cuts words into her. Just to be safe xx)

Hermione led us to the questionable and rather run down place where the meeting for Dumbledore's Army would take place. We had gotten there early and sat around waiting nervously for anyone to show up until finally, a few people came. And then a few more, until finally, we squished in thirty or so students. We sit and watch as Hermione explains why we are here, and what the Army plans to do.

After being bombarded with questions regarding Cedric Diggory, Harry stands up. He is red faced, and looks slightly sheepish, though he seems more angry than embarrassed. He says something to Hermione about leaving, when a light, clear voice rings out from the back of the room.

"Is it true you can produce a Patronus charm?" Luna asks,

Harry stops, turning to face the front again.

"Yes." Hermione answers, "I've seen it."

I gasp, "You didn't tell you can do that?!" That's impressive, even for his standards. I can't help feel a twinge of jealousy, though. I love my brother dearly, and nothing could come between us, but sometimes I wish people would look at me. It's always about him. That's why you're putting up with Umbridge, I think to myself, to prove yourself.

"An-And he killed a basilisk, with the sword in Dumbledores office!" Neville says, nodding,

"It's true!" Says Ginny, looking around at the rest of the group,

"In third year he fought about a hundred dementors at once," Ron adds,

"And last year he really did fight off Voldemort in the flesh." I say, turning to face the rest of the group.

"Alright!" Harry interrupts, glancing around at us, "It all sounds great when you say it like that but the truth is most of that was just luck. I didn't know what I was doing half the time and I nearly always had help."

"He's just being modest-"

"No, Hermione, I'm not. Facing this stuff in real life is not like school. In school, if you make a mistake you can just try again tomorrow, but out there, when you're a second away from being murdered, or seeing a friend die right before your eyes... You don't know what that's like."

"You're right Harry, we don't. That's why we need your help. If we're going to have any chance at defeating Voldemort-" I start,

"He's really back?" A boy asks. He's young and sits at the front of the group. He looks slightly scared.

We nod.

xxx

Almost everyone there yesterday put their name down. We were disbanded and asked to start searching for a place to hold the classes, out of sight but practical. I think Hermione might be asking a bit much.

I walk nervously, hands balled into fists, down the corridor leading to Umbridge's office. I walk through the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom and up the staircase, hesitating just before I reach the door. My heart beats painfully fast, and my stomach twists as I raise my hands and knock. The door swings open to reveal a pair of eyes almost as familiar to me as my own-

Draco Malfoy's.

I stand in shock for a moment, before gulping, trying to for a plan. If Umbridge finds out Draco and I are friends, he will probably lose his place in the Inquisitorial Squad. I pull a face,

"What are YOU doing here?" I raise an eyebrow, glaring. He looks at me as if I'm insane. I give him a look. Play. Along. He nods slightly, turning his normal face to a sneer,

"I'm part of the Inquisitorial Squad, Miss McGonagall, I was invited." He spits, stepping out of the way and half dragging half leading me into the room. As I enter, I see another boy and a girl, both of whom I don't recognise, standing by the wall. Draco drops my arm and stands goes over next to them.

"Hem hem,"

I turn to face Umbridge with a look of disbelief on my face.

"What are they doing here?" I snap,

"Ah, Clara dear, these are members of my Inquisitorial Squad. I am teaching them how to run detentions and interrogations, and they will be overseeing the rest of your detentions, among others."

"Why?!"

"Mind your tongue dear, or you will find yourself with even more detentions!"She squeaks, straitening the black quill that lies on her writing desk of torture. I wince.

"You haven't even told me how many detentions I will be having!"

"As many as I see fit until you change your attitude and follow the rules." She mutters, motioning for me to sit down. Shakily, I approach the desk. I glance over my shoulder at Draco and the others.

"Ah yes, these are my three most obedient and well behaved Squad member, including Mr Malfoy here, who has been made my personal assistant."

He didn't tell me that. Git. Slowly I sit down into the chair. The cold air on the top of my neck becomes apparent. Shit. I've played the detentions down when discussing them with Draco. He thinks the back of my hands gets cut and that's it. Not to say that that's alright- It just isn't nearly as bad as the truth. I don't want him to know. He can't know.

"Come now, Clara dear. I want you to write 'I am a liar' and 'I must not tell lies' intermittently until I say for you to stop. Begin."

I take in a shaky breath and press the quill to the paper. I begin to write 'I must not tell' and feel the searing pain on the back of my hand. I gasp, feeling the scar rip open, 'lies' I finish. Again. This time I feel the words carve into my back over the pre-existing scars. I whimper, my eyes burning. I go back to writing 'I must not tell lies' and it overlaps the words scraped into my hand.

Sobbing, I continue. Slowly, the pain creeps over my back until I've covered my upper back in cuts, then go over them again. I don't know how long I sat there crying. Slowly and painfully running the quill over the parchment. My vision blurs with tears and my sobs and cries become louder. All the time I can feel Draco's eyes firmly on my back. He knows. He knows now.

Finally, Umbridge tells me to stop. I shakily drop the quill, looking up at her with a red, tear stained face. How could she? How can she watch me go through that and feel no compassion for me? No empathy?

"Mr Malfoy, please escort Miss McGonagall out. I would like a word with the others. You are dismissed after that." She says, and I stand, shakily, turning to see Draco, standing by the open door. The way he looks at me, though with a decent amount of fake distaste, still seems so concerned. Slowly, almost limping, I shuffle out the door and he follows. I hear the door latch behind us.

We walk slowly in silence. My right-hand slips into my pocket in my uniform- thank goodness these pockets are so deep- to find a jar. In the jar is a solution of strained, and pickled, Murtlap tentacles. I spent hours last week trying to find something I could use on the cuts, and this seems to be the best thing. I stole some from the infirmary store cupboard.

I turn a corner, heading for a seldom used girls bathroom, moving as fast as I can without making my robes rub against the cuts on my back. Draco keeps up easily. I push through the door to find the bathroom empty. Draco hesitates before entering but then follows. I walk over to where the sinks are, making sure to check each cubicle before quickly unbuttoning my heavy woollen cloak and dropping it to the ground and painfully pulling off my jumper. I drop them both, sighing as the weight is lifted from my stinging back. God knows what the back of my white school shirt looks like. I shudder in relief, leaning against the edge of one of the cubicles and sniffing. I wipe the tears from my cheeks and stand up straight. Draco walks up next to me.

"Clara-" He reaches a hand out but I pull away.

"I'm fine." I have to be. This is my fight. I'm fine.

"No, you're not."

"Yes, I am." I snap, glaring up at him. He sighs. He turns around and picks up the jar of yellow liquid from where it sat surrounded by my robes. I sigh. "Did you shut the door?"

Draco nods, places the jar by the sinks, and give me a mournful look.

"You told me they weren't that bad."

"Well, I had to."

"No, you didn't. She's going to kill you!"

"You can't report her. Your father would be furious. You can't" I splutter, looking up at him. He groans and looks away.

"She's torturing you! And I'll bet the others don't know either?"

"They know less than you did."

"Jesus..." He mutters under his breath, looking down at his feet.

"You were right, Draco. My parents, not me. My brother, not me. This is my fight. I win or lose, I'll have made myself. Proven myself. To my family... my friends... you... and I-"

"You're doing this because of some dumb thing I said?"

"It wasn't dumb it was true. I just hadn't realised it."

"Clara, you don't have to prove yourself to me. I already know you-" He doesn't finish. He looks at me, his face red. "You just- You don't need to."

We look at each other for a minute, before I mutter

"Draco, I'm going to wash off my back, so I suggest, unless you want to die, you go and sit in a cubicle and fight your perv instincts." Draco gives me an amused look,

"What perv instincts?"

"Just a precaution. Now go, Umbridge's right-hand-man, or I will hit you with my right hand, man." I burst out laughing, and he does too,

It hurts to laugh.

xxx

OK YEY GUYS

So I'm rereading Order of the Pheonix currently and DID YOU KNOW Draco and Harry have a full on fist fight on the Quidditch pitch because Draco WROTE A SONG about RON because RON ISN't ALL THAT GOOD AT QUIDDITCH and practically (almost) LET SLYTHERIN WIN

So that's probably the next chapter sorted guys wooo

Taylor xx

(Also this is very long sorry)