Purple Rain.

Chapter Thirty.

"Again?" (Y/n) asked, disappointment etched on her face at the sight of Harry weaving through the crowd returning from dinner to reach (Y/n).

"I've got a good reason today!" Harry defended.

"Yeah?" (Y/n) asked humourlessly.

"Umbridge was blaming Hagrid for Buckbeak's attack," Harry said.

"Okay," (Y/n) said. "I'll let it slide. I won't write to your mother this time either, but Professor McGonagall might."

"Why're you writing to my mum? Are you snitching?" Harry cried.

"I didn't need to," (Y/n) said. "Professor McGonagall used that fire thing to speak to her— that's what she wrote, anyway. And she's asked for updates about your detentions."

"Professor McGonagall snitched on you too, right? I'm not the only one being thrown under the bus?" Harry stared questioningly at (Y/n), who stared at him with offence.

"What're you trying to do? Get me murdered?" (Y/n) scoffed. "I've only had one detention in my life— one detention that has been kept in the shadows for years. Your parents just don't want you getting into danger, my guardians care about me being perfect and Heaven forbid the girl in their care make a single mistake." She sighed depressively. "So Umbridge was watching Grubblyplank?"

"Yeah..." Harry mumbled, staring at (Y/n). "Why don't you stand up to them?"

"It's not that easy," (Y/n) smiled. The walk to Umbridge's office was silent for the remainder.

It was nearly midnight when Harry and (Y/n) left Umbridge's office that night. The rags they had to stop the bleeding were getting soaked through with how severely their blood flowed. (Y/n), as always, walked Harry to his common room. Upon him entering, (Y/n) made to leave when Harry called out for her.

"Hermione's calling you," Harry said. (Y/n) jogged over and poked her head in.

"Here," Hermione said anxiously, pushing forward two small bowls of yellow liquid towards Harry and (Y/n), who exchanged a glance. "Soak your hand in that, it's a solution of strained and pickled murtlap tentacles, it should help."
(Y/n) followed Harry into the room and placed her bleeding, aching hand into the bowl opposite Harry's. She was met with instant relief, a cool feeling to her otherwise burning hand. Crookshanks came and curled against Harry's legs, purring loudly, and then leapt into his lap and settled down. (Y/n) sat at the end of the table with Harry on one side of the table, and Ron and Hermione on the other.

"Thanks," Harry said gratefully, scratching behind Crookshank's ears with his left hand.

"How'd you know what to do?" (Y/n) asked Hermione.

"Neville," Hermione smiled. "He couldn't get directly to you, so he came to me." (Y/n) smiled.

"I still reckon you should complain about this," Ron said in a low voice.

"No," Harry said flatly.

"McGonagall would go nuts if she knew—"

"Yeah, she probably would," said Harry. "And how long d'you reckon it'd take Umbridge to pass another Decree saying anyone who complains about the High Inquisitor gets sacked immediately?" Ron opened his mouth to retort but nothing came out and after a moment he closed it again in a defeated sort of way.

"She's an awful woman," said Hermione in a small voice. "Awful. You know, I was just saying to Ron when you came in... we've got to do something about her."

"I suggested poison," said Ron grimly. (Y/n) snorted.

"You know, actually—" (Y/n) began. Ron perked up.