Dark Magic

Detention

The belltower chimed to signify the end to, yet another, school day. As I made my way back to Dolores' office. Harry already waiting outside, on the steps. Sadness filled his eyes as they averted onto me, "I'm so sorry, Em-" he sighed, with more regret that I had ever seen before. And yet, I had no time to query his apology, for the office door had already opened; a toad dressed in clad-pink waiting to greet us with a sinister grin.

"Ah, Mr and Miss Potter; do come in."

My brows furrowed in confusion, "Shouldn't we wait for Draco, Professor?"

"That won't be necessary," the woman sneered, eyeing the us both, "come along."

We followed Dolores into her office; struggling to adjust my eyes to the bright pinks and frills, she turned to face us both. Glancing at my brother warily, his eyes remained fixed on the teacher. Oh, if looks could kill.

Two desks sat in the office, opposing one another; with a sheet of paper and a pen placed beside it. "Now, Mr Potter, I believe you are already familiar with what happens next. Would you mind explaining to your sister, for me, please?" A sinister giggle emitted from her, startling me momentarily.

A breath emitted from my older sibling, desperation and fear in his eyes as he addressed the woman, "Professor, please, Em had nothing to d-"

"-Very well," Dolores sighed impatiently, cutting him off as her eyes met mine, "Miss Potter, you and your brother are going to be writing some lines for me, today. Now, I want you both to write 'I must not fight with my friends'." The room suddenly turned eerily quiet, my gaze averting onto my brother for answers. His eyes did not meet mine, and his thoughts were barricaded. And yet I knew he was afraid. And this fear was not for himself.

Dolores cleared her throat, drawing my attention back to the desk, "Have a seat." And I had no other option to oblige. Steadying my inexplicable nerves, I took the strange quil in my hand, observing its black feathers. Red ink pooled at the gold nib, my brother mimicking my actions as he took to writing on the parchment with tears in his eyes. My own quil pressed hard against the paper, red spilling onto the page as my handwriting etched the words Dolores had requested.

A ringing sensation filled my ears, as I felt my focus grow wary a brief moment. Then my hand began to sting, as though a blade were slicing my skin. I dropped the pen in an instant, glancing down at my palm as the words were cut into my hand;

I must not fight with my friends.

I felt the urge to be sick churn in my stomach, a mirror image of the red writing on the page now embedded into the skin of my palm. I glanced to my brother, who too appeared in pain as his own handwriting had led to the same punishment. Underneath, however, there sat an additional sentence, which appeared to have been scabbed over a few days.

I must not tell lies.

My disgust dissipated, festering to hate as I averted my gaze back onto the professor; the same, sickly grin befalling her lips. "Is there something you wish to say, Miss Potter?"

Then I heard him, for the first time in a while, opening his mind to me. My brother.

'Em, don't. Please.'

My shock led to my silence, as Dolores appeared satisfied with her work, "I thought as much. You are both free to leave."

Our walk to The Great Hall was a shared silence, as I attempted to contemplate the events that had took place in Dolores' office. The bustling of students sounded from within the double doors, as I separated from Harry and quietly made the journey to the Slytherin table, taking a seat. My vice fingertips pulled my sleeve to cover the writing on my palm; fortunately the ebony fabric concealed the blood which was swiftly seeping through. The noise surrounding me turned muffled, as I stared at the empty plate before me.

Then a voice broke through the bustle of students, "Emerald?" And the familar, regretful tone was suddenly a boulder, colliding with whatever walls I had attempted to construct. Instead of speaking his name, a sob caught in my throat, and I knew I would not be able to contain it for very long. His pale hand rested over my own, the stinging increasing tenfold as I fought to subdue a wince. Draco must have sensed this, suddenly tensing as I avoided his gaze, "What happened?"

I pulled my hand away, "Nothing, Draco. I just need to be alone, right now. Talk later," My mumbling was dismissive, as I withdrew from the Slytherin table and exited the Great Hall, making my way to the Slytherin Common Room.

"Muffliato," I whispered once the canopy surrounded my bed was drawn closed. A low purr emitted from Pearl, as I took her into my arms and sobbed into her grey fur. I must have fallen asleep, but when I awoke the cut on my hand had began to scab over, a small amount of blood spilled onto the green bedspread.

I sniffled, my eyes sore from the dried tears. Pearl was sleeping, as I carefully manouvered her and opened the curtains to peek outside. Silence was such a reprieve, the other girls in my dorm sleeping. Traversing to the shared bathroom, I washed the dried blood from my hand, splashing cold water on my face. And, no longer tired, I ventured out of the dorms and made my way down to the Common Room. No surprise, it was empty, the clock reading 11.45pm. Nearly midnight.

A shuffle sounded from the chaise lounge by the fireplace, none other than Draco Malfoy sat up, rubbing his tired eyes. My throat dried, once more; no words were exchanged, as he opened his arms for me with reassurance in those blue eyes. Exhausted, I made my way to sit beside him and fell into his arms; the tears came, once more.

"I hate her." I managed with a hitched breath, sighing into Draco's neck as I breathed in the scent of his aftershave. When did he start wearing aftershave? The thought allowed a moment's respite from the more serious matter; Dolores Umbridge.

"What did she do?" Draco's voice was strained, as though he were on the verge of tears. But he held me tight in his arms, so I could not look at him. In doing so, however, I saw the dried blood on his own hands. My blood.

And I told him everything.

As I recalled Dolores' warped form of punishment, Draco's horrified gaze lingered on my right hand, as though he could see what lingered beneath. He seemed to ponder his choice of words very carefully, before clearing his throat to speak softly, "Emerald, you need to tell someone about this. Snape or even Dumbledore."

I was quick to protest, leaving his arms as I finally met his eyes, "What difference would it make?"

Draco scoffed, "Harming a student; instant dismissal. I'll talk to my father, if I have to," his eyes were determined. I shook my head once more, "You said it yourself, Umbridge has almost the same level of power as Dumbledore. I need to figure this out on my own. Besides, I have more important things to worry about that a Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor." My mind solemnly shifted onto none other than the Darkest Wizard of all time; whose sign of allegiance I bore on my left forearm.

"I can't just stand by whilst Umbridge is abusing you. I won't," Draco's voice broke, barely above a whisper. And I realised how close our faces were to one another, latching onto the desperation in those silvery eyes. His breath felt warm against my face, as I shut my eyes and savoured the warmth a fleeting moment.

And in that moment, I felt something. A feeling I had felt before, when in Draco's company, in recent months. Yet elevated tenfold; a sickly, feverish excitement brewing in my stomach and rising to my chest. The same feeling I had felt the day before, when Draco took me to the little island on the lake surrounding Hogwarts. Pure magic.

"Draco," I breathed, to which he nodded, breaking the tension, "I know." His nose brushed against my own, before distancing the gap, once more. Slightly dazed, I shook my head in attempt to ground myself.

"I should probably go and speak to Severus."

The blonde Slytherin nodded. Without another word, I exited the Common Room, unable to deny the sinking feeling that came with each step away from Draco. My small beacon of light in this, mostly, dark world...