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Max looked as though he were on the verge of combusting.
Dolores Umbridge's office was completely pink, from the walls, down to the very carpet. Paired with a million different photos of cats all around the room.
"Good evening, Mr. Potter, Mr. Prince."
Harry fought back a grin when he felt Max grab his hand and pull, trying to get out of the room as quick as possible.
"Sit." Max lowly groaned, moving to the seat farthest right as Harry took the one on the left. "You're both going to be doing some lines for me today," at that Harry reached for his quill. "No, not with your quill. You're going to be using some rather special ones of mine."
"Joy," Max said dryly.
Umbridge huffed stiffly, placing the two quills in front of each boy.
"Now, I want you both to write, 'I must not tell lies.'"
Max went to speak up once again, but Harry gave a stiff shake of his head.
"How many times?"
"Well, let's say as long as it will take for you both to get the message to sink in."
"You haven't given us any ink," Harry told her.
"Oh, you won't need any ink."
Harry and Max shared a look, the Prince boy looking down at his parchment. He carefully scribed, in his messy handwriting, 'I must not tell lies.'
Max turned at the sound of Harry hissing through his teeth, only to feel a sharp burning on his hand. Watching in anger as the words he had written etched into his skin.
He turned to the woman with a fire in his eyes, but she merely had that same stupid smile on her face.
"If we had parents you'd be in for it."
"Yes, if. You both know deep down, you deserve to be punished. Don't you?"
Max wanted nothing more than to reach out and comfort Harry, truly seeing how tired he was. Knowing it was the same type of tired he felt as well, a tired that would never be fixed with something as mere as sleep.
"Go on."
And the two wrote, and wrote, the burning of their skin becoming numb after a while.
Maxwell stared into the fireplace, unbeknownst to himself, with tears falling down his face.
"You look like you're about to vomit," Cedric laughed lightly.
"Who says I'm not?" The Diggory boy rolled his eyes, placing a hand on Max's shoulder.
"You'll be perfectly fine."
The sound of Harry turning the page, along with Ron and Hermione walking up to him made him furiously wipe at the tears.
Max was sat in front of Harry's legs, resting back against them, while Ron and Hermione were on the couch on either side of the Potter.
Hermione rose her eyebrows, glancing to Harry's hand, before urgently moving to the floor and grabbing Max's.
The boy hissed through his teeth, his panic filled eyes meeting Hermione's.
"What's wrong with your hands?"
"Nothing," both boys lied.
Hermione lightly traced her finger over the cuts, lifting Max's hand to show Ron.
"You've both got to tell Dumbledore."
"No," Harry spoke firmly. "Dumbledore's got enough on his mind right now. Anyways, we don't want to give Umbridge the satisfaction."
"Bloody hell, you two. The woman's torturing you," Ron whispered sharply. "If your parents knew about this."
"Yeah, Ron, well we haven't got any of those have we?"
Max lightly hit Harry on the knee, scolding him for being so hostile.
"What about Remus, Max?" Hermione asked, her voice soft.
"Last thing I want is for Remus to worry himself sick," Max frowned, shaking his head softly. "Remus has done more that enough for me as is."
"You don't understand," Harry huffed as he gathered his books.
"Then help us to." But he ignored Hermione and left the three together.
"Give him a break, yeah?" Max gave a soft smile to the two as he took Harry's spot. "He's angry, and still beating himself up over Cedric."
"And you?" Ron asked. "All right, Max?"
The Prince was quiet, watching the soft flicker of the flames as a soft smile came to his face.
"No, Ron. I'm really not all right."
And the three sat in a comfortable silence for a while, just staring at the fire.
"I hate you," Max muttered in a smile against Draco's lips.
"You don't." Draco grinned as he ran a hand up and down the boy's back.
"I very much do." Max pressed kisses all along Draco's face, the Malfoy taking his hands.
Max hissed quietly, wrenching back, Draco's face taking on a look of worry.
"What is that?"
"Nothing, darling."
"Max." Draco lunged forward, taking his wrist in a tight grip and pulling back his sleeve to reveal the small cuts that were beginning to scar over. "Who did this?" He asked in a dark tone, eyes afire.
"No one important," Max assured, his free hand going to Draco's hair as he plastered on a smile. "Promise."
"Episkey." Draco pointed his wand at Max's hand, running his thumb over the now healed skin.
"Thank you," Max mumbled tiredly, leaning into Draco's chest.
"Are you all right?"
Max was quiet for a long moment, relaxing into Draco's embrace as he inhaled the comforting scent of books and expensive cologne.
