Disclaimer: I don't own Snape, Umbridge, the Weasleys, Lee Jordan, or the
inestimable Harry Potter. Please realize that I am only borrowing them for
a bit of fun. MQW
A/N: Concrit welcome, flames will be given to my pet salamander. She seems to like them.
Warning: Slight OOCness ahead.
Acknowledgement
"I must respect my elders." 998. "I must respect my elders." 999. "I must respect my elders." 1000. "Madame Umbridge, I have completed a thousand lines. May I be excused please?"
"Let me see your work, dear." She says this in a sugary voice that grates at my nerves, which have already been sensitized by the intense pain concentrated in my right hand. "Yes, I think you can go for the evening," I sigh in relief, "but I am not convinced that you have really internalized your lesson," she croons at me with mock concern. "Come back again tomorrow evening. Eight o'clock. Don't forget, Miss Grey." She looks at me sharply, and I nod my head without meeting her eyes. Let her think my posture is submission, I don't think I can keep the hurt out of my voice, or my eyes, and I won't give her the pleasure of acknowledging the power she wields over me because of the anguish she can cause.
I walk out of her office trying to recall the look on her face when I told her that a werewolf could teach DADA better than she, and, in fact, did. It really wasn't very wise of me to say it, but she honestly deserved it. I can't believe the way they are teaching that class this year, or rather not teaching it.
For a brief moment I consider whether a few sessions of writing "I must not be a Dark Lord" with Umbridge wouldn't get rid of Voldemort. Or at the very least get rid of that "special quill." I look down at my hand. It is bleeding a little. With a sigh I pull out my handkerchief and try to tie it one-handed. I am less than successful. Maybe someone in Gryffindor Tower will help me out. Then again, maybe a handkerchief is a little too obvious; I'll just use it to try to stop the bleeding then.
Walking back, I see Professor Snape. Hastily, I shove my hand in my pocket. He eyes me suspiciously, but apparently decides not to say anything, since he sneers and sweeps past. Absurdly I am disappointed that he didn't stop me. And not only because his hatred of Gryffindors is legendary, unchanging, and therefore comforting. He could do something about Umbridge. He is probably the only one who could and still get away with it now that Dumbledore's gone. Not that he likely would; especially since Umbridge seems to hate Gryffindors almost as much as he does. I wonder how much of that hatred can be blamed on Harry Potter, and how much is due to the impetuous and brash nature that seems to be characteristic of all the inhabitants of the Tower. Werewolf, indeed. Then again, perhaps I am relieved by Professor Snape's refusal to acknowledge my presence. It means I don't have to explain anything, and I doubt that he would appreciate the explanation I have.
Now, how best to hide my rather unusual, and fairly noticeable, injury from my friends. Hmm, perhaps gloves? Though they might draw more attention than otherwise.
"Detention with Umbridge?" asks one of the Weasley twins as I climb through the portrait hole. Looking up, I nod.
"Bitchy witch," the other comments good naturedly, "surprised she hasn't got more of us," he continues. The famous Harry Potter looks up from his chess game with yet another Weasley and grins at me. "Essence of Murtlap can be very soothing after a session with Umbridge." Nodding again I glance at his right hand. It also bears Umbridge's special mark. Hastily I glance back at the twins, then at Lee Jordan, their friend. I feel somehow that I have just been admitted to a secret club. I grin at everyone then turn to walk up the staircase to the girls' dormitories. Perhaps this will be easier than I thought.
A/N: Concrit welcome, flames will be given to my pet salamander. She seems to like them.
Warning: Slight OOCness ahead.
Acknowledgement
"I must respect my elders." 998. "I must respect my elders." 999. "I must respect my elders." 1000. "Madame Umbridge, I have completed a thousand lines. May I be excused please?"
"Let me see your work, dear." She says this in a sugary voice that grates at my nerves, which have already been sensitized by the intense pain concentrated in my right hand. "Yes, I think you can go for the evening," I sigh in relief, "but I am not convinced that you have really internalized your lesson," she croons at me with mock concern. "Come back again tomorrow evening. Eight o'clock. Don't forget, Miss Grey." She looks at me sharply, and I nod my head without meeting her eyes. Let her think my posture is submission, I don't think I can keep the hurt out of my voice, or my eyes, and I won't give her the pleasure of acknowledging the power she wields over me because of the anguish she can cause.
I walk out of her office trying to recall the look on her face when I told her that a werewolf could teach DADA better than she, and, in fact, did. It really wasn't very wise of me to say it, but she honestly deserved it. I can't believe the way they are teaching that class this year, or rather not teaching it.
For a brief moment I consider whether a few sessions of writing "I must not be a Dark Lord" with Umbridge wouldn't get rid of Voldemort. Or at the very least get rid of that "special quill." I look down at my hand. It is bleeding a little. With a sigh I pull out my handkerchief and try to tie it one-handed. I am less than successful. Maybe someone in Gryffindor Tower will help me out. Then again, maybe a handkerchief is a little too obvious; I'll just use it to try to stop the bleeding then.
Walking back, I see Professor Snape. Hastily, I shove my hand in my pocket. He eyes me suspiciously, but apparently decides not to say anything, since he sneers and sweeps past. Absurdly I am disappointed that he didn't stop me. And not only because his hatred of Gryffindors is legendary, unchanging, and therefore comforting. He could do something about Umbridge. He is probably the only one who could and still get away with it now that Dumbledore's gone. Not that he likely would; especially since Umbridge seems to hate Gryffindors almost as much as he does. I wonder how much of that hatred can be blamed on Harry Potter, and how much is due to the impetuous and brash nature that seems to be characteristic of all the inhabitants of the Tower. Werewolf, indeed. Then again, perhaps I am relieved by Professor Snape's refusal to acknowledge my presence. It means I don't have to explain anything, and I doubt that he would appreciate the explanation I have.
Now, how best to hide my rather unusual, and fairly noticeable, injury from my friends. Hmm, perhaps gloves? Though they might draw more attention than otherwise.
"Detention with Umbridge?" asks one of the Weasley twins as I climb through the portrait hole. Looking up, I nod.
"Bitchy witch," the other comments good naturedly, "surprised she hasn't got more of us," he continues. The famous Harry Potter looks up from his chess game with yet another Weasley and grins at me. "Essence of Murtlap can be very soothing after a session with Umbridge." Nodding again I glance at his right hand. It also bears Umbridge's special mark. Hastily I glance back at the twins, then at Lee Jordan, their friend. I feel somehow that I have just been admitted to a secret club. I grin at everyone then turn to walk up the staircase to the girls' dormitories. Perhaps this will be easier than I thought.