A/N: This story will consist of five short chapters. It seems like my muses have all gone on break at once - fanfic and original both. I've been reading some Harry Potter lately, so I thought I'd try something short and simple and it might help me ease back in. Keep your fingers crossed ...

I do not own Harry Potter, Lee Jordan, Dolores Umbridge (thank goodness), or anything related. All belongs to JK Rowling. :-)

Taking umbrage: to feel resentment, take offense

Dolores Umbridge's office was … pink. Overwhelmingly pink. And frilly. Heavily perfumed.

Nauseating. Revolting.

Fascinating.

At least, fascinating in the way that a Quidditch collision or the explosion of an entire crate of dungbombs was fascinating. You couldn't bear to look, but it was also impossible to look away.

Lee stuffed his hands in his pockets and stared nonchalantly—he hoped—around the feline infested nightmare as Umbridge rustled in her desk, murmuring softly in a voice that still managed to be falsetto and sugary even when barely audible. "We must learn to mind our tongues and show the proper respect to authority, mustn't we, Mr. Jordan?" She didn't seem to expect a response, which was just as well since he didn't intend to give one. "I would tell you that it's wise to watch the company you keep, but seventh year … much too late for that. We'll just have to do what we can to mitigate the damage, won't we? Yes, you'll soon see …"

Rows upon rows of porcelain kittens mewed their agreement. Lee forced back a shudder. If only Fred and George could see this place … Although come to think, there was no guarantee they hadn't. It was only a matter of time, and the Weasley twins were much more diligent about their homework when it came to pranks than to school assignments.

"Here we are!" Umbridge trilled, bustling toward him. He resisted the urge to back away—for all her delicate mannerisms, the woman had the build of a mountain troll—and stared down at the DADA professor. Their height difference didn't seem to disturb her. She thrust a parchment and quill into his hands, then sent a fluttery wave toward the spare desk. "Lines, Mr. Jordan."

Well, that didn't sound terrible.

"In the evenings for the next week."

A week? That was starting to edge onto terrible, maybe. He'd go mad …

Best to just get it done with. Lee slouched obediently into the chair, and Umbridge leaned over him, tapping the parchment. "I will not talk back to my betters." She simpered at his glare. "Come now, Mr. Jordan. We must all learn our unpleasant truths in one way or another."

The woman really was a troll. He was certain the blood was in there somewhere—on her mother's side, probably, and not many generations back …

All right, then. "How many?"

The simper grew, and she tossed a prim little shrug. "I'll let you know."

Fantastic. He hoped he'd make it back to the dorm before it was time to get up for breakfast. Lee watched her return to her desk, fantasizing for a moment about setting his tarantula loose in her carefully coiffed hair, then accepted his fate and dug into the drawers for an ink bottle. It had been coming for weeks, honestly, ever since he'd levitated that dungbomb into her path outside the library after closing one night. He had been catching up on some Potions research after hours—Madam Pince wasn't quite so strict with the seventh years about closing time as she was with the younger classes, knowing what N.E.W.T. year was like—and had almost walked straight into Umbridge berating a group of Hufflepuff first years who had got themselves turned around by the moving staircases and were back outside the library instead of in their common room where they belonged. It had happened to all of them at one time or another, and not just first years. The entire castle was one big maze. This was Umbridge, though, and given the terrified huddle of eleven-year-olds in the torchlight, it seemed that she was pulling no punches based on either age or inexperience. So Lee had ducked back around the corner, pulled out a dungbomb that he kept handy for such eventualities, and levitated it directly over her head. Umbridge had caught the direction of their wide-eyed stares too late, and by the time she had recovered from the explosion and subsequent mess her victims had all fled. She had never seen him, but he knew that she had questioned Madam Pince and had a good idea of who had left the library just before the incident. Mouthing off about exploding snap was only her excuse—if not for that she would have found something else.

"There's no ink here."

Umbridge clasped her hands and smiled. "There's no ink here … ?"

Old bat. "I don't have any ink here, Professor Umbridge." She didn't deserve the title, and she didn't deserve the respect that title conferred …

She twinkled at him and settled back. "Never fear, Mr. Jordan. Just write."

Just write. The woman was crazier than a—

A streak of fire burned across the back of his hand as he looped the first words onto the parchment and he jerked back, dropping the quill with a clatter. What the—

"Keep on, Mr. Jordan."

Something cheery and … satisfied in her voice lifted his eyes from the disappearing cut and the blood red ink on the parchment. Revulsion surged as he met her gaze, gleaming and triumphant. Lee set his jaw and turned his attention back to the parchment and quill.

The quill. Dark magic of some sort, that much was sure.

Was this how they were going to play it, then? Fine. Just fine. He forced away the buzzing in his ears and the angry nausea. Umbridge was nothing they couldn't handle.

"Perhaps you'll spread the word to your … associates, Mr. Jordan." Her voice, still soft and so sweet that his teeth ached as if he'd had a dozen sugar quills in a row, held a note of steel. "It's best not to test me, you see. I don't intend to lose."

You don't intend, do you?

Well, he didn't either. No Fred and George, then. There was no way he was running her messages for her. She'd have to do her own dirty work. It was probably for the best anyway. They'd go mental—as if they weren't already—and it would only give her another excuse. He was on his own then … But he hadn't been the Weasley twins' best mate for years without learning a thing or two about getting under a professor's skin.

Umbridge was still watching him when he looked back up, but her knowing grin faltered when he flashed her the full gleam of his own. Her eyes narrowed and she settled back, gaze never leaving him as Lee set about cheerfully covering the parchment with fresh red ink.