He always hated writing lines, but this was worse. Much worse. It was bad enough when McGonagall punished him with lines. He got punished more than most students, and some times, he even felt he might have deserved it. Most of the time it was forgetting that his essay was due that day, or getting so distracted with his photographs that he ran out of time to work on it. This time, however, he couldn't help but feel some resentment towards the person sitting in front of him. If he was being honest with himself, what he felt right now was a little bit more than resentment.
The garish pink of the office was almost blinding, a sickeningly sweet contrast to the punishment he was forced to endure. The numerous portraits of cats didn't help matters, proving to be more off-putting and disturbing than comforting.
He paused his writing as his fingers began to cramp again. The cramping was almost welcome, providing a slight distraction from the deep throbbing he felt on the back of his palm. A small trickle of blood was dripping of his hand, staining a tiny portion of the parchment that was still blank, untouched by the crimson script that covered the vast majority of the parchment.
"Don't stop now, Mr. Creevey," said Dolores Umbridge, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister and High Inquisitor of Hogwarts. "You're almost done. Just a few more inches should ensure the lesson leaves a deep enough impression, don't you think?"
Colin Creevey resumed writing, all the while cursing under his breath, his hair falling down to obscure his face from her view. His hand was truly beginning to throb now, the line I must not blindly follow others deeply imprinted on the back of his hand.
"How many more times must we do this, Mr. Creevey? Detention with you seems to be an almost weekly occurrence anymore," said Umbridge. "You shouldn't be so quick to defend Mr. Potter. He is not the hero he makes himself out to be. If you can't trust the ministry, then who can you trust?"
She turned her back on him, cooing at the portrait of a kneazle that was situated behind her desk. Colin took the opportunity to make his desdain for her clear with his good hand.
"That will be another thee inches Mr. Creevey, and detention tomorrow night as well," said Umbridge. "Maybe tomorrow you will write 'I must respect authority.'"
Colin groaned, and bent his head back down, vowing to finish the rest of his detention without incident.
Colin stood in the bathroom just over an hour later, running warm water over his still oozing hand. He felt tears threatening to fall, desolation setting in. He didn't know how long he could keep this up. He didn't know how long it would be until he was broken, and became just as submissive as the rest of his classmates. They didn't support his actions, calling him stupid and foolhardy. None of them dared to speak out against Umbridge, not anymore.
Colin had never felt more alone than he did then. He had no one to turn to, no one to confide in, no one that supported him. He couldn't help but think how easy it would be to just slip back into anonymity. Most people just went with the flow for their entire lives, so what difference would it makes if he joined them, just this once?
He looked up into the mirror, his face cast in shadow by the lack of lighting in the dark bathroom. All he saw was a coward looking back. Colin closed his eyes and turned away, exiting the bathroom in a rush.
Colin returned to the common room holding his cloth-wrapped hand close to his chest. He saw Harry and Hermione sitting over by the fire, quietly arguing about something. Always curious, Colin crept closer, trying to avoid attracting the attention of the two older students.
"I swear Harry, sometimes you are as stubborn as Ronald," whispered Hermione.
"This is my burden to bear Hermione. It's between me and Umbridge," replied Harry.
Colin's hand gave a slight throb at the mention of her name. He sat in an armchair close the the two, and stared into the fireplace as he strained to hear the rest of the argument.
"This isn't just a teacher that hates you, Harry! I looked up blood quill use and it's borderline torture!" said Hermione, her voice steadily raising.
"I've made up my mind, Hermione," said Harry, his voice slightly cooler. "Dumbledore has enough on his plate as it is, and it's not like I can go to the ministry for help. Umbridge is the ministry."
Harry stood, silencing whatever retort Hermione was about to make.
"Look, I'm tired," said Harry, stretching as he yawned. "I'm off to bed. We'll talk more in the morning. Good night Hermione."
Hermione stood as well, heading to her own dorm. "Good night Harry."
Colin was finally alone in the common room. He stared into the fire, watching it dance along the logs in the fireplace, it's crackling the only sound in the common room. He played the snippets of conversation he just heard over and over again in his mind. He felt his resolve begin to strengthen, the fire illuminating his face. He would not let Umbridge win.
Colin entered the great hall, and sat next to his brother Dennis. He began piling sausage onto his plate.
"Do you think you could help me with my charms essay tonight," Dennis asked around a mouthful of potatoes.
"Can't. Got detention with Umbridge tonight," Colin replied./p
"Again!" Dennis exclaimed. " Bloody hell, that's three nights in a row! You gotta stop pissing her off!"
Colin looked at his younger brother. He took a bite of sausage, and replied, " Someone has to stand up for the truth. If no one else will do it, I have to."
"No one will ever believe you Colin," said Dennis. "They don't even believe Dumbledore!"
Colin picked up his bag and stood to leave. He looked back at his younger brother and said, "I don't do it for them Dennis. I do it for me."