Disclaimer - I own Nicola, Clara, and Tristan, no one else.

A/N - This takes place during the twins' and Nicola's Seventh Year.

Chapter One: Ink

A faint scratching sound cut through the tense silence in the library as Nicola's quill scribbled furiously on her parchment. She tucked an errant strand of ebony hair behind her ear and continued writing. Her table was covered with books of various shapes and sizes, all splayed open to reveal their contents. She set her quill down momentarily to snatch one of the smaller texts and place it in front of her. Nicola's intense sapphire gaze flitted across the pages several times as if searching for something in particular.

"Of course," she muttered, before picking up her quill and returning to her parchment. She was so enveloped in her work that she failed to notice her quill had been swapped out. As soon as the new quill touched the parchment, it exploded. Nicola sputtered as sticky blue ink covered her face. A young Hufflepuff boy who had been studying at the table next to hers looked up at the noise. He snickered quietly until Nicola fixed him with a penetrating glare.

She glanced frantically around the book-filled room, thankful that the noise hadn't attracted the attention of Madam Pince. Lowering her gaze to her table, Nicola assessed the damage to her things. The books she had been using seemed to be free of ink, but her face and clothes hadn't fared so well. She retrieved her wand from inside her bag and pointed it at herself.

"Tergeo," she whispered. Nothing happened. Knitting her brow, she tried again. Still nothing happened. Evidently the ink was impervious to cleaning spells.

"Bollocks," she cursed, "I'll have to finish this essay tomorrow."

Nicola flourished her wand at the books in front of her and, one by one, they closed themselves and flew back to the appropriate shelves. She packed up the rest of her things and slung her bag over her shoulder. As she was about to leave, she spied the remains of the trick quill on the table. Not wanting to risk another student attempting to use it, Nicola snatched it up and hurried out of the library.

She stopped abruptly as she entered the hallway. She could have sworn she heard a muffled giggling coming from behind a tapestry of an armored knight on a horse. She strode over to the tapestry and whipped it aside with her free hand. Standing side by side in a small alcove behind the hanging were none other than Fred and George Weasley. The two redheads had identical smiles plastered on their freckled faces.

"As I live and breathe," said Fred, pressing a hand to his chest in mock surprise.

"If it isn't Miss Nicola Kingsley," George finished, mimicking Fred's pose.

Nicola responded with a scowl. The twins looked her up and down before continuing.

Fred stifled another giggle, "We don't mean to alarm you,"

"But you seem to have some ink on your face. Right there," George pointed to her nose.

Nicola felt the trick quill in her palm as she clenched her fists in anger.

"Your property," she spat, flinging the quill at their smug faces before turning to leave, "Please refrain from testing your new products on me in the future."

"Aw, but you look so good in blue!" Fred called after her, as George twirled the now useless quill in between his fingers.

Nicola trudged through the stone entrance to the Slytherin common room, almost bowling over a first year.

"Sorry," she murmured, ignoring the quizzical look she received from the young girl. Nicola had been the recipient of that look from almost every student she passed on the way to the dungeons. Understandably, she was becoming increasingly more desperate to get to her dormitory and wash the magical ink off of her face once and for all.

She ignored the rest of her Slytherin housemates as she made her way through the common room and up the stairs to the dormitory she shared with the other seventh year girls. She closed the door behind her and prayed that none of her bunkmates were hanging around.

"What in Merlin's name happened to your face?"

The only other person in the room: a tall, skinny girl stood up from her bed and strolled over to examine Nicola. Her long blonde hair was tied up in a messy bun and her square glasses sat perched on her nose, framing her vivid green eyes.

"I don't want to talk about it, Clara," Nicola sighed, skirting around her friend. She shrugged off her book bag before collapsing face first into her bed. Clara drifted over to the four-poster and leaned against it nonchalantly.

"Weasley twins again?"

"Mmmph," Nicola's reply was muffled by her duvet.

Clara kicked at Nicola's feet playfully until she rolled over to face the ceiling.

"It's magical ink. Spells don't work on it," she admitted, frowning.

"So take a shower, dummy. Unless you want to go to dinner looking like that."

Nicola groaned and reluctantly extracted herself from her bed. She plucked her towel from the hook and closed the bathroom door behind her. She surveyed her clothes as she disrobed, noting that the ink was mostly on her shirt and tie.

"Hopefully the house elves know how to remove magical ink," she muttered as she chucked everything in the laundry bin.

After fifteen minutes of vigorous scrubbing, Nicola's face still looked like a blueberry. She sighed in defeat and wrapped her towel around her midsection. She heard Clara stifle a snort as she shuffled back into the dormitory.

"Oh, honey. That is some serious ink."

Nicola pouted, "Do you think it's permanent?"

"I don't think so. The twins are prats, but they're not evil. I'm sure it will wear off eventually," Clara placed a comforting hand on Nicola's shoulder, "Do you want me to bring you some dinner?"

Nicola nodded, changing into her pajamas.

"Alright, I'll be back soon," Clara flashed her a reassuring smile before leaving.

Nicola settled into bed and grabbed a paperback novel off her bedside table. On the cover was a picture of an elegant young woman in a high-waisted dress. This was one of many muggle regency romance novels Nicola had collected over the years; they were a guilty pleasure of hers. She loved escaping into a world where men and women were so passionate about love. She wished she could one day find a man like the ones in her books, but boys at Hogwarts were more interested in Quidditch than having an actual conversation.

Nicola was two chapters in when Clara returned, juggling two plates piled high with food.

"Sorry that took so long," Clara apologized, handing Nicola a plate and a fork, "Kenneth wouldn't stop hounding me about our Ancient Runes project. I swear that boy is going to be the death of me."

Nicola smiled and shoveled some mashed potatoes into her mouth. She had been so focused on her predicament that she hadn't realized how hungry she was. She was munching happily on a lamb chop when Clara gasped and pointed at her.

Nicola raised an eyebrow, "What?"

Clara grinned, "The ink is disappearing!"

Nicola snatched up a small mirror from her bedside table and studied her face. Sure enough, the ink was gradually fading away.

"Thank Merlin," Nicola sighed with relief, "I did not want to go to class tomorrow looking like that."

"I dunno, I think you were a cute little blueberry," Clara teased, pinching Nicola's cheek. Nicola swatted her hand away and laughed before picking up her plate and grabbing another forkful of lamb chop.