Poinephobia

For Sweeternity's Irrational Fear Challenge.

Fear: Poinephobia (the fear of punishment) Character: Millicent Bulstrode.

Millicent has nothing to fear walking down the corridors late at night. She is a pureblood, a Death Eater sympathiser and her build, along with a reputation at the Cruciatus Curse, is enough to intimidate those who dare disturb her. Of course, there would always be some who would rebel – the blood traitor Weasleys for one – but their pathetic existence would be ended by the Dark Lord at his earliest convenience and Millicent is sure that it will be drawn out and hopefully extremely painful.

Her area of patrol is on the Seventh floor. Gryffindor territory, indeed, and she scowls as she remembers Draco giving out the schedule, his expression haughty and his smirk superior. If not for his status, she would have long ago beaten him up but like all Slytherins, she knew that to mess with Draco was to mess with his father and that, by extension, was to mess with the Dark Lord. To do so was suicide, plain and simple.

Millicent rather likes living. Especially when the New Age is dawning on the horizon, born after the Dark Lord shows the Mudbloods their inferiority in a blaze of blood, fire and death. The pureblood society will rise once more and the mere thought of such brilliance makes Millicent smirk in premature victory. Many would die for this goal to be accomplished, many worthy of living, but that was the price to pay for greatness to be achieved.

A whimper causes Millicent to leave her thoughts, her beady eyes skimming through the shadows of the cavernous corridor in a bid to find the Gryffindor who is out of their common room after the curfew. Perhaps, if she found the Gryffindor, then she could convince Professor Carrow to let her practise her Cruciatus Curse on the rule breaking scum. With anticipation of the raw power that would flow through her wand, she uses a spell to locate the nearest person and perhaps Lady Luck is shining down on her, as two life forms are detected.

"What fun we'll have," she whispers in her rough voice, sounding more male than female.

She walks down the hallway with dignity (and little-to-no grace) and her head is held high. Her wand is held between her chubby fingers, slipping slowly from their sweaty grip but it doesn't matter for Millicent's skills lie mostly with her bare hands and they would be useful in convincing the muggle loving scum that they most certainly had much to fear by walking in the corridors at night. She would punish them most severely – if she did her job well enough, they would beg for merciful death and Millicent would laugh…

Yet, if the position was reversed, Millicent does not know what would happen. Her position in the world has always been the bully, the punisher and never, ever, has she been the bullied one or the punished one and truly, she is afraid. Fear is not acceptable in Slytherin, however, and her fear is masked by her desire to be the one punishing, something she has strived to be since birth. Though, when the mudbloods and blood traitors are screaming, fear rife in their eyes, she sees herself reflected in their shiny depths, powerful in comparison to them and that is better, oh-so-much better, than being the one punished.

("Millicent," her father tells her, "the strong are the survivors, untouched and unchallenged in their greatness and the weak are their prey, easy to torture and punished for their mere existence. If you wish to survive this war, you must join to strong side, where you will be in the greatness that is the Dark Lord's army. After all, you don't want to be punished for existing, do you?")

In the silence that is somehow strangely loud, Millicent's footsteps sound loudly and she knows that if they had any brains, the Gryffindors would've run off by now. But the Gryffindors aren't really known for their brains; her smirk grows larger as she wonders if they were brave enough (or stupid enough) to stay. She hopes so. It has been far too long since she has practised her Curses.

"Come out! Come out, little Gryffindors!" she sings lightly, her wand tip alight with a Lumos spell. "Hahaha!"

There is no answer to her taunts. Millicent frowns, stopping her movements. She's reached the end of the corridor, it's either left or right now and she knows that there are plenty of places where the couple could hide both ways. For all she knows they could have gone back to the common room.

(What happened to Gryffindor bravery? Died along with their hope…)

Still frowning, she places her wand flat on her palm. "Point Me!" she grunts. The wand spins until it ends up pointing down the left corridor and with a shrug of her large, broad shoulders, Millicent ambles that way, attempting to twirl her wand around her fingers but only succeeding in dropping it to the floor with a loud clatter. She bends over with a huff (shouldn't there be a spell to do that for her?) and grabs it, basking in its power as her hands grasps the stubbly piece of enchanted wood.

Millicent thinks she hears snickering but dismisses the very notion that someone would dare laugh at her. She, Millicent Bulstrode, was not one to take lightly and she was willing to play dirty if it meant avoiding less than desirable outcomes.

As she walks, her wand lights a path in front of her, bringing large, crudely shaped shadows into her peripheral vision. It doesn't scare her. Not much does, truthfully. Perhaps she is like a Gryffindor, in that respect, though she likes to tell herself that she thinks about decisions before making them. In these dubious times – more dubious for some and not so dubious for others – one cannot trust anybody. Traitors run deep into the Death Eater society, integrated in the least unlikely places and Millicent knows that if she lets slip some valuable information, she will face a punishment like no other.

And if there is anything that Millicent hates, it is punishment. It's a rational fear, she tells herself. No one likes to be punished…

But she cannot hide how deep her fear runs.

A shiver runs up her back. It is hypocritical, ironically so, that she fears the thing she so willing gives out. One day, that shall come back to haunt her but at the moment, she can bask in the knowledge that she has nothing to be punished for. Indeed, she gets rewarded for punishing others and it is brilliant, for it is one of the few things that Millicent is actually competent at. Again, ironically hypocritical. Yet, Millicent cannot bring herself to care.

As long as it is not she who is writhing with pain under another, then it is acceptable (poor misguided Millicent, too scared and too delusional and too stupid to be great) but at the same time, she will stare into those pain filled eyes and she will imagine it is her and that makes her want to cry. To be so completely at the mercy of another… it's unthinkable, really.

"Ugh," she shakes her head. She needs to focus on her prefect duties and what she'll do to them if she finds them but thinking of that leads back to what she was just thinking about. She sighs.

Several alcoves line the walls, along with a few empty classrooms and broom cupboards. Millicent checks each and everyone manually. She does not find anyone hidden in any of them and she thinks that maybe the Gryffindors were smart and went back to their common room.

And then she hears another whimper.

She whips around, wand sluggishly pointing in that direction too and illuminated in the dim lighting of her wand tip are the two Gryffindors. She knows them immediately – Neville Longbottom and Ginny Weasley. A laugh builds up in her throat. Caught red handed.

Quite literally, she realises. Longbottom's hands are coated in blood and Weasley is gasping in pain, holding her midsection. What is going on?

"Huh?" she asks out loud, sounding as stupid as the remark.

Longbottom's eyes flash up to hers, their brown depths filled with worry and hate and anger. Millicent shudders unconsciously. She lowers her wand and Longbottom attempts to lift Weasley up again, making her gasp and whimper as he jostles her wound. He whispers an apology in her ear and she nods, tears in her eyes.

"She needs help," Millicent grunts.

Neville snorts. "Your observational skills are outstanding." He pauses. "Are you going to let me go to the Hospital Wing?"

Millicent knows she shouldn't. She knows she should tell them no. She knows that if she lets them go, she will be punished if anyone finds out but Weasley is in pain, blood spilling on the floor and Longbottom is glaring at her. She doesn't want Weasley to die… but she doesn't want to be punished either.

The very thought sends shivers down her spine.

"Well?" Longbottom growls.

Millicent sighs. She looks at her school robes fleetingly. Slytherin, the badge shows. She's going against all she knows but Merlin, Weasley is dying. "Go," She grunts, looking around. "Quickly."

Nodding, Longbottom runs away as quickly as he can with the girl in his arms. She calls after him. "And Longbottom, don't tell anyone!"

As soon as they're gone, she whips out her wand again and points it at the bloody floor. "Evanesco!"

The blood vanishes like it was never there but Millicent knows that that's not enough to stop someone like Malfoy finding out. She's risking a lot on her last choice. She can remember the screams of both Weasley and Longbottom during a 'detention' and she imagines that she is the one screaming. Tears well in her eyes and a feeling of helplessness fills her chest.

She shouldn't have helped them. She knows she shouldn't but even with the threat of punishment looming over her, she can't help but feel that she made the right choice. Choosing what was right instead of easy had certainly been hard – and would probably cause her pain – but she hoped it was worth it.

I had a hard time with this one, as I don't think punishment is that irrational a fear and Millicent Bulstrode isn't my favourite character but I tried my best and I hope you enjoy :)

Thanks for reading!