A/n: Oh, my gosh... I don't know how to thank you all for reading and reviewing and favoriting and alerting this story! I especially don't know how to thank the reader who added this story to their community! Thank you so much, everyone, I'm eternally grateful. I mean, I really couldn't ask for anymore than the knowledge that someone is enjoying this.
"Darkness cannot drive out darkness: only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that."
― Martin Luther King, Jr.
Hermione wasn't in a good mood in the slightest after her falling out with Rhiannon. Sitting at the Gryffindor table after class alongside Harry and Ron, she picked at her food agitatedly and listened to her friends chat fervently but quietly about the Gryffindor's petitioning Umbridge for the 'privilege' to play Quidditch. As many times as she was asked her opinion on the matter, no matter how many times the others paused for Hermione to add in her own outraged response, the bushy-haired witch could only stab her fork into her mashed potatoes and sulk.
Her friendship with Rhiannon, though not the most perfect, seeing as they both had friends and schedules that were drastically, was something Hermione valued. Rhiannon was clever as a Ravenclaw should be; loyal to a fault; and just like her troublemaking sister, she was never dull. Back in their earlier days, when Rhiannon was very much classist and her young-age made her cruel; those same traits made the Ravenclaw a formidable foe. Especially since the older witch had a year on Hermione, her greater experience meaning for more chaos.
It had come as a relief to Hermione in her second-year that, after she had be petrified, Rhiannon had laid off her own attacks for the rest of her year, settling for dirty looks and insults because apparently the pureblood had had too much heart to do more than row with Hermione anymore.
The bickering and the rivalry didn't arrest until the end of third-year, Hermione hadn't any clue why, but she had run into Rhiannon in the library and the older girl was… different. Her smile not quite reaching her eyes, she had joked offhandedly about Divination—which made Hermione laugh awkwardly—before brushing past Hermione with the book she had come for.
It was uncomfortable; like meeting a distant elderly relative with no concept of personal space and a strong odor of medicine and mothballs—like meeting for the first time all over again.
They didn't see each other much throughout the semester aside from meeting in the library but somehow it was enough. These short meetings and brusque conversations minimized the awkwardness of trying to converse without any knowledge of the other person; each tidbit of information on the other obtained through these rendezvous helped to ease the gawkiness as Rhiannon and Hermione rediscovered one another.
Theirs wasn't an unbreakable bond like her friendships with Harry and Ron, nor was it a friendship based on any real joint interest, but Hermione cherished it nevertheless.
Which is why, when Ron offhandedly mentioned Rhiannon during their conversation, Hermione nearly bent her fork.
"Ann has already gone to Umbridge to see if they can play but until she gets a passing grade in Potions, the only way Ravenclaw's going to play is if someone else is team Captain." Ron supplied between mouthfuls of his lunch.
"So basically there's going to be no Quidditch this year, then?" Harry deadpanned, reaching over the table to steal a cooling bread roll.
"The Slytherins will." Ron quipped.
Their conversation became nothing more than an aggravating hum in Hermione's ears as she dropped her fork onto the table. Appetite no longer salvageable, Hermione was ready to take off for her sanctuary: the library. Not wishing to be any ruder than she had already been, however; Hermione excused herself through gritted teeth. "I want to do some reading before class. I'll see you two later." Despite the confused looks she received from her friends, Hermione quickly collected her things before taking off.
With a mouthful of food, Harry watched Hermione's retreating back. "Hermione!?" He called out before he turned then to look at Ron. "What's her problem?"
Ron managed to shrug through his bafflement. "She and Ann are fighting again, I think… Hermione practically bit my head off when I asked her about it." Ron looked wounded as he recalled the venom Hermione had spewed at him on the way to class.
Harry frowned before draining his glass of pumpkin juice. "Shouldn't we should go after her, then?"
"You can go get yelled at if you want to. I've had my fill of angry screeching for one day." Ron said bitterly, pushing his plate away after satiating his hunger.
Harry stood, pulling his schoolbag over his shoulder before leaving after Hermione.
Rhiannon wasn't pleased in the slightest at being caught up to and dragged to the infirmary wing. The examination that followed her arrival riling her up even more as it was little more than a waste of time. Pomprey's potions and spells burned and irritated the purple bruises Rhiannon sustained in the midst of her struggle with 'Nyarlathotep' and her fall.
After a stern talking to from Madam Pomfrey about being more careful next time, Rhiannon was then escorted to Umbridge's office.
Sinking awkwardly into one of the Headmistress' plush armchairs, the witch straightened her rumpled skirt out across her legs. Thankfully, her uniform had been replaced with one in a better condition after her visit with Pomfrey, or else Rhiannon wasn't sure she could sit in Umbridge's office as indifferently as she did.
The headmistress paced the floor momentarily before taking a seat behind her desk and skimming through a nearly filed stack of paper which sat upon it. From the angle she was at, Rhiannon could almost barely make out that these documents were opened, unsent letters from students to their parents. "Ms. MacIntyre,"
Her eyes snapped up at the sound of Umbridge's voice.
"As you know, Hogwarts is an esteemed institute of learning. Many great witches and wizards attended this school and turned about to be most successful..." Umbridge informed; her usual sing-song voice hardened around the edges with the hint of authority. "And as long as we're to uphold Hogwarts' good reputation, we cannot allow incidents such as these to happen again."
Rhiannon tried to look apathetic even though she felt her throat grow dry. Shifting uncomfortably atop posh, over-soft cushions, her earlier feelings of offense faded as a feeling of intimidation seized her like a too-tight embrace from Hagrid.
"Relax, child, you aren't in any trouble." Umbridge assured matronly, discerning Rhiannon's discomfort in her body language though the Ravenclaw tried not to readily show it. "The perpetrator, however, is going to pay dearly for their misdeeds!"
Rhiannon startled at the sudden change in Umbridge's tone. Gripping the arms of her lounger suddenly, the witch sat back into the lush cushion of the chair. "What do you mean? How so?"
"Why, I'm going to expel them, of course, Ms. MacIntyre." Umbridge answered plainly, beady eyes lit up with a sort of sadistic glee at the notion of expulsion. "All I need is their name and house, which is why you're here—and I'm sure you're eager for them to be brought to justice, are you not?" The unreadable expression the headmistress wore made Rhiannon's stomach do nervous flips.
Wringing her hands against the armrests, the witch tried to fight the frown that tugged at the corners of her mouth. If she told Professor Umbridge that it was Keira's doing, her sister would surely be expelled; and while the lack of baby-sitting duties would free up Rhiannon's timetable, this was her sister for crying out loud! The third-year might have been the very definition of a little terror but if Rhiannon could trust people who were worse to have her back during a bout of Quidditch, why should she hang her sister out to dry?
Conversely, if she didn't tell, Keira would never be punished for her actions and would continue her reign of discord.
Squirming under Umbridge's gaze, Rhiannon couldn't keep the squeak out of her voice. "I am… but—"
"But what, Ms. MacIntyre!?" Umbridge's face became all the more severe as she leant back in her chair and folded her hands neatly across her desk. "Surely you couldn't be defending them?"
"I'm not—it's just… it was a simple spell; probably even an accident!" Rhiannon disputed.
"Hardly so! Conjuration is a difficult practice! No one would or could just accidently do it!" Umbridge shot back. "Transfiguration in all its forms is a dangerous sort of magic! If Professor McGonagall is teaching them properly, they would know not to go hexing toilets and other foul deeds of that nature...!" Leaning forward to keep eye-contact with Rhiannon as the younger witch's face twitched in an effort to school her features, Umbridge raised an eyebrow. "Unless, you're saying that the Professor isn't doing her job as she should be, and that I should call her up here to sack her for not teaching her students the most basic of principles?"
"No! Not at all!" Rhiannon cried; jerking forward involuntarily with her outburst, she almost butted heads with the headmistress. Remembering herself she sat back and apologized thereafter. "It's just... I don't want to get them in trouble..."
"Tsk, tsk… is that so?" was Umbridge's menacing response. "What a Good Samaritan you are, Ms. McIntyre. To keep a fellow student from getting in trouble, you would allow yourself to be expelled in their place—even though you haven't done anything wrong. I commend that."
Rhiannon's blood ran cold in her veins. "You wouldn't!" She baulked.
"Oh, but I would. Aiding and abetting a criminal is an offense, too, Ms. MacIntyre" Umbridge smirked. "So, what shall it be? I personally would hate to see you go. You have such promise: pretty, charismatic and a gifted Quidditch player on top of all that... all wasted because you want to help someone who is clearly beyond it." Clicking her tongue, she added: "And your parents, they shall be furious when they hear the news. Young Keira MacIntyre, all by herself in Hogwarts because her sister was expelled; oh, whatever shall that poor girl do all alone? She's a dreadful witch, after all."
Rhiannon trembled with anxiety and rage; gripped with the sudden urge to throw herself over the table and beat that smug grin off of Umbridge's pudgy, wrinkled face.
This woman... she was quite a piece of work! No wonder the Ministry chose her; she was clearly unafraid to punish students: guilty or otherwise!
Face flushing a deep shade of crimson, Rhiannon dropped her hands to her lap where she balled them discreetly into fists. "Keira's learning at her own pace."
"Hew, hew, hew." Umbridge laughed mockingly with a hand pressed to her lips in a show of modesty. "We had a name for students who learned at their own pace back when I was in school... it wasn't very nice."
Rhiannon gritted her teeth. "What do you want? What do you plan to accomplish by making me mad!?"
Umbridge went from humored to deathly-serious in a second flat. "I want the name of the person who caused such chaos in my school and I want it now, or else I shall be forced to punish you!"
"But I haven't done anything!" Rhiannon cried, jumping to her feet.
Umbridge clasped her hands together, looking utterly pleased with herself. "Then I see no reason why we are still having this decision. Now why don't tell me who it was, or else I will make you do so. I can have Snape put together a Veritaserum—"
"You wouldn't... my parents would never allow it!" Rhiannon shouted, taking a step back and forcing the chair behind her to grind across the floor as she moved.
Umbridge looked taken aback for the moment at Rhiannon's outburst before a wicked smile spread out across her face. "A suspected death-eater and a disgraced pureblood, I'm quaking in my boots. Sit down, Ms. MacIntyre." When Rhiannon pointedly refused, the headmistress smiled before forcing her to do so with a swish of her wand. "There's no need to make this so difficult; who was it that hexed the toilet?"
Rhiannon, practically stuck to the chair now, struggled for a long moment before finally conceding under the headmistress' gleeful stare. "I... I did it." She lied; eyes cast to the floor as she hoped that she sounded convincing enough.
Umbridge rolled her eyes before standing. "I have had enough of this. I will give you one more chance to tell me the truth or you, and you alone, will face expulsion."
Rhiannon opened her mouth to repeat herself when the door to Umbridge's office was thrown open. The room's two occupants jumped, the tension in the air dispelled as quickly as it had come as the door slammed against the wall. Unfazed by the noise was Draco and his goons as they pushed Keira into the room.
The teen stumbled; her wand flying from her hand and rolling under one of Umbridge's bookshelves as she lost her grip of it.
Crying out in rage at losing her wand, Keira turned to spit fire at Crabbe only to have Goyle shove her towards Umbridge's desk. Stubbing her toe of the Headmistress' thick carpet, the witch tumbled and narrowly avoided thumping her head on the high back of Rhiannon's chair. "Oof!" She cried, almost comically, as she hit the floor.
"What is the meaning of this, Mr. Malfoy!?" Umbridge cried hand pressed to the center of her chest as she took in heaving breathes. Clearly taken aback by the events playing out before her, she glanced between Keira sprawled out on the floor and the self-satisfied expressions on the Slytherins' faces.
Draco sneered as he was quite proud of himself. Even despite the scalding glare he received from Rhiannon when she realized what he was about to do, the Slytherin puffed out his chest. "She's the one who put the hex on the toilet." Draco accused, pointing to Keira as she struggled to stand. "We caught her red-handed trying to do the same to the boy's toilet!"
"Did not!" Keira denied vehemently, stumbling when she got to her feet as the world slammed back into focus before her eyes. Blinking, she tried not to sway. "They're lying! I would never go into the boys' bathroom, Headmistress. I swear!" Keira squealed, turning to Umbridge.
What she was met with, instead of a matronly Headmistress, was a side of Umbridge she hadn't seen before. Umbridge looked wickedly delighted; like a portly toad on a fly-fishing trip.
Turning to Rhiannon for help and seeing the look of accusation written in bold letters on her face, Keira knew already that she might as well start packing; she was as good as gone.
Tears welled in her eyes and Keira was powerless to stop them from falling.
"My, my... what a dramatic turn of events. As it would turn out, the squib was the hexer, after all?" Umbridge cooed. "Thank you, Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle. I shall see to it that Ms. MacIntyre is taken care of." Waving the three off, the Headmistress waited until the door closed behind the snickering Slytherins before she rounded her desk and approached Keira with a smirk on her painted lips. "Now... hmm... I simply don't know what to do with you: punish you for improper use of magic, or expel you outright...? Oh! Decisions, decisions!"
"Wait!" Rhiannon interjected, writhing against the spell that forced her to remain seated. "Please, Headmistress, don't—it's my fault!"
Umbridge snorted. "That's enough from you, Liar!" Casting a silencing charm on Rhiannon to keep from her interrupting any more, the Headmistress turned her grave stare unto Keira. "As you already know, Ms. MacIntyre, I do not enjoy punishing you students..." Umbridge was clearly lying, which made Keira's eyes water all the more. "I understand that you want to do is have fun but this isn't a playground, it is a Wizarding School; not a place for fun and games, but of learning!" She scolded Keira, undeterred by the girl's overflowing tears or broken sobs. "Do you understand the trouble I could get into if a student were to injure another?"
Keira nodded. "Y-yes... I'm s-sorry, Headmistress... I just—"
"You just what?" Umbridge spoke when Keira failed to. "You just thought it would be funny? Well, look at your poor sister; does Rhiannon look like she's having fun?"
"N-no..." Keira hiccupped miserably.
Umbridge shook her head dismissively. "No, she isn't. None of us are. This is a serious matter, young lady. What if your sister or another student had gotten hurt? You are very lucky that Rhiannon was only shaken up."
"I didn't mean for any of this to happen! I just—I wanted to im-impress Professor Snape." Keira admitted; her voice shaky as she trembled with grief.
Umbridge clicked her teeth admonishingly. "Young women, in my time, when they wanted to sway a teacher, used to bring him apples or write him frilly little notes; not endanger the entire student body!"
Keira's face turned redder than Umbridge thought possible. Bowing her head, she hiccupped but said nothing else.
"It seems now you understand the severity of your actions." Umbridge noted, reaching out to clasp Keira's chin with her thumb and forefinger. Tilting the witch's head back so she could peer into her classy eyes, Umbridge smiled when Keira didn't jerk away.
Keira sniffled. "Will I be kicked out of school?" She asked when her voice finally allowed.
Umbridge let the younger witch's question hang in the air for a few long and tense moments before grinning. "Initially, I was going to expel you without question..." Glancing over to Rhiannon and seeing the older Ravenclaw girl glaring daggers, Umbridge's smirk widened until her face looked on the verge of tearing in half. "But now that I have you here and see that most pitiful look on your face... I think I have another punishment in mind."
Releasing Keira from her grip, Umbridge began toddling back around her desk where the Headmistress unlocked a drawer nearest to the bottom and retrieved a harmless-looking quill. "If you are able to write me a five hundred word essay on the importance of Uniformity and Discipline, I will let you remain at my school." Motioning Keira over, Umbridge handed the quill to her. "You have until bedtime; I will excuse you from the rest of your classes. Will you accept this punishment or shall I write to Mr. and Mrs. MacIntyre about your early arrival home?"
Keira, breathing hard as she wiped tears from her eyes, took the quill from Umbridge's pudgy hand. Casting an apologetic glance to her silenced sister, the young witch let Umbridge guide her to the empty chair beside Rhiannon, where Keira was given a long roll of parchment to write on.
"I expect your work to be free of typos and such." Umbridge informed before returning to her seat.
Keira nodded, sniffling once more before raising quill to parchment. "Wait... there's no ink?" She observed with a shakily inhale.
Umbridge slipped on a pair of reading glasses before idly responding: "It's not that kind of quill, my dear. Now, hurry up, you're burning daylight."
A heavy weight of foreboding settled into the pit of Keira's stomach, not knowing why she looked to Rhiannon one more time before she began to write. It didn't take long for Keira to realize why she was so afraid as the reason made itself known in the form of pure agony as the flesh on the back of her hand was torn open; the words she attempted to scrawl across her oxidized writing-space craving themselves into her skin.
A bloodcurdling shriek freed itself from her mouth as Keira dropped the quill onto the desk to nurse her wounded hand; blood, red as a jewel, pouring from the deep gashes and staining the paper below.
"Ah, ah, ah... No breaks. Pick that quill up and write or you are as good as expelled!" Umbridge threatened, barely taking her eyes off her report as she spoke.
Keira wailed. "B-But—!"
"Your dear sister has worn my patience quite thin, so you'd better start writing now or else." Umbridge interrupted coldly.
Keira whimpered, biting her lip as she hesitantly picked the quill back up and began to write. Gasping and shuddering as the pain climbed with each letter torn into her tender flesh, the witch could scarcely see through wave after wave of tears that obscured her vision.
Rhiannon, though rendered completely silent and still, screamed internally in anger. Just who the hell did this woman think she was!? This was abuse; both of her power and of the student-body! To think that others may have been subjected to this cruel form of punishment made the Ravenclaw's insides twist with a dark, violent loathing.
Harry caught up to Hermione in the library, where the prefect was ripping books from the sooty shelves and dropping them onto her chosen table almost loud enough to bring Madam Pince around. Reflexively, Harry clutched his shoulder bag against his side to keep the contents within from making any undue noise as he cautiously approached the furious witch. Watching Hermione snatch open a grubby tome—the title, almost unintelligible underneath layers of grit and grime, was familiar; from the list of recommended reads for the O.W.L McGonagall gave them, Harry reckoned—the boy-who-lived sighed. "Hermione," Harry started; mindful of the volume of his voice.
The prefect slammed the book closed, unfazed by the dust that evacuated the old book and into the stale air around her. Whipping around at being called upon, she turned her narrowed eyes onto Harry and at seeing him, her expression softened. Gripping the book like a lifeline, she tried to smile. "Oh, it's just you."
Harry raised an eyebrow. Clearly, Hermione had been expecting someone: Rhiannon, no doubt? Watching the aggression bleed from the bushy-haired witch's posture as she dropped her book onto the table, atop a growing stack of tomes just as old and sooty as it, Harry wasn't sure whether Hermione was actually ready to see the Ravenclaw yet. Not if they were ever going to makeup and become mates again, at least. "Have you come to study for the O.W.L?" She asked in an attempt to make polite conversation.
"I reckon you know why I'm here, Hermione." Harry replied vaguely. Pulling his rucksack off his shoulder, Harry dumped it into a nearby chair before pulling a different one out to sit on. "What's up with you? Why'd you go storming off?" He asked, effectively assuming the role of the concerned friend.
Hermione shrugged, turning back to the bookshelf. "I didn't storm off. I told you guys I was coming here, didn't I?" She sounded cross still but nowhere near as much as she had before. Harry took this as a sign to probe.
"Okay, so this has nothing to do with you and Rhiannon rowing again?" Harry questioned.
Hermione spun around again, face twisted in rage; she slammed her hands on the table and leant forward into Harry's personal space. He could feel her panting breathes against his forehead as she regarded him with angry eyes. "Did Ron tell you that? Oh, that traitorous prat. I'm going to wring his neck the first chance I get!"
Harry jerked his head back when Hermione got into his space, more so when she barked at him. Scooting back in his chair, he stood and put his hands on Hermione's shoulders soothingly. Though she remained tense in his grasp, Hermione regained her composure before seating herself across from Harry. Picking at her nails, she apologized for her outburst.
"So, it's true?" Harry asked.
"Yes… no… well—ugh, this is why I didn't want Ron running around telling everyone." Hermione fretted as she combed her fingers through her coarse brown hair in distress.
"What happened then? I mean, I know about the hexed toilet thing—but I don't get why you two are suddenly arch-nemeses again, all of a sudden." Harry said with a shrug.
"We aren't arch-nemeses… we aren't even fighting, really. Well, I don't think. It's just—when Professor Snape and I saved her, initially, she was thankful. Joking as usual, even despite what had just happened… but then—I don't know why—she got short with me." Hermione frowned then. Leaning back in her chair, she folded her arms across her chest. "Shouting at me when all I was trying to do but help. All of a sudden, it was the second-year again and she was back to being a bigot who couldn't be bothered to be in the presence of the likes of me." Emphasizing the last part of her statement with air quotes, Hermione's brows knitted together angrily. "I don't even know why I thought she could change. All those bloody purebloods are just the same; self-entitled, boorish extremists!"
Harry shushed Hermione at the sound of Madam Pince's approaching footsteps but it was too late. The librarian reared her head and the two Gryffindors were already gathering their things before she demanded them out screeching like a cross vulture.
Too tired to struggle anymore, Rhiannon panted and cursed Professor Umbridge with all her remaining energy. As soon as she was freed, Rhiannon swore that she would inflict as much pain on the Headmistress as she possibly could before someone showed up to arrest her.
And if it was possible, Rhiannon would beat the shit out of the sniveling Draco Malfoy, too!
Trying not to focus too hard on Keira's screams as she was powerless to help her, Rhiannon clenched her eyes shut and began counting the seconds until they were free to go.
"Nuh-ah-ah, Ms. MacIntyre," Professor Umbridge cooed, startling Rhiannon back to the moment at hand with a harmless spell. "This is your punishment—you have to watch. Unless you would like another?"
Gasping inaudibly as the chair shifted around beneath her so that Rhiannon was now facing Keira, the Ravenclaw flinched when more and more blood gushed from her sister's hand. The sight made her queasy; this surprised Rhiannon, as she was squeamish by no means.
Hermione and Harry talked—more like the former complained about Rhiannon ceaselessly—until it was time for class again. Shrugging her cumbersome book bag onto her shoulder and visibly sagging as the great weight of it took its toll immediately, the prefect bid Harry farewell and turned to leave—only to remember something at the last minute. "Oh, Harry… I forgot. If you get the chance, give this back to Ann. She's going to need it if today marks the end of our ceasefire." Holding out the older girl's wand to Harry, Hermione's brown eyes twinkled with a dangerous promise.
Harry took it hesitantly. "What do you mean?" The impish look on Hermione's face was all the answer Harry needed. Tucking Rhiannon's wand into the fold of his robe awkwardly, the boy-who-lived waved good-bye before heading to his own lesson.
Time seemed to crawl as if some sort of spell had been employed to keep them there as long as possible, but eventually it grew dark outside and the castle around them grew quiet as all activity ceased. Rhiannon, by then, was so sore from having sat upright all day that she practically fell out the chair when Umbridge released her. Stiff and pained, the Ravenclaw could only lay sprawled out against the carpeted floor.
"This report was splendid! Quite marvelous, I should say. Your grasp of the English language is fantastic. Surely, you've thought about authoring?" Umbridge all but sang as she read over Keira's report. The red words neatly written across the page glittered in the light like a macabre ink.
The young witch was meek; visibly weakened by the ordeal as she curled in on herself in her seat to appear smaller. Nursing her hand against her chest—which, despite Umbridge's use of basic healing spells to mend the torn skin, still bore many bleeding cuts from the punishment passed—Keira sniffled.
"N-no, I haven't..." She replied.
"Well you should. You're an excellent writer, my dear..." Umbridge complimented.
Rhiannon, feeling numb—as though she had slipped into the Twilight Zone—stood shakily and grabbed Keira by her frail shoulder. Yanking the younger Ravenclaw from her chair and to her feet, Rhiannon pulled her sister into a tight, apologetic embrace that brought tears afresh to Keira's eyes. When they broke apart, Rhiannon motioned to a nearby bookshelf. "Get your wand, we're leaving." She commanded.
Umbridge laughed heartily in response. "You don't want to stay for tea, Ms. MacIntyre?"
Rhiannon shot a heated glare at the Headmistress before turning to watch Keira clumsily dive to the floor to reach under the bookshelf her wand rolled under. "No, we have class in the morning." She informed begrudgingly.
The Headmistress' eyes lit up. "Ah, I see... what model students you two have suddenly become. I guess my punishment worked, after all!"
Rhiannon grinded her teeth. "I won't let you get away with this—"
"What are you going to do, hm? As I have told everyone before you: it's my word against yours'. Who do you think they'll believe?" Umbridge probed. Approaching Rhiannon as the witch hesitantly took a few steps backwards, the Headmistress smirked. "You're a smart girl, don't waste our time."
Keira reappeared then, half-crouched behind one of the Umbridge's chairs with wand in hand. "G-got it." She supplied shakily.
Rhiannon growled before turning on her heel and beckoning Keira to follow. "Then we've no reason to be here. Let's go." Advancing on the door with long strides, the two Ravenclaws bristled when Umbridge cleared her throat.
"Hem, Hem..."
Rhiannon threw a dirty look over her shoulder. Barely keeping the rage from her voice, she snapped: "Yes, what is!?"
"Our 'Girl-talk' stays between us, is that understood?" Umbridge spoke with unfettered amusement; amusement that only increased when she saw how violent Rhiannon's trembling had become. The older teen must have been really angry; Umbridge was beside herself with delight knowing this. As the sisters nodded slowly, the Headmistress smiled. "Well, as long as you two behave, you should never have to come see me again. Good night, Girls."
Rhiannon slammed the door on the way out.