DISCLAIMER: Places, people and things you recognise were invented by JK Rowling.

Oliver's POV!

Enjoy!!

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Detention

She is sitting outside the classroom, arms folded, head down when I arrive. She doesn't even look up, simply grunts an acknowledgement to my existence, and moves over to let me lean against the wall.

"What's your problem?" I say huffily, she looks up at me, clearly aghast.

"My problem?" She echoes incredulously. "My-" Then she shakes her head and looks back at the floor. "Nothing, Oliver." And I sigh.

Cullen joins us about thirty seconds later, helps her to her feet and pulls her into a short conversation of which I am clearly not a bloody part. She giggles as he releases her, catches me looking and silences herself immediately. As we move to file into the room when Umbridge appears, Cullen grabs my arm and forces a slip of parchment into my hand, presses a finger to his lips and follows Katie into the classroom. I glance at it, but don't read a word of the glistening ink, then fold it carefully, stuff it into my pocket and hurry into the classroom after the pair.

Umbridge stands in front of us as we take our seats across the back row of the classroom, nods as we settle, and then trundles to her desk and searches in the top right hand drawer. Eventually, she straightens up and holds out three black quills. I sneak a glance at Katie; she looks petrified, obviously unsure of what is going to happen. As I take the quill and go to dip it into the inkwell, I realise there is no ink in the bottle.

"Professor," I raise my hand and look at her. She smiles sweetly and comes closer.

"Start writing, you two!" she shouts at Cullen and Katie. "The lines are on top of your parchment." Then, looking at me, "What's wrong, Mr. Wood?"

"No Ink pro-" But I stop dead when Katie whimpers in pain. Instinctively I turn to look at her, seeing Cullen looking worried too. "Kat, you alright?"

"Ye-I… it's nothing." She whispers and continues to write, in ink that is so red it looks like blood. Cullen lifts his quill and begins to scribble as well, wincing suddenly, but not saying a word.

"Mr. Wood. Please commence writing your lines. Ink or not, they will be written." Umbridge says, seemingly sweet but with a lacing of malice about as poisonous as arsenic.

"Yes Professor." And I look down at my sheet of parchment, see the words "Chivalry is dead," and start to write them down, as slowly and tiredly as possible.

That soon changes. With every slow-written letter comes a burning pain across the back of my hand. I turn it over and see the blood dripping from it and down my wrist, the words I have written appearing, carved in my handwriting, on the back of my hand, then disappearing, leaving only drops of blood behind. Katie is writing quickly and silently, ignoring the pain that's so obvious on the back of her hand. I can barely make out the words she is writing - "I must not answer back."

The words she's been given make me smile into my parchment, Katie not answering back is like chocolate not melting when you heat it. Totally unheard of.

Cullen is using the same work ethic as Katie; for once, he is working quickly and quietly, biting down on his bottom lip to stop himself shouting out in pain. His eyes are screwed up, seemingly in concentration, but as he shifts his hand to adjust his grip on the quill, he winces harder. His blood is creating a pool on the parchment, glistening brightly and trickling over the words as he scrawls them. The back of his hand is starting to read "Chivalry is Dead" too, I can see the scratches becoming clearer as the seconds pass.

"Mr. Wood. You are not writing." I start in my chair as Umbridge sneaks up behind me and says the words in my ear. "Why are you not writing?"

"Hand cramp, professor." I say quietly, then flex my fingers again and begin to scribble silently.

A few minutes later, Umbridge summons Katie up to her desk, makes her hold out her hand and takes it to inspect minutely. There is a moment as Umbridge looks pleased with herself and allows Katie to get up and leave.

"Miss Bell?" She calls after her, "I won't expect you tomorrow evening, however, know that if you ever speak to me in the way you did this afternoon, you will be back in this classroom, writing more lines."

I look over at Cullen; he is staring at me, clearly confused. I know it's bad, but I don't really feel guilty for earlier. OK, so maybe I went a bit over the top, trying to charm the hell out of him - he is my best friend, maybe I should have given him a chance to explain, but still, Katie… Katie makes me defy all logic. When I think about her, I want to… punch a wall, because she doesn't get all the signals I am sending to her, and because she starts to confuse me with all those "I need You"s and "I don't want to lose You"s. Then again, I want to sit down with her, to hold her hand and just talk for hours and hours.

Suddenly, Umbridge summons both Cullen and I to her desk, we stand awkwardly and offer her hands without her having to say a word.

"Mr. Bailey," She takes his hand and traces the letters that lay there. Involuntarily, Cullen shudders, and nearly wrenches his hand from her grip. There is a second where I think she's going to send him back to his seat and write a new set of lines - I must not recoil from my professors - but she smiles sweetly and allows him to leave.

"Mr. Wood." She says, gripping my hand and repeating the same movement over the words. It hurts even more as she squeezes the flesh around it, "Your hand appears to be taking quite a shine to those words. Perhaps you will think twice before being so rude again. Dismissed."

I nearly run from the classroom, my hand still dripping blood. I wrap it in my cloak sleeve and start off towards the common room. About halfway up the stairs, I remember the piece of parchment I stuffed in my pocket. Carefully, making sure I don't catch my hand, I pull it from my pocket and unfurl it.

Oliver,

I am really sorry I got you detention, it's hardly fair. I promise I'll make it up to you next practise, by doing extra laps or something. I'll maybe see you at breakfast tomorrow, I don't know if I'll want to talk… I'm sorry.

Sorry for everything,

Kaitlyn.

For a few seconds, I don't understand. Who is Kaitlyn and why is she writing me letters? Then I realise, and it hurts.

Katie has to become someone else to talk to me. I've alienated my best friend in less than twenty-four hours. I fold the letter back into my pocket and sigh, increasing my pace and groaning as my hand aches again.

I have to fix this.

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A/N: Hope you enjoyed again!?

I think Oliver's got to do something soon - Katie might go crazy!

Please R&R!!

xx