Hermione wasn't in the best of moods on Saturday morning. In fact, it would be safe to say that she was rather cranky. When I apologized for waking her in the night, she shook her head and said that that wasn't it. I realized that Ron and Harry were already in the Quidditch pitch. They weren't studying for their O.W.L.'s as she thought was necessary.
"I think we should bring our books outside so we can watch them. Besides, it's going to get pretty damn cold soon." I said to Hermione and Eloise. We had taken up residence in the silent library. "Besides, isn't it important to support our team?"
"Yeah." Eloise nodded.
"But… but… oh! You're just as bad as those two!" Hermione cried out.
"Look, if you come with me to the pitch, I'll give you a French lesson tonight." I promised.
Hermione brightened, then darkened and then agreed somewhat reluctantly. "But only if we bring some notes or something."
"Deal." Eloise and I chimed.
I hadn't been to the Quidditch field other than when I had gone on one of my nightly flights around the grounds. We wandered to the middle of the empty stands and sat down. Just as Hermione was asking me the importance of unicorn hairs, we noted that Slytherins were approaching. I felt my heart sink as I saw Malfoy and Pansy leading the group. It was an odd combination, if one went solely on looks. Though I begrudgingly think this, Malfoy was a good looking kid and Pansy was just ugly.
"Oh God." I mumbled.
"No, God isn't a factor in… oh, I see." She rolled up her parchment. "Don't worry; I doubt they'll come up here."
The Slytherins did come to us though. In fact, they crowded around us as though to drown out all Gryffindor life. A large boy put his hands on my shoulders and held me to my seat. Crabbe and Goyle flanked Malfoy but it seemed as though Malfoy had other cronies at his bidding. Two more boys of extreme muscle sat on either side of me. Hermione and Eloise stood rapidly.
"Come on, Favian; let's just go watch from the ground or something."
"Yes." I tried to get up but the boy behind me wasn't relenting. "Let go of me." I said coldly. He didn't. "I said let GO OF ME!" I practically shouted.
"Tut, tut, the Gryffindor slut doesn't want to be touched." The boys on either side of me jeered.
"What the…? Was that your idea of a poem or something? Because it sucked." I growled.
"Let her go!" Hermione shouted. Eloise and Hermione were then shoved down. Two bulky girls, one named Millicent or something equally horrible, and the other called Zit, that nickname speaking for itself, were responsible for the restraint of my comrades.
The Gryffindor team was getting ready to warm up and seemed as though they were intentionally not looking at us.
"What's that Weasley's riding?" Malfoy called in his sneering drawl. "Why would anyone put a Flying Charm on a moldy old log like that?"
The Slytherins guffawed. I tried to move my arms but they were still pinioned to my sides.
"Hey Johnson, what's with that hairstyle anyway?" Pansy shrieked. "Why would anyone want to look like they've got worms coming out of their head?"
"I like her hair." Eloise noted quietly.
"Bet you like your nose too." Pansy snickered.
"Bet you don't like your face." I snapped. Ooh, that was mean.
Pansy darkened and glared. "You slut."
"Where in hell did you get that stupid insult? Your own experiences with Gay Pimp Daddy Malfoy?"
The boy holding my shoulders pulled back a little and then put his hands around my throat. He didn't squeeze.
"Go ahead, kill me. That'll make you feel better."
"I just like feeling your neck, Favian." He whispered.
My ears burned and I determinedly watched practice. Ron dropped the Quaffle and the Slytherins jeered.
"Hey, Potter, how's your scar feeling?" Called Malfoy. "Sure you don't need a lie-down? It must be, what, a whole week since you were in the hospital wing, that's a record for you, isn't it?" Then he turned back to look at me. "Or is it this little energy-booster right here that makes you feel so good?"
Harry, though at first not looking back, turned to the last statement, wondering what in God's name he was talking about. He saw me captive. Hermione and Eloise were both hidden under large bottoms. He said something to his teammates rapidly. They all turned back and saw me. I shook my head firmly and felt the boy's hands tighten slightly. His thumbs stroked my chin.
I jerked away, except that it didn't work. The boys on either side of me only came closer.
"Hey, Potter, you don't mind if me and the boys take a little sample of your candy?" Malfoy asked jeeringly. "Montague, if you want." Malfoy sneered. "She's literally in your hands."
The Slytherin team captain. Montague was the boy grasping my neck. He began to lower his face to mine. My eyes bulged and I squirmed. I wrenched my body uselessly in every which way. I even shouted profanities at him hoping that my egg-stained breath would catch him off guard. I felt eyes all on me: Slytherins laughing and Gryffindors outraged.
"She's quite the little challenge!" Montague laughed. Then he grasped my face firmly between his rough, big hands and lowered his lips to mine.
It was hell. It was hellish misery multiplied by embarrassment. I kept my lips firmly shut but his tongue fought to get between them. I couldn't jerk back or away. I wanted to vomit. If I screamed he would've gotten into my mouth and that was all I could try to avoid. I kicked my legs out but the boys on either side of me had grabbed my thighs as well.
Montague's head jerked away from my face. He was laughing as the Gryffindor team soared in to the stands. The Slytherins laughed manically and ran off, though the ones around me took a little longer. Once they were gone, I curled up into a ball on the bench and wiped my face on my robes until raw. I felt sick and I wanted to cry.
"Oh my God. Oh my God." Katie Bell muttered, with her hand planted over her mouth. They had made me come back to Gryffindor tower. I was reluctant to uncurl from my ball of protection. The Gryffindor team was solemn and disgusted.
"Those toads! Those overgrown ass-." Fred was incredulous. George's face was contorted in rage. Eloise and Hermione sat on either side of me, subdued. Angelina and Alicia were pacing the room, quietly discussing what to do. Harry and Ron looked torn between hatred and sympathy.
"Someone should tell McGonagall." Hermione said quietly.
I said nothing.
"What do we say?" Alicia asked.
"The truth?" Hermione asked tentatively.
"It's up to Favian." Katie said quietly.
I said nothing.
"We ought to do something!" Angelina cried out. "They can't just get away with this!"
"They won't." George and Fred chimed.
"But I say we do something the old fashioned way." George muttered. "And make it really bad for them."
"No! Then you two will get into trouble!" Hermione objected.
"Not if we don't get caught." Fred said fiercely. "Favian, just nod or shake your head, would it make you happy to see Montague and those two… pigs get into a fight and then get at least a week's worth of detention and then see them bleed for hours from their noses and fall into a faint?"
I nodded slightly.
"It's settled then." George and Fred slinked off to do whatever damage it was that they planned.
"Come on, Favian, let's go to our dorm." Eloise murmured, taking me gently by the arm.
I spent a good deal of that night crying into my pillow. Eloise and Hermione left me to my wailing, which I greatly appreciated. Lavender and Parvati came in at one point and didn't ask a thing. They left hurriedly. I suspect that word got round, but that only made me cry harder.
I was so miserable and worn out that when night came, I fell asleep immediately after changing somberly into my nightgown. Nobody said anything to me, and I was gone before anyone else.
"Hello Favian." Tom was there, again.
"Tom." I nodded, still tearful.
He frowned. "What's wrong?"
"Everything!" I sobbed. He rushed forward to embrace me. He hugged me tightly in his arms and rocked me back and forth. I cried into his robes and held on gratefully until I felt a little better.
"Tell me, if you want, what happened?"
I told him.
"Who hurt you the most? What was his name?" Tom asked sharply.
"Montague." I said from his shoulder.
"He will pay in time." Somehow the way he said it made me feel better. But it also frightened me. I tried to think of something funny to say to brighten the mood.
"You know, I never imagined that my first kiss would be so wet." But my stomach lurked at the connotation. "And horrific." I added.
"Your first kiss wasn't." Tom grinned wryly.
"Come on, Tom! You're just in my dreams." I thought quietly for a moment. "Though I wish you were real more than ever."
"How would it make you feel to know that I was real?"
"Happier than you'll ever know."
Monday morning rolled around and the worst news had been received by the school: Professor Umbridge had been appointed "High Inquisitor." I groaned when I realized that I'd be seeing more of her. Luckily, I didn't see her in History of Magic, though I was bored out of my mind. On the way to Potions, the Slytherins blew kisses to me. I determinedly did nothing to show that I noticed. I sat down in the dungeons and Snape passed back our essays. I didn't pay attention to what he said because I was fixated on the grade. I had a large, spiky E, whatever that meant. I wondered if I had failed.
I stared at my paper for so long that Hermione nudged me into action. We were making a Strengthening Solution today. I didn't allow my attention to waver once after that, because I was terrified of failing or getting another E. In America some teachers used Es instead of Fs. I was relieved to see that my potion closely resembled Hermione's. At the end of the lesson we put our flasks on Snape's desk and left. Malfoy had bumped into me on purpose and whispered something vicious to me. I ignored him. I considered asking Snape what an E stood for, but I wanted to get out. I could ask Hermione. Or Eloise.
"Well, that wasn't as bad as last week, was it?" Hermione asked. "And the homework didn't go too badly either, did it?"
None of us answered. She babbled on for awhile until Ron interrupted.
"If you want to know what grades we got, ask."
"I don't- I didn't mean- well, if you want to tell me-."
"I got a P," said Ron, ladling soup into his bowl. "Happy?"
"What's that supposed to be?" I asked, blushing.
Fred, George and Lee sat down with us. Fred went on to explain that P meant poor, D was Dreadful, O was Outstanding, E was Exceeds Expectations, A was Acceptable, and last was T for Troll. There was a bit of laughter at his explanation, but my foul mood had yet to lift.
"What did you have, Favian?"
"Hm? Oh, E." I said, going back to thinking on my own. My next period was a free period. I was planning to work on Snape's essay. I was glad that I had gotten such a good grade, but I wanted to keep it there. Nobody really pushed me that day because I was still in a bit of a state of shock. And I was trying to figure out dream-friend Tom.
What had he meant when he said "I am your Flight and you are my Wings?" Maybe there had been more to it than that.
"Favian," George whispered, "tomorrow you are going to see such a spectacle… it will brighten you right up."
I smiled, already cheering slightly.
My better mood had dissipated after Defense Against the Dark Arts. Harry had gotten himself another week's worth of detentions. What's worse, when I put my hand on his shoulder as we were exiting, Professor Umbridge asked me to stay after.
"Ms. Fynn," she started, once everyone was gone, "I have heard some rather, hem, unflattering things about you." Her smile widened.
"Like what?" I asked.
"Now, now, dear. As you are an American, you may not understand that, hem, getting around isn't something to be proud of."
My mouth dropped. I couldn't believe her nerve. "Excuse me? It's not exactly a good thing in America either!" I cried out.
Umbridge lifted her eyebrows. "There's no need to shout, Ms. Fynn."
"And there's no need to assume that just 'cause I'm from America that I'm… I'm…."
"I would never assume. I have heard things about you from some informants, if you will."
"Oh, I can't guess who those are." I said sarcastically.
"Do not take that tone with me." She said, sickly sweet.
"Look, just because you're my teacher doesn't give you the right to insult me. If you want to get into that, I'd be perfectly happy to take this outside." I was so angry, and suddenly I forgot who she was. "You're not always right, and in this case you have never been further from the truth!"
She opened her mouth.
"I'VE NEVER EVEN KISSED SOMEONE!" I shouted before she could get it out. "AND IT'S NOT MY DAMN FAULT THAT PEOPLE ASSUME THAT ALL AMERICANS ARE PROMISCUOUS!"
"Do not shout at me." Umbridge's smile had only widened during my yelling. "And just for that, I will take twenty points from Gryffindor, and I think, yes, I would like you to join Potter for his detentions. Maybe just one for you. Take this to McGonagall." Umbridge whipped up a note and sealed it with wax.
My mouth sat firmly shut against the onslaught of swearwords that I was so eager to unleash.
As I walked towards McGonagall's office, I cursed out loud. "Bitch, bitch, bitch…." I knocked firmly on McGonagall's door. She opened it suddenly and saw my scarlet face. I stuck out the scroll and she took it.
"Come into my office, Favian." She had me sit in a chair across from her desk as her eyes skimmed the letter. McGonagall closed her eyes and breathed deeply. "Is this true? Did you truly shout at Professor Umbridge?"
"Yes." I muttered.
"Why, Favian?" She almost pleaded.
I was shocked. "She as good as called me a whore. I know I shouldn't have lost my temper but… Professor, I don't understand why all the Slytherins hate me!"
"She called you what?"
"Not directly. She just warned me about my promiscuous behavior." I spat. "And I'm so sick of it!"
"Favian, this is going to be difficult for you to hear, but you're going to have to deal quietly with Professor Umbridge's shortcomings."
I opened my mouth to complain.
"No, what she did was wrong, but there is something much higher at stake. She was put here to keep an eye on happenings at Hogwarts. By being thrust into this… I know there is a lot that you will not understand. Just trust me when I ask you to…."
"Okay." I muttered. "I will deal with it quietly."
McGonagall smiled. But I was too angry to smile back.
"Favian! What are you doing here?" Harry asked quietly as we stood in front of Umbridge's office.
"I get detention too."
"Why?"
"I yelled at her."
"Geez, Favian, when and why?"
"After class today because she called me a whore." I muttered. "But don't say anything. McGonagall talked to me, I'm going to accept her stupidity. After all, I lived in America and dealt happily with the stupid oil thing."
"Come in!" Umbridge called. "Now, Ms. Fynn, I don't think there will be a need for you to do the same as Mr. Potter, so I have Mr. Filch here with a task for you." The scruffy old caretaker bore his yellow teeth at me.
"Come with me." Filch growled. Harry looked surprised but shrugged at me. I followed the caretaker out of Umbridge's office and into the corridor.
"How are you this evening?" I asked politely.
Filch sneered at me.
"Well, I'm fine, thanks." I responded to nothing. "I was in a bit of a foul mood earlier, but that's all good and out of the way." I sang.
"I wouldn't be so chipper if I were you."
"Obviously not." I smiled. "You're a bit of a grumpy lumpy right now, but I think that's because you need a puppy dog to show you some affection."
Filch looked disgusted and Mrs. Norris, his mangy cat mewed unhappily.
"I must say, your kitty is a cutie." I babbled.
"I'm glad I'll be rid of you in a few moments." Filch growled.
"Was my detention just walking with you?"
Filch grinned again. "No. You get to clean the Slytherin Common Room. Professor Snape said it was a bit dusty."
My eyes widened but I tired to spit out a positive. "I'm glad he thinks I'm thorough enough for the job. My mother used to make me dust the living room all the time."
"I'll bet your mother didn't make you do it muggle style."
"Oh yes she did! Because she's a muggle!" Oops. "It was my father that was the wizard." I lied. "She wasn't too fond of magic."
Filch ignored me and told me to wait. He opened a stairwell with a password that I completely ignored, not even caring how to get into the Slytherin tower. I followed Filch, walking by his side to his annoyance. It was cold and dark in the hallway, lit only by a few torches.
"Ooh, why do they like it so… sad-looking?"
Filch didn't respond, he just growled.
"You're not one for conversation. Which is a pity; because I bet you have one helluva singing voice."
Filch looked at me. "Really?"
"Yeah! I mean, they're looking for growlers in the industry all the time. Like Nickleback and Linkin Park and Nirvana…." But we were in the Slytherin Common Room.
Filch snapped out of his nice mood and shoved a dusting cloth and spray bottle into my hands.
"Dust. I'll be back in two hours." And he slinked off. The Common Room, to my horror, was packed. It seemed as though they had heard about my detention.
"We have a new House-Elf." Malfoy snickered.
"You're lucky to have one that's so cute." I said, lightly. I went over to a bookshelf and pulled out the books.
"Someone go get Montague." I heard someone mutter. I began dusting in a mad frenzy, and realized that that wouldn't make my two hours go any faster. I sprayed the whole shelf and wiped it down until it smelled lemony fresh.
"Hi, Favian, did you miss me?" Montague breathed in my ear.
"Your breath is bad. Here." I sprayed at his face.