Someday, I will own something of great value. This will not be Harry Potter, as J K Rowling already owns it.

Detention and Tryouts

As Lucius had ensured much earlier in her life that the blood quills would write onto her palm, Ryua was able to hide it fairly easily. As the week went on, however, she was running into trouble.

Even with a fully functional hand, the amount of fast, non-stop writing she had to do would have cramped her fingers. Classes were best, simply because they were generally a lot warmer than the Slytherin Common room, and the cauldrons in Potions gave off a lot of heat. Ryua had taken to paying a minimum of attention to her teachers, and just trying her best to do homework at a fantastic rate. What she couldn't do during class, she wrote in the Great Hall over meals, or in the Common room before breakfast and after detention. The cold down in the dungeons, however, ate right through to the bones of her last three fingers; building from a dull twinge to a nearly incapacitating ache the longer she spent writing in the cold.

And the longer she spend carving 'I will act as befits my station' into her palm, the less her skin wanted to be bent, or worse, touched. By Wednesday, Ryua was using her left hand for everything but writing again, as it also fixed the problem of leaving blood smears on things. She'd taken to wearing gloves, the right with a bit of clean, absorbent cloth to soak up the weeping blood on her palm. No one asked about a dungeon resident wearing gloves, either.

Until Thursday, when she went to the lovely, warm solar for Arithmancy. Ryua didn't have a choice about paying attention to the lesson; Arithmancy just demanded your full attention, as well as a certain amount of time. It wasn't until halfway through the class, when Vector released them for assignment work that Hermione asked why she was wearing gloves. "I'm cold." Ryua said, maybe a little too sharply.

"Well, excuse me for asking. You know, if you're cold in here, maybe you should see Madam Pomfrey. Maybe you're sick."

"I'm not sick," Ryua said, her face a mask of concentration while she tried very hard not to wince while she wrote.

"Then why are you wearing gloves?"

"Because I want to, alright?"

"Ryua..."

"Hermione, what is it with you? Why can't you ever just take my at my word?"

"When was the last time you actually said what you meant?"

Ryua held an exasperated growl down to a quiet level. "I really have been cold, and the gloves keep my hands warm enough to write in the dungeons through the wee hours of the morning, alright?"

"... Why are you doing homework that late?"

"Detention."

"Oh..." Hermione said, then turned back as something occurred to her. "You're in detention with Umbridge?"

"Yes."

"We know, me and Ron, about what she does to you..."

"Really. Being prefects, you're supposed to supervise detention too?"

"No, we saw Harry's hand!"

Ryua was quiet for a moment. "How's he holding up?" she asked, quietly.

"Probably not as well as he says."

"Hah. Didn't think she would get to him that easily."

"So, that's why you're wearing the gloves."

"That, and it's really cold in the dungeons. They really do keep my fingers warmer."

"Writing's getting hard, eh?"

"You could say that. And to boot, I've got Quidditch tryouts tomorrow evening, after which I get to go carve my skin some more!" Ryua put down her quill and rested her head on her arms. "I am so, so far behind, and I can't keep going like this. I need to sleep..."

Next to her, Hermione paused in her writing. "You know... This is an optional group project, isn't it?"

"Yeah, I think so..."

"Well, then I'll just do it, for the both of us. You sleep, or do something else. I won't tell."

"Really?" Ryua lifted her head up, an incredulous expression on her face. "I owe you like the biggest chocolate bar in the world..."

"Yeah, yeah, just worry about it after you're done detention, okay?"

"Okay..." Ryua had already pulled out a DADA essay, and started carefully writing it out. These were also the only bits of work Ryua could write without using a bandage on her hand. Umbridge didn't care if there were bloodstains.

And there are going to be a lot more of those after tonight. Ryua thought as she wrote the old, familiar, hated words over and over, under the watchful eye of Umbridge. She didn't even look over at Harry, whom she knew by now would have a visible cut across the back of his hand. Just writing, forcing down any acknowledgement of pain, any outward reaction, just grinding the quill tip across the paper, feeling it etch into her palm, deeper and deeper, wishing she were cutting across that woman's face. I hate her. I hate her to the depths of my soul, and I wish I could spend a few days killing her. I hate her...Over and over, she cursed Umbridge in her head, wishing she dared do it with her wand. And the moment Umbridge opened her mouth to tell them they could go, Ryua slammed down her quill and stormed out without even stopping to look at her. She cradled her hand, and realized Filch would get Mrs. Norris to track her down by scent if she bled on the floor, so she ducked into a bathroom and fished through her bag with her left hand, keeping her right held tight against her stomach, thanking whomever was up there that school robes were black.

She'd found Dobby two days ago, and gotten him to lift some bandages from the sick room. Ryua ran cold water over her hand, clenching her teeth against the sting until it started to go numb. Before she attracted the attentions of the less savory inhabitants of Hogwarts, she pressed a folded up bandage into her palm and using teeth and her wand, managed to get another well wrapped around her hand, hopefully creating enough pressure to stop the bleeding by tomorrow. Good thing Hermione took over Arithmancy... I couldn't write now without leaving bloodstains, even with the bandage. Although she felt a little guilty, Ryua gladly accepted the reason to sleep, and was asleep even before she lay down all the way.

She woke up in the morning to see her bandage definitely needed to be changed, but it was just slowly weeping blood from the letters. Once she had her shower, Ryua managed to look at the time, and with a groan, noticed it was only seven thirty yet. No one would be awake for ages.

So, Ryua went for a walk. To the kitchens, in fact, the only place in the school where there would be anyone awake. She didn't really have any plans in mind, until she, without thinking, used her right hand to tickle the pair and turn the doorknob. With no one around to see, she winced, and realized she'd have to do something about her hand before tryouts this evening. If using a door was this painful, she didn't even want to think about catching a quaffle, or hitting a bludger.

When Dobby came running over, squealing with happiness, Ryua brought it up. "Dobby, do you elves have anything to numb pain?"

"Why does miss need it? So Dobby can get the right stuff?"

"I have to play quidditch tonight, and I've got a... sore hand."

"Dobby has the right stuff, miss, Dobby will be back. Does miss need anything else?"

Ryua sighed, leaning back on an elf-sized chair. "Not unless you elves can charm quills to write while I dictate."

"We elves can write, miss!" Dobby squeaked happily.

"You can? Really? Could you copy my handwriting?"

"Pretty close, miss," Dobby said, scratching one long ear as he thought. "Does miss need help with her homework?" he said slyly.

"Oh, Dobby, you are a lifesaver. If you want, I'll pick you up any color of socks you can imagine next time I get to Hogsmeade!"

"Well, Dobby does like socks, miss... What does miss need done?"

By breakfast time, Ryua had Charms and Transfiguration finished, and had left her rough copies for Potions with Dobby. Stowing a tiny bottle of numbing cream in her book bag, she went up to join her table with a much more cheerful outlook than before.

Not even DADA first class could dampen her spirits. Ryua just ignored Umbridge (which wasn't hard to do, given that she just told them to read a chapter) and doodled in the margins of her book. She handed her homework in for Umbridge, sliding it under Pansy's to hide a few smears of blood that leaked through while she'd written it.

Charms wasn't exactly uplifting, but she did get to hand in the roll of questions Dobby had scribed for her. Dobby sent up her first Potions essay on her plate at lunch, which meant Potions went over wonderful. She noticed Harry looking rather depressed, though he was already partnered up with Ron so she couldn't go bug him. His hand looked sore though, and he didn't make any bones about having it wrapped up.

Transfiguration just melted away, although she did get another essay assigned. Since Fridays didn't have a double class, Ryua had an extra hour before dinner to start it. And even more cheerful, after dinner, she went downstairs, and pulled on her Quidditch robes, tied her hair up, and spread Dobby's cream on her palm. She slipped it into a pocket and went over to the boy's dorm to hammer on Draco's door until he came out. "Come on! We have to get up there, or Gryffindor will come in halfway through practice, demanding we give them the pitch."

"Alright, alright, I'm coming." Draco came out, looking just as happy as she did to be back in Quidditch robes again. They stopped by Snape's office to pick up the brooms (neither of them had trusted seven Nimbus Two Thousand and Ones to the school cupboard), and got to the center of the field just as Hufflepuff polished off their tryouts. Cassie and Ashley were first, the former bouncing forward, dragging the latter after her. Crabbe and Goyle slouched onto the field, exactly at the time they were told to arrive. For a panicked moment, Ryua thought they would only get those four, but then saw a handful more prospective chasers walk onto the field.

She waited till they were all clustered loosely around her, then said, just loud enough to make the two seventh-year boys jump, "Okay! You're here for the house team, right?"

"Yep!" came Cassie's exuberant response above the others' slightly more calm affirmations.

"Good." Ryua grinned. "Are any of you here for beaters? Other than you two, of course," she said, gesturing at Crabbe and Goyle. Apparently, word of her plan for recruiting them had spread, because no one raised a hand. Excellent. Crabbe. Goyle. These are yours. You use them to hit these balls..." Draco opened the crate and pointed out the Bludgers, "At everyone on the pitch wearing red, blue, or yellow."

They grinned, hefting the bats. Ryua had carefully planned that explanation so they would understand exactly what needed to be done, and to be excited about it.

"Now that that's settled, I want the rest of you on brooms. Draco, we'll start with a passing drill, that's something chasers need to do every once in a while." Ryua rose easily into the air, idly spinning the quaffle on her left palm, noting who actually cracked a smile. She wanted people on her team who would actually listen to her.

They were all okay. Cassie got thoroughly over excited, and fumbled the quaffle, but recovered and used her fist to lob it over to Draco. One of the seventh-years looked far too bored as he passed it on, but the other actually seemed to put some effort into catching and tossing the quaffle. When Ryua got a chance, she fired the quaffle at the bored one, noting with distaste that he actually snapped out his arm and caught it before she broke his nose. Lovely. He had to be the good one.

Seeing that there wouldn't be a choice made from short-range stuff, Ryua sent them off around the pitch, while she and Crabbe bashed Bludgers at them. Goyle took over after a while, and she was happy to see she'd made the right choice in them, at least. Well, unless she's really terrible at shooting, Cassie's just made her place. All that extra energy seemed to transfer over into Quidditch. She bounced through the air like she did on land, making it hard to take a bead on her direction for either interception or beating.

With glee, she knocked the bored one on the shoulder with a bludger, noting that Goyle got him not long after. Ah, thank you, thank you for giving me a reason to get rid of him! Ryua noticed Ashley get hit too, though, although she rolled back up quite well. She really wanted to have her on the team... C'mon, Ashley, please be able to shoot...

She was. When Ryua tossed Crabbe her bat and flew to her goalposts, while Gryffindor started to set up on the other end, Draco marshaled the five wannabe-chasers in a line, and gave instructions. Crabbe and Goyle would keep pelting with Bludgers until Johnson from Gryffindor came over and demanded the bats. Ryua paid very, very close attention to each of them, and was positively gleeful to see her particular scapegoat couldn't get up enough force to throw the distance needed for most of the shooting in a match. She signaled him down, and though he glared very nastily, he didn't argue, and left the broom on the pitch. Cassie was adequate, and she bellowed out, "Darkwind! Go see Draco about shrinking you up some robes!" She squeaked and almost fell of her broom with excitement, but, typically, recovered and sped off to where Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle were waiting.

And then, Ashley Snape fired the Quaffle at Ryua. She put out her left hand, knowing it wouldn't do a single bit of good. The ball hit her hand, and whirled her right around, and kept on going straight through the hoop. Ryua looped down and caught it, shaking out her stinging fingertips. "Where did you learn to throw like that?"

The girl's normally dark face lit up with a grin. "I'm good with accuracy."

"And with power. You're on too. Get over there, you're blocking the others."

Ryua smiled after her, then tossed the Quaffle back at the two boys. The third-year, a boy she vaguely recognized as a third cousin on her Father's side, seemed enthusiastic enough, but his accuracy left just a little to be desired. She told him to wait while she tried the seventh year. He wasn't quite as good at long receiving, but was way, way better at shooting. "Okay. Pucey, right?" Ryua asked, and continued at his nod. "You're the third chaser this year. And... I'm sorry, I should know your name..."

"Josh Treevale."

"I want you on reserve. And next year, you'll probably get Pucey's spot, once you get trained up. You both good with that?" At their nods, Ryua yelled out, "Okay, team! Dismissed! I'll find you for practices!" and glided down to the broomshed. She dropped off her broom, and meandered down to the commonroom to change. Feeling the first twinges come back into her hand, Ryua thought, Wonderful. I wish there was a bit more stuff in Dobby's jar...The cuts had split a bit more from exertion, and she knew her hand would ache abominably by the time Umbridge let her go.

And, taking her time so she wouldn't look like she'd been playing quidditch for the last two hours, Ryua climbed the stairs. She noticed Gryffindor was still trying keepers out the window in the growing dusk, and Harry was sneaking glances out whenever possible. "I assume your task for Professor Snape is done now?" Umbridge's voice said, not quite as sweet as usual.

"Yes Professor. If you would like to check, I went to his office directly after supper for instruction."

"Oh... that's quite alright. You may start."

Ryua could tell she was disappointed that she had actually been in Snape's office. Oh well, as long as she didn't guess where she went after that. The window grew dark, and neither of them could watch the tryouts, and still their quills scratched across parchment and flesh. About quarter to midnight, Ryua gritted her teeth as she felt the spell grind across bone. She slowed down her writing, as much as possible, to try and prevent that indescribably horrible sensation. It didn't hurt so much as feel incredibly wrong...

At the stroke of twelve, Umbridge called them up. Ryua grabbed her bag and was halfway out the door when she heard the high, irritating voice say, "Ryua, dear, you still have two hours."

Ryua fought a very quick, very violent internal battle just then. Part of her wanted to keep going, part of her wanted to turn around and hex the bitch right out of existence, and then there was that irritatingly sensible part that told her to go back and just write slowly for the next two hours, to finish it without getting in trouble.

The sensible part won. She couldn't stop her eyes rolling up, although she bit down a sigh as she moved back to the desk, ignoring Harry's apologetic gaze. She picked up the quill, and started in again.

I will act as befits my station.

Again and again, as slowly and lightly as possible.

It wasn't good enough. The cutting spell just skated across her middle finger bone, and she braced herself for the next line.

I will act as befits my station.

She felt it grind across the middle, skate across the ring.

I will act as befits my station.

Grind the middle and ring, graze the pointer.

I will act as befits my sta-

Ryua doubled over her desk, dropping the quill and cradling her hand. The quill had just dug sideways into the lump of previously shattered bone along her little finger in the palm. As much as Toppy had done, something had gone wrong in the healing. Ryua could very much feel pain in that misshapen lump.

"Is there a problem, Miss Malfoy?"

"...No... Ma'am..." Ryua said, between gasps, gripping the bump in her hand, working her fingers, trying to quicken the loss of pain.

"Well, then, continue."

The brief respite had given her at least ten lines worth of flesh to cut through. She put quill to paper, writing the lightest she could, forming the last word with utmost care and lightness. Ryua forced down a shudder when she felt the quill graze her bone. Two more lines later, she braced herself, forcing her bleeding hand onto paper, knowing she'd hit the lump again. I will act as befits my-

"Miss Malfoy? You may go now."

Ryua jumped. Umbridge was standing right behind her, looking over her right shoulder. Oh, she's good... She'd seen Ryua's moment of pain earlier, and had been timing it, maybe even checking a charm on the quill... and was presenting her with a test. She could take the easy way out, slam down the quill and stalk out. It might even look like the most rebellious move, on the very surface.

Lucius hadn't been her father for nothing. Ryua smiled just as sweetly as the teacher standing over her, and deliberately, as slowly as she could stand, finished the line. She numbly heard angry sounding footsteps walking away, and when the pain in her hand subsided to a bearable level, she saw Umbridge furiously scribbling on some record sheet or other.

Of course, it took Ryua a good half hour to stanch the bleeding enough that she thought she could go to bed without waking up in soaked sheets.

Author's Note: I still don't really like this chapter. It should be two, but I really can't find anywhere to break it cleanly, and I'm out of time if I want to update tonight.

A note to Avalon, or anyone with suggestions that can't wait for my next chapter so you can leave a signed review, just don't log in. You can leave as many as you want that way, and I'll get them for sure, just put your Author Name in the Name box, so I know who it is.