40. Shaken
Neither of them said anything as he pulled her along the corridors. She had thought they were going to his office, but he brought her to his private quarters instead. Vaguely, she wondered if any of her housemates had ever been allowed in there. This was now the third time for her.
Once he'd shut them in, Callie leaned against a wall, while he went over to his desk and stood hunched over it with his back to her. Christ, he's shaking, she noticed. And that little detail terrified her more than anything else.
When he finally rounded on her, she could see that he was breathing deeply, but she didn't know whether that was an attempt to calm himself, or if it was because he couldn't calm himself.
"What the hell were you thinking?!" he screamed, and she blanched, having never heard him actually scream before. Just like her father, he was more the "quietly intimidating" type. Right now, though, he was out of control. "Signing your name on a sheet of parchment that had 'Dumbledore's Army' scrawled across the top?! Are you completely brainless?!"
Scowling at him, she said, "I don't need a tongue-lashing, I just got my face bashed in!"
"Is that the trick? Is that what it takes for somebody to finally get through to you, for Christ's sake?!"
Now Callie was breathing hard, her heart pounding. Have at least a little sympathy, you insensitive bastard!
"Damn it, Warbeck, you have absolutely no subtlety," he went on. "You're reckless, you don't think before you act, you run head on into the thick of it without any regard for the consequences!"
"Consequences, eh?" she said derisively. "Is that why you dragged me down here? 'Detention, Warbeck'?"
He stormed up to her, grabbing her by the upper arms and shaking her. "Have you no idea what's been going on in this castle the last seven months? Or in the country? The Dark Lord is gaining followers, he's growing stronger. Umbridge has already gotten Dumbledore ousted. The Ministry is doing nothing to prevent an uprising and soon it's going to be taken over by the Dark Lord's minions if Fudge doesn't pull his head out of the sand. And Hogwarts will be next when that happens. Soon enough you're going to be shut up in a common room not only with the children of Death Eaters but with actual Death Eaters!"
"That's why we were trying to prepare!" Callie argued. "We'd been left with no way to protect ourselves. If Umbridge and the Ministry had gotten their way, we'd all just be fodder for your former Death Eater buddies!"
"Oh, brilliant," he said, sneering, "still haven't learned not to poke the dragon. Perhaps if your housemates smacked you around a bit more-"
"Fuck you!"
There was that line which she shouldn't have crossed. With immediate regret, she waited for him to strike back in the most brutal way he could think up, permissible or not. Detention, Warbeck wasn't going to cut it this time, she knew, and she braced herself for whatever was coming, be it a curse or another fist to the eye.
After a long moment of simply staring at her, he said quietly, "You think I'm going to hit you?" He looked... offended by the suggestion. Angered - more so than he already was. "First it was McGonagall, then whoever did this, and now it's my turn, is that right?"
Unable to meet his eye, she replied in a shaky voice, "I don't know what to think with you, Professor. I never do."
He continued to stare at her, still holding her arms in place. Neither of them said anything for a good minute or so, before he spoke. "You're shaking."
"I'm shaken," she replied. "I've never been... beaten up before."
He winced at her words, unconsciously, it seemed. Running his fingers over her bruised cheek, he muttered, "Christ, you look just like-" But he cut himself off.
She met his eye and prodded, "Yes?"
Pulling away from her, he replied, "Never mind." Then he went over to a cabinet and dug around for a bit, returning with a small tin can and a cloth. She didn't ask questions as he opened the can and dipped the cloth into its contents, but she jerked away from him when he brought it towards her eye. "'Shaken,'" he said, more to himself than to her. He pulled up a chair and had her sit.
She wouldn't have expected someone as rough as him to have the capability of being so gentle, but his touch was feather-light and exceedingly cautious as he held her face in his hand and applied the salve around her eye. As he worked, she cocked a brow at him, rather taken aback.
"Don't look so surprised, Warbeck, I'm not a complete monster," he said. "Much as I'd enjoy having you rendered mute, I take no pleasure in seeing you battered."
"You really have gone soft on me, sir," she commented.
Moving from her left eye to her right, he muttered, "This is horrific." Then after a moment, "Who did this?" She didn't respond right away, so he asked again, "Who did this?"
"I'm not a rat," she said.
He paused tending to the bruise, and turned her face towards his. But she knew what he was trying to do, and she squeezed her eyes shut. Just in case that wasn't enough to keep him out, she filled her mind with thoughts of Neville and all they had done earlier that day.
"Bloody hell, you're stubborn," he said. "Did you inherit that particular trait from your mother or your father?"
Still with her eyes closed, she replied, "Neither, sir, I think I got it from you."
"Hmph." He went back to work on her eye, then her cheeks, her nose, her cut lip. After a while, he asked, with his expression taking on a hint of scorn, "Was it a male?"
She hesitated for a second, but replied, "No." Well that answers that, she thought. If it were a male, it'd be Malfoy. If it were a female, it'd be Pansy.
"I don't want you staying in the dungeon tonight," he said. "Not until I've settled things."
"Settled things how?" she asked.
"Never you mind."
"Where am I supposed to go?"
He didn't answer right away, but then, "McGonagall informed me that she caught you sneaking out of the Gryffindor common room this morning." He paused. "Try to be a little more discreet next time."
She couldn't help but smirk at the hint - and the fact that he apparently had no qualms about her hopping from one common room to another. Or what she might end up doing in there.
However, her smirk quickly fell and her face suddenly took on a pained expression. She scrunched her eyes shut again as a single tear fell down her cheek.
"Why are you crying?" he asked.
She shook her head, but explained, "They snapped my wand," then pulled it from her robes and held it out to him. He took it.
"It's still connected," he said. "It can be mended." Her face became somewhat more hopeful, and he added, "I'll have it taken care of."
She gaped at him, her heart full of appreciation - and surprise - that he'd actually see to it that it was fixed instead of telling her to just get a new one. "Thank you," she whispered.
Looking back at her, he wiped the teardrop from her cheek and said, "I hate when you do that. It's unsettling. The sight of an absolute demon shedding tears."
She scoffed, shaking her head, and said, "I'm the demon. Right, sir." After a pause, she asked, "What are you going to do, really? What can you do, with Umbridge as headmistress now?"
He hesitated, but said, "I'm going to speak with Miss Parkinson in the morning, and she's never going to lay a hand on you again."
"I don't want to make more trouble for myself," Callie argued. "Really, sir, I think it would be best to just let it go."
He conjured a glass and a bottle of Ogden's Old, as he said, "I don't care what you think. But there won't be any trouble."
"Well, what are you going to do then?"
Again, he was hesitant, but he said, very deliberately, "I'm going to see to it that she never lays a hand on you again."
"How?"
"I have my ways."
She rolled her eyes at his evasiveness, but said, "All right, sir. I suppose ignorance is bliss."
"Yes, it is." He sipped the Firewhisky, then shook his head, holding it out to her. "It's not poisoned." Callie rolled her eyes, but took the shot and downed it. After a minute, he asked, "Shaken?"
"Not so much anymore," she replied.
He capped the bottle, then conjured a mirror and gave it to her. She held it up to her face and was shocked to see that the bruising and swelling had almost completely faded. She gaped at him, and he held up the can of salve. "Ecchymesto balm," he said.
She looked into the mirror again, still amazed, running her hand over her face. "Bloody hell," she exclaimed. Then, with a sigh, "Is that all, sir?"
He vanished the mirror and said, "For now. I'm going to escort you to the Great Hall, and I want you to keep to your Gryffindor pack for the rest of the night." He paused, looking thoughtful, before he went on. "In fact, I'm excusing you from your morning classes. I'll retrieve you tomorrow after I've... talked to Parkinson."
She still would've loved to know exactly what he was going to do, but thought it best not to pry. "Thank you, sir," she said, rising up. "Would you escort me to the common room first so I can retrieve Bela?"
"Who's Bela?" he asked.
"My bat, sir."
He pondered that, and smirked. "As in 'Lugosi?'"
Callie paused and gaped at him. Bloody hell, he would be the only one to get that. "Right, sir," she replied. "The bloke that played Dracula."
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She should've figured that she couldn't go a year without detention. Never thought it would be with this bitch, though, she thought bitterly as she made her way to Umbridge's office. Which, she discovered upon entering the room, was decorated with pink and lace and a wall of ornamental plates with kittens on them. There must have been about forty in the collection.
"Got a fondness for pussies, do you, Professor?" Callie asked.
The woman eyed her, the smile on her face becoming more of a scowl, but she didn't respond to the crude comment. "Have a seat, please," she said, gesturing to a little desk set before her larger, pink-covered one.
Callie did as told, and Umbridge stood up and approached her.
"Well, Miss Warbeck," she began, folding her hands in front of herself. "I've waited quite a while to find out just how... rebellious you can indeed be. Some of the stories I've been told were rather shocking, but I had come to believe they may have been a bit exaggerated."
"No, ma'am," Callie replied. "I did tell you that I'd been quite naughty in my younger years, didn't I?"
"Hmm, yes. What a shame. A lovely young lady such as yourself," Umbridge said, "squandering away such potential."
She paused, and Callie simply raised a brow and waited.
"I'd heard you were defiant. Stubborn. Liked to stir up trouble for yourself and others. Speaking ill of Slytherin House. Palling around with Harry Potter and his gang. Fighting, foul language, antagonizing your own housemates." She paused. "And now you've decided to attack the Ministry of Magic itself."
"I have no intention of going up against the Ministry, ma'am," Callie replied politely. "I believe that You Know Who is going to take care of that."
Umbridge glared at her, wide-eyed, the corner of her psychotic phony smile twitching. But like Snape, she was good at maintaining her composure. She set a piece of parchment and a quill before Callie and said, "I want you to pick up that quill and write the words 'I will behave myself.'"
Callie simply stared at her a moment. "That's it?" she asked. Perhaps she was so used to Snape's punishments that she'd forgotten what a normal detention consisted of.
"I think that'll do, for now," the woman replied, returning to her seat.
Callie shrugged to herself and picked up the quill. Setting it to the parchment, she wrote the word I, but just as she did so, a rather sharp pain flickered in the back of her hand. She winced and shook it out, then continued. Halfway through the W, she had to stop again as another flicker of pain made her hiss.
"What the hell?" she muttered to herself. Checking her hand, she found there was a little V-shaped trail of blood where the pain had occurred. She wiped it away with her finger, and saw the tiny cut disappear from her skin, leaving a barely-visible red mark.
Callie looked up at Umbridge, about to tell her what was happening and ask if she could go to the hospital wing. But one look at the woman's face gave her pause. She was smiling back at Callie with an evil little glint in her eye, and the girl suddenly felt as if she were trapped in a room with You Know Who himself. The hair at the back of her neck stood on end, and she got an empty feeling in her stomach.
"Anything wrong, dear?" Umbridge asked in a sickeningly sweet voice.
Callie looked from her to the quill, hesitating. Then she drew a long line down the length of the parchment, quickly and forcefully as if ripping off a bandage. "AH!" she screamed, as a deep slash ran from the back of her hand to midway up her forearm. She jumped to her feet, dropping the quill and holding her bloody arm in her left hand.
"You did this!" she shouted at the woman. "You bewitched it!"
"I did no such bewitching," Umbridge replied. "Although, I can't speak for the manufacturers. Fascinating little object, that is," she mused, resting her chin on her hand.
"You sadist," Callie said in disgust. "What the hell is wrong with you?"
Umbridge rose up. "I'll thank you not to speak to me that way, young lady!" Coming around the desk, she added, "Who do you think you are? Speaking out of turn, using foul language, shouting at your teacher - your headmistress. It's a wonder Professor Snape hasn't set you straight yet."
Glaring at her, Callie said, "Professor Snape is a-" She paused. "He's tough, but he's never done anything like this." She lifted her cut-up arm to the woman.
Umbridge got right up in her face. "Perhaps it's time you learned how to behave like a proper young lady, and learn your place in this castle. And if your head of house isn't going to help you on your way, I'll see to it you don't go around causing anymore trouble than you already have."
Callie gaped at her for a moment, then replied, "How do you plan to do that, Professor? Cut me up like a fish every time I say something you don't wanna hear?"
A devilish grin curled the woman's lip. "I can do better than that, Miss Warbeck. Today was only a taste. You will not disrespect me. Or the Ministry. Or I'll see to it that you suffer consequences far greater than any you've ever received from Professor Snape."
Again, Callie stared at her. "Are you threatening me?" she asked. Indicating her arm, she added, "With bodily harm?"
Umbridge held her chin up in the air, with a look that said, I win.
Callie scoffed and shook her head. "Wow," she said. "Good thing I'll have proof-" she held up her arm "-when I go to the Ministry and tell them you've been physically assaulting students."
"The mark will fade," Umbridge countered. "And no one's going to take the word of a silly little trouble-making schoolgirl like yourself. Not against mine, at least, what with my position at the Ministry."
No, I suppose the spineless bastards wouldn't take my word. Callie tried a different tactic.
"Ma'am, though you may be unwilling to teach us defensive spells in class," she said, "I did learn a bit of offensive magic last year from... Professor Moody."
"Oh, did you now?" Umbridge said, feigning interest.
"Yes. He was quite knowledgeable on the subject. He would be... considering his true identity as one of You Know Who's former followers." Umbridge glared at her, but she went on. "Quite a madman, he was. But as I said, knowledgeable... and very willing to teach us all he knew."
Umbridge studied her a long moment, fuming inside, but trying to maintain a composed appearance. "Do you think I don't recognize your embarrassing attempt at a threat, Miss Warbeck?" she asked.
"Oh, I'm sure you do," Callie replied. "You may even think I'm only bluffing." She paused, before continuing, "But you and I both know how vicious us Slytherin ladies can be. And also how... creative we can get with our propensity for Dark Magic."
She stared the woman down another moment, ready to whip out her freshly mended wand if need be. All Umbridge could do, however, was stand there, absolutely livid with the girl's attempt to threaten her, and try to prevent herself from exploding.
Callie kept her eyes locked on the woman's as she brought her arm up to her mouth and licked the blood away. "Quite a fascinating object, indeed," she said, picking up the quill and twirling it between her fingers. "Mind if I borrow it? I've been letting blood for the Society for the Tolerance of Vampires. I think this'll come in handy for that."
"Put it down," Umbridge said warningly.
Plastering a wide smile on her face, Callie said, "Certainly, ma'am," and dropped the quill to the ground. "I'll see you at dinner, then."
With that, she turned and left the woman with her collection of hideous plates.