Detention with Dolores

The House-elves were far better company than anyone else, but Dean grudgingly left them when he had eaten his fill and made his way up to the library, where he was supposed to meet Cas. He chose a table near the door, so Cas would see him when he came in, and pulled out his books. Cas arrived not long after and was surprised to see him.

'You're early,' Cas said. 'I was going to set everything up first. Why aren't you at dinner? Have you eaten?'

Dean shrugged. 'I ate in the kitchens. I kinda left Dark Arts early.'

'Dean, you can't skip classes anymore,' Cas chastised as he grabbed things out of his bag.

Dean folded his arms and sunk down in his chair. 'Whatever, she just wanted us to read a book the whole time, there was no point in me being there,' he said bitterly.

Cas put his bag on the floor. 'All right,' he said quietly. 'Have you had much homework today?'

Dean breathed deeply, forcing himself out of his stormy mood. 'Yeah, something about trolls or goblins or something for History of Magic, an essay about moonstones for Snape, and Trelawney wants us to write a dream diary for a month…' Dean trailed off, panic rising in his voice now that he was faced with the almost insurmountable pile of work he'd accumulated in just one day. He'd always been able to brush it off before, he didn't need to do the work, he could just coast by until MACUSA made him an Auror on reputation alone.

'Don't worry, Dean, you can do it,' Cas said kindly. 'Let's start with something simple, so we can find what works before we tackle something else.' Cas sat down beside Dean and put a book in front of him. 'Can you read the title?'

Dean looked down at it and rubbed his eyes. How was he supposed to concentrate on reading when Cas was sitting so close to him? 'Uh, it's The Tales of Beedle the Bard.'

'Good,' Cas smiled, then opened the book. 'How about this?' He pointed at the title of the first story. The font was smaller and slightly curler, but Dean managed it.

'The Wizard and the Hopping Pot.'

Cas nodded encouragingly. 'Can you read any of the story itself?'

'Um…' Dean stopped. The words underneath the title were small, and they shifted around too much. 'No,' he mumbled, cheeks warming.

'It's nothing to be ashamed of,' Cas said firmly. 'The only people that should be embarrassed are the ones that let you suffer like this for so long without noticing.'

'If you say so.'

'I do. Now, how do the words appear? Can you still see individual words, or do they all get mixed up?'

'They all kinda jump around.'

Cas nodded. 'Let's try this.' He tapped his wand against the book and the words rearranged themselves so that the spaces between them were wider. 'How about now?' 'It-it's a little better.' Dean made it a few lines in before everything started to wobble again, so Cas made the spaces between lines widen as well. 'Wow, that's great,' Dean smiled, reading the story out to Cas. But about half way, his eyes began to prickle and it got harder to read again.

'Don't be upset if it's still difficult,' Cas said soothingly. 'It's like a muscle, you can't expect it to be in great shape if you haven't been strengthening it. Take a break and we'll keep going in a minute.'

Dean nodded, rubbing his eyes. 'Are we gonna keep reading this book? 'Cause I got a lot of homework…'

'We'll get there one step at a time.'

'Okay.'

Dean took a breather, then carried on, reading slowly, haltingly. He winced every time he made a mistake, but Cas corrected him gently, asking him what had made him trip up. A flipped letter here, or a blurred word there.

'We'll keep tweaking it until it fits,' Cas said when he noticed Dean getting frustrated again. 'How about I make the letters heavier on the bottom, so they don't flip around so much?'

'You've really put a lot of thought into this.'

Cas smiled at him.

Just as they were starting again, the doors to the library opened, and Professor McGonagall came in.

'Winchester,' she said sternly. 'It seems you're already getting yourself into trouble, although it's nice to see you taking your studies seriously.'

Dean looked up at her and the pink slip of paper she was holding.

'Professor Umbridge has given you five days' detention for shouting in her class and for leaving before she dismissed you. '

Dean shoved away his book. 'Great, thanks for letting me know, I'll be sure to bring her a cookie.'

'Winchester, you need to be more careful. Try to remember where she came from, and where she has influence.'

'I don't care,' Dean snapped. 'She told me to go back to my country, so I'm not interested in a damn thing she has to say.'

'She what?' Cas gasped.

Professor McGonagall's face softened. 'Don't let this get in the way of your learning. I can see you're already working hard, and I don't see why anything should stop you.'

Dean opened his mouth, but Cas stood on his foot under the table.

'Thank you, Professor. He'll be at his detention tomorrow,' Cas said.

'Good.' Professor McGonagall's left and Dean groaned.

'Dean, look at me,' Cas said. 'I'm sorry she said that to you, but Professor Umbridge is very high up in the Ministry. There's nothing you, or I, or anyone can do if the Minister himself decides to revoke your residency order. Do you understand?'

Dean stared into Cas's anxious expression, and Dean knew he couldn't handle anymore worry. 'Yeah, I get it.' Dean leaned back in his chair. 'Do you ever miss home, Cas? You know, America?'

'I wasn't born there. It was never really my home.'

Dean sighed, but Cas seemed to sense that wasn't the answer he wanted.

'I miss… the fourth of July,' Cas said eventually.

'Really?'

'We always made the trip back to celebrate. We would take a boat out onto Lake Michigan and my father would set off the most amazing fireworks.'

'Lake Michigan, is that the best you can do for the fourth of July?' Dean teased, nudging Cas.

Cas nudged him back. 'It's where my father's from. My mother thought it was a silly tradition, she didn't really get it, but that's why she loved it. While we were out on the boat, she would get this huge blanket and wrap us all up in it while we watched Father's fireworks.' Cas stopped and rubbed his arm, and he started shaking again. 'I think we're done for today,' he said, packing away his things. 'You did very well.'

'Cas, you're not breathing again.'

Cas nodded but couldn't stop his breath coming in gasps.

'Hey, hey, slow down, it's okay,' Dean said gently.

Cas attempted to calm himself, but only got more panicky when he couldn't. 'I can't,' he gasped. 'I need Gabriel, I can't do it.'

'Yeah you can, I'll count for you, come on.' Dean went to hold his shoulder, but a shock shot through his fingertips and up his arm as he touched an invisible forcefield. 'Ow, your Shield Charm.'

'S-sorry, I-I'm sorry, I'm sorry-'

'Shh, it's okay, let's just count, you got this… One… two… three… four…' It took a few cycles, but Cas eventually calmed down enough to conjure himself a goblet of water and remove his Shield Charm. Dean smiled at him, but then he turned a pale shade of green.

'I have to go,' Cas said, abruptly getting up.

'Cas, wait-'

Cas clapped a hand to his mouth, shaking his head, a thin layer of sweat beading on his forehead.

'Are you sick? Can I help?'

Cas just shook his head more vigorously, heaving as he snatched up his bag and ran out of the room.

Dean stayed where he was for a while, thinking. There was so much that Cas was hiding, but Dean knew it was all starting to come out, he could tell. Cas rarely talked about his mother, and never unprompted. He was starting to trust Dean, and if he could be so patient then so could Dean. He too then packed away his things and made his way back up to Gryffindor Tower.

It was almost empty by the time he got there, and Sherlock and John were the only ones still in the common room. Dean looked around in surprise. He hadn't realised how late it was.

John was asleep on the big squashy sofa before the fire, but he was whimpering and thrashing.

'He was disturbing everyone upstairs,' Sherlock explained at Dean's questioning look. 'So we came down here.'

'And you care why?' Dean said, sitting down on the floor.

'I don't, but he does,' Sherlock shrugged. He was draped over one of the armchairs, watching John closely.

'What's he dreaming about?' Dean asked curiously.

'The Ministry, I think,' Sherlock frowned. 'I can't tell what he dreams of most of the time, they shift around too much, but I recognised it a moment ago.'

'Why would he dream about the Ministry?'

'There could be many reasons. My theory is that the Order are protecting something in the Department of Mysteries, but we can't see what it is.'

'Seems like a solid theory.'

'Yes, the only thing is, his dreams keep turning pink.'

'That's… interesting.'

'I thought so too.' Sherlock frowned at John slightly. 'Did you get anywhere with Castiel? John saw you talking with him.'

'Of course he did,' Dean said, wondering with embarrassment whether John had also seen him struggling to read, and Sherlock's expression gave nothing away. 'I think I might be. He talked about his mom earlier.'

Sherlock nodded. 'That makes sense. I believe it's coming up on ten years since the accident. He'll be thinking about her.'

'Right. Any word on Gabriel yet?'

'Nothing.' Then Sherlock stiffened. 'He's dreaming about Cas again.'

John groaned loudly and swiped at his own face in his sleep.

'John, wake up,' Sherlock said, leaning over to shake him by the shoulder.

John sat up gasping, and grabbing at Dean. 'Did you see his eyes?' he said breathlessly. 'They were so blue.'

'Yeah, I've seen his eyes,' Dean said slowly.

'But did you see them?' John swayed, and his speech became slurred. 'I don't - I don't think he's human.' Then he slumped and passed out again.

'Not human?' Dean said as Sherlock made John comfortable again. 'Could he be right?'

'It's entirely possible,' Sherlock shrugged. 'He'd hardly be the first person we've met who's only part wizard. Hagrid is half giant. Fleur Delacour is part Veela.'

'But Cas isn't either of those.'

'Clearly not.'

'So… what is he then?'

'I don't know,' Sherlock admitted. 'He certainly doesn't display any of the physical attributes one might expect, nor any that I've heard of before, and neither do any of his siblings. The power that he has doesn't come from anything that I know about, so that could mean that he's entirely something new, or it's something hidden so far back in his bloodline that no one knows what it is anymore.'

'But if it was in his blood, wouldn't Gabriel and the others be like him?'

'How do we know they aren't?' Sherlock countered. 'At a guess, I would say that Castiel's anxieties make it more pronounced in him, but we know for certain that all four of them are unusually powerful. They may just be a little more stable than Cas. Or not,' Sherlock added as he thought of Lucy.

'So, what can we do?'

'There's nothing we can do, unless Cas decides to share with us what's happening to him.'

'I guess I'll keep working on it then.' Dean got to his feet, stretching. 'I'm going to bed, see you later.'

Dean was glad to close his eyes after reading so much, and fell asleep wondering if Cas was okay.

Dean's question was answered the next morning when, to his surprise, he found Cas at breakfast, saving him a seat.

'Feeling better today?' Dean asked with a smile.

Cas nodded. 'Yes, thank you. And I'm a prefect now, I should be at mealtimes.'

'Is that why you're sitting here and not at the Ravenclaw table?' Dean grinned.

'Padma has our table covered,' Cas said, turning pink.

Dean's smile broadened, but as they chatted, he noticed that Cas wasn't eating any breakfast at all. Not completely recovered then. Dean got up to go to Charms, and was amused when Cas came with him. 'You following me?'

Cas gave him a confused look. 'No. We have Charms together now.'

'Oh. Well that's good.'

They sat together in Charms, the class suddenly deciding to forego the usual house split and mixing together.

Professor Flitwick spent the first fifteen minutes of the class lecturing them on the importance of their upcoming OWLs.

'What you must remember,' said Professor Flitwick, perching on a pile of books to see over the top of his desk, 'is that these examinations may influence your futures for many years to come. If you have not already given serious thought to your careers, now is the time to do so. And in the meantime, I'm afraid, we shall be working harder than ever to ensure you all do yourselves justice.

They spent over an hour revising the Summoning Charm, with Professor Flitwick adamant that it would most likely come up on the exam. Cas read the theory out to Dean, under the pretense of reading it to himself. While he listened, Dean Summoned Ron's quill right out of his hand and waved it in the air, laughing.

Professor Flitwick rounded off the lesson by giving them double the amount of homework they normally had and dismissed them at the bell.

They were forced to separate afterwards, Dean and the Gryffindors to Transfiguration, and Cas and the Ravenclaws to Potions.

'I wish you were coming with me to all my classes,' Dean said to Cas before they split up.

'Yes, that would certainly make things easier with your reading.'

'Well sure, but also… you'd be there.'

Cas slowed to a stop. 'Oh…' he said, staring at Dean until John had finished kissing Sherlock goodbye. 'I should go,' Cas said, almost tripping over Sherlock as he turned away.

'See you later,' Dean called after him.

'Was that what I thought it was?' John asked, catching up to Dean. 'Were you just flirting with him?'

Dean laughed. 'Yeah, do you think it's working yet?'

'I don't know, I think you're just making him flustered.'

'He's not the best at social interaction,' Dean said, 'but I think I can get through to him.'

'I don't know why you don't just tell him that you fancy him,' Hermione said from his other side.

'You can't just tell someone you like them, Hermione, jeez.'

'Why not?'

'You just can't, and especially not Cas, but hold on a sec, when did everyone start knowing about this?'

Hermione blushed. 'Well, I'm sorry, but you're not exactly subtle about it.'

'Does everybody know?'

'I think most people that know you do.'

Dean slowed his pace. 'Does Sam know?'

'I don't know.'

'This is lame, I didn't even get to have a big coming out announcement.'

Hermione laughed. 'Perhaps if you weren't so obvious about it. I still think you should tell him.'

'It's a little more complicated than that, Hermione. He's a sensitive dude. If I just come out with it, he'll think I'm making fun of him or something. I gotta be careful and compliment him just enough that he'll believe it. You know? Really thread that needle,' Dean laughed.

'Do you usually put this much work into it?' Hermione teased.

'Well, to tell you the truth, Hermione, it's not usually that hard for me,' Dean winked. 'But I think he's worth it.'

'How sweet,' Hermione giggled as they walked into the Transfiguration classroom.

They all took their seats and Professor McGonagall closed the door, then gave much the same speech that Professor Flitwick had given them.

'You cannot pass an OWL without serious application, practice and study. I see no reason why everyone in this class should not achieve an OWL in Transfiguration as long as they put in the work.'

Dean bit his lip. He knew his Transfiguration work was good, but he also knew the emphasis on written work for the exam. He couldn't stop thinking about it throughout the lesson when he was supposed to be Vanishing a snail, and as a result, bits of his snail's shell were still visible by the end of the class.

Professor McGonagall dismissed the class with their homework, which was to practise their Vanishing Charms, but she held Dean back for a moment.

'Here,' she said, handing him a roll of parchment. 'Mr Edlund explained to me what the two of you were doing, so I've written everything you'll need here, and I'm sure he can help you read it.'

'Oh,' Dean said, taking it from her in surprise. 'Thank you, Professor.'

'I'm sure you're already aware that your spell work is exemplary, certainly better than your attempt today,' she said with a small smile. 'I have no doubt you can overcome this, and you have my full support. Now get to your next class, I believe you'll find Care of Magical Creatures a lot easier to get on with.'

Dean grinned at her. 'You bet. See you later, Professor.'

Dean hurried outside. Professor McGonagall was right, he did feel more at home outside and with the wildlife. He arrived just as the rest of the class were gathering around a table covered in Bowtruckles, tiny pixie-like creatures made of wood.

'They're tree-guardians, usually live in wand-trees,' Hermione was saying, likely in answer to a question Professor Grubbly-Plank had asked.

'Five points for Gryffindor,' said Professor Grubbly-Plank. 'Yes, these are Bowtruckles, and as Miss Granger rightly says, they generally live in trees whose wood is of wand quality. Anybody know what they eat?'

'Woodlice,' Hermione said promptly. 'But fairy eggs if they can get them.'

'What are woodlice?' Dean asked John.

'Oh, er, little grey bugs that curl up when you touch them.'

'Oh, pillbugs, got it.'

Professor Grubbly-Plank asked them to draw diagrams of the Bowtruckles, with all the body parts labelled.

Dean partnered with John, and he quickly appeased the angry Bowtruckle they'd picked with a handful of woodlice. It sat contentedly between them, munching on the bugs, and Dean merrily sketched it. He would label it later, he thought, when Cas could help him with it. When it got bored, it started climbing all over him, exploring his hair with interest. He vaguely wondered where Hagrid was, but when he asked, John just shook his head and said Hagrid was too far away to see. A few metres away, Dean could see Harry glaring at Malfoy and squeezing his Bowtruckle. Dean opened his mouth to tell Harry to loosen his grip, but the Bowtruckle swiped at him, causing Harry to drop it. They all watched it run full tilt back to the Forest.

When the bell rang across the grounds, they all rolled up their sketches and walked off to Herbology. Harry angrily wrapped his hand in a handkerchief that Hermione gave him.

'Harry, don't go picking a row with Malfoy, don't forget, he's a prefect now, he could make life difficult for you…'

'Wow, I wonder what it'd be like to have a difficult life?' Harry said sarcastically. Ron and Dean laughed, but Hermione frowned, and John just stared uneasily at the Forest.

They arrived at the greenhouses just as the fourth-years were leaving Herbology, including Ginny and Luna.

When Luna saw Harry, her eyes bulged excitedly and she made a beeline straight for him. She took a great breath, then said, 'I believe He Who Must Not Be Named is back and I believe you fought him and escaped from him.'

'Er - right,' Harry said awkwardly.

'You can laugh,' Luna said, her voice rising, apparently under the impression that Parvati and Lavender were laughing at what she said, rather than the odd orange radishes dangling her ears, 'but people used to believe there were no such things as the Blibbering Humdinger or the Crumple-Horned Snorkack.'

'Well, they were right, weren't they?' Hermione said impatiently. 'There weren't any such things as the Blibbering Humdinger or the Crumple-Horned Snorkack.'

Luna gave her a withering look and flounced away.

'D'you mind not offending the only people who believe me?' Harry said to Hermione as they went into class.

'Oh, for heaven's sake, Harry, you can do better than her. Ginny's told me all about her; apparently, she'll only believe in things as long as there's no proof at all. Well, I wouldn't expect anything else from someone whose father runs The Quibbler.'

'That's a little harsh,' said Dean. 'You ought to read some of the magazines back home. There's way nutter stuff out there. The Quibbler's pretty tame, actually.'

Then Ernie Macmillan stepped up to Harry.

'I want you to know, Potter, that it's not only weirdos who support you. I personally believe you one hundred per cent. My family have always stood firm behind Dumbledore, and so do I.'

'Er - thanks very much, Ernie.'

'Me too,' said Molly Hooper, smiling encouragingly at Harry.

To no one's surprise, Professor Sprout started their lesson by lecturing them about the importance of OWLs, then split them into groups of three.

Dean ended up with John and Molly, who introduced herself warmly.

John was quiet, staring down at the table, until his nose started bleeding.

'John?' Molly said, waving a hand in front of his face.

John squeezed his eyes shut and dabbed at his nose with the sleeve of his robes.

'Are you okay?' Molly asked him.

'Yeah,' John said thickly. 'Yeah, just the Forest feels weird…'

Dean glanced at Molly, who looked just as confused as he felt. 'The Forest feels weird? Maybe you gotta get in there. See the centaurs maybe?'

John shook his head, going pale. 'No… I don't think I should.' He shook his head and forced his attention back to the class as best he could.

Professor Sprout gave them yet another essay to write, and they all trudged back inside for dinner. Dean didn't bother going back up to Gryffindor tower to drop off his bag, since he and Harry wouldn't have time to eat before their detentions otherwise.

Cas and Sherlock were already there, Sherlock waiting anxiously for John, and Cas nibbling unenthusiastically on a carrot stick.

'How was your day?' Dean asked Cas, grabbing food to eat on his way to Umbridge's office.

Cas shrugged, brow furrowed.

'We had Potions and Defence Against the Dark Arts today,' Sherlock explained.

'I'm fine,' Cas said stiffly.

'Of course you are,' said Sherlock.

'How did you manage to avoid detention with her anyway?' Dean asked, stuffing a roast potato into his mouth.

'Simple, I kept my mouth shut.'

'Is that even possible?'

Cas snorted quietly.

'All right, wish me luck. Let's hope I don't throw her out the window, or something.'

'Try not to get yourself expelled,' Sherlock said.

'Right, 'cause you'd miss me so much.'

'More than anyone.'

Dean winked at Cas, and made his way to the third floor with Harry.

'After you,' Dean said to Harry when they arrived.

Harry rolled his eyes and knocked on the door.

'Come in,' Umbridge called in a sugary voice, and they entered cautiously, looking around.

In the days of Gilderoy Lockhart, the office had been plastered in beaming portraits of himself. When Lupin had occupied it, he would keep some fascinating Dark creature in a cage or tank, and when the imposter Moody used it, it was stuffed full of various Dark detectors.

Now, however, it was totally unrecognisable. The surfaces had been draped in lacy covers and cloths. There were several vases full of dry flowers, each one residing on its own doily, and on one of the walls was a collection of ornamental plates, each decorated with a large technicolour kitten wearing a different bow. They were so foul that Dean's mouth twisted, and Harry couldn't stop staring at them.

'Good evening, Mr Potter, Mr Winchester.'

'Evening, Professor Umbridge,' Harry said sullenly, and Dean didn't respond.

'I said, good evening, Mr Winchester.'

Dean blinked and gave her his biggest, sickliest smile. 'Good evening, Professor Umbridge.'

'Very good. Sit down, both of you.' She indicated at two tables, each with a chair facing away from the other. A piece of blank parchment lay on each table.

Dean took the one facing the wall, and Harry took the one facing the window.

'Er, Professor Umbridge,' Harry began, 'before we start, I - I wanted to ask you a… a favour.'

'Oh, yes?'

'Well, I'm… I'm in the Gryffindor Quidditch team. I'm supposed to be at the tryouts for the new Keeper on Friday, and I was wondering if I could skip detention that night, and do it - do it another night… instead…'

'Oh, no,' said Umbridge. 'Oh, no, no, no. This is your punishment for spreading nasty, attention-seeking stories, Mr Potter, and punishments certainly cannot be adjusted to suit the guilty one's convenience. No, you will come here tomorrow, and the next day, and Friday too, and you will do your detentions as planned. I think it rather a good thing that you are missing something you really want to do. It ought to reinforce the lesson I am trying to teach you.'

There was silence for a moment, and Dean could feel anger radiating from Harry, but Harry said nothing more.

'There,' Umbridge said sweetly, 'we're getting better at controlling our temper already, aren't we? Now, you're both going to be doing some lines for me, and you'll be using some special quills of mine. Here you are.' She handed them each a long, thin black quill with an unusually sharp point.

Dean's stomach flipped. He'd was sure he'd seen one of these before.

'I want you to write, I must not tell lies,' she told them softly.

'How many times?' Harry asked.

'Oh, as long as it takes for the message to sink in,' said Umbridge sweetly. 'Off you go.'

Dean stared at his parchment, beginning to sweat. If this quill was what he thought it was, then he was in trouble.

'You haven't given me any ink,' said Harry.

'Oh, you won't need ink,' said Umbridge, with the merest suggestion of a laugh in her voice.

Dean's mouth went dry as he stared down at his parchment, and Harry's gasp of pain confirmed it for him. Umbridge was making them use Black Quills. He held the quill in his hand, but couldn't put it to the parchment. He knew what would happen, that the words he wrote would be carved into the back of his hand, but it wasn't the pain that bothered him. If he made a mistake, it could be visible in his skin forever. He would have to go slowly.

'Is there a problem, Mr Winchester?' Umbridge asked.

'Actually, Professor,' Dean said, thinking fast, 'I was just wondering if you could do the first line for me? So I have a good example to follow.'

Umbridge narrowed her eyes at him, but couldn't find a good enough reason to deny his request, nor work out why he was asking. She waved her wand and the words appeared at the top of the parchment.

'Thank you, Professor,' Dean said, giving her the same sickly smile he'd given her before.

It was a small relief having something to copy at least, but it was agonisingly slow going as he mouthed each letter, determined to get them all right. The words cut into his hand as he wrote them on the parchment, shining red with his own blood. It healed over as soon as he finished one line, but then he started another and it made a fresh cut. On it went, over and over, slicing his hand and healing it again. Darkness fell outside Umbridge's office, but they didn't stop.

'Come here,' Umbridge said, after what seemed like hours.

Harry and Dean both got their feet and approached her desk.

'Hands.'

They extended them and she examined each closely.

'Tut, tut, I don't seem to have made much of an impression,' she said, smiling. 'Well, we'll just have to try again tomorrow evening, won't we? You may go.' She opened the door to let them out, and found Castiel sitting on the floor opposite the door, reading a book. 'Mr Edlund, what are you doing?'

Cas scrambled to his feet, shoving his book in his bag. 'The other prefects and I thought it would be best if I escorted Harry and Dean back to Gryffindor Tower, so they don't cause any trouble on the way back,' Cas said coolly.

'Very good. I'm afraid it took rather a while for them to learn their lesson.'

'That's all right, it gave me time to read the first chapter of your book again. It's very interesting.'

'Good, good. Goodnight then, boys.'

'Goodnight, Professor Umbridge,' they said back to her.

As soon as they were away from her office, Dean turned to Cas. 'Did the prefects really want you to walk us back?'

'No.'

Dean gasped mockingly. 'You lied to a teacher?'

'I wouldn't call her that,' Cas frowned. 'What did she have you do for your detention?'

'We had to write lines,' Dean said, resisting the urge to rub the back of his stinging hand.

'Oh,' Cas said softly, throwing Dean a brief concerned look.

Harry stalked ahead of them, not really in the mood to talk.

'So, why did you really come to get us?' Dean whispered to Cas.

'I wanted to ask you if you wanted to come to Ravenclaw Tower with me. It's empty, so it's a good place to study, since the library is closed.'

Dean grinned at him. 'Sure.'

Harry was soon out of sight and Cas took Dean behind the portrait of the silver swan, all the way up to Ravenclaw Tower.

'Your door is stupid,' Dean said when Cas had to spend a couple minutes working out the riddle the door asked him.

Cas ignored him and went inside.

The common room was indeed empty, and it's airiness improved Dean's mood. They sat together in front of the fire, while Cas helped him with his Bowtruckle sketch.

'This is a lovely drawing, Dean,' Cas said, watching Dean carefully label it.

'Thanks,' Dean grinned.

'Dean… You have a Bowtruckle on your head.'

'Oh.' Dean held out a finger for it and it grabbed on, so he could bring it down. 'Where did you come from? Did you hitch a ride in my bag?' He put it down on the carpet so it could explore, and it climbed up on Cas instead.

'I think he likes you,' Dean smiled. He watched Cas play with it for a while. 'Midnight trip to the Forest? We should get the little guy home.' Dean was mostly joking, but to his great surprise, Cas nodded.

'All right.'

They snuck around the castle together and slipped out of the front door, running across the grounds, exhilarated by their flouting of the rules.

'Here you go, buddy,' Dean said, kneeling down and putting the Bowtruckle on the ground. It hesitated, looking up at Dean, then ran into the Forest, disappearing into the underbrush.

Cas, seemingly entranced by the darkness of the trees, took a step towards it, but Dean stopped him.

'Listen, I'm not usually one to play it safe, but I think it's a little late to go in there,' he said nervously. 'Besides, John said it felt weird earlier, and that's never good.'

Cas shook his head, snapping out of it, and rubbed his arm. 'It still burns sometimes,' he murmured.

Dean's own burn scar tingled.

'Gabriel was supposed to be here. That's why he took the job in Hogsmeade, so he could help me.'

'Help you with what?'

Cas bit his lip. He looked as though he so desperately wanted to tell Dean, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. Instead, he turned away and started walking back to the castle.

Dean caught up with him. 'Can I ask you a question?'

'Depends on the question.'

'You and Sherlock, did you ever…?'

Cas was so shocked he stopped walking. 'Me and Sherlock?'

'Yeah, since you're both…'

Cas wrinkled his nose. 'Sherlock's my friend, but I'm not John, I have taste.' Cas's mouth twitched into an almost smile.

'Oh really? Do I need to bring up Lockhart?'

Cas rolled his eyes. 'That was different, I was young.'

'How did he avoid detention, anyway?'

Cas smirked. 'I kicked him every time he opened his mouth.'

They went back to Ravenclaw Tower and Cas insisted Dean stay there for the night, so Dean got himself comfortable on one of the sofas in the common room.

'I'm a prefect now, and I give you permission to stay.'

The Ravenclaws gave him confused looks when they all began to leave for breakfast, but he paid them no mind. He was already dressing his second detention with Umbridge, which ended up being just as bad as the first. The cuts on the back of his hand weren't healing as well as they were before, and the back of his hand was red and inflamed within minutes.

The best part of the day was when Umbridge let them out, and Cas was waiting for them outside. Harry would go back to Gryffindor Tower, but Dean and Cas would go up to Ravenclaw Tower, where they had space to spread out their homework. It was beginning to pile up, but with Cas's patient prompting, Dean managed to get it all done, though he was starting to get sleepy during the day.

Thursday and passed in a haze of tiredness, and Harry and Dean went to their third detention. This time, after a few hours, the words I must not tell lies, did not fade from the back of their hands, remaining etched in their skin, oozing droplets of blood.

'Ah,' Umbridge said softly, getting up from her desk to examine their hands. 'Good. That ought to serve as a reminder for you, oughtn't it? You may leave for tonight.'

'Do I still have to come back tomorrow?' Harry asked.

'Oh yes,' said Umbridge, smiling widely. 'I think we can etch the message a little deeper with another evening's work.' She let them out again, and Cas was waiting for them.

Cas was standing there, holding Dean's broomstick, looking confused and upset.

'Aw, you didn't make the team?' Dean said.

'No, I - I did,' said Cas. 'I'm the new Ravenclaw Chaser.'

'What? That's awesome!'

'Well done,' Harry smiled.

Dean caught Cas's low mood. 'Why don't you come up to Gryffindor with us? It's kinda cold in Ravenclaw.'

'All right.'

They trudged back upstairs and walked right into Ron, who was holding his brand new Cleansweep.

'What are you doing?' Harry asked in surprise.

'Nothing,' Ron said hastily. 'What are you doing?'

'Why do you have your broom?' Dean asked. 'Have you been flying?'

'I - well - well, okay, I'll tell you, but don't laugh,' Ron said defensively, turning bright red. 'I- I thought I'd try out for Gryffindor Keeper now I've got a decent broom. There. Go on. Laugh.'

'I'm not laughing,' said Harry. 'It's a brilliant idea! It'd be really cool if you got on the team! I've never seen you play Keeper, are you good?'

'I'm not bad,' said Ron, looking immensely relieved at Harry's reaction. 'Charlie, Fred and George always made me Keep for them when they were training during the holidays.'

'Do you think you can stop him though?' Dean grinned, gesturing at Cas. 'Ravenclaw tryouts were today, he's the new Chaser.'

Ron blinked at Cas. 'Yeah,' he said not very confidently. 'Yeah, I reckon I can.'

'I suppose we'll see,' Cas said quietly.

'So you've been practising tonight?' Harry asked.

'Every evening since Tuesday… just on my own. I've been trying to bewitch Quaffles to fly at me, but it hasn't been easy and I don't know how much use I'll be. Fred and George are going to laugh themselves stupid when I turn up for tryouts. They haven't stopped taking the mickey out of me since I got made a prefect.'

'I wish I was going to be there,' said Harry bitterly.

'Yeah, so do - Harry, what's that on the back of your hand?'

Harry had just scratched his nose with his cut hand and hastily tried to hide it. 'It's just a cut - it's nothing - it's-'

But Ron grabbed Harry's forearm and pulled his hand up to eye level. There was a pause while Ron read the words carved into the skin.

'I thought she was just giving you lines,' Ron said, looking sick.

'Has she done it to you too?' Cas asked, seizing Dean's wrist before he could respond. He had a surprisingly firm grip.

'It's fine, Cas,' Dean mumbled, pulling his arm away.

'She used a Black quill on you,' Cas said, his voice dangerously low.

Then Ron and Cas began arguing that they should both go to McGonagall or Dumbledore or someone, but they refused.

'I don't want to make a big deal out of it, I don't want her to deport me,' Dean said. 'I wanna stay here with you.'

Cas gave him a surprised look, apparently under the impression that Dean wasn't particularly bothered whether or not he could stay. Cas then nodded uneasily, and followed them upstairs, holding his arm tightly.

Friday dawned sullen and sodden as the rest of the week, and Dean was dragging his feet by the time of their final detention. The blank pieces of parchment and quills were already waiting for them.

'You know what to do,' Umbridge said, smiling sweetly at them.

They picked up their quills and Dean heard Harry shifting in his seat, trying to watch the Gryffindor tryouts through the window.

I must not tell lies, Dean wrote. The cut on his hand opened, and he began to bleed afresh.

I must not tell lies. The cut dug deeper, stinging and smarting.

I must not tell lies. Blood trickled down his wrist.

I must not tell lies. The parchment dotted with blood.

I must not tell lies.

I must not tell lies.

The sky darkened, and blood smeared over his searing hand.

'Let's see if you've got the message yet, shall we?' said Umbridge's soft voice, half an hour after the sun set.

She moved towards Dean first, stretching out her short, ringed fingers for his arm. He couldn't help but grimace when she jostled his sliced open hand, and she gave a horrible, satisfied smile. Then she grabbed Harry. He gasped and wrenched his arm from her grip.

'Yes, it hurts, doesn't?' Umbridge said. 'Well, I think I've made my point. You both may go.'

She let them out for the last time and Harry immediately shot away, almost bowling Cas over as he went.

Dean walked out slowly, staring at the blood on his hand and wrist. His mind faded and the blood took up all of his vision. The pain flared in his hand, then the ghosts of old wounds stung him as well, shivering down his back and burning his leg. He couldn't move. He didn't have control over his own body, he could only stare. He felt far away and too close at the same time, and Cas's voice came to him from a great distance.

'Dean… Dean it's all right…' Dean became aware of Cas's hand on his face, and the touch snapped him out of it. He blinked and relaxed his shoulders, while Cas wiped his hand with a cloth.

'It's just blood,' Dean mumbled, pulling himself together.

'All right.' Cas picked up his bag. 'Let's go up to Gryffindor. No studying today.'

'But I'm so behind.'

'You've been doing so well, you've earned a break, and we have the weekend to catch up.'

Dean nodded, and they made their way up the staircases. 'You can't heal this?' he asked.

'I can't, it was made by a cursed object.'

'Okay.' Dean tried to distract himself. 'Do you want to start working on your Potions this weekend?'

'I don't know…'

'Maybe we start with the Draught of Peace,' Dean joked. 'You could probably use some.'

'I have some, thank you, Dean.'

'Come on, man, I promised to help you, let me hold up my end of the deal.'

Cas took a deep breath. 'All right.'

'Awesome. Mimbulus Mimbletonia.

The Fat Lady let them in, and they found a party inside.

'I made the team!' Ron shouted over to them.

Sherlock and John were nowhere to be seen, but Hermione had fallen asleep at her usual table, so Dean said Cas sat with her, then Harry extricated himself from his conversation with Angelina Johnson.

Harry woke Hermione up, and she yawned widely. 'I'm just so tired. I was up until one o'clock making hats for the House-elves. They're disappearing like mad!'

Dean looked around, and there were indeed several knobbly knitted hats hidden around the room.

'Great,' Harry said distractedly. 'Listen, I was just up in Umbridge's office, and she touched my arm, and my scar started hurting.'

Hermione's gaze sharpened. 'You're worried You-Know-Who's controlling her like he controlled Quirrell?'

'He can do that?' Dean asked.

'Not anymore, I don't think,' said Hermione. 'He's properly alive now, so he can't really possess anyone. He could have her under the Imperius Curse, I suppose… But last year, your scar hurt when no one was touching you, and didn't Dumbledore say it had to do with what he was feeling at the time? Maybe it hasn't got anything to do with Umbridge at all. '

'She's evil. Twisted.'

'She's horrible, yes, but… Harry, I think you ought to tell Dumbledore your scar hurt.'

Harry clenched his jaw. 'I'm not bothering him with this. Like you just said, it's not a big deal. It's been hurting on and off all summer - it was just a bit worse tonight, that's all-'

'Harry, I'm sure Dumbledore would want to be bothered by this-'

'Yeah, that's the only bit of me Dumbledore cares about, isn't it, my scar?'

'Don't say that, it's not true!'

'I think I'll write to Sirius about it, see what he thinks-'

'Harry, you can't put something like that in a letter!' said Hermione, alarmed. 'Moody told us to be careful what we put in writing! We can't guarantee owls aren't being intercepted!'

'All right, all right, I won't tell him!' Harry said irritably. 'I'm going to bed. Tell Ron for me, will you?'

'Oh no,' said Hermione, looking relieved, 'if you're going that means I can go too, without being rude. I'm absolutely exhausted and I want to make some more hats tomorrow. Listen, you can help me if you like, it's quite fun. I'm getting better, I can do patterns and bobbles and all sorts of things now.'

'Er… no, I don't think I will, thanks,' said Harry. 'Not tomorrow. I've got loads of homework to do…' He left them, traipsing up to the boys' dormitory.

'I'd like to learn, Hermione,' Cas said quietly.

Hermione beamed him, then went up to her own dormitory.

Cas and Dean were some of the last left in the common room that night.

'Are you all right?' Cas asked Dean, as he settled himself into a soft chair for the night.

'Sure I am,' Dean smiled. 'G'night.'

'Goodnight, Dean.'

Dean carried the sound of Cas's voice with him that night, hoping it would chase away his bad dreams.

Welcome back everyone! Thanks to Morgan Teri Befan and Time Lord Consultant for the reviews!

Uuuuh so this one was a bit long sorry, but I hope you enjoyed it. See you again next time!