A/N: Apparently I cannae tell time anymore. Either way. Here we are. Love to you all 3

TW: There's some Umbridge nonsense - a bit of emotional trauma and emotional bullying perhaps? I'm not sure how to define it other than "It's Umbridge and Harry has trauma." There's also some blood mentioned from the Quill.

-0-

Harry fidgeted with his hands in front of the doorway to Umbridge's office. He had tried more than once to get out of these detentions, but his Máthair hadn't budged. He knocked.

"Come in."

He winced as the shrill voice floated through the door.

If he thought her voice was repulsive, it was nothing to her room. Harry had never considered himself a teacher's pet - not really. But he realised as he looked around her room that he had been in a lot of teachers' offices, even a few of their private quarters. None of them looked like this. There were no books, no academic references anywhere. It was nothing like Lupin's room, or Lockhart's room even. It was... odd. It was so pink, so pink that it hurt his head. He couldn't help but stare: there were frilly doilies over every surface, perfumed cushions and mewling cats on plates on the wall.

"Mr Potter," she simpered. "A greeting would be the appropriate way to enter my office."

"Hello," he muttered.

"Come come now," Professor Umbridge said, tapping a rolled parchment on the desk. "Manners, Mr Potter, are a wizard's first priority."

"Really?" Harry mumbled. "Kinda thought learning magic to help others was what we were supposed to be doing."

She didn't reply but gave him another of her sickening smiles. "Mr Potter, tonight you shall be writing lines," she said shortly.

He slumped down behind the desk and drew a quill and a bottle of ink from his bag.

"Oh you won't be needing those," she sing-song-ed. "I have a quill already prepared for you."

He accepted it reluctantly and unrolled the piece of parchment. "How many?"

"I think you will know when the message sinks in," she said. Harry felt a frisson of fear run through him at her tone.

"And," he swallowed. "And what is it you want me to write?"

"I must not tell lies."

A mixture of dread and indignation ran down his spine and he looked at the parchment. It was best to do as Umbridge had said. After all, Máthair had told him to keep his head down.

So, he wrote. As he did so, with the black quill that inked itself, he started to feel something like a bite on his hand. He rubbed it absently, glancing up at Umbridge in confusion. She had a smug look on her face as she read Witch Weekly behind her desk, so he did nothing and continued to write.

After a time though he looked down again, his eyes bugging as he saw what had happened. He had not been bitten, nor stung by something irritating. There on his hand, written in his own handwriting, was the statement I must not tell lies. His heart raced and he looked up in shock. Umbridge simpered absently and stood up, making her way to his side and peering at his hand.

"This isn't ink," he said suddenly.

"No Mr Potter, it isn't. This is a punishment befitting your crime." Harry looked at her. "That's right. You need to be punished, Mr Potter, for your filthy lies. Because you know, deep down... you deserved to be punished. Don't you, Mr Potter? Go on. You have not finished yet, Mr Potter. Continue."

He could only just hear the instruction over the high-pitched noise in his ears. Harry squirmed uncomfortably as those words echoed around and around. She was right, he did deserve to be punished. He'd brought sadness to everyone's life and it was only fair, he supposed, that he should be held accountable for it. Harry's hand now burned every time the pen touched the page and he knew all of a sudden that it was not simply a self-inking quill, he was writing with his own blood. His head swam with confusion and rage. The perfume and the pink and the pain and the fury merged until he swayed in his seat.

"Come now Mr Potter, keep writing."

It felt like he had been writing lines for hours by the time she walked to his side and picked up his hand.

"I think that has sunk in effectively for now, don't you?"

He looked at her, horrified by what she had done. He repeated to himself over and over what his Máthair had said. Be careful, he repeated to himself, over and over again. A wave of love washed over him and he relaxed a little even as he stood from the desk.

"Let this be a lesson for you," Umbridge said dangerously. "We will not tolerate lies at Hogwarts anymore. I shall expect you back here, at the same time tomorrow."

Harry left and did not linger. He got back to Gryffindor Tower and his head was spinning.

"Harry!" Hermione barely caught him as he slumped onto the sofa. "You've been gone for hours, what happened?"

He couldn't reply. He just wanted to sit for a moment. Just for a moment while he got his bearings back. He could hear Hermione talking, but he couldn't comprehend anything she was saying as the words echoed in his head. He deserved to be punished. It was a full ten minutes before he could sit up and hear what Hermione was asking him.

"Harry? Harry, what is wrong?" she took his hand, and he winced and pulled back.

"Mate," Ron gasped as he saw his hand. "What happened?"

"I had to write lines," he groaned. "She gave me this quill. I thought it was self-inking, but," he swallowed. "It wasn't."

"She did this?" Hermione squeaked, looking at his hand.

"No," Harry muttered. "I did it."

"She did it, Harry," Hermione insisted. "This isn't right. You have to tell Min- McGonagall or Dumbledore. You need to tell someone."

"Máthair has enough on her mind. She doesn't need this too."

"But Harry, you need to! This," Hermione shook her head. "This is more important. She has to see it."

"What are they going to do, fire her? They can't. She has Ministry backing, you said it yourself. I have to do this alone. She won't see it. I'll wrap it. Say I burnt it on my cauldron or something."

Hermione rolled her eyes, and Ron just looked extremely uncomfortable.

"I want you to know that I think that's a mistake," Hermione whispered, looking sadly down at his hand.

"Noted," Harry smiled, for the first time in a while. "I'll make sure to tell her when I have time to be grounded forever."

Hermione disappeared upstairs and came back with a small bottle of something she insisted on using for his hand.

"Put your hand under the surface," she said, emptying a bowl of sweets from the table and filling it with the potion. "Leave it in there, it'll help."

"What is it?"

"Essence of Murtlap," Hermione said, matter of factly. "A solution of strained and pickled murtlap tentacles. It will help, I promise."

"This woman is a problem," Harry muttered, sighing audibly as he soaked his hand. "Máthair seemed really worried."

"I'm not surprised," Hermione said, glancing around the common room. "What's worse is you haven't realised the half of it. Umbridge is here as much for the teachers as she is here for the students. The Ministry is making a move," she looked grim. "And I'm not sure who's going to win."

-0-

"Come," Minerva uttered from her desk where she was marking First Year essays, rubbing her hand absently.

"Good evening, Minerva," Albus said from the doorway.

"Evening," she muttered, without looking or getting up.

They were at an impasse. She had tried to talk it out, but Albus still wasn't listening, or understanding and it drove Minerva up the wall. It had been a few weeks since their falling out and they had yet to properly discuss it. Minerva told herself that it was because she didn't want to draw attention from Umbridge. The woman was following Albus around as it was, but Minerva actually felt like a coward. She was still angry both with Albus and the situation and she wanted to make sure he understood it.

"I," Albus started and stopped, something extremely uncharacteristic of him. "I wondered if we might talk."

"Unless you wish to discuss breaking Ha-" she swallowed. "Mo mhac's heart I have nothing to say to you. You have avoided him all summer, you have ignored him since then. You have hurt his soul Albus. Which has, in turn, hurt mine."

"He will be fine," Albus said quietly. "As soon as the Ministry moved on him for the Dementor attack, I knew he could not be Prefect. "

"This is not about being a prefect, but why would you not tell me that?" she scoffed. "Why not tell him? All summer, all summer you treated him like a leper. He spent every single day thinking that he had killed Cedric," she glared up at him and was pleased to note that he looked cowed. "Did you realise that? He blames himself. Every day, even today I can tell he feels responsible; guilt Albus. Unending guilt. You know what that feels like don't you?" He winced. "And you didn't just lock him away, you locked him away blindfolded, deaf and gagged. And then you kept me from him too."

"You were needed, he understood that."

"He understood nothing, Albus!" she said, pushing the correspondence off her desk. "Because everybody that loved him, left him - as they have done his whole life. The Dursleys were supposed to care for him, at a minimum and they abused him instead. And you made him go back there every year. I was supposed to love him, to care for him. I was supposed to cherish and protect him. What you had me do to him is abhorrent."

"Minerva -"

"No," she growled. "I am so very angry with you."

"I," a look passed over his face that she couldn't read. "I wonder if perhaps you aren't angry with me so much as," he frowned. "Someone else. Perhaps," he shrugged. "A holdover from -"

"Oh, I know I'm angry with you Albus," she growled. "Who the devil else would I be angry with? Who else has somehow become the bane of my very existence?"

"Voldemort?" Albus said softly. Minerva gaped at him, wondering if he really was this dense.

"Are you mad?" she whispered, glaring daggers at him. "Not even Voldemort could make me this angry, Albus Dumbledore. Because at least what he is doing makes some sort of sick sense!"

Something seemed to break inside him and he slumped onto the sofa. Her heart tugged painfully and the cloud lifted; she remembered suddenly that she actually did love him. She loved him enough to tie her entire being to his. She threw down her quill and stepped out from behind her desk.

"Albus," she said, moving around the desk and kneeling before him. "You must do better. We are a family, you, and Harry and me. And no matter how angry I am at you, we need each other more than ever. Delores is here to disrupt our unity and what does it say if our leader cannot even keep his own house in order?" She cupped his cheek. "Please," she rested her head against his, closing her eyes against the tears. "Please mo chridhe [my heart]. Do better," she whispered. "The time for trying is over. It is time to decide whether your family is worth anything at all to you. Because if it is not, then you must tell me now and I will protect Harry myself. And you," she sobbed, meeting his eyes resolutely. "Will leave my son alone. No matter the consequences."

"I love you," he whispered. "And I love Harry. I want you, Minerva. I want you and him in my life, but," Albus said quietly. He stared at her for a long time and she let him, knowing that this might be the moment he leave them. "I cannot, in good faith, continue lying to you. Which means that you shall have to know some truths that Harry cannot," he looked down at her. "He cannot know or suspect, love. He is not equipped to deal with them, nor hide from our enemy."

"Hide from our enemy? Al, I don't understand?"

"You will love," he said sadly. "And it will burden your heart more than anything else could, as it does mine."

"I will bear the burden Albus, if you will only share it with me," Minerva kissed him gently. "I will bear it for you. And I will bear it with you. Help me, my love."

He nodded, tracing her face with a finger.

"I cannot stay now. Delores has been following me all afternoon," he grimaced. "I don't put it past her to push her ear up to the keyhole. Perhaps I could call on you for a nightcap?"

"I will be awake, Albus."

He nodded and stood up and made to move from the room, before stopping and turning around. He reached out cautiously and she met his hand, pulling him in. They embraced for a while before he pulled back and kissed her forehead gently, holding both her hands in his. She wished he'd move his thumb slightly so her hand would stop itching but she smiled nevertheless.

"What is wrong with your hand?" he asked, noticing where she'd been scratching.

"Nothing," she mumbled but looked at it nonetheless. "Something must have bitten me, or I've brushed up against something. It itches like mad."

"How strange," he muttered, bringing it up to his face and kissing it gently. "I will take my leave. Put a potion on it, will you?"

"I will, then I shall continue my preparations for tomorrow's lesson. I will be up when you call Albus. At whatever time."

He smiled and nodded once before going on his way, leaving her standing in the middle of the room feeling more confused than she had been before.

-0-

She was just on her way to dozing when he returned to her rooms and she looked up at him blearily as he sat.

"I did not mean to be so late," he apologised.

"I am up," she said, chuckling as she yawned, scratching her hand.

"We can -"

"Albus?" Minerva said gently. "We're not postponing this. I need to know why you have suddenly decided that Harry isn't worthy of your -"

"No," he sighed, closing his eyes. "That isn't it at all."

"Then tell me," she said sternly. "Tell me everything I need to know."

She watched as he sat back and sighed, tugging at his beard and fiddling with his ring. He only did that when he really did not want to talk.

"Please, love?"

He blinked and looked at her as if he'd forgotten she was there and sighed.

"I do not even know how to begin."

"At the beginning is usually the best way," she chuckled.

"It would take too long and be too convoluted. There are so many answers I do not have, Minerva. Some I cannot even begin to postulate."

"Then tell me plainly then."

"I," he cleared his throat. "I believe Harry's mind is connected to Voldemort's."

Her mouth dropped open and she could hear a rushing noise in her ears. She stared at him and tried to form words but she couldn't. She needed Harry, in her arms. She needed to scratch the eyes of that evil monster. She needed -

"Breathe," Albus said gently. Without her realising, he'd managed to come and sit by her and take her into his arms. She realised as he held her that she was shaking. "Take a deep breath." She did as she was told and took a wobbling breath and let it out slowly. "And again."

When she finally had her breathing back under control she looked up at him but couldn't seem to find the right question to ask.

"I don't know," he said sadly. "At this stage, it is only a theory. It seems that the potion last year connected them even closer and my theory has only been reinforced by his behaviour since then."

"Is that why you didn't let me -"

"No," he dropped his head. "That really was an error on my part. I misstepped. I know that sometimes when you or I are hurt we prefer solitude. I did not take into account Harry's past."

"You should apologise to him," Minerva muttered.

"I cannot. I cannot be in the same room as him. If Voldemort realises, it is possible he will realise and have him try to kill me. I know that I scoff at the old saying that I'm the only one he is frightened off, but it would be a coup, indeed, if Harry Potter was the one to kill me."

"Albus," she whispered. "Can we not -"

"Have you noticed him getting angry?"

"All the time," she squeaked. "He is a teenager."

"No, Min," he sighed. "No. Pay attention next time you see him. It is beyond normal anger. And a lot of it is towards me. I don't believe it's his. I think it is Voldemort's emotions seeping through the bond."

"Albus, what if he knows about -"

"I do not think he wouldn't," Albus muttered. "If he knew about you, he'd do all he could to find you and use you against us."

She felt her hands begin to shake again and she gripped them together tightly, jamming her fingernails into the skin that burned, just to feel something.

"I'll die before I let them use me to torture him."

"I feel the same way," he muttered into her hair. "Which is why it is important that he and I spend as little time as possible together. I'm going to suggest Occlumency lessons at some point, but Severus is," he sighed. "Extremely busy at the moment."

"You think Severus is the right person for the job?"

"I think Severus has the best Occlumency skills I have ever seen outside of my own. If yours were stronger, I would suggest you, but Severus is better and I want," he groaned. "I want only the best for Harry, Minerva, you must believe me. It is my love for him that makes me do this."

She closed her eyes and laid her head on his chest. They breathed together for a long while until she sat up.

"How do we move on from here?"

It would take her a few days to come to terms with it. She would have to be the go-between, she would have one more thing on her already overburdened self. She shook her head.

"Delores is going to make it difficult for us all. I know you will need to see him. You will need to make sure he understands not to let her bait him," she looked up at him. "And she will. Cornelius has put his most vile servant in our midst and all we can do is flow around her like water."

"And Harry has never been subtle," she groaned. "What if I cannot protect him from -"

"You won't be able to," he sighed. "He will have to control his temper and with Voldemort in his head," he threw his glasses on the coffee table and groaned. "There is no good answer. I do not have any."

"I wish," she sighed and sat up, looking at him carefully. "I wish you had told me this, weeks ago. I wish you had warned me. And made me understand. I have been so angry with you." She made a face. "I am still angry at you for taking me away from him. I recognise it was in error, but Albus," she sighed again. "You are not alone anymore. If you want this, if you want us, me? You are going to have to tell me things. Especially when they concern me or Harry. We could have been preparing him. We could have -"

"I know," he sighed. "I know."

"Have you been to see him?" Minerva asked, sliding her hand up his chest and touching the medallion around his neck. She didn't linger, the burning on her hand was only made worse by his beard.

"I have not had the time."

"You should. I took Harry the other day. It helped me understand you."

"Me?"

"It seems that history repeats itself quite often," she chuckled. "He gave me a little insight into why you do the things you do, and why it frustrates me so. I imagine his wife and child felt a little like Harry and me at times as well."

She saw the tops of a blush on his cheeks and cupped them gently.

"Talk to me, Albus. Please. Just -" She kissed him gently. "Talk to me. I love you. I love you more than I ever thought possible, but you must tell me things. I will not spend our lives angry at each other for not understanding when we both only have half of the information."

He closed his eyes and leaned back in, kissing her deeply and sliding his hands around her middle.

"I can only promise to try," he muttered softly against her lips. "I will try."

"I will hold you to that," she muttered, seeing the fire in his eyes.

"I will hold you."

She snorted and then let him kiss her again. She pulled herself closer and straddled his lap while he mapped out her sides, pulling her impossibly closer all at once.

"I have missed you so," he muttered.

"Take me to bed, lover."

She hissed as he squeezed her backside and stood, walking them into her bedroom. As he lay her down and started peeling back the layers of her robes, she breathed a soft wish up to any who were listening that this would be the turning point in their lives and that somehow, they'd all come out of it unscathed.