It was a somber event when the new term began, unlike in past years. A shadow loomed over the castle. There are many dark shadows on the earth. At times they can seem larger than life itself. But the thing about shadows is they need light to exist. Without light, a shade is nothing. But in contrast, light doesn't need darkness. It's still luminous.

And one thing Hermione has learned in astronomy class is that if you keep your face to the sun, the darkness falls behind you. The shadow is the best teacher for how to get to the light. For the new Hogwarts term, that shadow goes by the name of Umbridge. She weighted Hogwarts down and cast misery wherever she went.

This anguish started in full the minute educational decree after decree began popping up in the school. The indignant anger rose in Hermione's chest with each new one posted. She spurned the stupid things along with the other students, even though the Slytherins hid their frustration better than most. Those who broke the decrees served detention, like Harry.

The evil old hag made use of a blood quill. Hermione thought those were outlawed. And if they're restricted, then what's the wicked witch doing with one? Doesn't that mean she's breaking the law? It only served to vex her even more. With the woman teaching defense, too, there's little instruction being done.

Hermione's birthday this year was ruined by the decrees. One ridiculous item came out stating: A Ministry-appointed authority must inspect every package delivered by owl. So much for birthday gifts. Marcus wrote saying how he'd give her one in person on the next Hogsmeade weekend. But it did little to quench the irritation that seethed within.

As the semester progressed, Hermione began begging Harry to teach defense. He used a Patronus, for gosh sakes! She told her friend that he'd "Be a much better teacher than the Umbi..." Well, she can't bring herself to say it because it's a foul word. So, she settled for "Than the nasty woman. Please, Harry!"

After days of begging, he finally relented and saw the merit of teaching his friends defense. Together with Hermione and Ron, Harry amassed a group of students who called themselves Dumbledore's Army. It led to the creation of enchanted galleons. Hermione invented this as a means to communicate between DA members. Everyone was given one at the first meeting. They worked splendidly, alerting them to the next meeting. Like the creation of new protection spells, the coin is another feat Hermione can claim as her own.

Throughout the semester, Harry taught the DA many things like expelliarmus, stupefy, levicorpus, and reducto. All of which Hermione passed and perfected with flying colors. The only thing he didn't teach was how to protect yourself from the blood quill. One afternoon, she was in the library researching ancient protection wards again.

Warding and protection have become Hermione's primary sources of interest. Her paper for Professor Flitwick is gaining in length every day due to new spells she's creating. During such research, her two Slytherin friends sent a charmed note to her table. Upon opening it, Montague and Pucey invited her to an abandoned room on the third floor. Smiling, Hermione packed up her things and rushed off to meet them.

The trio sat in the dusty old room discussing the term's turn of events. The boys had brought butterbeer, fudge flies, and sugar quills (for Hermione). It was an odd combination of students, especially since the boys weren't supposed to speak to muggle-borns. But like Marcus, Graham and Adrian have changed too. They know about the DA and have enchanted galleons as well.

"You need to be careful. Malfoy's on a mission to find the army and stop it. By order of the evil inquisitor," Graham stated.

After taking a sip and swallowing his butterbeer, Adrain remarked, "I'd rather be alone in total darkness than follow in anyone else's shadow, especially orders from that horrendous pink lady. At least you're actually learning something, Hermione. The rest of us don't have that luxury, and the Slytherins have it even less. People assume that because we come from lineages of purebloods, we all agree with it."

He pointed a fudge fly at her before speaking again. "Not everyone does, and not everyone wants to get a dumb dark mark. And the Ministry keeps denying Voldemort hasn't returned. They're imbeciles! The evil menace is hiding out in the shadows waiting for the right time to show himself. We all know because most of our fathers have already seen the ugly, evil being."

He popped the fudge fly into his mouth as Graham spoke some. "Adrian's right. There may be a small group of us, but those who don't want to be involved in whatever's happening need to be able to defend themselves too. It's harder for us because we have to be subtle unless we want to be labeled blood traitors and punished for it. People don't understand that the punishment is harsh, especially from those fathers who moonlight as death eaters. Just think of Marcus. If his father ever found out about you, Hermione, that would be bad. Coupled with his brushing off the dark mark, I don't see how Marcus would not be crucioed to an inch of his life."

Hermione shuddered at the thought of her guy buckling under the weight of crucio or worse- ending up in the Janus Thickey ward. She thought about what Adrian and Graham said about those Slytherins who don't support what Voldemort and his followers stand for. As happy as she's been learning everything Harry's been teaching, the witch was just as saddened for the Slytherins who can't openly participate.

That's when she promised, "I'll teach you. I'll help you learn pieces of the things you might be missing. Then you can prepare the others like you in the quiet. Your work will not be any less valiant because you can't do it in the open. It's still praiseworthy. And we need people like you, willing to take a quiet stand because it's still a stand even if your voice isn't as loud." She refuses for her friends to be harmed because she's taken a liking to them since dating Marcus.

So, the trio planned to meet to learn the missing defense spells from this school year. They felt better about things when they softly and silently left the abandoned room until Malfoy, and his "squad" came upon them. Then things took a turn for the worse.

With a sneer in place on his pointed face, Malfoy declared, "Pucey, Montague, it appears you caught a mudblood out after hours. Good job. Let's take her to Umbridge for punishment."

Hermione's heart sped up, and Adrian and Graham shifted their feet uncomfortably. The boys knew they had to do something. They couldn't let their friend end up in what was sure to be a terrible penalty, especially since she's a muggle-born. Everyone knows Umbridge loathes muggle-borns.

With some quick thinking, Graham proclaimed, "Wait. The mudblood was helping us with a tricky runes assignment. It's why we met in this abandoned hallway. The shame of having help, especially from a mudblood, outweighed the obvious. We didn't want to be seen with her, but now you found us."

As the older Slytherin gave Hermione a sorrowful look for using the name mudblood, Adrain noticed Malfoy deep in thought. He hoped Draco would see reason and let the Gryffindor go, but then an evil glint fell across his eyes, and Pucey knew their good friend's girlfriend wasn't getting out of this unscathed.

Before Draco could say anything, Hermione pleaded. "Please, Malfoy, just let me go. As they said, I was helping them."

Pointing his wand at her, Malfoy wore a sneering smirk. His words were harsh. "If you think I'm going to let you go, you've got another thing coming, you perfection slag. Now march." He gave Hermione a little push with his hand, and his wand dug into her back as the inquisitorial squad took the Gryffindor to the pink lady.

Hermione held her head high and walked, refusing to let the snake see he'd riled her up and refusing to give in to the worry creeping in. She wished Marcus were here the whole time they trekked to Umbridge's office, although little good it might do. He would have had to stay silent too. But still...

Once the group arrived, Umbridge let them in and narrowed her eyes at Hermione. "It seems you've been caught disobeying orders. Good job, Mr. Malfoy. Your team has been doing outstanding work. You all may return to your duties," Umbridge cackled with glee. At least, that's what Hermione thought.

The Gryffindor's eyes caught those of her two friends on the way out the door. They were filled with remorse and regret, mingled with compassion. It's not their fault she was marched like a criminal to receive punishment. No. It's the evil, foul little cockroach's fault. If she ever meets up with him in an empty corridor-

Umbridge drew her from her musings when she cleared her throat. A sure sign of weakness. "Miss Granger, once again, you try to defy authority. With your endless explanations that point to you thinking you know better and now being caught after hours, the time has come for your punishment. Have a seat."

Hermione felt a pull that forced her to sit at a desk. And then a black quill appeared with an ink pot in the blink of an eye. It stood dark and dangerous against the disgusting display of pink in the room and portraits of cats. The muggle saying is true. Umbridge is a sad cat woman with no man in her life. Heck, she probably has no life.

The woman made her pick the treacherous quill up and write a parchment full of I will respect my betters. That word betters seemed to sneer at her as Malfoy does. In her head, Hermione could hear his wretched voice saying, "You will respect your betters, Mudblood."

Then the woman made the witch begin to write. Knowing what the dreaded thing does, Hermione hesitated. But Umbridge's wand smacked her on the hand for being too slow. It stung, but the brave Gryffindor was determined to get this punishment over. With righteous indignation, she grasped the quill and began to compose. Each word hurt like her parents drilling out a cavity, except this is drilled into the skin. The words were there scraped on her flesh when she looked, staring at her like a beacon of ugliness.

It went on and on, an endless process of pain, blood, and words. The loathsome pink woman smiled and declared, "The pain will leave once it has finished teaching you."

Hermione's temper threatened to get the better of her. She wondered how the woman would like it if Hermione hexed her to write with the thing. She could make her write I suck at life with the damnable, illegal quill. By the end of the punishment, Hermione's hand burned. It was after midnight when she left the office and entered the Tower. She went straight to her bedroom and drew out the murtlap essence to put on the abused hand. It helped a little. After taking a dreamless sleep, Hermione found herself in deep slumber.

The next time Adrian and Graham saw her, they apologized and begged forgiveness. Hermione reassured the boys it wasn't their fault until they saw her hand. That was when tears fell down Montague's face. Deep down, he has a sensitive heart. It stays hidden a lot.

Knowing it was almost Christmas break, Pucey asked, "Are you going to show Marcus?"

Hermione hadn't given much thought to that, as it wasn't as important as being with Marcus. She shook her head no, thinking it was kinder to cover the words up. But Adrian disagreed a lot. "You have to show him. You can't keep this hidden. As someone who loves you and cares about you, he has a right to know what hurts you. If you keep it hidden from him, it'll wound Marcus."

Unable to stop the words coming out of her mouth, Hermione wondered, "How will it wound Marcus? It hurt me more."

Graham turned around, having dried his eyes. "Because keeping it from him is like lying. You'll be keeping a big secret that affects you both. It's dishonest, and it kills relationships. You're in a relationship to grow closer, not hide things and break trust. Marcus has very few people in his life who he really trusts. You're one of the top ones, Hermione. Don't break that. I know because my mom kept secrets from my dad, and it ruined their marriage."

In the week before break, she pondered what the Slytherins shared with her. Keep her secret or not? She supposes they're right. Love cannot make a home in the dark. The day she flooed to meet Marcus, during Yule break, Hermione decided to show him. Although, she covered up the words with a concealment charm at first.

The minute the floo deposited her into the chateau, Marcus wrapped his strong arms around her petite frame. He peppered her face with kisses and led them to the family room, where a massive Christmas tree stood. It begged to be decorated. After summoning boxes of untouched, preserved ornaments from a storage room, the pair started trimming the tree. As they neared the end, Hermione's hand began aching. It does that sometimes if she uses it too much. The punishment wound is still healing. She wonders if there might be nerve damage.

Marcus saw her shake her left hand. "Is something wrong?" he asked, pointing to it.

The temptation to shake her head no burned inside her chest, but the truth won out. Moving to sit on the sofa, Hermione patted a spot beside her. Once her boyfriend seated himself, she began by saying, "I need to tell you something. But please don't freak out. Promise me you won't fly off the broom handle."

Her eyes stared into his. Marcus already does not like where this conversation is going. His stomach tangled into knots. "I cannot promise something I'm not sure I can do. But I'll try," he stated, trying to remain calm.

Nodding, Hermione told him all about Umbridge, the DA, and spending time with his two friends. The whole thing made Marcus's knotted stomach wound up even further. "Although all of that doesn't sound terrible, except the Umbitch, it doesn't explain why your hand hurts," he prodded.

A small smile appeared on his girlfriend's face at the name he'd given the pink lady. She'd repeatedly wanted to call the woman that word but hates using foul language and refrained. Hermione continued the tale of how Malfoy caught them and marched her to Umbridge. A glance at her boyfriend's face showed anger etched there. Taking a deep calming breath and placing a hand on his thigh, she explained the punishment.

"I had to use a blood quill. Whatever I wrote appears on my hand. Eventually, the ink is my blood," Hermione noted.

Marcus sat up. His voice sounded stern and harsh when he spoke. "What did that woman make you write?" he asked. The angry athlete can only imagine it's something awful. Something that will make him want to take the dark mark so that he can hurt the Umbridge woman.

Holding her hand out, Hermione unglamored her hand. She turned it over and showed Marcus. The reddened words I will respect my betters stood out against the pale skin of the rest of the hand. Her guy gently grasped it and brushed a tender caress over it. He brought it to his lips and placed a kiss on the words.

Looking blankly at the statement on her hand, Hermione tried to reassure him. "They're just words, Marcus. They don't hurt me."

He turned his eyes up to hers. "It doesn't hurt you? Those words that horrid woman made you write into your skin don't hurt? What the words say don't hurt you? You feel nothing, then? You don't feel shame or insecure at all about the way it looks? You're a better person than me because just looking at it pains me," he told her.

Her eyes felt moist, and he noticed. Marcus knew she was holding it inside, so he acknowledged, "Look, you're one of the smartest, strongest witches I know. You're my girl, Hermione. I know you like to be independent, but you can share your feelings, thoughts, and hurts with me. We're in a relationship. It's what couples do."

That was the crack that made the damn break. Hermine started crying, and Marcus pulled her close. He held her and didn't let go until she got it all out of her system. When his girl had calmed, and he was stroking her hair, she admitted, "It's not that I don't hurt, because I do. It's just I'm not afraid of it anymore. Malfoy has tormented me for years by calling me mudblood, that the words have become just words. But then, when I'm alone, and it's only me, sometimes I cry. Not all the time, but sometimes."

Stroking her soft hair, he wondered, "And what do you feel during that time? What does that little voice inside your head say to you?"

That caused some sniffles and a few more tears. With a weak voice, Hermione said, "It says I'm not good enough. That I'm just an ugly nuisance who will never fit in no matter what I do or how much my hair isn't frizzy anymore. That I'm less than."

Shaking his head, Marcus placed a kiss on her hair. His voice spoke true. "None of that is correct. Respect your betters... You are better than anyone who thinks that way or believes in blood purity. You're also more intelligent and prettier than any witch I've ever known. I'm glad you exist, Hermione Granger."

Then he took his wand and uttered the words saluber sutura. The pain vanished, and the words disappeared.

Hermione's eyes grew huge. She turned her hand over repeatedly, expecting the words to be there each time, but they weren't. "How did you do it? How did you get them to disappear when Madam Pomfrey couldn't take it off Harry or any other students?" she asked.

Marcus explained, taking her affected hand back into his own, "I don't know about Pomfrey, but I used a spell I created while healing animals in the summers at home. Once, a heffalump scraped the side of its leg on a piece of wire fencing. It was a severe injury. So, I thought about the different things Hagrid taught, and I merged healing and sewing. I came up with saluber sutura, which worked on healing the heff's leg and stitching it back together with no complications. The skin was healed, and everything was good as new. It worked on my own wounds in quidditch. Your hand is healed too." He kissed it again.

Hermione thought about what his Gram said regarding Marcus's healing abilities. And she also wondered how his spell worked, considering, "It was a dark object. How did it work?"

What can he say? He clarified, "Well, it wouldn't work if the object was genuinely dark or cursed. Some are darker than others, filled with hate and all kinds of evil. However, it's obvious the one she used on you wasn't as terrible. So the healing spell was able to function properly."

Warm fuzzy feelings wrapped around Hermione's heart. Marcus Flint is a man of hidden talents, like healing. She knows he's more intelligent than he gives himself credit for. And that's when she realized the truth of what's been in front of her all along. Magic comes from within. It's a part of you. A person can't create or craft a spell the way Marcus did with healing if he doesn't believe in it. What's inside a person always finds a way to get out. And Marcus Flint's beautiful soul keeps trying to break free. Anyone who creates a beautiful piece of healing magic isn't brutish or troll-like as people had a way of calling him.

That made her sad because, like his Gram alluded to, where would he be today if someone had been there encouraging him through his formative pre-teen and early teenage years? That place deep inside a person, where magic grows, needs to be nourished to truly thrive. Hermione took her wand and flicked it at the tree. It finished decorating itself. And it came alive with lights and pretty baubles. The lights in the room turned off, and all that was left was the tree's light.

Without saying a word, she moved to lie down on the sofa. Marcus followed, spooning behind her. His arm draped across her middle and pulled her back closer to his chest. Their legs twined. Real love is like this. It's quiet, comforting, and feels like Christmas all year round. Love is Marcus Flint, and Hermione is grateful.