Second Year, March 11
Mia watched as Professor Longbottom sighed. She wasn't supposed to call him Uncle Neville in school, but right then, she didn't think she'd be able to anyways.
He was seated behind his desk, worry lines etched on his face, his hair more gray than usual, and wearing a very disapproving face. She knew she'd caused that face. Mia slunk farther down in her seat, not daring to look over at Nott in the seat next to her. The Slytherin Head of House, Professor Merriweather, stood next to Uncle Neville's seat, behind his desk.
While Uncle Neville was silent, Merriweather most certainly was not.
"Muggle dueling! In the middle of the corridor!" he ranted, glaring only at Mia, not at his own student – who had thrown the first punch.
Mia crossed her arms and slumped in her seat, a look of indifference etched on her face. She was struggling to maintain the mask, but doing well enough judging by how much angrier Merriweather got whenever he looked at her. "You!" he pointed his finger at Mia. "What do you have to say for yourself?"
Mia looked Nott up and down slowly. "My great-grandmother could beat him in a fight," she drawled and sneered at the repulsive boy. Considering Molly had won in a duel against Bellatrix Lestrange, of course she could.
Merriweather looked like he would like to hit Mia.
"Mia," Neville said in his warning voice.
Mia looked back at him and relaxed her mask for only an instant, so her uncle Neville could see the hurt she felt. She couldn't hold the hurt in with Uncle Neville, nor her grandpa or Uncle Harry, her dad, Uncle James, Uncle Al. Even her mum. There was something about her family that made her want to tell them everything. But not things that would hurt them.
"Miss Malfoy," Merriweather grit his teeth, "would you care to explain why you hit him before your punishment is doled out?"
"I was defending myself – he hit me first."
"Because you said I was a pathetic, low-life, scum-sucking sewer rat!"
"Only because you called me Death Eater scum again! And you called my family a bunch of blood traitors! No fucking way in hell were you going to get away with that!" Mia ignored the protests and demands of the professors as she stood up and made her way to lean over Nott. "The war is over, and has been for years. Get over your fucking prejudices or I'll make you see the world in a different light. You'll see it out of your arse cause I'm gonna shove your head-"
"Hermia Malfoy!" Uncle Neville thundered.
Mia stopped immediately. She turned slowly to look at her uncle, the color of his face hovering somewhere between red and purple.
"I think it'd be best if I were to speak to my student alone," Neville said to Merriweather. Merriweather nodded and told Nott to "Come along," then pulled him out of the office and began yelling at him in the hallway.
"Mia, what am I going to do with you?" Neville sat back down in his chair, exasperated. "I know you mean well, you're just defending yourself, but must you do so in such a physical manner? You don't have to hit him or issue bodily threats, use your words."
"My words do shit, Uncle Neville," Mia stated. "Though his family was part of Voldemort's followers, he still likes to insult me and mine. If I don't stand up for them, that does make me Death Eater scum," she explained in a small voice. She couldn't help but remember the assembly they'd had in the Great Hall at the end of her first year when someone had been caught cheating on their O.W.L.s. The headmaster had lectured the students on integrity. If Mia had any integrity, she had to fight for her family, for herself, not only for her pride. It was who she was. She had to do it.
She explained this to Neville.
He smiled a small smile to himself. "Just like your dad, you are. You know, Mia, doing the wrong thing for the right reasons, it's still doing something wrong."
Mia snorted. "There's a difference between what the government says is wrong and what actually is wrong."
"Your nana's been letting you in her library again, hasn't she?"
Mia nodded. She loved her Nana Hermione's library.
"Fine, just promise me, no more fist fights."
"No more fist fights with Nott, got it."
"No, Mia. No more fist fights, ever."
"With Nott."
"With Slytherins."
Mia debated this. "With Slytherins who don't provoke me."
"Mia, I am not compromising on this. You need to stop getting into brawls. This is the fourth one you've been in, only this year. Three times it's been with Nott."
"Yeah, and the other time it was Connor McGreary who insulted Patrick! It's not like I don't do it for a reason!"
Neville looked down at Mia, who was on the edge of her seat, gripping it tightly, eyes filled with passion for her causes: her family and friends. How could he tell her she couldn't fight for the people she loved?
"Just don't get caught."
Mia grinned.
Well, that was one way to do it, Neville thought. "Don't forget, you have a week's detentions to serve with me," he called to her while she practically skipped out of the room.
"What happened?" Alex asked when Mia got back to the common room.
"Week of detention."
"That's it?" Patrick cried. "What about Nott? He better have gotten suspended."
Mia shrugged and plopped down on the couch beside Alex, smudging his essay with her movement. He glared at her. "I dunno," she said, "but when Merriweather was yelling at him in the hall, I'm pretty sure I heard something about Hogwarts not tolerating insults about the Second War and – hopefully! - suspension."
"I can't believe you got off so easy," Alex shook his head. "You broke the guy's nose, gave him a black eye, split his lip, and he was limping. And you barely have a black eye and a busted lip."
"Take a picture now, so in the future I can tell my kids how much of a rebel I was in school," Mia smirked, causing her lip to split again and start bleeding anew. "Aw, shit," she muttered.
Mia began avoiding fights. Instead, she took to convincing her Uncle Fred to give her Weasley's Wizard Wheezes products to use on people who were mean to her, and to her friends. It worked relatively well. Until, of course, someone riled her up enough to get her punch them. Nott's nose was bent so badly after being broken four times (twice by Mia, once by Alex, once by Patrick), he looked worse than Victor Krum at the end of his Quidditch career. Eventually, Mia learned to use her words to hurt those who hurt her, and had to learn another valuable lesson: sometimes the pen is mightier than the sword. Words hurt. Including those of Professor Merriweather, who never let her forget what she had done to Nott in second year. She dropped arithmancy the moment she finished her O.W.L.s, eager to avoid his cruel comments forever. But somethings he'd said stuck: maybe her younger siblings really were better than her.
Review, please! And thank you so much to all the reviews I have received! It makes me so happy to see that people who have read my other stories are reading this one (and reviewing!).