Hello peeps. Sorry for updating late! Please review and follow, it means a lot! Moreover, I know I am really annoying and you most probably skip the author's note (I don't blame you), but I want to thank all the readers supporting this story. You guys rock!


The sixth-floor corridors, from the Owlery to the Grand Staircase, were completely empty, even though it was only 8 pm. Harry and Hermione launched into conversations, telling each other everything that happened to them in the course of the past two days. Their voices bounced on the walls of the otherwise silent corridors, creating echoes. Both of them felt glad they were back to being the best of friends and talked and laughed like old times. Harry told Hermione about Angelina's constant complaints and how he couldn't succeed in convincing her to wait just for a few more Fridays, after which he would be free.

As he talked, Hermione smiled a little. She was half listening and half gazing at him involuntarily. There were a lot of things that attracted her to him and one of them was his eyes. Ginny wasn't kidding when she said his eyes were beautiful, Hermione realized. The enthralling shade of emerald green mesmerized her and she got lost in them. So it was getting difficult to listen to him properly. She sometimes did that before too, until she had to snap herself back to reality after realizing what she was doing.

"And now I don't know how to make her understand," Harry was saying, "And not get on my nerves."

"Oh Harry," Hermione sighed, "It's okay. I'll try to talk to Angelina about it. Maybe I can convince her."

"Thanks," he grinned at her, "She'd listen to you since you're a girl."

"Girls listen to boys, too!" Hermione countered, giggling, "Like me."

"I am pretty sure that's the other way around," Harry argued, "Boys think girls are smarter, like Ron and I."

Hermione laughed, making him smile. He liked seeing her laugh, especially after witnessing her misery.

"I am so glad you're back," he said, without thinking what he was saying. Hermione gave him a small smile, "Me too."

A loud 'meow' suddenly interrupted them. Hermione looked around, half expecting to find Crookshanks, but it was Mrs. Norris, looking at her and Harry with her scarlet eyes.

"This cat again," Harry mumbled. However, Hermione bent down and offered a hand invitingly to the cat.

"Hello, Mrs. Norris," she cooed, "Come here."

The feline cocked her head and contemplated her hand. Then gradually she came forward and allowed Hermione to scratch her chin, then between her ears.

"Really, Hermione?" Harry said, raising an eyebrow, "You like this filthy cat?"

"Ever since I got Crookshanks, I acquired an intense liking for cats," Hermione explained to him, smiling at Mrs. Norris as the animal purred contentedly.

"Well, she's Filch's, and I sometimes get the feeling that she can see through invisibility cloaks."

"Don't be ridiculous," Hermione dismissed, "Although cats do have much more powerful senses than us, they are not magical creatures."

Before Harry could reply, another voice rang out, echoing in the empty hallway.

"My, my, getting friendly with my cat, are we?"

Hermione immediately retreated from Mrs. Norris as Filch came into view, looking at her and Harry in the most disdainful way.

His mad eyes flicked to their surroundings and slid back onto them, a gruesome smirk advancing on his face.

"Taking advantage of empty corridors, eh?" he said, "Since Professor Umbridge wants the students to stay 8 inches apart from each other."

He paused to observe the obviously less than 8 inches distance between Harry and Hermione.

Realizing what he meant, Hermione blushed hard, averting her eyes to the floor. Even Harry had turned slightly pink.

"I can put you into detention for this," Filch said gleefully.

Harry glared at him and said as politely as he could, "We are not taking advantage of empty corridors like you're presuming. We were simply coming back from the Owlery. And now if you'll excuse us, we have to go."

He grabbed Hermione's hand, to annoy Filch, and led her out of the sixth floor, where finally, the Grand Staircase came into view.

Hermione's hand was still clutched in Harry's and she swooned inside at the sight of it. He seemed to have forgotten he was holding her hand as he fumed about Filch.

"Umbridge's pawn," he muttered, climbing the stairs with Hermione in tow, "Seems absolutely delighted to have her around."

They reached the 7th floor, hand in hand, where they finally weren't alone. Students and ghosts loomed here and there in the crowded corridors.

Harry finally realized he had Hermione's hand in his and immediately let go of it. I hope she didn't suspect anything, he thought.

He's been so sweet, Hermione was thinking, he actually had put everything aside to fix my mood. I think I love him even more now.

Yes, she was in love with him. When she obviously couldn't tell him that yet, she could appreciate him for prioritizing her.

"Harry?" she began.

"Yes?"

"I just thought...I didn't appreciate your act fully."

"What act?" he asked, puzzled.

"The one where you set aside everything just to make me happy again."

"I had to do that because you're important to me."

"Still, I appreciate it," she told him with a smile, then reached out to squeeze his hand with hers, "Thank you."

He smiled back, "You don't need to mention it. Besides, I was only -"

But he stopped, upon the look on Hermione's face, who was looking at his hand in horror.

"Oh no…" he muttered.

Now that Hermione had looked properly at his hand, she noticed the strange shapes all over on the back of it. Upon closer inspection, she was shocked to see that they were scars! All of them spelt I must not tell lies.

"Harry, what is this?" Hermione demanded, looking at Harry with a mixture of shock and concern.

"What happens to me in detention," he answered, "Umbridge makes me write with my own blood."

"Excuse me...what?!"

"Not so loud!" he shushed her, "Let's go somewhere secluded. Then I'll explain."

Hermione agreed and followed him to an isolated and overshadowed part of the 7th floor.

"The thing is," Harry began, "Umbridge gives me a special quill of her own to write the line 'I must not tell lies' over and over again. But I don't write with ink. I write with my own blood instead. That quill has a magical ability to suck the blood of the writer's hand, creating scars of the very thing he's writing. My punishment basically is to keep writing until the line is prominent enough on my hand," he finished, bitterly.

Instead of replying, Hermione took his hand again and contemplated it for a few seconds.

"Oh, Harry...this looks so painful."

"It is painful," he told her, "Very painful. She expects me to scream or howl in pain every time I write, but I...suppress it."

Hermione's mouth dropped open, "How do you manage to do that?"

"My hatred for Umbridge allows me to," Harry replied, angrily, "So I satisfy myself and disappoint her by not expressing pain even once."

Hermione caressed the scars on his hand gently with her hand, while saying, "How long will these detentions go?"

"When this stupid message is embedded deep into my skin and is crystal clear," Harry said, calming down a little by her soothing touch.

"Maybe I can fix it," Hermione declared. She pulled out her wand and pointed it at his hand.

"Episkey!" she said.

Nothing happened.

"Hmm...that quill must be immune to charms,"

Harry sighed, "Hermione, please don't go poring over the library for this. Or something similar."

"But...this looks like it hurts a lot!" Hermione argued.

"The pain fades every now and then," he explained, "Honestly, it's okay. I bet only a couple of detentions are left. So it will vanish on its own. Besides, if you managed to make it disappear, it would enrage Umbridge and mean even more detentions for me."

Hermione realized that he was right. So she said, "All right, fine. But at least tell me why you decided to keep this a secret?"

"I didn't want to burden Ron and you," he answered, "We already have a lot to worry about and Umbridge's detentions should be the least of our concerns."

"Harry…" Hermione said, in disbelief, "These detentions should be our concern! What she's doing to you isn't right!"

"But there's nothing we can do," Harry reminded her, "So it's best to wait it out."

"I hate her even more now," Hermione said, with gritted teeth, "I wish I could hex her or something."

Harry laughed, "You? And hexing teachers?"

Hermione smiled, "She deserves it. Even for me."

"That she does," he said. Both of them observed the quill scars on his hand for a moment before Harry broke the ice, "We should go. Ron must be wondering where we are."

Hermione agreed and both of them retreated to the comfort of their beloved common room.