Hello you beautiful people! Hope you're still enjoying the ride :)

So I'm still ahead of the game, which is great. Unfortunately, I lost one of my cats in a road traffic accident this last week, and things have been shaky. I'm still writing, don't worry, but I'm feeling pretty rubbish tbh..

I might upload the next chapter sooner rather than later, I'm really happy with the flow of this and Chapter 6, so let me know what you think of this one here and if you're super nice maybe you'll get an early upload :)

As always, your reviews/follows/favourites mean the absolute world to me, especially just now. Tons of love, xx


Hermione sat, full of nervous energy, as her Tuesday potions class once more came to an end. She made a note to pack her things slowly, trying to draw out the process as long as possible. In truth, she wasn't even sure what she wanted to say, but she knew she had to talk to him. Harry and Ron looked over, both wearing the same puzzled expression. It seemed that after her conversation with Harry the night previous, they had decided to speak to her again.

"You coming Mione? We need to get to History of Magic." Harry motioned towards the door.

"You guys go ahead, I need to discuss this week's lesson plan with the professor. I won't be too long!" She beamed at them, hoping it looked sincere, and then finished packing up her things as the boys shrugged and headed out of the classroom. Inhaling slowly, she slung her book bag over her back and turned to walk up to the potions master's desk. Snape, true to form, didn't bother to look up at her. She started to speak but was beaten to it.

"Miss Granger, I fail to see what you would need to discuss concerning our next lesson. I thought I was quite clear last week?" He didn't look up, but Hermione could see his signature eyebrow lift from where she stood. She cleared her throat awkwardly and failed to hide the nervous laugh that escaped.

"Apologies sir, I didn't actually want to discuss that. I just didn't want Harry and Ron to know.. Could I have five minutes of your time?" She tried to make her voice sound calm, but inside she was quickly becoming a nervous wreck. Is it always going to be like this, she thought absentmindedly.

Snape glanced up at her, one eyebrow still raised. He flicked his wrist and the sound of the classroom door shutting behind Hermione could be heard, and he sighed. "Continue."

Hermione swallowed the lump stuck in her throat, and caught his gaze. "Sir, it's about.. It's about another teacher. I'm concerned with their methods of discipline." Snape smirked a little at this.

"The goody-two-shoes Hermione Granger has found herself in detention? I thought I'd never see the day."

Hermione furrowed her brow and let out a small huff, failing to let his snarky demeanor get to her. "Excuse me sir, that's hardly the case. It isn't me who's been disciplined. It's Harry."

"In that case I should remind you that you don't appear to own a set of Slytherin robes, Miss Granger. Neither does Mr Potter. I suggest if you have.. Issues.. With the boy wonder's treatment by staff that you should take it up with your Head of House." He waved his hand to dismiss her.

"Would if I could, sir. Except Harry specifically asked me not to bring this to the attention of the

teachers, for fear they would be reprimanded if word was to get out."

"So you brought this to me.. Strange, I was under the impression I was a teacher.." He looked at her, his eyebrow raised. "Am I then to assume it is of no consequence should I be caught in the crossfire of whatever Mr Potter's problem is?" Hermione's eyes widened.

"Of course not sir! That's not it at all! It would be ridiculous not to involve the teachers in this matter, but I'm worried that if I go to Professor McGonagall she would act.. Too brash." At this last word she felt her cheeks redden. She was right though, she knew that the elderly witch would be determined to put a stop to Umbridge's horrific punishments as publicly as possible, and she couldn't risk it. "I brought this to you because I felt you would be more impartial, considering the student.."

Snape rubbed his bottom lip and chin with his thumb, considering what she had said. Perhaps this warranted his time. "I see. What is the issue?" He spoke slowly, careful to use his usual drawl so as not to appear overly interested.

"It's Professor Umbridge, sir. She's using these quills, I'm not sure how they work.. But they scar whoever is writing with them! I've seen Harry's hand, the cuts were deep! He was in pain when he came back from his detention yesterday! It's barbaric! It's-" Snape raised a hand. He was silent for a moment, and then looked up at her with a familiar sneer on his face.

"And pray tell me, why should I be concerned with Mr Potter's injuries? Far be it for me to question another faculty member's teaching methods, especially against someone so.. Argumentative." His voice dripped with loathing. Hermione stepped back, processing what her professor had just said.

"Sir? You can't possibly be condoning that level of violence, ANY level of violence against-"

"That will be all Miss Granger. You are dismissed. I expect to see you for your lesson on Friday, as per usual." She felt the classroom door swing open behind her, and when she looked back at Snape she found him engrossed in paperwork once more.

"Sir this is outrageous! How can you sit there and refuse to help!?"

"I said, you are dismissed, Miss Granger. Leave before I request additional punishments be handed out by Professor Umbridge." His voice was low, menacing. It was unbelievably cold. Hermione could feel her eyes start to sting but she refused to show that level of emotion, not to someone who apparently had no interest in the welfare of his students.

"... Fine." Hermione slumped her shoulders and turned to walk out of the classroom. "I don't know why I expected anything different." She didn't bother to close the door behind her.

Snape waited before he could be sure she had left, and wandlessly closed the door to his classroom again. He dropped his head back and took a deep breath. It wasn't that he was overly surprised to learn of Dolores' archaic methods, but to employ them so soon after term had begun was worrying. Black quills, really? He knew they had been banned by the Ministry due to the dark magic they possessed, and so it crossed his mind that perhaps this had been concealed from the Minister. However, should this have been sanctioned by Fudge, then it had the potential to cause a bigger retaliation if it were questioned. Miss Granger was right, the fallout would be hard on the staff. He'd need to think of some way to deal with this without it looking suspicious. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he took another deep breath. His next class wasn't until after lunch, time to pay the headmaster a visit. He strode from the classroom through the connecting hall to his personal chambers. Once inside, he grabbed a pinch of powder from a jar on the mantelpiece and threw it into the fire, the flames igniting green. Stepping in, he requested the headmaster's office and disappeared from sight.


Hermione was furious. She had been furious since her meeting with Snape on Tuesday, and despite the best efforts of her two friends, nothing seemed to calm her. Harry hadn't been overly pleased when she'd let slip of her conversation with the potions master. The anger at her had quickly turned to anger against Snape, however, when Hermione had told him the outcome. She found herself feeling hurt, but she didn't know why. There was no reason to assume that Professor Snape would be anything other than his usual cold self just because she'd had one extra lesson with him. Nothing had changed, nothing should have changed. But she couldn't stop the fury sitting inside her swelling up every time she thought back over it. And so it was that she found herself full of anger that Thursday, sitting in her second Defense class of the week.

"Now class, please turn to page 58 of your textbooks. In this lesson we will be examining different methods of de-escalation." The horrific vision in pink looked over the class, a perfectly crafted smile plastered on her face. It was a smile that taunted people, daring them to challenge her. It was a smile that pushed Hermione's bubbling anger over the edge.

"This is moronic!" Gasps and quiet whispers could be heard throughout the classroom, as the other students slowly turned to stare at Hermione. Somewhere far away in her mind, she could hear Harry hissing at her to be quiet.

"Class! This isn't a discussion. You should be able to read the chapter without commenting to your classmates. Miss Granger, kindly refrain from any other.. Outbursts." Professor Umbridge smiled at Hermione, her lips tighter than usual.

"De-escalation?! Really?! This is defense against the DARK ARTS. I'm pretty sure a civilized conversation won't be enough to stop the cruciatus curse!" Hermione was on her feet now. She couldn't remember standing, but here she was. "You've turned this class into a JOKE, you should be ashamed." She gathered her book bag, not bothering to pick up the one currently still closed on her desk. As she made for the door, a shrill voice screeched out behind her.

"DETENTION! Miss Granger. Tomorrow evening." Hermione didn't turn around, but if she had she would have seen a murderous look in her professor's eyes.

"I'm afraid I have additional classes that evening. If you want to give me detention then, you will need to speak to Professor Snape." And with that she stormed out of the room.

Hermione didn't feel better. In fact, her earlier fury had been replaced with a wild panic. She had yelled. She'd yelled loudly. She'd yelled loudly AND spoken back to a teacher. A teacher who used physical punishment. She scrunched up her face so hard it hurt her eyes. This wasn't good. She hadn't been sure where to go, so instead she'd headed straight for the one place she knew would comfort her - the library. She found a desk situated towards the back of the cozy, familiar room and hurriedly emptied the contents of her bag out. Searching through books, trying to find something to ease her mind, she stopped. Her lesson with Professor Snape! She had been so angry that she hadn't looked at the anti-paralysis recipe since seeing him on Tuesday, and she had yet to take notes. Urgh! It frustrated her to no end thinking that she couldn't even get herself prepared for her most enjoyable class. She stopped that train of thought rather quickly - it was very certainly not her most enjoyable class. How could it be? She'd had one lesson and it had been filled with panic and nerves. It was definitely the information that was enjoyable, not the company. She grumbled to herself as she went off in search of some potions texts, clearly unhappy at the jumble of thoughts her mind was having.

Lost in a flurry of parchment and books, she only half noticed the hand on her shoulder, and jolted to reality in an instant.

"I knew I'd find you here. Come on, it's time for lunch." She looked behind her to see the beaming - if not slightly worried - face of Harry looking down at her. Hermione sighed, rubbing her eyes and forehead as if she'd been asleep for hours, not studying.

"Thanks for coming to get me, I'd probably have worked right through the day if you hadn't." As she gathered the things on her desk, she glanced back around at him. "How was it..? The rest of the lesson?" Harry chuckled, his hand running through his hair with the same nervous air Hermione had come to recognize.

"You certainly caused a stir, Mione. Umbridge could barely keep the class under control." He looked at his feet. "That wasn't like you, at all."

Hermione stretched, more out of exasperation than tiredness, and went to put the books she'd borrowed back onto the shelf. "I'm just sick of it Harry. Sick of her, sick of the way she treats us, sick of having to cart that ridiculous book around with me." Harry fished the familiar text out of his bag.

"This one? I made sure to grab it on the way out, didn't want Umbridge to have any more excuses to punish you."

Hermione took it from him as if it were covered in hippogriff dung, and stuffed it into her bag with little care. "I wish I could say thanks." She grumbled. "Where's Ron?"

"Already in the Great Hall I imagine, there isn't much that could get in the way of him and food." Hermione laughed at that, and the familiar calm that she had missed since term began flooded over her. She linked her arm in his and led him out of the library and down to lunch.

As expected, Ron was already seated at the Gryffindor table, his plate piled high with the day's offerings. He barely noticed them when they arrived, only glancing up when Hermione leaned over to grab some sandwiches.

"Bloody hell, Mione. I didn't think you had it in you!" He said, his mouth full of ham and cheese. Hermione bristled slightly at the lack of manners, but thought nothing more of it.

"Yes, well, it serves her right. She needs to know we won't accept that level of teaching. She needs to remember there's a curriculum!"

"The bit about Snape too," Hermione interrupted him with the familiar Professor Snape, Ron. "Professor Snape, anyway, you didn't see it but she was livid. She was muttering all sorts, about how she'd be taking it to him personally. I'd hate to be you come Friday."

"At least I know what to expect." She looked at Harry, who had still taken to rubbing his hand every now and then. "Has it faded yet?" He looked up at her.

"Kind of. Once in a while it'll just sting like crazy though, it's so annoying. If it was my left hand sure, but my writing hand? Honestly, it's a nightmare." Harry's cheeks were slightly flushed, and she could see that he still wasn't fond of discussing the torturous detention he'd been put through. A small bubble of panic started to rise in her as she realized that she'd be put through the same.

"Well, you're not alone now. I bet the more people she does this to, the quicker someone will say something."

"Still, I don't know how else to make you understand. It hurts Hermione. Really hurts. And you can't just stop. She makes you do it until you can't physically write anymore." Harry's eyes were filled with pain and fear, of desperation that she might realise just how unpleasant it had been.

"If it ends up really bad I'll nip to the hospital wing and ask Madame Pomfrey for some dittany. I'll even get some extra, for you. Don't worry Harry, I knew this was coming the moment I stood up in that class."

Hermione turned and resumed her lunch, lost in the thoughts of what was to come. If she were being honest with them, she was actually quite scared. She didn't like pain, and judging from Harry's injuries she would be sore right through the weekend. Hopefully if she went to Madame Pomfrey, the sympathetic witch wouldn't ask too many questions and let her away with the vial she needed. If she conserved it, she thought, she would be able to help some of the other students should they find themselves with the same younger students, especially, would need to see that this wasn't how things at Hogwarts were done. So engrossed with her mental preparation, she almost didn't notice the figure come to stop behind her. It wasn't until Harry cleared his throat and whispered her name that she turned around to see the imposing statue of Professor Snape looming over her.

"It appears, Miss Granger, that due to your.. theatrics in class, we will need to reschedule our lesson. You are to report to Professor Umbridge's office at 7pm tomorrow evening, and will make your way to my classroom immediately after." His eyes were like ice, and he barely looked her way, instead opting to lazily scan the Great Hall. His demeanor was that of his usual snarky self, but Hermione could hear the anger in his voice. "Do not keep me waiting." The potions master strode away before Hermione could answer in the affirmative, his cloak billowing with the same savage grace that he always had.

"No rest for the wicked, right Mione?" She looked at Ron and rolled her eyes. Tomorrow was going to be rough.


The room was, well, ghastly. The colour scheme was a mix of off-pastels, sickly sweet and artificial. Hermione thought it reminded her vaguely of parma-violets, a muggle sweet she used to have growing up. Adorning the walls were dozens of small portraits in dainty frames, each one holding a different kitten. They meowed incessantly, even if they weren't loud. Professor Umbridge's desk was plain enough, save for another framed picture - this one of Minister Fudge, and various office supplies. There also sat an ornate tea set, one you might see when you visited your gran, with a pattern not seen in decades. Another smaller desk was situated in front of this, with its own chair and parchment stacked on it. Umbridge looked up from the letter she had been writing and smiled that same fake smile as Hermione entered.

"Miss Granger. I thought we'd write some lines tonight." Hermione slowly sat down at the desk and went to summon a quill from her bag, but the petite woman stopped her. "No need, Miss Granger. I have a quill I would like you to use here." Opening a drawer behind her desk, she produced a quill that was almost identical to the one she had intended to use. The only difference she could see was the feather, it was a strange inky black and incredibly angular. Not a natural feather, that was for sure. Swallowing the temptation to question it, she carefully took the quill from Umbridge and waited.

"What am I to write, Professor?" Her voice was blank, if there was one thing she was determined to do, it would be not to show any emotions in front of this devil woman. Umbridge cracked another smile.

"I believe, 'I must learn my place' should be satisfactory." Her eyes dared Hermione to challenge her. The young witch knew this wasn't the time to do so.

"How many times, ma'am?"

"Let's say, enough to make sure the message sinks in." Hermione swallowed again, time to get this over with.