UnExpected

by Amerie

She had been getting stares since the end of Magical Creatures. Which was really no surprise. There were the whispers and the usual reverted gazes when she looked their way. The questioning eyes and skirt arounds. The only shocker were some of the praised looks she was receiving. That was definitely weird.

“You shouldn’t ‘ve said anything,” Neville had whispered to her during Herbology.

“Well between you and me,” Buffy whispered back. “I think all of us haven’t said anything for way to long.”

Neville didn’t respond as he turned his attention back to Professor Sprout, who continued in her explanation on the handling of Fanged Geranium. He carefully took notes and gave a steady eye as she handled the toothy plant. Making sure he had written all the information down, he turned back to Buffy.

“You know what happens during detention don’t you?” he asked, worry seeping into his tone.

“Yeah I know,” she answered, subconsciously rubbing the back of her hand, and then pushing them to her sides when she realized what she was doing. “Who knows, maybe it won’t be so bad. I always did have a high tolerance for pain.”

Neville didn’t seem so convinced as he gave a resigning sigh, a long worried look and then turned his attention back to the lesson. It was like a stone settled in her chest at his concern. Hoping to lighten the mood she gently shoved her shoulder into his arm until he looked her away.

“You gotta admit. That look on her face. Totally priceless,” she winked.

The corners of his mouth twitched up and Buffy bumped his arm again when she saw the smile on his face. Now that was definitely better.

Half an hour later as she walked down the hall after class, she had no idea how she found herself alone. One minute Neville was next to her, the next he had mumbled something and was gone. She was pretty sure she heard the word toilet in there somewhere, or maybe that’s just what she figured. Either way she was alone as she made her way toward the Great Hall to hopefully chow something down before her detention. Idly watching a pair of students that had walked right by her– right before she was yanked into a room.

Buffy let herself be pushed in further as her attacker closed the door behind him. Adjusting the strap of her bag as she waited calmly for what was coming next.

“Have you gone completely out of your mind?!” Draco nearly shouted. “What was going on that thick head of yours?! What were you thinking?!”

Woah, deja vu.

“Hi Draco, how are you? Me, I’m fine,” she smiled. Irritating him even further.

“Buffy this is serious,” he told her, his face hard and his jaw set. “Don’t you know what Umbridge does to the students who serve detention with her?”

“Oh you mean that little thing where she makes them carve into their own hands like a Thanksgiving Day turkey?”

“A what?”

“Never mind.”

She really needed Xander around. This place was really bad for her witty quips.

“Buffy,” he said in exasperation.

“Relax Draco,” she said soothingly. “I know exactly what Little Miss Sadist considers appropriate punishment.”

“Than explain to me, because I’m having a very difficult time trying to understand, why you couldn’t just stay quiet?” he asked.

“Boredom?” she perkingly said.

“Buffy . . . ”

“Look what I said deserved to be said. She was getting way outta hand, and she was getting away with it,” she firmly explained. “Someone needed to put her in her place.”

“You do know who she works for?” he tried to make her understand how serious it was. “Who she’ll be reporting this to?”

“So? What are they gonna do kick me out of school for having an opinion? Didn’t realize I was supposed to fall in line like a good little soldier,” she said. “Besides Dumbledore’s the one who’s in charge. Not her.”

He placed his hands on his hips as he tried to calm himself down. She just didn’t understand. It didn’t matter that Dumbledore was the Headmaster, Umbridge’s power went further than Buffy could understand. Even if she couldn’t expel Buffy, she could make her life miserable. And there was nothing even he could do to stop it.

“Just be careful,” he said. “Don’t do anything that would cause you to be in even more trouble.”

“Course,” she smiled. “You know me.”

“I know. That’s why I’m saying it.”

Buffy narrowed her eyes until a smile appeared on his face.

“Anyway,” she drawled. “Does this mean I can ask you to stop being her lap dog?” she asked with a raised eyebrow.

“I’m not her lap dog,” he indignantly stated. “I’m her favorite.”

“Which means she’s probably given you special privileges hasn’t she?”

“A few,” he shrugged.

She crossed her arms and thought over Draco’s power and attention driven life. He’ll always go for the goal, no matter the price, thanks in large part to his power hungry father. That man didn’t deserve Draco, or any child for that matter.

“Just promise me you won’t let your new found advantages let that head of yours get any bigger.”

A devilish smile appeared on his lips and Buffy knew it was no use.

“I don’t even know why I try,” she muttered.

“It’s a puzzle to me too,” he said.

She gave a short laugh and placed her hands lazily on his hips.

“All right,” she said. “I’ll promise to try and behave myself.”

“Good.”

“But if she starts pushin’ my buttons all bets are off.”

He wasn’t to going to win this. But when did he ever win anything when Buffy’s stubbornness came into play.

“Fair enough,” he conceded.

Buffy shook her head and gave another laugh. It was strange having Draco be the one to tell her to behave. Bizarro World was a lot closer than she would’ve ever imagined.

“You should probably go first,” Buffy told him. “Pansy’s probably trying to track you down right about now.”

A loud groan escaped his throat and Buffy chuckled again.

“You know one of these days you’re gonna have to stand up to daddy,” she said.

“Easier said than done,” he nearly mumbled.

Buffy felt a pang of sympathy for him again, it wasn’t fair how much pressure Lucius put on him. No matter what he did, Draco always felt he was never enough.

“All right, guess we’ll talk later then,” he nodded. “You’ll tell me everything?”

“You got it,” she smiled.

With a smile of his own and one last concerned look, Draco walked out of the room. And then she waited. Just until enough passed so she could leave without being too suspicious. Satisfied with four minutes she walked out, and right into someone she was hoping to find.

“Theodore,” she said, putting on her friendly smile and closing the door behind her.

“Hey Buffy,” he flatly greeted.

She had always like Theodore. He was the quintessential loner type. Kept to himself, spoke when spoken to, but never went out of his way to make conversation. He wasn’t rude, a little mean to other houses but who in Slytherin wasn’t. He was nice, in a serious kind of way. Kinda like Oz.

“Listen I was wondering if you could-- I mean it’s not like you really owe me anything, but it would be such a huge favor to me, and I’d be grateful for like ever, if maybe you wouldn’t--”

“Tell anybody about you and the Thestrals,” he finished off. A tiny amused smirk lifting his lips at her rambling.

“Yeah,” she smiled shyly.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said.

“Really?”

“Yeah,” he nodded.

“Thanks that’s . . . thanks,” she smiled gratefully.

“It’s nothing,” he shrugged off.

Buffy looked at him, really looked at him. He was taller, but then again who wasn’t now. His black hair was a little shaggy, in the careless kind of way that very few guys could pull off. His eyes had grown an even darker green and she realized, he was actually kind of cute.

“Uh . . . ” she managed to stutter out. Her cheeks pinker from embarrassment when she realized how long she had been staring. “How, uh, how’ve you been?”

No Buffy that wasn’t dorky at all, she mentally cringed. What was the matter with her? This was Theodore. Theodore who she had bumped into once in the middle night during first year when they both went into the common room to retrieve their forgotten bags and he saw her in her pretty pink princess pajamas. Theodore who had once put Draco in his place when he had gotten out of hand with his arrogance and began ordering the Slytherins around, gaining respect from near everybody. Theodore who had secretly helped her study during their second year because she was falling way behind on her studies and didn’t want anybody to know because Buffy was not one to show weakness in any capacity. Theodore who was the skinny kid with very little baby fat in the wrong places. But as it turns out, that baby fat was finally slipping away to all the right places and so was everything else.

“The same,” he answered her.

“Good thing? Bad thing?”

“It’s more of a whatever thing,” he smiled.

“Theodore Nott,” she said in a warm nostalgic tone. “Never really change do you?”

“Change is overrated.”

Buffy grinned widely and shyly glanced away for a second. She was almost positive her entire face was red by now.

“I should really be going,” she said. “Places to be. People to hate. Skin to mutilate.”

“Right, detention with Umbridge,” he nodded. “I can’t believe you said those things to her.”

“Yeah well what can I say? I got issues.”

“I remember,” he teased.

Her eyes went wide and she smiled. “Gee thanks.”

He gave a heavy innocent shrug before throwing her that smirk that Buffy remembered so well.

“I really should get going,” she repeated. “But it was nice-- kinda sorta catching up. It’s been a while.”

Theodore gave a lazy nod in agreement. His deep green eyes firmly fixated on her face, noticing how she had only gotten prettier over the years.

“Guess I’ll just be seein’ you around,” she continued when he still hadn’t said anything. Which should’ve been unnerving if it weren’t for the fact that she was used to his quiet behavior.

“Yeah,” he responded.

Buffy smiled shyly one last time before she slowly moved away from him. A few steps down she looked over her shoulder and felt her face grow hot again when she saw Theodore still standing there, looking at her as she walked away. Boy was she in trouble.

Fear. That’s what she should’ve been feeling. She was about to go in and actually cut into her own skin. Fear would’ve been the appropriate emotion. But when did Buffy ever follow propriety. Taking a deep breath to steel her angry emotions she knocked on the door, and when she heard Umbridge’s friendly ‘come in’ she almost lost it. Steeling her nerves and breathing deeply once more, Buffy prayed that Umbridge would behave herself because let’s face it, she wasn’t going to.

“Good evening Professor,” Buffy greeted cheerily when she stepped into the room.

“Good evening Ms. Summers,” Umbridge answered back in the same friendly voice.

And the Oscar goes to . . .

“Why don’t you take a seat,” Professor Umbridge politely offered.

Shutting the door behind her, Buffy calmly walked over to the desk and chair that had been obviously setup for her benefit. Placing down her bag she waited, behaving as though she was in the middle of a tea party.

“You’re going to be doing lines for me today Ms. Summers,” she directed. Smugness, satisfaction and every other pleasured emotion flitted over her face. This woman had some serious issues.

“What will I be writing?”

“I will not be disobedient and will learn my proper place,” she said sweetly.

Extra long sentence, extra long cuts. She was sure milking it for all it was worth.

Literally biting her tongue Buffy waited for the special quill she had heard so much about. The evil-feathered thing that Umbridge was now holding in her hand with a wide smile on her face.

Everything was going smoothly. Buffy wasn’t retorting. She was actually well behaved. But Umbridge had been fooled by her polite behavior before and had learned to keep her guard up no matter what.

Buffy kept her eyes on Umbridge as she placed the black quill right beside her. Like she had just given her a pudding.

“You may begin,” she instructed, walking back to stand beside her desk.

Buffy didn’t move. Her hands were clasped over the desk and her eyes still on the professor.

“Is there a problem?” Umbridge asked.

“I’m not using that quill,” Buffy said evenly.

There it was. The rebel she had been expecting.

“Are you refusing to serve your detention Ms. Summers?”

“No. I’m willing to do my lines, I’m just not using that quill,” she replied. “I have a perfectly good quill of my own that I’d be more than happy to use.”

“I’m sure you do,” Umbridge said through clenched teeth. “But I’d rather you use this one.” I’ll bet.

“Why can’t I use my own?”

Buffy wanted to hear her say it. Explain why her quill was so special.

“Because this one is much more effective in letting the message sink in.”

“Really? How?”

Umbridge knew what she was trying to do and she wasn’t going to win. The hands clasped in front of her were squeezing each other so tightly that her nails were being pushed into her skin. Leaving, what she was sure of, little half moon marks on the back of her hand. But Professor Umbridge continued to smile in her Splenda ways.

“Now, dear, I don’t understand why you just don’t use my quill,” she said sweetly.

“Well, I don’t understand why I can’t use mine,” she innocently replied. “It works the same as yours. It has the same pointy end that I can dip into the ink and everything.”

“Ah, well see that’s the thing. I seem to have run out of ink so unfortunately you won’t be able to write with your own,” she said, giving that tiny little laugh that made your skin crawl.

“You don’t have any ink?”

“I’m afraid not.”

“Than how does yours work?”

Her blood pressure was going up. She was sure of it. More so since Buffy sat there calm and collected as though she were doing nothing wrong. Like a five year old with an endless amount of questions.

“It’s a special quill. It provides its own ink,” she replied.

“I see,” she nodded as though mulling it over. Then, suddenly, she perked up. “I just remembered I brought my own ink. Maybe I can use that.”

Buffy could actually see her trying to calm her anger. Umbridge was breathing heavier, her lips had pressed into a firm line, and her nose was flaring.

“No, I’m afraid that’s not possible,” she clenched.

“Why?” she asked, her voice light.

“Because your ink will not do,” she crisply said.

“Why?”

“Ms. Summers . . . ” she drawled out in fury. Hoping to keep her tongue from lashing.

“Yes?”

It didn’t help her anger when she saw Buffy sitting there with that blank expression that she began to loathe. And then that was it. No more games. Striding over to the desk Umbridge placed both hands on the surface and sternly looked into Buffy’s face.

“Now you listen to me Ms. Summers. You will pick up that quill. You will write your lines. And you will do as I say. You are the student. And I am the professor. And you will learn your place in my school. Are we clear?” she lowly ordered. Her rage making her words sound sharper.

“No, we’re not,” she replied defiantly. “I want to know why your quill is the only I can use. Other than the fact that it’s because you say so. The way I see it, as long as I write my lines what does it really matter. I mean that is the real purpose of my detention isn’t it?”

She was losing the upper hand. Buffy Summers seemed to thwart every block she created. There was only one way to play it now. Professor Umbridge wasn’t a stranger to playing dirty. Had almost perfected the art in fact. As long as it got results, what did it matter.

“I’ve been reviewing Professor Hagrid’s evaluation,” she announced smiling. A smile that grew when a tiny emotional flicker passed over Buffy’s face. “I’ve never seen a professor with such low marks. Such a shame really. But I’m quite sure you understand what that means for his position here at Hogwarts. And with the fear he creates in the students with all those dangerous creatures he insists on bringing to their attention. I mean one terrified letter to the Minister from one Miss Buffy Summers and I’m sure that letter, combined with his extremely low evaluation, and Professor Rubeus Hagrid will be out of here sooner than all of us expected.”

“You wouldn’t,” Buffy clenched. Her eyes seeing nothing but red.

Professor Umbridge’s smile grew even wider. Nearly splitting her toad face in half. Satisfaction filling her black heart.

“I suggest you start writing your lines Ms. Summers,” she said, her smug face nearly glowing as she took a seat behind her desk.

The blood screamed in her ears. The room shrinking around her. One flick of her wrist and it would be over. She was beyond tempted, and the only thing saving Umbridge’s life right now was the fact that Buffy wouldn’t put her mother through any kind of mess again. So she restrained herself. A feat she wasn’t even aware she was capable of.

With a shaky hand Buffy reached over to the quill. It’s soft feathers burning against her skin as it settled in her hand. Her grasp so tight she was sure she would break it in half. But knowing Umbridge she’d probably fix it and make her start over each time.

She hovered the pointy end over the parchment for a second. Half expecting to see a droplet of someone else’s blood spill from the last time it had been used. Thinking of her mother, of Hagrid, she forced the tip to touch paper. And slowly Buffy began to write.

I will not be disobedient and will learn my proper place.

The words were slowly appearing on her skin. The sentence so long that letters began to overlap each other. Creating even more pain.

There wasn’t a flicker. Not a cringe or a gasp. Buffy’s face remained neutral, and her posture relaxed. Even her left hand remained eased no matter how many times fresh letters were cut into it. This was not what Umbridge had planned.

Surpass the pain, Giles’ voice echoed in her mind. And he believed she never listened to his lessons. She did, had no other choice when he kept repeating it over and over again. They came in handy though. Especially today. It was excruciating pain. Cut over cut over cut. Her breathing was shakier, her lips were pressed together firmer, her left hand was tense, and tiny gasps escaped her. But they were all virtually undetectable. She knew this was coming and had prepared for it. She couldn’t stop her reactions but she could make them less noticeable. Making it seem as though torturing her hand was a walk in the park.

Hours went by. How many she wasn’t so sure of. But she knew it was well past curfew, it had to be. And still it continued.

“Come here,” Umbridge finally spoke.

Cringing at the order, Buffy calmly put down her quill. Her eyes passing over the parchment that was now tainted with her blood, as she rose from her seat and slowly walked over to her. Not once looking down at her own hand or even touching it, knowing it would give the woman some sort of twisted satisfaction by doing so.

“Your hand,” she said.

Slowly, Buffy raised it, the searing pain now gone.

Professor Umbridge took the small hand into her own. Her eyes widening in disbelief at the smooth unblemished skin. No scar, no open wound, not even a trace of redness. It was almost as though the past hours had never occurred.

“Something wrong Professor?” Buffy asked.

Her beady eyes looked up. Her stubby fingered hand releasing Buffy’s. There was something, she was sure of it. There were the signs of course, but it couldn’t very well be possible. Cornelius would have told her. Wouldn’t have kept it a secret, not from her. She knew the stories, heard the legend, but there was never any proof. But Buffy Summers was definitely something else. She was quite sure of that.

“Where had you been leaving before returning back to Hogwarts Ms. Summers?”

“Is that really relevant Professor?” she quickly answered.

Buffy could see the wheels turning inside her head. She was trying to figure something out, and Buffy knew exactly what. And she feared that Umbridge was getting closer to truth. Something Buffy had hoped would never be the case.

She wasn’t going to get answers. It was too late to play the guilt card now. Buffy was tired and angry, Umbridge could see it. Which meant any kind of information was not going to be shared tonight. Or any other she realized. But there were always other ways. More reliable people she could count on.

“You may go Ms. Summers.”

She was waiting to see if another detention would be added, but Umbridge said nothing. That was not a good sign.

Walking over to the desk, Buffy picked up her bag and eyed the parchment distastefully. Slightly wondering what Umbridge did with them. Probably had a scrapbook filled with parchments spattered with innocent blood. If it were up to her, Buffy would burn them all.

Without a word she exited the office, briskly left the classroom, and it wasn’t until she reached the hallway that she let herself breathe. Big, gulping breaths that would stop her from screaming. Karma was a bitch, she knew that, hopefully Umbridge would get to know that as well. And very, very soon.

She was right. It was past curfew. There wasn’t a student in a sight or a noise to be heard. Rushing to the tower, she wanted to get some sleep. There was no way she could slay tonight, that was for sure. And hopefully she could sleep her hunger away, seeing as she missed dinner when she had gotten lectured by Draco and then ran into Theodore.

Passing through the portrait hole Buffy walked into the common room. And as she made her way to the stairs she felt it. Something was . . . off. Discreetly passing her eyes over the room she checked to see if anything seemed to be out of place. Finally she found it, and with a quick move she whipped her hand through the air.

Note: Thank you for all the reviews, there were so many. I looooove that! :) Hopefully that means more reviews for any following chapters :)