Thick as Thieves

I was in my dorm room with the sheets pulled over my head. It was nearly seven o'clock, but I didn't want to move. Who cared if I missed detention? What would Umbridge do? Murder me in my sleep. The thought of her toad face waiting for me as soon as I lifted the covers caused unpleasant shivers to stir me from my bed.

With a sigh, I tossed the covers back and got to my feet. I tucked my wand inside of my robes, and gave the room a final look. For some reason, dread filled my body as I moved forward. Umbridge wasn't that bad, annoying as all living hell, but not terrible… right? She would probably make me write lines until my fingers bled or until I died of boredom.

As I left my room and started down the stairs, they suddenly collapsed into a stone slide. I tumbled down until I landed on top of a boy.

"Harry?" I murmured, rubbing my head. "Um, hello?"

"Mia!" He sighed in relief. "I've been looking all over for you. I was afraid you already went to detention."

I shook my head, frowning, "On my way now. What's wrong?"

"You can't go." He said, his green eyes deadly serious.

Raising a brow, I replied, "I don't really think it's optional, Harry."

"I've had detention with her before, and trust me, she's sadistic." Harry insisted impatiently. "Just… you can't go."

His words alarmed me, but I couldn't imagine what he meant. Besides, I knew I couldn't just not show up; I'd probably get sentenced for another two weeks or even longer. "I'm sorry, but I have to." I shrugged. Detention wasn't that big of a deal for me considering I've so often had them. However, most of the time I was with the twins, and we served our sentences together. "I'll be fine, Harry, but thanks."

"Mia!" He protested, but it was too late. I was already past the portrait.

I hurried down the stairs until I made it to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. Looking back to my fifth year, I remembered loving this class. Professor Lupin was incredible, and I eagerly anticipated each one of his lessons. Now, however, I dreaded DADA classes.

Upon entering the room, Umbridge got to her stubby feet and greeted me with a heinous smile. "Just barely made it on time, Miss Thorne." She mused. "Please have a seat." I sat in the seat she gestured to, the one right in front of her desk. There was a piece of parchment lying in front of me with a quill beside it. I resisted the urge to laugh at how predictable she was. "You'll be writing lines tonight."

"Shocking," I mumbled as I stared at the parchment.

Suddenly, her hand slapped against my desk causing a terrible cracking sound to bounce off the walls. I jolted up in my seat from the near surprise of her action. When I met her eyes, the smile was wiped clean from her face and glared at me. "I see you've inherited your father's disrespect for authority figures." She sneered hatefully.

"You knew my dad?" I whispered, my eyes widening.

The smirk crawled back to her face stretching her toad-like mouth to eerie lengths as she purred, "Oh yes, Benjamin Thorne was well known in the Ministry. I… interacted with him on several occasions. Your father was a terribly prideful man, sticking his nose into the business of others. His superiors for that matter!"

"You were the wicked hag trying to tag merpeople!" I all but laughed.

I remembered this memory distinctly. I wasn't even fifteen when my dad started fighting for more equality for magical creatures such as werewolves, centaurs, and merpeople. At the time, I was awfully concerned with coming up with new ways to torment Lockhart, but my dad's pride in his work made me care for it as well. He told me that in order to grow stronger and more united, we had to make room for others who had just as much of a right as we did. He told me about how werewolves were proclaimed murderous villains, and centaurs ravenous beasts. However, he knew a bright werewolf (one I later learned to be Professor Lupin), and he knew centaurs to be intelligent and thoughtful creatures… so long as they were not mistreated.

There was a woman at the Ministry, the one standing before me now, that disagreed with every belief my father had. She hated half-breeds, and even initiated an anti-werewolf legislation. It outraged my father, and he fought even harder for her next move against the merpeople. It was a battle that she lost.

"Filthy half breeds need to know their place in this world." She replied sternly, her eyes burning into my own. "Your father certainly learned that lesson."

My hands were trembling as I clutched them together in my lap. I contemplated every last option I had, but none of them ended well for me. I had to fight back tears and get on with my punishment.

"What will I be writing, Professor?" I hissed through my gritted teeth.

I thought my resilience would anger her, or at least irritate her a little, but she smiled nonetheless and I knew she must have something terrible up her hideously pink sleeves.

"I want you to write: I must not start fights." She responded pleasantly as she went to sit back behind her desk.

I examined the black quill with its thin and dangerously sharp tip before picking it up. "I need ink." I informed her bluntly.

She smiled, "Oh, you won't be needing ink. That's a very special quill of mine."

Her smile was like daggers, and for a moment, I wished I would have listened to Harry and stayed far away from this psychotic woman. Nevertheless, I proceeded to write 'I must not start fights on the paper. The first letter glittered on the page in shiny red ink and the rest of the words followed. However, the back of my left hand began to itch. It started to burn, and just a few more seconds passed before searing pain bit into my flesh. When I finished the last word, I dropped the quill and looked at my hand. The words I had just written on the page were now carved into my skin.

"Very good," Umbridge observed. "Now keep writing. The message really has to sink in."


On any other occasion with any other humane professor, three hours of lines would not have been torture; with Umbridge, however, that's exactly what it was. By the time I was finished repeatedly carving her words into my skin, my hand was swollen and felt as if it was on fire. After seeing my flesh, now swollen and bleeding, she happily told me I could leave. She even said I didn't need to serve the rest of my detentions so long as I behaved myself. I think the real reason she spared me was because of just how damaged my hand was. If I continued, even for just one more line, I might have poked bone.

As I warily said the password to the Fat Lady, I made my way into the common room. The room was quiet, but I immediately spotted two ginger head boys sitting on the couch. However, I didn't want to see either of them. All I wanted was to soak my throbbing hand in some water and go to sleep.

After tiptoeing past the couch, I was almost near the stairs when they spotted me.

"Mia!" George called me loud enough so that I couldn't pretend to not have heard him.

Fred said calmly, "Please, Mia. Harry gave us something to give you."

Upon hearing mention of Harry's name, I had to wander over. Fred held a crystal bowl full of a deep purple liquid. I looked at in confusion, and the twins just shook their heads.

"It's Murtlap Essence. He just said to make sure you get it when you come back from detention." George explained. "What did she make you do, anyway?"

I tried hiding my wounded hand from them by keeping my hands behind my back, but I accidentally brushed the back of my hand against the wool of my sweater and it immediately brought tears to my eyes.

"What's behind your back?" Fred asked, his eyes immediately trying to look at what I was hiding.

I jumped back causing another round of searing pain to terrorize my tender flesh. The twins saw the grimace on my face, and George got up to pry my arm towards him. As he held my wrist and gazed at my torn skin, he looked terribly ill. Fred sucked in his breath and looked away.

"She did this to you?" George whispered with such hatred, I could hardly recognize it as his voice.

I shrugged, "She made me do it to myself. She has this quill that carves into your skin and uses your blood to write lines."

Both of the twins were silent. George still held onto my arm, but just barely. It was like he was afraid his hand being near the wound was causing me pain. Finally, George let go and said, "I'm going to get something for that." He turned around and hurried up the stairs to his dorm.

Quietly, I sat beside Fred and stared at the purple liquid. "I think I'm supposed to put my hand in that." I mumbled. For the first time in his entire life, Fred was speechless. He simply nodded and clutched the bowl as I submerged my hand in it. The liquid stung at first, but the pain was quickly washed away with relief. "Thanks."

"It's my fault." Fred suddenly croaked out.

I stared at him and frowned, "Fred, it's not—"

He ignored me and continued, "We've barely spoken since our first week back, and it is my fault. I've been stupid. You were right, Mia. I've been so damn stupid!" His hands were shaking causing the glass he held to vibrate and the liquid to nearly slosh over the sides. "I tried… tried so hard. I like Angelina, so I gave it a go, but she was never you. No matter how much time I spent with her, I was always thinking about you." Fred was shaking his head, looking like he was confessing to a murder. "Mia… I'm in love with you."

My heart stopped. Despite the throbbing pain in my hand, my heart filled with warmth and happiness that overcame everything else. It was as if those many weeks of silence were gone, vanished from my memory and from our very lives. Nothing mattered besides the sweet ring of his words that I felt as if I had anticipated since the very first moment we met.

My hands wrapped around his neck, despite the dull stinging from my left hand, and I pulled him closer until our lips met in a long awaited kiss. Fred was more than happy to respond, gently drawing me deeper into his arms until I replaced the crystal bowl that was sitting in his lap. The Murtlap Essence spilled onto the floor, but neither of us could have cared less. He placed eager kisses on my lips, each one sweeter than the last.


George dashed up the stairs and sprinted to his dorm. The lights were off, so he knew the other guys must have been asleep. As quietly as he could, he dug through his trunk. He wasn't sure what he should grab first: the pain relieving sweet for Mia or the lethal bag of ugly pranks for Umbridge.

Seeing her hand like that, seeing the pain in her face… it was more than he could handle. Despite the darkness, all he could see was the fury burning bright behind his eyelids. George was never a violent man, most of his pranks were harmless, but he wanted Umbridge to pay for what she did to Mia.

When he finally retrieved what he wanted, he descended down the steps until he heard Fred's voice.

"Mia… I'm in love with you."

George stopped dead in his tracks as if he was hit by a powerful stunning spell. He waited, listened to her response, but she gave none. Instead, he heard the crash of glass against the floor. Unable to stay in suspense, he pressed a little further until he was gazing down at the scene. His brother and his best friend were tangled together on the couch, their lips locked in a passionate kiss.

Quickly backing away, George put his hand against the wall and hunched over. He felt like a bludger hit him square in the stomach, and he was going to be sick. She was kissing his brother, his brother was kissing their best friend. It felt like a betrayal even though it shouldn't have. She was never his. Her lips were never his to kiss. Her heart was never his to hold. It was just a happy mistake the two ever came together that night of the Yule Ball.

George thought of his brother, the person he loved more than his own life. He thought of their promise to never let a girl come between them and how sincere they were when they made the vow; he just never imagined the girl would be their best friend, Amelia Thorne.

Finally, he heard them pull apart. Mia giggled softly, and Fred chuckled happily. Their laughter made George's heart ache until he knew what he had to do. He loved them both so much, he could never be the one to hurt them.

George quietly walked back up the stairs, having decided to let his brother—his other half—take the girl he loved.