Is It Flammable?

When Chosen woke up in the morning, quite rested. He spotted the furnace. Why was he in here again? He saw Dark curled up next to him with a familiar red and black cloak draped over him. Ah, that’s right. Last night…

Flashback!

It took almost all night for Chosen to get Dark to agree to add a clock to the room so he wouldn’t lose track of time. By then, Dark had stopped working on his project, and they were doing their homework. And by that time, it was too late to return to their dorms.

“We can just sleep here,” Dark told him.

Chosen nodded in agreement, finishing his paper for Snape. He got the orange chairs’ cushions and laid them out for sleeping in front of the furnace for warmth.

Dark, having finished his homework, joined him. He had kicked off his shoes and socks. And took off his robe and tie. 

“Goodnight, Dark. I still have to finish my History of Magic homework. I’ll join you soon.”

“Whatever.”

Chosen quietly did his homework, trying to make as little noise as possible. The crackle of the fire and the scratching of his quill was the only thing breaking the silence. 

“Chosen.” 

Dark said his actual name, so he set down his quill. He never does that unless he is deadly serious.

“Yes.”

There was a slight pause.

“Do you think Second will ever forgive me?”

Dark’s hair was illuminated with an orange glow from the fire. Chosen felt a bit saddened by his question. He didn’t know that Dark felt so consumed by guilt at his old actions.

“I do.” Chosen simply said as he reached over and ruffled Dark’s hair, “He will see how much you’ve changed.”

“Hey! Cut it out!” He protested at him attacking his perfectly spiky hair.

Chosen let out a small laugh, taking his hand away. 

“Thanks, Cho, I know I can trust you…”

Dark trailed off. 

“You can bet on it,” Chosen responded quietly. A feeling of brotherly love welled in him. He wanted to protect him, even if he knew Dark could care for himself.

A nice silence sprouted again and Chosen turned back to his homework. 

It felt good to have such a conversation with Dark. The things he had kept silent over their years of being together because of his distrust can now be said out loud. 

Not too long later, Chosen heard Dark’s breathing slow down. He had fallen asleep.

Smiling, Cho got up and took off his shoes, socks, tie, and cloak. He had finished his homework. Taking his cloak in hand, he draped it over Dark’s sleeping form.

“Sweet dreams,” Chosen told him softly, curling up beside him. He felt nice, warm, and… safe. It didn’t take long for him to drift into a deep sleep.

End flashback!

He never had felt that safe and warm before. An unidentified feeling had welled up in his chest. Maybe it was happiness? Longing? Sadness? He didn’t know. 

Putting his feelings aside (he and Dark still had to go to class today after all), he took his cloak off Dark.

“Rise and shine! Time for school!” He yelled at Dark joyfully.

Dark shot up at his yelling, “WHAT!-” he then scowled, seeing Chosen’s grinning face. “Why you-!”

Dark shot forward and tackled him to the ground. Chosen laughed as they rolled across the floor. Dark tried punching him, but he kicked him away. Dark rolled over to the bookshelves as Chosen stood up, dusting himself off.

“Come on, Dark! You don’t want to be late, right?” Chosen picked up his clothes, “We’ll have to go back to our dorms to change into clean clothes first.”

Dark scowled again, but relented, putting on his shoes and socks, then draping his cloak and his tie over his shoulder.

“I’m ready,” he said, seemingly finally awake.

“Let’s go then.” 

Chosen had been avoiding talking with Harry all day. He knew it wouldn’t last though, because he was currently walking through the hallway to arrive at his detention with Umbridge. The detention he shared with him.

The reason for his avoidance was simple. If he was going to get the Ministry's eyes on him, he needed to stay farther away from Harry. He stuck with Neville instead (who had questioned him about his absence in the dorm last night. Chosen told him “I was just spending time with someone” and left it at that).

He has already finished today’s classes: double Charms, double Transfiguration, Care of Magical Creatures, and Herbology. Most of it was telling them about O.W.L.’s like the other classes.

The only thing of note that happened was when Malfoy was talking about Hagrid’s absence during Care of Magical Creatures and he remarked “He’s dealing with something too big for him!” He was grinning like he told an amazing joke. Malfoy must know something about Hagrid’s absence. Probably from his parents or their… friends. Chosen didn’t really care about that too much right now, however, as it didn’t hinder his mission.

Speaking of hindering his mission, Chosen has arrived in front of Professor Umbridge's office door. Taking a deep breath he opened the door and his eyes were immediately assaulted with a devastating pink that matched Professor Umberidge’s ugly cardigan. The walls were decorated with laces and bows, brightly colored cloths, dried flowers, and plates that had moving cats printed on them. Chosen has never seen someone with such bad taste in decoration (the cats were fine, but the overflowing pink was annoying).

Professor Umbridge smiled at his appearance. She was sitting behind her desk and had two quills in her hands. Harry was sitting at the desk in front of her already with a piece of parchment in front of him. The desk next to him had parchment as well. That must be my spot.

“You are cutting it quite close there Mr Chosen. Go ahead and sit down then.” Professor Umbridge stared at him, gesturing to the empty desk. Chosen walked over and plopped down in the chair next to Harry. He gave his best-disinterested face to Umbridge.

“Now, as I was telling Mr. Potter, we are going to be writing lines. Not with your quill.” She added as they both reached to get their quills (Chosen still hated quills. Why can't he just use a pen?). “You're going to be using a special one of mine.”

A special one? That can't be good. Chosen thought as she handed both of them a thin black quill with a very sharp point.

“I want you to write: ‘I must not tell lies’” She said to Harry, then turned to him still smiling. “And you Mr. Chosen: ‘I must respect authority’.” 

“How many times?” Harry asked, trying to sound polite.

“Oh as long as it takes for the message to… sink in,” said Umbridge sweetly. “Off you go.”

Chosen did not like the sound of that. These quills must be cursed. He studied the quill closely, not being able to see anything with his naked eyes.

While he was looking over the quill, Umbridge moved over to her desk and sat down. She began grading papers and Chosen realized something was wrong. He had no ink.

Apparently Harry had noticed it too and he said: “You have not given us any ink.”

She replied with slight humor in her voice, “Oh, you won't be needing any.” Chosen narrowed his eyes at her but decided he’d have to write the lines anyway. It can't be that bad, right?

He turned to his paper and tried to write: ‘I must respect authority’ but nothing showed up on his paper and he frowned. He heard a gasp next to him and he looked over to see that Harry’s quill had written on his paper in bright red ink and engraved on the back of Harry’s hand were the same words that he had just written. That isn’t ink, it is blood. And this quill-

Harry looked up at Umbridge who was smiling, like usual. Chosen resisted the urge to punch her.

“Yes?” She asked.

“Nothing,” Harry mumbled.

“Professor,” Chosen interrupted. He was getting slightly angry at the situation, but he knew he could do nothing about it at the moment. “I think my quill is faulty.” He then turns his parchment to face her as no words are written on the paper.

Her eyebrows raised and she got up and approached him, now hovering over him. “Show me.”

Chosen wrote on the paper and nothing happened. There was no blood on the page, no scar on his hand.

“Trade with Mr. Potter.” Her eyes were shining with curiosity and… something sinister that Chosen could not place. He hated it.

He trades with Harry and immediately tries to write with it. Nothing happens. Harry uses his quill and he gasps in pain again as the quill works.

“Well, Mr. Chosen. Do you know why the quills are not working on you?” Her eyes, still shining, study him intensely.

He most definitely knew. The enchantment on the quill is supposed to draw a little blood from a normal person. His super durability is probably not letting it do anything to him. He wasn’t about to tell her that. “No professor.”

She waved her wand at him, probably checking for any spells that could mitigate the effects of the quill. Then she spoke, “Give me your hand.”

Reluctantly, he held out his hand and she grabbed it, pointing her wand at it. Chosen barely had time to realize what she was doing before-

“Diffindo”

Chosen pulled his hand away as a small cut slashed his hand. The wound closed quickly due to his regeneration ability, but Chosen clutched his hand to his chest as if it were still there. He didn’t want her to know about that.

“I don't believe that your actions are deemed acceptable in Hogwarts, Professor.” He said, glaring at her, not quite believing that she actually harmed him like that. He didn’t think she’d go that far.

Harry has watched the whole exchange with his mouth now hanging open in disbelief. 

“I don’t believe you are aware of all the school rules, Mr. Chosen. I was simply seeing why the quill’s magic won't work on you as any teacher would. Now, I suggest you show me your hand.” Professor Umbridge said in a dangerously sweet voice. Like hell I’m doing that.

Chosen stands up. “I am not staying in here with you anymore today. If you have a problem then schedule another detention for me.” With that, he starts to leave. 

He could basically see her smile widening behind him. “That will do, Detention for the rest of the week. Same time. I’ll have to think of a better punishment for you.” He could hear the sinister implication in her words, but he didn’t turn around.

Chosen huffed at her words and then left her office, hoping that Harry wouldn’t do anything stupid while he was gone.