Hey, guys. How long has it been? *checks last chapter* ... whoops

Harry stepped into Professor Flitwick's office. "Hello, sir."

"Mr. Potter," Flitwick greeted him. "How may I help you?"

"It's about Umbridge," Harry began.

Flitwick wasn't surprised to hear that. In all his years at Hogwarts, Harry had never received a detention, let alone a whole week of it. All the teachers had been surprised to hear about it, but they couldn't do anything about it.

Harry took a deep breath and extended his left hand.

Flitwick peered closer and swore in Gobbledegook as he read the words carved into his student's skin. "A blood quill?"

"Yes," Harry said.

"This must be stopped," Flitwick said darkly.

"You'll do something about it?" Harry asked. He had a strange expression on his face, a mixture of surprise and hope and... awe?

"Of course I will, Mr. Potter," Flitwick replied. "I thank you for bringing this to my attention." He went to a cabinet and pulled out a jar. "Murtlap Essence. It'll help."

"Thank you, Professor."

"You are very welcome. Now, if you excuse me, I am going to speak with the headmaster."

Harry nodded and stood up. He honestly didn't think anything would have been done, hence the reason for doing nothing.

They left the office together.

To Harry's surprise, Fred and Luna were waiting for him.

"So?" Fred spoke first. "Is Umbitch going to pay for what she's done?"

"Language, Mr. Weasley," Professor Flitwick said, though he didn't sound particularly stern.

Harry glanced at Luna. "He wouldn't shut up until I told him," she said with a shrug.

"Professor Flitwick will take care of it," Harry told them.

"Better him than me," Fred muttered darkly. "I made something just for her."

"Fred! You would just get yourself in trouble."

Fred raised an eyebrow.

"More trouble than you already get yourself into," Harry corrected himself. "All right, enough of that. We should go down to the Great Hall. I'm hungry."

"So am I." Fred leaned down and kissed Harry on the lips. "Now I'm not."

"That won't sustain you for long," Harry said.

"That's a shame. I don't think I'd ever get tired of you."

Harry didn't have anything to say in return, so he turned away, very conscious of Luna's giggling.

The three headed down to the Great Hall and sat at the Ravenclaw table.

"Just missed the papers," Anthony said, handing over a copy of the Daily Prophet.

Harry skimmed it, his attention landing on a small piece at the bottom of an advertisement for Madame Malkin's Robes for All Occasions.

TRESPASS AT MINISTRY

Sturgis Podmore, 38... charged with trespass and attempted robbery at the Ministry of Magic on 31st August... found him attempting to force his way through a top-security door at one o'clock in the morning. Podmore, who refused to speak in his own defense, was convicted on both charges and sentenced to six months in Azkaban.

"Six months?" Harry said, aghast.

"He's a known supporter of Dumbledore," Fred said, his voice low. "I wouldn't be surprised if it has to do with that."

He quickly finished breakfast and stood up. "Angelina wants us to practice today. Want to watch?"

"Sure." Ron had been made Keeper in Oliver Wood's place. Harry was curious to see how well he did.

By the time Luna and Harry were heading down to the Quidditch pitch, the Gryffindor team had already started. A group of Slytherins were also there, jeering at them.

Spotting Harry, Pansy shouted, "Hey, Weasley, your boyfriend's here!"

Fred's eyes flicked briefly to Harry's, and in that split second, Ron threw the Quaffle at him— perhaps a tad bit too enthusiastically— and it hit him in the face.

"Sorry!" Ron said, moving forward to see if his brother was okay.

"Get back in position, he's fine!" barked Angelina. "But as you're passing to a teammate, do try not to knock him off his broom, won't you? We've got Bludgers for that!"

"Ooh, better get that cleaned up!" Parkinson taunted. "If you can afford it! I doubt Potter would want an ugly, broken-faced boyfriend!"

Fred gritted his teeth but said nothing, wiping some of the blood from his face.

It was clear that Parkinson's words were getting to Ron, who missed three goals in a row and kept wandering away from the post.

"Fred!"

Harry looked away from Ron to see what Angelina was yelling about. Fred's nosebleed had gotten worse. George and Angelina had flown over to him. After a moment, the twins sped off, no doubt to the hospital wing.

Parkinson sneered after them. "How pathetic." She looked at Harry. "You're actually dating that sorry piece of—"

"Don't," Harry growled. "We get it, you don't like the Weasleys. Honestly, change the record. No, wait. Don't change it. Keep on yapping until you lose your voice."

Parkinson's face flushed, but she couldn't think of a retort as Harry and Luna headed inside.

"I'm gonna go see how Fred is," Harry told Luna, who nodded and went off to the Ravenclaw Tower.

When Harry arrived at the hospital wing, he saw that Fred was clean once more, not a drop of blood on his face. His rather handsome face, Harry thought, remembering Parkinson's words with a scowl.

"You all right?"

"Yeah." But Fred was glaring at something in his lap.

George pried it from his hands and gave it to Harry.

It was a letter from Percy advising Fred to break up with Harry if he wanted a bright future. Percy hinted Dumbledore wouldn't be around much longer due to his insistence of Voldemort being back.

"Well," Harry said as if he found the whole thing a joke, "if you want to 'sever ties' with me, I swear I won't go violent."

Fred snatched the letter back. "That— bloody— Ministry-loving— git," he snarled between tearing the letter apart. "Not even Voldemort himself could make me 'sever ties' with you."

And then, without any warning, he was kissing Harry passionately, completely forgetting they weren't alone.

George looked away, humming deliberately. He loved his twin— really, he did— but sometimes he felt like a third wheel.

When Fred released Harry, Harry stumbled back in a daze. "Uh..." he mumbled.

"See you tomorrow?" Fred said, smiling as if he had not moved.

"Yeah." Harry's voice sounded slightly squeakier than normal. He cleared his throat. "Yeah. Bye, Fred. And, er, George." He waved vaguely in George's direction before hightailing out of there.

"Bloody hell, Freddie," George whistled. "Trying to put on a show?"

"Don't be jealous, Georgie. Your time will come."

George rolled his eyes.