A/N: hey guys! Updates might be a bit slower this week, I'm pretty busy. Sorry about that!

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

I'm sCaRed

It'S ColD

IT's DArk

It HuRTs

I'm DyInG

HE LP M E

******

Newt stood in front of his office door, completely unwilling to enter. Finally, he drew in a breath and pushed the door open, waving his wand to illuminate the candlebras that littered the room.

As soon as he closed the door behind him, he sank down against it, completely at a loss of what to do with himself.

The main room was exactly how he remembered it, but it felt... Empty.

It felt cold, haunted, unwelcoming. Credence wasn't there. He wasn't lying on one of the couches, he wasn't sitting in front of the unlit fireplace. He wasn't sitting on the stairs, and Newt's heart sank even more when he realised Credence wouldn't be anywhere up the stairs either.

The only thing different about the space was a large, grand piano. He frowned at it slightly, before remembering that Credence had told him he could play piano. He'd learnt as they had one in the church.

That thought made tears well up in his eyes, his fun personality that he'd faked for the feast completely disappearing, revealing the broken man underneath.

Newt couldn't help but scowl at himself through his tears.

He was a teacher, for gods sake. Someone who was so... Put together, organised, a role model for the students. What kind of teacher could he be, sitting on the floor of his office, crying like a child?

The thought of getting up everyday and pretending he was fine with the fact that his husband was missing, and probably being tortured, made him want to throw something.

******

Harry felt much better now. After a long night's sleep, back in the comfort and safety of his coffin and several bottles of the fake blood he'd so dearly missed, he felt much better, more alert, and in a better mood.

The same couldn't be said for Draco, who was still in his pyjamas by the time Harry was ready to leave and begin classes for the morning.

The two walked down a hallway, Draco still yawning and half asleep.

"What've we got first?" The werewolf yawned, blinking sleepily.

"Ugh," Harry muttered. "Double potions, then double divination."

The first four classes snailed by, Harry and Draco mostly just stealing glances at each other every now and then, both thoroughly infatuated.

Finally, it was time for hell to begin. Double Defense Against The Dark Arts.

They turned into a corridor, which had a few students walking through it, having left breakfast and now in their way to their first classes.

"Great, I'm so excited to see Umbitch this afternoon," Draco sighed, the insult causing Harry to burst into a fit of giggles.

"Nice," Harry said through his laughter, Draco grinning down at Harry. Making the vampire laugh was one of the best feelings, he felt his chest almost swell with pride.

"Getting cosy with the Slytherins too, now Potter?" Came a spiteful and angry voice from behind them. Harry turned, raising an eyebrow at seeing Seamus and Dean. The voice belonged to Seamus, Dean standing awkwardly.

"Sorry?"

Seamus laughed bitterly. "Don't act like you don't know anything, Potter. We all know what you did."

"What?" Harry asked, confused.

"My mother didn't want me to come back this year."

"And why is that?"

"Because your psycho, and so is Dumbledore! Haven't you even been reading what the Daily Prophet prints about you? My mother believes every single word."

"Then your mother is an idiot," Harry spat. Seamus' entire face went red with rage.

"Don't you dare say a thing against my mother! Do it again, and I'll punch you in the face!"

These words made alarm bells immediately go off in Draco's head. "Watch it, Finnigan," Draco snarled, eyes narrowed.

"Why don't you go and read the Prophet with your stupid mother?" Harry growled. "After all, everything they print must be true!"

At this Seamus had flown into a rage, Dean just barely being able to hold him back from attacking Harry.

"Seamus!" Ron's angry voice was heard as he stalked down the corridor, glaring at Seamus. "I thought we had this whole argument last night!"

"He's saying stuff about my mother!"

Ron turned to Harry.

"He called me psycho!" Harry retaliated, angry.

"Because you are!" Seamus screeched.

"Watch your mouth!" Ron snarled. "You've just earned yourself a detention."

Draco wanted to stay and beat up Seamus, but Harry grabbed his wrist and they began walking again, Ron running to catch up.

"Sorry about him," the redhead puffed. "He's been acting weird, he was like that last night."

"It's fine," Harry muttered. But it was clear to Draco that the vampire was most definitely not fine.

******

"Good afternoon, class!"

Umbridge's high pitched voice made Draco want to throw up. She was, yesterday, still dressed in bright shades of pink that were almost painful to look at.

An unenthusiastic 'good afternoon' was replied back at her, most of the students simply sitting and staring at her, wondering why she had such an addiction to pink.

"No, no that won't do at all," she said. "One more time, good afternoon class!"

"Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge!" The majority of the class chanted back at her, almost nervously. Harry and Draco didn't say a word, simply sitting at a desk in the far back corner and sharing the same repulsed expression.

The woman's sickening scent of perfume was making Draco's brain almost hurt, the colours of her attire so bright it glared at his eyes. Her voice was so high pitched it was like nails on a chalkboard to him.

"Right, now, wands away, books out!"

The class suppressed a groan. A class where the 'wands away, books out' sentence was spoken was like an immediate death sentence for the next forty minutes, or in the unfortunate case that this particular class was in now, for an hour and a half.

Harry got out his book, frowning at the cover.

Defence Against The Dark Arts: A Return To Basic Principles.

"Now, your education in this class seems to be rather fragmented, and disrupted," she began to speak, Draco lips curling into an involuntary snarl. Was she talking about Lupin? How dare she insult a member of his pack. If she didn't smell so horrid, or look so horrid, he'd probably have ripped out her jugular vein by now and would be watching her bleed dry on the floor.

"And this has resulted in you all being far below the Ministry guidelines curriculum for your O.W.L's. I'm sure you will all be pleased to know, that these problems are now being rectified and we will be following a strict Ministry approved course of defensive magic this year. Now, would everybody please copy this down?"

She waved her wand, and in swirly, somewhat ugly handwriting, a piece of chalk began to write on the board.

1. Understand the principles underlying defensive magic.
2. Learning to recognise situations where defensive magic can legally be used.
3. Placing the use of defensive magic in a context for practical use.

The scratching of quills filled the room, Harry's arm brushing against Draco's slightly as they wrote, unable to stop the colour from rising in his cheeks.

"Now," she spoke again, once the scratching of quills had stopped, indicating everyone had finished. "Has everyone got a copy of Defensive Magic Theory by Wilbert Slinkhard?"

A dull murmur of 'yes's ran around the classroom, once again Professor Umbridge frowning.

"I think we'll try that again," she said. "When I ask you a question, I should like you to reply 'yes Professor Umbridge' or 'no Professor Umbridge.' Now, has everyone got a copy of Defensive Magic Theory by Wilbert Slinkhard?"

"Yes Professor Umbridge."

Draco and Harry didn't even bother opening their mouths, grey eyes meeting dull green ones for a second, both of them having a tiny conversation in seconds. They both hated this woman just as much.

"Good. I should like you to turn to page five and read 'chapter one: basics for beginners.' There will be no need to talk."

Draco couldn't help but sigh, opening his book. The letters written underneath the he first chapter seemed like a blur to him, switching around and making everything incomprehensible. Frowning, he managed to read the first sentence, and realised that this was magic he'd learned without a wand, before he even came to Hogwarts.

Draco had long gotten bored of reading the book that was useless to him, and was now busy drawing little hearts on the corner of Harry's book page with his quill. Harry seemed rather amused by this, yet didn't comment on it.

The classroom was filled with an almost awkward silence, in which no one knew what to do. They'd hardly referred to their books in their previous defence against the dark arts lessons. Gilderoy Lockhart was useless so no one did anything in his classes anyways, Remus Lupin was more on the practical side where they actually learned the spells and used them, and Mad-Eye just showed them illegal curses. Now they were sitting here, being instructed to read a book filled with magic that any capable first year could do.

Draco was quickly becoming agitated. He'd been sitting, doing nothing, for the past half an hour.

Quietly, Draco ripped a page from his textbook and began folding it. Harry watched with mild interest, until the shape of a dog had formed.

Draco picked up his wand and waved it, animating the little figure. It's tail wagged as it trotted around the desk.

"Wands away, Mr Malfoy," Professor Umbridge's voice cut through the air. Draco shrugged, putting down his wand and lifting his hand, channelling his magic through his fingertips to keep the dog jumping over Harry's inkwell.

Umbridge's eyes narrowed and she took out her own wand, incinerating the tiny dog, leaving a small pile of ash on Draco desk that was quickly swept away. Draco glared at her, returning to boredom, putting his head on the desk and grinning dork-ishly up at Harry.

Harry smiled back, eyes quickly flickering away from Draco's face as Hermione raised her hand.

It took a few moments for Umbridge to 'notice', as it was clear to everyone in the room that she was pretty much content to ignore the girl, but Hermione was persistent and her hand didn't move from the air until Umbridge finally spoke.

"Do you have a question about that chapter, dear?"

"No-"

"Well, we're reading right now. If you'd like to speak to me about anything else, we can talk after class."

"Actually, I have a question about your course aims," Hermione said, Harry watching with interest as Umbridge raised an eyebrow, a sickly smile still on her face, revealing her rather pointy toad-teeth.

"And your name is?"

"Hermione Granger," Hermione replied.

"Well, miss Granger, I think the course aims are clear enough if you read them carefully enough," Umbridge said, a sickeningly sweet, yet forced tone to her voice.

"Well I don't," Hermione said, all too bluntly. "There's nothing written about actually using defensive magic."

Silence reigned, everyone watching and waiting for what Umbridge would say.

"Using defensive spells?" Umbridge said, with tiny giggle that made Draco retch. "I don't see why you'd need to use defensive spells in this classroom, Miss Granger. You surely aren't expecting to be attacked in class?"

Hermione opened her mouth to speak, but Ron, who was sitting next to Hermione, cut her off. "We aren't going to use magic?"

"Raise your hand if you wish to speak, Mr Weasley!" She all but shrieked, Harry resisting the urge to cover his ears, noticing Draco wincing.

Harry and Hermione's hands both shot up at the same time, Umbridge's eyes lingering on Harry for a moment before she caught Draco's gaze, the werewolf unable to resist snarling at her.

"You have another question, miss Granger?" She asked in her falsely sweet voice.

"Yes," Hermione replied. "Surely the whole point of Defence Against The Dark Arts is to practice defensive spells?" Harry dropped his hand at this, as he'd wanted to ask the exact same thing.

"Are you a ministry trained educational expert, miss Granger?"

"No, but-" Hermione replied, clearly wishing she was.

"Well then, I'm afraid your not qualified to desire what any 'point' of any class is. Wizards much older, and smarter than you have designed this course to learn about defensive spells in a secure, risk-free manner-"

Harry cut her off, somewhat annoyed now. "What use is that?" He asked loudly. "If we're going to be attacked, it won't be in a-"

"Hand, Mr Potter!" She sang.

Harry glared viciously, but put his hand in the air, replaying every violent scenario in which he could kill this woman in his head. Other people had raised their hands too, and she now turned to Dean Thomas.

"And your name is?"

"Dean, Dean Thomas."

"Well, Mr Thomas?"

"Like Harry said," he spoke, eyes flickering to the vampire for a second. "If we're going too be attacked, it won't be risk-free."

"I repeat," Umbridge said, putting in a fake smile. "Do you expect to be attacked in my classroom?"

"No, but-"

"I do not wish to criticise the way things have been run at this school," Umbridge spoke over him. "But you have been exposed to spells that are too complex, and inappropriate to your age group." She gave a nasty giggle. "Plus, dangerous half breeds."

Draco's eyes widened in anger, and Harry's hand on his knee was the only thing keeping him from jumping up and killing this woman on the spot. A doglike growl escaped his lips before he spoke, angrily and loudly. "If you're talking about Professor Lupin, he's the best we've ever had-"

"Hand, Mr Malfoy!" She shrieked, Draco sticking his hand in the air almost violently, fully intending to call her a racist bitch if she ever called upon him.

"But Professor," Paravati Patil raised her hand. "Isn't there a practical bit about Defense on our OWL exams? Aren't we supposed to show that we can do the counter curses?"

"As long as you have studied the theory enough, there should be no reason why you cannot perform the spells," Umbridge replied.

"You mean we're not even going to practice the, beforehand, the first time we'll get to use the spells is in the exam?" Ron asked incredulously.

"I repeat, as long as you have studied the theory enough-"

"And what good is theory going to be in the real world?" Harry asked loudly.

"This is school, Mr Potter, not the real world," she said softly. Draco bit back another snarl. With all he'd been through in the past year, this was very much real life.

"So we're not supposed to be prepared for what's waiting for us out there?" Harry asked.

"There is nothing waiting out there, Mr Potter."

"Oh yeah?" Harry challenged. His temper had been on edge all day, and finally it had reached boiling point. He'd spent the morning in the dungeons with Snape, which was never that pleasant, then had spent the next hour and a half having his death predicted by a crazy old witch who lived in a tower, then been attacked by Seamus.

"Who do you think would want to attack children like yourselves?" She asked, in a horribly honeyed voice.

"Oh, I don't know," Harry spat. "Maybe Lord Voldemort?"

Ron gasped; Lavender Brown let out a tiny shriek and Neville fell sideways off his seat. Draco merely glared, eyes stone cold at Umbridge, a slight smirk on his lips. I dare you. I dare you to say a word against my mate. I dare you, and then we'll see who's the 'dangerous half breed'.

"Ten points from Gryffindor."

Draco sighed inwardly in disappointment. The classroom was silent and still, everyone staring at Harry or Umbridge.

"Now," she said. "Let me make a few things, quite plain. You have been told that a certain Dark wizard has returned from the dead-"

"He wasn't dead," Harry said angrily. "But yeah, he's returned!"

"Mr Potter, you have already lost ten points from your house, do not make things worse for you," she growled, Harry sneering at her. "As I was saying, you have been told that a certain dark wizard has returned, but this is a lie."

"It's not a lie!" Harry snarled, eyes flashing dangerously. "I saw him, I fought him!" He took away Professor Redmayne's husband.

"Detention, Mr Potter!" She said triumphantly. "Tomorrow, my office, five o'clock. I repeat, this is a lie. If you have any worries about any matters like this, feel free to visit me at my office, and if someone is alarming you with fibs about Dark Wizards, I would very much like to hear about it. I am here to help, I am your friend. Now, if you would kindly continue your reading." Professor Umbridge sat down at her desk, yet it was Draco who next spoke.

"So according to you, Cedric Diggory dropped dead of his own accord?" The werewolf's voice cut through the air like a knife, his steely grey eyes sending chills down everyone's spines.

There was a collective gasp. Harry had never spoken to anyone but Draco what had happened that night, and it didn't take long for people to piece that together.

"Cedric Diggory's death was a tragic accident," Umbridge said softly.

"It was murder!" Harry snarled viciously. Hermione's eyes widened for a second. Red flashed in Harry's eyes. No, she had to be imagining it. Yet that wasn't the only chilling thing about the boy who'd now rose to his feet. Anger was written all over his face, yet his green eyes were void, expressionless, empty. "Voldemort killed him, right in front of me, and you know it."

"Come here, Mr Potter," Umbridge said. Harry felt repulsed at the thought of going any closer to her, but kicked his chair aside and did so anyway, resisting the urge to hold his nose.

"Give this to a Professor McGonagall," she said, handing him a piece of pink parchment. Harry felt more like ripping it up in her face, but stormed out of the classroom anyways.

The hallways were empty, except for Peeves. Great.

"Why!" The poltergeist said, grinning. "It's Potty Wee Potter!"

"Get out of it, Peeves," Harry snarled.

"Ooh, Crackpot's feeling cranky," said Peeves, flying beside Harry as he walked. "What is it this time? Having visions? Hearing voices?!" The poltergeist cackled.

"I said, leave me alone!"

"Oh, most think he's barking, the potty wee lad,
But some are more kindly and say he's just sad,
But Peevesy knows better and says that he's mad-"

"SHUT UP!" Harry roared, silence broken by the sound of shoes on the cold marble floor. Harry turned, seeing Newt.

"Go away, Peeves," Newt snarled, eyes flashing. Peeves immediately whizzed off.

"How did you do that?" Harry asked as they walked down the hall.

"Gifted, I suppose. What're you doing out of class?"

"I've been sent to McGonagall's office."

"Why?"

"I yelled at Professor Umbridge."

"Well done," Newt said, unable to suppress a grin. Harry elbowed him playfully.

"You're a teacher, you're not supposed to say stuff like that."

"I'll say whatever I like about her," Newt replied, as they reached McGonagall's office door. The teacher carried on walking, blue coat swishing dramatically out behind him.

Harry knocked on the door, which was answered by a tired looking Professor.

"Why aren't you in class?" She asked, almost suspiciously.

"I've been sent to see you," Harry said, the playful demeanour he'd previously had influenced by Newt immediately melting away, his voice stiff.

"Sent? What do you mean, sent?"

Harry didn't reply, just handed her the piece of pink parchment, her eyes flicking over the page as she beckoned for Harry to enter the office. "Is it true that you shouted at Professor Umbridge?"

"Yes."

"You called her a liar?"

"Yes."

"You told her He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is back?"

"Yes."

She sighed, sitting down behind her desk. "Have a biscuit, Potter."

"Have a- wait, what?" Harry asked, not bothering with the biscuit but instead sinking into the chair opposite McGonagall.

"Potter, you need to be careful." Her voice wasn't usually as it was, brisk, crisp and stern. Not it was low and anxious, and somehow more human. "Misbehaviour in her class could cost you much more than house points and detention."

"What do you-?"

"Potter, use your common sense," she snapped. "You know where she's from, you know who she's reporting to."

The bell rung, the sound of many, many students filling the halls reached Harry's ears.

"It says here that you have detention every day this week."

"Every day this week?" Harry repeated, horrified. "But there's a Quidditch game, can't you just-"

"No, I'm afraid I can't," she replied. "She is your teacher and has every right to give you detention. You will have to attend all of them, but just remember to tread carefully around Dolores Umbridge."

******

Draco let out a relieved sigh as the bell rung, packing up his and Harry's bags, pulling both over his shoulder and being the first out of the classroom, intent on finding Harry to make sure he wasn't going completely insane.