"Percy, how far along are you with the report?"

Cundrie secretly rolled her eyes as she hears the awfully fake high-pitched voice of Dolores Umbridge, the senior undersecretary and her boss. She can't exactly say 'oh it's almost finished, you can avada kedavra yourself, now' but it doesn't mean she doesn't want to.

"It's almost finished," Cundrie answered as they pressed the space bar on their typewriter machine.

"Anyway-" Dolores rested her hand on Cundrie's desk. Cundrie still ignored her as they continued on typing the work. "Aren't you just glad that there aren't any perverted freaks in the Ministry? Seriously! Why can't they just accept the body that they're born with and not try to change anything? Is it so hard to do?"

Cundrie hissed lowly through her gritted teeth as she pressed on the typewriter quicker than a cheetah can run, ignoring Dolores' 'question' entirely. Nope- she doesn't exist. She. Doesn't. Exist. Cundrie took the page off the typewriter, letting the ink dry completely and taking a quill to put a sign on the designated place before gathering it with the other papers.

"Here's your report, Dolores-" Cundrie faked a smile as they handed her the report. Dolores didn't take it, though. She only stared at the report and gave a cold smile.

"I'd appreciate it if you deliver it to my office like a gentleman you are." Cundrie secretly had her hand to a fist at Dolores' request but nodded, standing up from her desk. Cundrie made sure to stomp her feet so her heels can be heard as she walks with Dolores, carrying the report. Dolores stared at the door, looking at Cundrie.

"What?"

"Aren't gentlemen supposed to open the door for women?" Dolores asks 'innocently'. Cundrie closed their eyes as they relaxed their hand that was a fist, opening the door. Seriously, doesn't she have hands? She can literally carry the report AND open the door herself! Cundrie closed the door behind Dolores, purposefully averting their gaze as to not see the 'Mr Percival Weasley, Junior Undersecretary For the Minister' plaque on their door.

It so happens that Cundrie's office is close to Dolores' office, so it didn't take a lot of walking to reach the office. Good, Cundrie doesn't think that she can actually stand a single second with this awful witch. Cundrie opens the door to let Dolores in, before herself.

"Can you put the report on my desk, dear boy?" Dolores said, pointing to her desk. Cundrie gave a stiff nod as they walked to the desk Dolores is pointing at, seeing an empty parchment scroll and a very sharp black quill, but no ink nearby. Cundrie furrowed their brows, does Dolores plan to read and check the report by hand? Where's the ink? How will she write if there's no ink?

"Why don't you sit on my chair, Percy?" Dolores asked. Cundrie turned their head to face her, noting that the door behind her is closed shut. Cundrie pressed their lips together as Dolores walked closer towards them.

"I really should get back to my office-"

"No, you don't," Dolores interrupted. "You just finished your report, you walked so far from your office to mine-"

"I would hardly call it far."

"And you carry the report the whole time, you must be exhausted," Dolores clapped her palms together, acting as if Cundrie never cuts her. "I insist; consider it as me trying to repay your kindness."

Cundrie swallowed her saliva but nodded stiffly, sitting down the chair. Dolores walked behind Cundrie, Cundrie holding her breath as she tried to hear and see everything there is to hear and see. Cundrie tried to get up again but Dolores held her down with force.

"Epoximise!" Dolores quickly chanted, her wand targeting on Cundrie's skirt and the chair. Cundrie widened their eyes as they struggled to get out of the chair to no avail. "Don't bother screaming, Mr Weasley. I've cast a muffling charm on this room."

"Dolores-"

"Now, I bet that you've noticed a blank parchment scroll and a quill in front of you, hmm?" Dolores continued. Cundrie nodded. "I want you to grab it and write with it. It doesn't need an ink, don't worry. Just write."

"I write reports with a typewriter, not a quill-" Cundrie shook her head. "Don't you too?"

"But is there actually a rule that we have to use a typewriter all the time?" Dolores asked back. Cundrie pressed her lips together, pressing her nails on the table repeatedly. "How do we write our signatures to prove that we wrote the report? We use a quill, right?"

"Yes."

Dolores grabbed a crumpled note and uncrumple it, placing it in front of Cundrie. The note reads 'dickgirl'.

"Write it," Dolores hissed through her gritted teeth, putting forth the note to Cundrie. "From top right to bottom left."

"No," Cundrie shot back. "I'm not your student, you can't force me."

Dolores points her wand at Cundrie, her eyes full of hate. Cundrie can feel a lump on their throat, quickly leaning on the chair in fear. "WRITE IT!"

Cundrie scurried for the quill, their hand shaking as they quickly write with the quill. They widened their eyes as they let out a gasp of pain, feeling sharp pain on their other hand like it's been sliced. They worrily took a look at it and noticed that what they write on the parchment appeared on their other hand as well.

"What is this?!" Cundrie yelled, panic in their voice as they looked up to see Dolores, sitting on her sofa, playing with her wand.

"I don't know what you're talking about-" Dolores shook her head. "Keep writing."

Cundrie didn't bother to fight as she continued to write, noticing that the word Cundrie wrote appeared in shining dark red ink. She lets out a small cry as she kept writing, the wound on her hand grew redder and redder as Cundrie wrote more and more.

When will this be over?