Hermione, can we get this over with? I have Quidditch...

“Hermione, can we get this over with? I have Quidditch at 8:30, you know.”

Ero stands before Hermione, who is seated behind a large teacher's desk in a small, dimly lit classroom. The air is thick with tension. Rows of weathered wooden desks surround them, each one bearing the marks of prior lessons and detentions. Full-length mirrors hang on every surface, reflecting the tension in the air. She stares at him coldly, and Ero feels his chance at an early dismissal dissolve in an instant.

On Hermione's desk lies an unsettling assortment of implements designed for punishment: a rectangular paddle with holes drilled into it, a flogger, and, most ominously, a long, whippy cane that sways menacingly as she moves.

“Surely those aren't for me?” Ero thinks, his heart racing.

“Please sign the ledger and hand over your wand, Mr. Apostasia. You won't be needing it tonight.”

“H-Hermione. Please, it's Quidditch tonight. I'm captain.”

“Miss Granger, Mr. Apostasia. And I’ve just added thirty minutes to your detention. I am going to teach you a proper lesson in humiliation and submission to authority tonight. You have been very naughty, sir, and you will be properly punished for it.”

Ero gasps, striding over to the ledger. He flips it open to the signature page, where he reads: Ero Apostasia, 7th Year, Detention 8-9pm, Crime: Stealing Knickers, Punishment: Severe.

He chokes back laughter as the memory floods him—the prank of stealing all the girls' knickers from the school laundry. He had enchanted them to float and flutter around the castle, causing great embarrassment for every girl who had to chase after their undergarments while the boys roared with laughter.

It was now common knowledge that Ginny Weasley favored satin boyshorts, while Luna Lovegood preferred printed briefs adorned with whimsical designs of radishes, freshwater plimpies, and nargles dancing across the fabric.

The Hufflepuff Quidditch team still dined on that story, and Ero couldn’t help but find humor in his mischief.

“Punishment? Severe? For knickers? Hermione, you must be joking. Everyone thought that was funny.”

“Two hours, Mr. Apostasia. Your theatrics will get you nowhere. Now, your wand, if you please.”

Hermione extends her hand expectantly. Her crisp white button-down blouse is neatly tied at the waist, accentuating the silhouette of her figure. Below, her dark red tartan pleated skirt flares slightly, embodying the vibrant Gryffindor colors.

Ero stands before her, uncertainty washing over him. Slowly, tremulously, he hands over his wand, a sense of foreboding settling in the pit of his stomach. The ominous presence of the tools on her desk looms larger in his mind with every passing second.

Without a wand, he feels utterly defenseless. He is at the mercy of Hermione Jean Granger-Prefect on Duty.

As silence stretches between them, Ero braces himself for what comes next, the uncertainty of his punishment hanging heavy in the air.