Fans of Harry Potter Femmeslash

Author: Lash_Larue
Title: A Teenaged Girl
Pairing: Umbridge/Bulstrode
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: None, not for this Comm
Word Count: 1884
Disclaimer: These characters belong to JK Rowling




A Teenaged Girl


Dolores Umbridge heard a strange sound when she entered her classroom. It was supposed to be unoccupied, and she drew her wand swiftly, her eyes alight with joy at the prospect of catching yet another student to punish. Maybe even one of Potter’s gang! The sound resolved itself into sobbing, and following the sound she found someone balled up in the corner, trying and failing to stifle the noise. It was with some shock that she recognized… “Miss Bulstrode! Whatever are you doing here, and what has gotten you so upset?”

Millicent raised her face to Umbridge, her eyes were swollen, and her face was even splotchier than usual. She wiped her nose on the sleeve of her robe, and took a great shuddering breath before replying. “I’m sorry Professor Umbridge, I know I shouldn’t be in here, but I had to get away. Your classroom is the only place I feel comfortable.” Umbridge was surprised by this statement, but quite pleased, nonetheless.

“Well of course it is all right for you to seek sanctuary here, dear child. You are a member of my Inquisitorial Squad, after all,” trilled Umbridge. “Has someone been picking on you? Was it one of Potter’s bunch?” she asked hopefully.

“ I’ll leave now, I’m sorry to have bothered you,” said Millicent, rising to her feet. She towered over Umbridge, but there was a similarity about them. Millicent did not affect the nightmare of pink that Umbridge did, but there was a certain resemblance in face and figure.

“Would you like to talk about it, dear?” asked Umbridge, surprising even herself. For some reason her crabbed and twisted heart was touched by the sight of the large, aggressive, Slytherin girl weeping in the corner of her dark classroom, like a wounded animal dragging itself to its lair. And she had said that it was the only place she felt comfortable.

Millicent hesitated, and started to shake her head, “no”, but the words just tumbled out of her. “No one likes me, I don’t have any friends, and I’m huge and ugly!” she cried, and then she collapsed back on the floor in a heap and resumed sobbing. Umbridge was at a loss for what to do here, comforting students, and trying to get them to stop crying was not her usual thing at all. But she tried.

“There, there, dear, you’re not ugly at all, and you’re not huge, you are statuesque. A most impressive young woman, in my opinion.”

The sobbing slowed, and after a few great sniffs, and further employment of her sleeve, Millicent replied. “You really think I’m not ugly?” Dolores considered this; certainly Millicent Bulstrode was not a classic beauty. Her features were rather coarse, and her usual expression was a scowl. Her figure could be most kindly described as ‘substantial’, and yet Umbridge really did not think that Millicent Bulstrode was ugly.

“Of course not, dear girl. You are, as I said, most impressive. That is a more lasting beauty than some of these silly girls around here who so fancy their own faces.” She smiled down at the massive girl on the floor. Millicent took some time thinking about that statement.

“If I’m not ugly, why don’t people like me? Why don’t I have any friends?”

“Nonsense, Miss Bulstrode, you have all of your fellow Slytherins as friends.”

“Oh yeah? Then why do they all laugh at me behind my back, and call me troll-girl? Draco said he figured I was the bastard offspring of Hagrid and a she-troll. And he’s not the only one; they just hang out with me so I will protect them.”

“Well, Miss Bullstrode, I am going to let you in on a little secret. When I was in school here, I experienced much the same thing, and I’m sure it is for the same reason.” Umbridge’s eyes flared as she recalled the years of ridicule, both sneaky and open. “They used to call me Toad-face. It is jealousy, sheer envy, They could see that I was destined to succeed, that there was more to Dolores Umbridge than a face and body. And I have succeeded, and now no one dares call me Toad-face, for if they do… they-will-be-punished.” Her chest was heaving a bit, and her eyes were on fire.

“That’s what I want!” said Millicent. “I want to be able to punish them for making fun of me! I want to make them hurt!”

“And so you shall, my dear, so you shall. Come along with me to my quarters, and let’s get you cleaned up. The first rule of gaining power is that you never let your enemy see weakness. It is hard, at first, but the rewards are great. And then we can see about teaching you a few tricks to sort out those same enemies.” She smiled, and offered her hand to the girl. Millicent grasped it and rose once again, her face a mask of gratitude.

“Thank you, Professor Umbridge. I want to learn what you know, I want to be powerful and successful like you,” she said eagerly. Umbridge preened inwardly, at last one of these students saw the opportunity she presented, saw the value of what she could teach. The short woman led the tall one through a door in the rear of the room.

Umbridge’s private quarters were another explosion of pink, and there were not only kitten plates on the walls, there were kitten statues on the shelves and tables. There was a large portrait of Cornelius Fudge over the fireplace. Millicent stopped suddenly to admire the plates flanking the fire.

“Oh, they are so CUTE!” she exclaimed. “That one looks just like my Muffie!”

“I find them entertaining,” replied Dolores, “for some reason, cats don’t seem to take to me very well. But these are a nice substitute.”

“Oh, I’m sure my Muff would like you Professor, you’ll have to play with her sometime!”

“Yes, well,” said Umbridge, flushing slightly “let’s see about tidying you up a bit, shall we? Oh, dear you’ve got spider web in your hair, Miss Bulstrode. I tell you what, why don’t you have a nice shower in my bathroom, while I take care of getting your robe cleaned.” She took Millicent by the elbow, and steered her across the room, through her bedroom, (pink) and into the bath. The bath was not pink, it was black marble, very large, and very luxurious. “Now dear, you will find towels in that cupboard, and I believe that robe on the back of the door will suit you, even though it might be a bit short. You are such a fine, tall, figure of a young woman.” Millicent smiled in gratitude, it was a real smile, though a seldom used expression. She felt warmed by the compliment. “I’ll give you some privacy, just hand your things out the door when you are ready.” Dolores left, shutting the door behind her.

Millicent spent a moment looking around the bathroom, it was quite grand, she thought, and there was a fixture there that was unfamiliar to her. Remembering that Professor Umbridge was waiting for her, she hastily undressed, made a bundle of her clothes, and placed her shoes on a rack. She opened the door a crack and reached her arm through the door with the bundle in her hand. In a moment, she felt Umbridge take the bundle from her, and she closed the door.

“Oh, my!” thought Umbridge as she stared at the door. She had not meant to spy, but the wall just inside the doorway was mostly mirror, and her eyes had been drawn to the moving reflection there. Naked, Millicent Bulstrode looked like she had stepped out of a painting by that Muggle Artist, Rubens. “Statuesque indeed!” She had intended to summon a House-elf to deal with the laundry, but on the spot decided to tend to it herself, as she did her own clothes. (She had formed the habit of doing her laundry while she was in school, for strange substances seemed to find their way into her underthings in the school laundry.) She carried the clothing to a small table and unrolled the bundle. The robes she hung on a convenient hanger, and then she undid the rest.

The socks were the normal dark uniform socks; there was a black skirt, a white blouse, a very sturdy bra which drew an approving nod and… a frilly pink pair of panties, that despite their generous size, were positively dainty. Umbridge stared at them, and her mind was drawn irresistibly back to her own school days. The taunts, the cruelty, the loneliness, and the memory of one very fancy undergarment that she kept secret. She took extraordinary pains not to let anyone see it, ever. She bore the insults and the taunts, and she persevered and she succeeded. Now few dared to taunt her, virtually no one dared to openly. But as she stared at the lacy garment, she was once again a teenaged girl, who wished with all of her heart that she was pretty.

A few well practiced cleaning spells took care of the bulk of the clothing, but the panties she washed by hand, in a basin of scented water. She wrung them out tenderly, and hung them to dry naturally, rather than using magic on them. She turned to go to the sitting room to wait for Millicent, and there she was standing looking at Umbridge, blushing furiously, the robe a few inches above her knees, but otherwise fitting tolerably well. “Why did you wash them yourself, Professor?” asked Millicent Bulstrode softly.

“Because I know what they mean to you, and I remember being a teenaged girl.”

“Why are you being so kind to me? No one else is,” asked Millicent, genuinely puzzled.

“Because I remember being a teenaged girl,” Umbridge replied softly. She stepped closer to Millicent, and looked up into the young face that reminded her so much of her own at that age. It was not that they looked that much alike, but the look on the face was the same. It was an expression compounded of hurt, and anger, and a deep puzzlement as to why no one liked them. Slowly, Umbridge reached up and touched Millicent’s face gently with her stubby fingers, and in a quaking voice said, “Do not make the same mistake I made, Millicent. Do not become what I have become. It is too late for me, but perhaps not for you. Do not grow bitter and lonely, only able to experience satisfaction in the suffering of others, rather than know joy in your own happiness. Let people get to know the girl who wears those lovely underpants.”

Millicent was dumbstruck. She could not think of a reply, but the look of anguish on Umbridge’s face touched a part of her that could still respond to the pain of a fellow being, and she took the small step between them and put her arms around Dolores Umbridge. Umbridge laid her face on Millicent’s ample chest, and put her arms around the younger woman, and they stood that way for quite a long time without speaking. The hug was enough for both of them, for the moment.