They leave their first Defense lesson with Umbridge, and Hermione is fuming.

Voldemort is back, they're on the cusp of a war all too many of them will be forced into, and this bitch and the rest of the Ministry think they don't need to practice actually defending themselves?

When an entire extremist group is out to murder her and other muggleborns without provocation?

It's—Draco had warned her, and the toad's speech at the welcome feast had made it clear that she was here to interfere with business as usual, but even in the brevity of the lesson she'd become the most angry she'd ever been in a class; Umbridge made Trelawney look like professor of the year.

And Harry…she'd relayed Draco's warning not to provoke Umbridge, but her best friend was ever the impulsive Gryffindor and couldn't help himself, managing to get detention on the first day.

(and she really isn't upset with him about it because although she knows it was a bad idea, she's glad someone said something.)

It's almost nice, though, the way these moments bring their class together; all the Gryffindor fifth years cluster, angrily ranting to each other the entire way to Charms in such a unique moment of unity—the kind that only comes from collective hatred.

(It'll only grow stronger with each of her lessons, but they have no idea how bone-deep just yet.)

Remus smiles in greeting when they all arrive in Charms, brow furrowing at the half-hearted response he receives from the lot of them. "Has something happened? You all seem…not at all yourselves." He turns his attention to his godson, expression worried.

Harry merely scowls in response, and Hermione winces but clears her throat to explain. "We've just come from our first lesson with Umbridge."

"Umbitch, more like," Ron mutters rather loudly, earning a laugh from most of the room. "Re—Professor Lupin, that is—you wouldn't believe the shit she's—"

Remus gives him a look but the muscle twitch in his jaw gives him away. "Believe me, Ron, there is very little Professor Umbridge could do that would surprise me. She's been the main voice behind some lovely legislation…" he trails off, rubbing his temples at the whole class's eyes rapt with attention. "Well, I don't to get into it."

All the Gryffindors begin to protest, but Hermione swivels around in her chair. "He means he doesn't want to get in trouble for talking shit about a colleague, but Umbridge has spent years pushing anti-werewolf bills, as well as more incredibly discriminatory policies against other beings, and non-pureblood wizards. She's proposed a muggleborn registry before, and in private records from a Wizengamot session in the seventies she suggested a eugenics program to prevent squibs from having muggleborn descendants who might 'tarnish' the magical community."

Dean's jaw drops. "She's got the beliefs of the Nazis and she's allowed to be a teacher?"

(The irony is almost fucking laughable, because of course only those with muggle heritage know about the Nazis—know how much danger they're in with this woman in power, in their school. Where they're supposed to be safe.)

"Moving on," Remus insists, giving with such a dad expression that they all sigh but straighten up, pulling out their textbooks. "Obviously, you all have had four years of Charms previously, and you've had me as a teacher before. However, this year's charms curriculum has been re-vamped somewhat; we'll be putting a greater focus on the application of different spells, and covering a broader range of charms. While I will still be encouraging you to study theory, you will only be tested on foundational concepts."

Hermione lets out a delighted gasp; Remus gives her a look, like he knows she's figured out what he's doing and she needs to keep quiet, so she bites down on her grin.

The rest of the class goes smoothly—of course it does, Remus is the most engaging professor they've ever had, and despite his own being a good student he had friends who didn't inherently care about school in the same way, so he knows how important it is to make the content relevant.

"Congrats on your marriage, by the way!" Lavender exclaims with an eye on his ring as they all stand to leave. "Who's the lucky witch or wizard?"

"Sirius Black." Remus winces at the excited shriek she releases.

"He was Witch Weekly's most eligible bachelor for years! Recently and before the war. Nice catch, Professor Lupin! Although of course he's lucky to have you as well."

Remus gives an exasperated smile. "Believe me, he never lets me forget about the award. And thank you, Lavender. Have a great rest of your day."

Hermione, Harry, and Ron want to stay after and talk to him, of course, but the Hufflepuff first years are at the door, so Harry calls "Bye Uncle Moony!" and they head to the Great Hall for lunch.

Fred and George are already there, and they plop down beside them, muttering thanks when they pass the pumpkin juice.

"Where did you lot come from?"

"Charms, and Defense before that. You had either yet?" Ron asks.

Fred grins. "Oh, yes, we had Umbridge first thing Monday and lovely Lupin yesterday afternoon. He's a genius."

Harry purses his lips. "What do you mean? And also, Hermione—why were you so excited at the beginning of class?"

She shakes her head at him. "Honestly, Harry, for someone so smart you don't pick up on subtleties much."

"Right, which is why you then explain them to me, because you love me."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever." She snorts. "Remus is teaching us Defense."

Ron looks at her worriedly. "Did you hit your head, or something? Do you remember what year it is?"

"I don't have amnesia," Hermione rolls her eyes. "I meant what I said, Remus is teaching us Defense. He and Dumbledore knew the Ministry would plant Umbridge, and that she wouldn't teach us properly, so he's using the Charms position as a loophole to teach us Defense spells as well since they technically also fall under the Charms umbrella."

"A true Marauder—against the authority till the end," George sighs with admiration.

"Should've known they were cooking up something like this honestly." Fred narrows his eyes. "Hogwarts is the hunting ground for new Order members—as much as Mum kicked up a fuss about us, young people joining after being practically indoctrinated here is entirely how the first Order came about. There's no way Dumbledore would let the Ministry interfere with his plans."

"I used to look up to him so much," Ron muses. "The stories Mum and Dad told, the way the world talks about him being the most powerful wizard alive and defeating Grindlewald and all—and then you get here and he seems so amazing, the kind of guy you want to be like. But the more of him we see…the more horrified I am. He talks a big game but he's the wolf in every kids' story."

Hermione nods, scornful look on her face. "Guess it's true when they say don't meet your heroes."

/

It's Friday night, and she's in the library, which she knows Blaise is going to give her shit about but she's just started reading a new series and it's serving as a welcome distraction from her own thoughts.

Harry'd had his first detention with Umbridge the day before, and when he came back with words carved into his skin she and Ron were both fuming.

(But they can't do anything about it—kicking up a fuss will only make things so much worse, and encourage Fudge to give Umbridge even more power, so they're just—calling Dobby to perform a numbing charm before he goes to detention, now.)

Nearing midnight, she spots motion out of the corner of her eye and startles—but it's just Luna, taking a seat beside her with a small smile. "Hi, Hermione. How's your first week back been?"

"All right. Hard moments and bright spots, you know?"

Luna nods, a deep understanding in her eyes. "It's hard, times like now. Especially when you have something heavy weighing on your soul."

Hermione tenses defensively. "How do you—"

"I don't," Luna reassures her, voice gentle. "I just know that it's something, and that it's awful, and you've been carrying it alone for a very long time. It's just part of what I can See."

The brunette nods nervously. "It's—technically, the situation has gotten better. And yet—somehow now that it's over is when I'm falling apart, when it's hitting me the most."

"That's just how trauma works." Luna's words are soft. "Your brain blocks it out until you're through it, otherwise you can't survive it. And then when it ends it all crashes down at once."

A bitter laugh of agreement from Hermione. "Yeah, that sounds about right." A beat of silence. "You're really good at this, Lu."

The other girl shrugs modestly. "You learn a lot about people when you're on the outskirts a lot, and they don't ever think you're paying attention." Before Hermione can respond, she reaches in her bag, handing over a corked phial. "I actually came to find you to give you this, for Harry."

Hermione instinctively reaches to accept it, noticing scratches on the back of Luna's hand in passing but not paying them much attention, instead focusing on the viscous yellow substance within the phial. "What is it?"

"Essence of murtlap—it'll help with his hand. This should be enough for until the current wounds are healed, but I can get more if he lands himself in more detention, which I don't doubt he will."

Hermione gapes at her. "How did you—did you See this too?"

"No, of course not," Luna shakes her head like it's a ridiculous notion. "ESP doesn't extend to something like that."

"Of course it doesn't," Hermione sighs. "How did you find out then?"

But before Luna answers, her eyes flicker back to the hand that had offered the murtlap, widening when she realizes what she'd thought to be mere scratches take the shape of I must not tell lies. "Oh my god, Luna, you're—"

Luna presses a finger to her lips. "He's still not ready for us to meet, whether he knows it or not. Soon, though. Once his worries from the summer fade a bit. For now, don't tell him it's from me—say you got it from Dobby, or Draco, or something."

"But—I don't—how have you two never bumped into each other at Hogwarts?"

A smirk forms on Luna's face. "It hasn't been by accident. I'm waiting till the time is right. He's had…plenty enough going on, without having to worry about me. For all he'd know, I could just want to be with him because he's Harry Potter."

"But you're his soul mate."

"That doesn't mean my intentions are pure, as nice as it would be if it did. He'd have no reason to trust me above other people, and it's stress he hasn't needed."

"You are a stronger person than I."

"I don't believe that," Luna shakes her head, squeezing Hermione's hand. "We both just do what we must. What's best for the people around us."

(Even when it hurts, goes unspoken.)

/

A hand tugs her into an alcove directly after the Prefect meeting; she starts to smile, assuming it's Draco, only to come face to face with none other than Pansy Parkinson.

"What do I have to do for you to switch patrols with me on Friday?"

Hermione blinks at her in confusion. "What?"

Pansy crosses her arms, entire body tense. "I can pay you, or cover a different day's patrol, or get you something from Madam Malkin's—whatever you want."

"I don't—but you're set to patrol Slytherin and Ravenclaw. Why would you rather have to deal with Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs?"

"The why doesn't matter," the other girl snaps defensively. "Just—will you? Please?"

Hermione's instinctively suspicious; Pansy is one of the Slytherins Draco talks about the least, so she doesn't know a ton about her, or why she might have approached her.

(But the desperation in her eyes—it's familiar.)

"Sure, Pansy. I—it's no problem. Don't worry about paying me or anything, it's—I'd have to be patrolling anyway, so—it's fine." Hermione rubs at her eyes.

"Thank—thank you." Pansy pauses for a moment like she wants to say more, but gives a perfunctory nod instead before turning and hurrying away.

Hermione makes her way to the Room, where Draco's already waiting, having left immediately after the Prefect meeting.

"What kept you?" he asks, reaching to pull her close.

It's the first time they'll have more than ten minutes alone since the Spring, and she hums with pleasure as his hands slide under her shirt, moving her hips against him immediately.

"Pansy wanted to switch patrol routes with me," Hermione replies breathily. She frowns when he pauses taking off her shirt to make a surprised face.

"Parkinson?"

"Is there another that's a Prefect I don't know about?"

"It just seems odd. Bit out of character," Draco mutters. "I don't know. We used to be pretty good friends, but she's become more of a lone wolf the last year or so."

"Hmm." She waits another moment, in case he has something else to say, but he resumes getting her shirt and bra off, lips trailing along the bared skin until her mind is miles away from Prefect duties.

It's rushed, and rough, and so good—Draco always gives her exactly what she needs, is always exactly what she needs, and at one point says something funny that has them both laughing like they're not literally mid thrust.

She never had a happy childhood—doesn't have a nostalgic time period to look back on fondly and wish she were still in.

(But when she's with him, none of it matters; they've built such a trust, so thoroughly retrained her brain, that these moments make nothing else matter.)

Later, her back is pressed against his chest, and he mouths along her neck every few minutes just to make her squirm pleasantly.

"Sometimes I think you're addicted to sex," he says, his breath on the back of her neck making her back arch.

"If I were I would date someone else so we wouldn't have to sneak around all the time—I'd be able to get laid a lot more."

Draco snorts. "That's true."

She's quiet for a moment, thinking.

Because he's not wrong, really—she wants to go at it much more than the average sixteen year old girl, she knows, and it's—how to put into words the sense of control it gives her, that it's one of so few times she feels alive?

(One of so few times she can feel anything, that she's not completely numb to the world around her.)

He watches her expression, clearly waiting for her to speak—this is it, then, the perfect opportunity to tell him.

(To open up about this thing that's been eating her alive for as long as she can remember—this thing that's colored every moment of their relationship.)

But to say it would make it real, would mean he's no longer her safe haven from acknowledging her own memories.

(Would mean her façade of sanity would become transparent, the last vestiges of her will to live would crumble.)

So all she says is, "I love you," and he hums it back, and they both know she's still hiding part of herself away from him but they have the rest of their lives for that.

(For now it's all she can do to keep breathing.)

/

"I know Professor Lupin is intending to teach us Defense, which—he's the best, obviously. But given that he's also having to make sure we're prepared for Charms OWLs…" Blaise makes a face. "I think we need more practice."

Ginny nods before laying down a Draw 4 card that earns her a scowl from her soul mate, which only makes her laugh. "I agree. Remus is as good as it gets, but—this is just too much for one course to fully incorporate, and with the war coming…we can't afford to be unprepared."

They look to Hermione, and she makes a face, but they all know it'll be best coming from her. "Harry, we were thinking—"

He groans before she gets the words out. "I have no idea where this is going but I already know I'm going to hate it because you all conspiring never ends well."

"But we're always right," Hermione wheedles, moving to sit next to him on the beanbag.

"Yeah, yeah whatever. Hit me with it, then."

Blaise clears his throat. "You're the best at Defense in our year—you know spells, you're great at using them, and you've had the most real world experience of us all. You…you know what it's like, to be in that moment of having to defend yourself like your life depends on it."

Harry narrows his eyes at him. "You never give me this many compliments—what do you want?"

Ginny bursts out laughing, and Hermione tries to hide her own smile. "Harry, we—we think you could do it. Teach us, I mean—the things Remus doesn't have time to, help us practice, and prepare ourselves."

Harry scratches the back of his neck, blushing nervously. "I—sure, I mean I don't know that I'm qualified, but I'm happy to help if I can. You guys are my best friends."

Hermione makes a face. "That's the thing—we don't mean just us."

"Sorry?"

"We mean everyone," Blaise explains, without softening the blow. "We want to start a—defense club, of sorts, and open it up to all students."

"Oh god, I—I don't know that anyone will listen to me. I mean, why would they—I'm no one. And all four houses? Do we think they'll even agree to be together?"

"They will if they want to be a part of it," Hermione declares, arching an eyebrow with the expression Harry's only ever seen the day she took on Winky's bond. "OWLs don't discriminate—and neither will the war. We'll all be in danger, and regardless of where everyone's parents stand...everyone here is just a kid. They all deserve to learn to defend themselves."

She finds herself making the same speech a week later, after days of careful planning; Sirius is entirely on board and advising them on the best ways not to get caught, of course, and at his instruction they rent out the entirety of the Hog's Head to keep from being overheard.

(It turns out the barkeep is Dumbledore's brother who used to be in the order, which—weird, and made Hermione suspicious, but Sirius had promised Aberforth and Albus had never gotten along and that was pretty good encouragement to trusting him.)

They make everyone sign a non-disclosure agreement before going in, letting them know it's charmed to hex anyone who shares details about the meeting or attendees, although Draco sits under the Invisibility Cloak even with the precautions.

(He can't afford the risk.)

The Gryffindors are the most vocal about being opposed, of course; a fourth year shouts that he doesn't want to spend time with Death Eater spawn, and Hermione feels her entire body go rigid, Harry doing likewise beside her.

Before either of them can stutter out a response, though, Neville stands, and in a commanding voice, says, "Then leave."

The kid gasps, but Neville crosses his arms just below his Prefect badge, unperturbed. "Everyone deserves to learn. It doesn't matter who they are, or what side their family is on—no one deserves to be unable to defend themselves. Your prejudice isn't welcome here, so either deal with it or go ahead and leave right now. I'm happy to escort you back to the castle if you'd like."

He scowls, but sits back down, and Neville turns his gaze to the rest of the room; Hermione thinks she might be one of the only ones who can tell how nervous he is. "Anyone else have a problem with someone who's here?" He lets out a deep breath when he's met with silence. "Good. Enough people try to divide us—we don't need to help them." He sits back down, giving Harry and Hermione an apologetic look.

"So—Hermione and I have been doing through defense curriculum for OWLs specifically to decide what to cover in our meetings, but we'll also be doing some general defense spells, and more or less advanced spells that I've found particularly useful in dangerous situations. And that's about all I've got for today." He smiles nervously out at the crowd before gesturing to Hermione to take over.

"Right, then, some logistics: we won't have our first meeting for another week or so, that way everyone has some time to decide whether or not they'd like to join. We understand this is a big decision, because of the potential for us to get in trouble, so—we respect whatever decision each of you decides to make."

She clears her throat, holding up a fresh parchment. "For security purposes, in order to join you will have to sign this roster, which we've imbued with a protective charm that will prevent you from sharing any of the details. We have a plan for communicating day, time, and location details as well, but we're not sharing specifics until everyone's signed."

"I don't understand the need for all this secrecy," Anthony grumbles. "We're just doing extra spellwork outside of class. It's not like they're going to put us in Azkaban for studying."

Dean lets out a bitter laugh. "The fact that you believe that shows how much privilege you have, dude. If the people in power don't like what someone's up to, they don't need proof of a crime."

Hermione nods in agreement. "Dean's right. And moreover, a lot of the people in this room can't afford for their families to know they're affiliating with each other—and with Harry especially, given what the media is saying about him right now. We won't put anyone at risk"

Disillusioned beside her, Draco trails a hand along her spine, and her lips twitch but she maintains her serious expression.

Students begin to get up; some, already certain, come up to sign the parchment, and Hermione waves her wand to remove the security spells so that they can all begin to trickle out.

Blaise cracks his neck before leaning his head on Ginny's shoulder. "Here's to hoping this isn't a terrible idea."

"Even if it is, it'll be worth it," Harry insists, eyes far away. "If it makes even one person just a little less vulnerable when the world goes to shit, it'll be worth it."

"We need a name," Blaise announces. "Suggestions anyone? Mine is Hogwarts Army."

His girlfriend raises an eyebrow. "Defense Academy?"

"Voices of Treason," Blaise volleys back.

"All-Student Alliance." Ginny's voice is more serious, this time, and she swallows before explaining. "Because everyone is welcome, and whatever happens in the next few years, at least for now we're all in this together."

"ASA," Harry nods approvingly. "I like it."

/

The day is already chaotic even before McGonagall asks her to stay after class; Umbridge posted a resolution banning student organizations, and every attendee of the introductory ASA meeting had conspicuously attempted to flag her and/or Harry down like an idiot.

"I'm assuming you saw the posting," McGonagall says without preamble.

Hermione blinks back at her innocently. "I'm not sure why that would be particularly relevant to me."

"Oh, hush, just because I ignore the rumors about a clandestine school-wide meetup doesn't mean I'll pretend they don't exist. I assume you have a plan for security so further rumors don't get out?"

"Yes, we—we've modified the Fidelius, actually; there's a Secret Keeper for the group, so everyone who signed the contract to join is unable to disclose any information about it."

"Very good," McGonagall nods proudly. "Mister Malfoy and Miss Weasley finally put their skills together, then?"

A smirk forms on her face but she nods in affirmation. "Any advice?"

"I think at this point you don't even need me to say any of it—you're bright enough to know what I'd say. And the less involved and informed I am, the better for your security. And plausible deniability, of course."

"Naturally."

McGonagall's expression grows serious. "Albus will likely approach you—and will probably attempt to control the way you do things."

"I won't allow it."

"I assumed as much. Do make sure you prepare for his inquisition, nonetheless. As much distaste as you and I both hold for him…he holds too much power in this war for him to decide you're the enemy."

Hermione cocks her head to the side, frowning. "I understand. For now."

/

The first real meeting is—not smooth, or fun, exactly, but—something.

Harry announces they'll be working on the disarming spell, which naturally receives outcry and ridicule.

His expression goes dark, a haunted look Hermione recognizes but no one else in the room has seen. "It was good enough to keep Voldemort from killing me—unless anyone else here has beat him with a more advanced spell? No?"

Everyone murmurs quietly, so Luna speaks up, airy voice resonating, "If we trust Harry to teach us, why wouldn't we trust his judgement about what's most important to learn? Either we wholly believe in his Defense ability and wisdom or not at all." She blinks at everyone staring her down, unfazed. "Personally, I believe in Harry's judgement. We've all seen his Defense skill—and given how humble he is, he's probably even better than we know."

Harry's entire face grows dark with blush. "Er, that's—really kind of you. Thank you—" he pauses, looking to her as though asking for her name, but she shakes her head with a smile and gestures for him to get back to it. "Right, then. So—yeah."

Hermione squeezes his arm, hearing the unspoken plea for help. "Everyone go ahead and get in the pairs we've assigned, and spend the next fifteen minutes or so taking turns practicing; later we'll work on trying to cast it when your opponent is shielding, but for now, don't defend yourselves when you're being disarmed."

The room fills with chatter as everyone acquiesces; she, Harry, Ginny, and Draco had spent hours pouring over the member roster to craft the pairings, attempting to balance strengths and skillsets.

Many were interhouse pairings, some of which they'd been a little nervous about, but—right now they seem to be working; slowly but surely, the room's atmosphere grows just a bit warmer, just a bit more comfortable.

The membership Fidelius intact or no, Draco's polyjuiced as an extra precaution and currently looks like Fred, who had unsurprisingly gotten detention; Ginny and Blaise are paired up, grinning as their spells crackle back and forth, looking entirely too happy about hexing each other.

"We're really doing this," Harry says when they meet back at the front of the room, both having made rounds through it and advised different individuals on necessary improvements. "I can't believe it…it's working."

"All thanks to you," Hermione reminds him, beaming.

"Thanks to us," he corrects, one arm pulling her into a relieved hug.

Hermione nods, eyes far away. "Makes me miss Viktor and Cedric. Fleur too, although we see her so much it doesn't feel like she's gone so much."

"There's a meeting this weekend, we'll get to see her when we Floo call in."

"True," she hums. Draco winks at her, but it's Fred's face so she scrunches up her nose in a way that makes him burst into laughter.

"You know, I think we might just stand a chance when the world goes to shit," Harry says softly.

/

A/N: I resisted tiktok for so long but caved and now bookish tiktok has consumed me. drop your handle if you make bookish content (im andthatsthektea)

Thank you for all of your continued support and love for this fic—it means the world (always), and in times like this it's such a bright spot in the darkness. All I can hope to do is live up to your praise.

This chapter felt a little fluffy, but I promise it's necessary for some plot points coming up.

hope the chaos is treating you well. much love.