"Nice one, Colin!" Harry praises the younger Gryffindor as he passes him on his lap around the RoR. Across the room, Hermione meets his eyes with a hopeful smile at the success and dedication of all of ASA.
The mood of the group is much better than it has been—largely because at this point they're all desensitized to Umbridge's decrees and the fact that Bellatrix Lestrange is on the loose, but nonetheless, the four houses have gelled to the point of feeling united, and it's—
(It makes Hermione feel like they might just stand a chance.)
"Mione," Ron calls, an innocent smile on his face that means trouble. "Want to come with me to hit the kitchens after this?"
She rolls her eyes. "Why don't you get Ginny to? Or the twins?"
"Twins claim to be tired, and Gin has plans with Blaise."
Hermione raises an eyebrow, turning to Ginny with an impressed expression. "She has plans with her boyfriend at ten o'clock at night and you're fine with that? Despite your overprotective history?"
He blows out a deep breath, before monotonously saying, "Ginny is her own person and is allowed to do as she pleases in her life whether I like it or not, and as her brother it is my duty to respect that."
Hermione bursts out laughing. "Good lord, Gin, did you confound him?"
"Better," the other girl smirks sweetly. "I know where he keeps his dirty magazines and I told him if he doesn't keep his mouth shut I might let slip to Mum."
"Of course it was blackmail," Hermione laughs. "Sorry, Ron, but I really have to get an arithmancy essay done. Maybe Neville would go."
She looks to Harry, who nods in agreement that it's time to switch to reviewing shield charms they'd learned earlier in the year, but now against stronger spells.
"Alright all, go ahead and stop what you're doing!" she calls, voice resonating throughout the space. "We're going to be moving on, and—"
A crack echoes through the room, making many of them jump.
Dobby stands before her, looking back and forth between both her and Harry with a terrified expression on his face.
"Dobby?" she asks incredulously, getting down on one knee to be at his level. "What's wrong?"
"Mistress—and Harry Potter, sir. They is coming!"
Harry moves quickly to her side. "What do you mean they're coming, Dobby? Who?"
"The woman! The one who is in pink," he shrieks. "She and the students with her—they know about this place, and they come to find all of Harry Potter's friends they know are breaking the rules!"
(A warning—Draco's sent them a warning so they have time to get everyone out.)
"Fuck," Harry mutters, head in his hands.
"Hey, it's okay, we can handle this," Hermione says, as though she's not petrified herself.
(It's almost like her need to protect him and their members overrides her own anxiety—just barrels through it, mobilizes her enough to figure out what to do.)
She gets to her feet, addressing the now hysterical room at large. "Okay, everyone, the Fidelius will protect all of your identities, so you just need to focus on getting back to your dormitories. Harry and I will stay here to make sure everyone gets out safely, we'll contact you about how we'll handle this going forward later; disillusion yourselves and run, now!"
They immediately do, though creating so much noise in the process she can only be thankful Umbridge isn't yet there.
When everyone is gone, she and Harry steady themselves and move to the door, sans Invisibility Cloak they'd lent to some Hufflepuff first years still struggling with disillusionment—
Only for it to slam open in front of them, Umbridge's expression thrilled at the sight of them.
"Well, well, well," she says, and Hermione can see Draco's carefully controlled look of horror where he stands behind her. "What do we have here?"
/
"Don't worry, I've got this one," Draco informs the rest of the Inquisitorial Squad, cruel smirk on his face as he moves to grip Hermione's arm with the hand not holding her wand; where no one else can see, his thumb gently strokes her skin as if reminding her he's with her.
She meets his eyes; his mouth is sneering, but his eyes are pleading, saying why didn't you get out in time?
Her own scowl is hard, but he can see the reply beneath it—someone had to take the fall, or they'd know we were warned.
He slows his pace, making it seem as though he's strolling through the halls while intentionally falling behind Umbridge and the rest of the IS. When they're far enough behind the rest, he leans his mouth closer to her ear. "Run, Mia—I'll say you got away, overpowered me or something. You can hideout somewhere until it's safe and Umbridge has calmed down."
"You know me better than to think I would leave Harry to face this alone," she whispers back. "Besides, they would be suspicious of you if you let me escaped—we can't afford for them to doubt you this early. You have too important a role to play."
When he still looks like he wants to send her away—like he might be contemplating calling Dobby to come whisk her off to Tonks Manor—she yells, "Let me go, Malfoy!" loudly enough for the others to turn.
"How'd she get the gag off," Millicent Bulstrode scowls, moving closer to them.
Hermione can feel her boyfriend angrily glaring at her, but she doesn't regret it. She won't run from this.
(This is only the beginning.)
They're marched into Dumbledore's office, where the man himself looks far too unbothered by their state.
"My, Dolores, what's this?"
"The leaders of the rebel group I've been telling you about for months." Umbridge crosses her arms, looking pleased with herself. "I found them in a secret room filled with training mats, dummies, and spell shields. They even had a little board—a list of all the incendiary spells and hexes they've been learning to do, for their uprising against the Ministry."
She reaches into her pocket for the very board, reversing the shrinking charm she'd cast to make it portable enough to transport, the board in question springing up in the office, ASA in bold black lettering at the top.
Hermione wants to kick herself for making the list and leaving it there as though something like this weren't a possibility—and she wants to kick Draco for letting her leave it up, when the thought should've crossed his mind as well.
"Our informant is under some sort of vow and was unable to say anything more than the location itself," Umbridge scowls at Hermione, as though knowing she's responsible for the security measures. "And as soon as she did say that much, her skin was horribly afflicted—some sort of failsafe intended to harm any noble members that try to stand with their Ministry, I'm sure. She's currently in the infirmary."
Harry's eyes go wide, but Hermione purses her lips, satisfaction curling in her chest that some form of vengeance has been wrought against whoever it was that hose to betray them—and in doing so jeopardize everyone's safety, and many Slytherin members' lives.
"Excellent work here, Dolores," Fudge praises her, a hungry look in his eye as he eyes the board.
Dumbledore clears his throat; he meets Hermione's gaze with a knowing look and a sparkle in his eye. "Well, Dolores, you've caught me."
Hermione and Harry's necks both snap upward as they stare at him; meanwhile Umbridge's jaw drops.
"Caught you?" Fudge asks, rapt with attention.
"Yes, my attempts to circumvent the Ministry's authority with this group. ASA stands for Albus's Secret Army, of course."
Harry sucks in a breath at the implications; Hermione's torn, half rolling her eyes at the ridiculous name and have wondering why he's falling on his sword for them.
But as ridiculous as the statement is, it's exactly the kind of thing Fudge has suspected for years—has worried was true and looked over his shoulder for every moment of his career.
(And that kind of paranoia—
(it makes you ready to believe anything that confirms your beliefs, however outlandish. anything that proves you right seems plausible.)
"Aha! So you admit you've been forming an army to instill yourself as Minister! You've been plotting to depose me!"
"Now that, Cornelius, I assure you is not true. However I won't deny that yes, I have been forming a coalition to defend in the upcoming war; I hate that I've had to take these measures, but as you refuse to accept the reality of Voldemort's return—"
"Of course you manage to still believe yourself the hero, even as a traitor!" Fudge cries. "It's an art form to circumvent the laws the constrict all other men as you do. Whatever you claim, Albus, you'd incriminated yourself in front of no less than four officials of the law. Dawlish, Shacklebolt, take him into custody!"
"Oh, no," Dumbledore smiles. "That won't be happening, today."
Before Fudge can react, there's a flash and a bang, and then the four Ministry officials are unconscious on the floor.
"Minerva, you know what you need to do in my absence," Dumbledore delegates. "The office will be sealed, so get anything you need from here now. And touch base with your contact—finding out if anyone in connection with Dolores is influencing her on Voldemort's behalf is critical."
(Hermione feels her world, her very happiness, crumbling around her.)
/
Umbridge in charge is, as expected, an utter nightmare.
Rules are a million times more strictly enforced, the Inquisitorial Squad's power growing exponentially—the halls are more somber than when there was an alleged mass murderer in the castle.
They're still using the RoR for non-ASA purposes—they'd done some testing to ensure it was still secure for that much, and that having one of them intentionally ask it to not be able to be entered by others was effective.
"We have to do something," Hermione urges, arms around her knees. "We can't let her win. And we can't—can't live like this. This isn't what Hogwarts is supposed to be." Her voice cracks on the last word, and Harry scooches closer to her, rubbing her back when she leans her head on his shoulder.
Draco's face is grim. "I don't know what we can do. Her power is only growing with every decree she signs, and with Dumbledore out of her way there's not much to stop her. And it's about to get worse," he grimaces. "She's told the Inquisitorial Squad that she intends to create a new policy to determine whether students are allowed to return to Hogwarts after the summer, requiring us all to provide a letter of reference from a relative who graduated Hogwarts in order to continue attending."
Hermione chokes out a gasp. "A grandfather clause. She wants to institute a grandfather clause." She presses a hand to her mouth, eyes beginning to burn. "My god. This is how a genocide starts."
And she's known the war is coming, of course—she's a member of the organization that's one of the two major players.
(But knowing it's coming and watching the beginnings of what will surely become a massacre—)
(Watching the school that's been her first real home become a breeding ground for discrimination—)
It's enough to make her want to down an entire bottle of tequila.
But she resists—she's been trying to resist, more, trying to blast more angry music and let herself cry and feel, as awful as it is.
(she's not perfect, and she definitely keeps slipping up, but—she's trying.)
And Draco and Harry have both been keeping an eye on her, but they've been good about not pushing, good about letting her dictate the terms while still supporting her.
(It's—different, now. Her honesty, her experiences—it scared them.)
(which, she's sorry that it was so awful for them, but it was also necessary.
(and to be able to only be traumatized by hearing about it, to not have it affect their lives—
(it's a blessing she hopes they'll never know they've had.)
That's the part she didn't say, that would horrify them even more; the thing about being a woman in this world means that you can never claim safety. Can never truly know that it's over.
(Because maybe that person's done. But who's to say she won't be attacked down the road, by an enemy or a stranger or a friend or a colleague?)
(The odds aren't in her favor. They never have been.)
(So she can never get her hopes up and truly believe she's free—because odds are, this is merely an interlude.)
/
While Ron was initially incredibly skeptical of Draco's goodness, he'd quickly warmed up to the other boy—at which point Hermione immediately regretted being them together.
"How long has this been going?" Harry asks when he takes a seat beside her on the couch offering some of the candy in his hand.
"An hour, with no signs of letting up." She rolls her eyes when Draco mentions an iconic 1852 match in Tokyo that has Ron fired up with excitement all over again, Ginny rapidly adding details to the story.
"I've always known Ron and Gin like Quidditch, and I mean I've had plenty of conversations with Draco about it, but this is…something else."
Hermione nods in agreement, smiling fondly when he tilts her head onto her shoulder. "I never realize how much of him we don't see—Ron, I mean. Because when he's with us there mostly aren't other purebloods around—other than Neville, who's unconventional and doesn't really engage with a lot of the hobbies and habits and things…"
"It's a whole other side of him," Harry agrees. "Weird. But—cool, to see him so in his element. And nice that he can have someone to talk about it with."
"Very. Although at this rate we'll never get them to talk about anything else." She sighs. "Before they were talking shit about Umbridge together for a bit, that was lovely. Oh, and Ron found out Snape is Draco's godfather, so he took the mickey out of him about it for a bit."
Harry chokes. "He is not—you're kidding! Snape?"
"I know. There's a reason I've avoided telling you." She laughs when he jokingly elbows her in retaliation.
Draco wanders over to them. "Get off my girl so I can cuddle with her, Potter."
"You don't want to cuddle with Ron?" she asks with an innocent expression, shrieking when he moves to playfully poke her sides.
(His own alternative to tickling, which he'd discovered the week before was triggering for her.)
Harry acquiesces, scooting far enough down the couch for all three of them to fit; Draco pulls her into the cage of his arms, and she hums contentedly.
(Whatever kind of shitshow her mind is, however chaotic the world is, the people in this room that she loves love her.)
(She can get through it.)
Draco smirks, eyes far too satisfied. "Oh, Weasley—I have a present for you before the match tomorrow."
Ron raises his eyebrows, and Draco pulls something out of his robes and chucks it into the other boy's lap.
Immediately, Ron bursts out laughing. "Oh, merlin, this is going to be good. Go ahead and explain it then."
"Did you make ridiculous badges again?" Hermione scowls at her boyfriend, who pecks her as though the quick kiss will distract her.
"Yes—and quite hit the mark, if I do say so myself. This time I even came up with a song to go with them."
"You sing?" Ginny says disbelievingly.
Draco waves away her skepticism. "Not spectacularly or anything, but that doesn't matter. I'll circulate them and the lyrics all night and at breakfast tomorrow, and everyone that's not in Gryffindor will be able to sing along."
"Do I even want to know what it says that makes me a king to Slytherin?" Ron asks, looking a little too excited about the way he's about to be made fun of.
"No, that would spoil the surprise. You need something to think about so you don't get distracted over nothing again—you're quite good at Quidditch, it's honest more annoying than anything when you psych yourself up so much."
Ron purses his lips. "I think there was a compliment somewhere in there. And yet somehow I feel no obligation to thank you."
"No need," Draco grins. "You can thank me after we all salute you tomorrow."
The next afternoon, Ginny had grumbled when Hermione harassed her into skipping the Quidditch match to come with her to Hagrid's, but she doesn't seem to mind now that the whole stadium is singing about her brother.
"I know a lot of the Slytherins mean it badly, but Draco made it as a joke and Ron is definitely taking the whole thing as a joke—as he should, of course—but an entire stadium singing his name is just an ego boost I do not need to watch him get."
(It was comical, really, how pleased Ron was by the anthem.)
And it did exactly what Draco intended—the badges, wondering about the song, the entertainment of it all—it kept Ron distracted, so engaged with the Weasley is Our King tide that he didn't dwell on his own worries and nerves and inferiority complex, smiling instead of his usual pre-match grey pallor and sheen of sweat.
"I think Harry's glad for it at least, drawing some of the attention off him," Hermione smiles. "Although I didn't realize how bad of an idea the two of them being friends was. Still—I love these moments, when everyone else thinks we're fighting and they have no idea. When all of this is over…"
Pansy reaches to shake her shoulder when she frowns at the thought. "Hey—it will be over eventually. It seems far away right now, but—we can do this. The Order, the light—it will win."
"I know. I'm just—"
(tired of hiding. tired of living in the shadows. tired of holding my breath and waiting for the other shoe to drop.)
"Ginny, Hermione, Pansy!" Luna skips up beside them, despite the fact that they're under the invisibility cloak.
Pansy's eyes go wide. "How can you see us? Is the cloak faulty?'
"Just roll with it," Hermione advises. "Luna just—knows things. Sometimes she credits the Sight, other times the nargles, but she's always right regardless."
"Here, get under the cloak, Luna," Ginny offers, lifting the edge.
Luna smiles. "No, that's okay. If I get under all our ankles will be visible, and then the jig is up; if I walk alongside it'll look like I'm just going into the forest alone, which is pretty common anyway. You are headed for the forest, right?"
"Yes, Hagrid asked me to meet him."
"You're sure he'll be okay with all of us tagging along?" Pansy asks, making a face.
"Oh, of course he will," Luna says, voice airy. "It's always the more the merrier with Hagrid. I spend a lot of time with him because of my independent study and all, and he's happy to meet any friends I've brought down with me."
"Yes, but—" the other girl swallows with difficulty, glad none of them can see her face under the cloak. "I'm a Slytherin. For all he knows—"
"Hey." Hermione puts a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Hagrid isn't the greatest teacher in the world in a lot of ways. But one thing he's not is blindly hateful of his students. He cares about everyone, gives everyone a fair shot and the benefit of the doubt. And he won't hold Dumbledore's prejudices against you."
Pansy's lips twitch, but she doesn't reply, expression a stoic calm that Hermione has learned means the Slytherin is anxious.
"I bet he'd love Ella," Ginny grins, trying to cheer the other girl up. "He's all about creatures that could kill him."
"Who's Ella?" Luna wonders aloud, cocking her head to the side as they finally enter the forest and the other three pull off the cloak Hermione then stuffs into her bag.
"Pansy's snake. Super sweet but verrrry venomous."
"Hello, Hermione." They all jump in surprise at the sound of Hagrid's voice—it's almost humorous, given that the man is seven feet tall and not exactly quiet and yet still managed to sneak up on them—but he smiles down at them as kindly as always.
Hermione beams at him. "Hi, Hagrid. I hope you don't mind I have a few tagalongs."
"Course not!" He waves to the others, looking surprised when he catches sight of Luna. "Luna, always good to see you! I didn't know you were friends with this lot."
"She is! And if she hadn't already been," Ginny smirks mischievously, "she definitely would be now, seeing as she's Harry's soul mate."
Hagrid's entire face lights up. "Our Harry? And you, Luna?" He claps his hands together joyfully when she smiles in reply. "Oh, that's so wonderful to hear." He turns to Pansy, giving her a careful nod. "Miss Parkinson."
"Hi, Hagrid." She tries to maintain her unaffected expression, but the anxiousness leaks through—that much, Hagrid can understand, and offers her a small smile.
"Well, then, you can all follow me—we're headed to the back." He's carrying a hefty crossbow, and looking a little more on guard than Hermione would like.
"What is it that we're doing exactly, Hagrid?" Hermione asks timidly as they make their way deeper into the forest.
"You'll see," he mumbles. "I—I hate to ask this of you, because I know you all have a lot on your plates already—don't say it's not true, I know you're doing more than I even know. But as I'll likely be getting the boot any day now, I need someone to—well."
"What are you talking about? Hagrid, she can't sack you!" Ginny cries, eyes livid with righteous anger.
" 'M afraid she can, and she will. It's only a matter of time." He rubs at his temples as they walk. "She's had it out for me from the beginning, of course, me being half…you know. Only person she hates more than me is our Remus, but he's careful, and brilliant teacher. As hard as she tries, there's nothing she can use against him to justify firing him. But me…well, we all know I'm far from perfect, meself."
"You're not perfect, but you're our teacher and we love you," Hermione insists. "And you're the gamekeeper too, she can't just—Hogwarts is your home! Professor McGonagall must be able to do something."
A sad smile fills his face. "Home is wherever the people you love are. I've loved Hogwarts since I was a little tyke, but…I'll be okay if I have to go somewhere else until Dumbledore's back in power. And as much as I think Minerva would, her authority is limited at the 'mo. We need some of the light to still be here when the storm comes."
"That's not fair," Pansy bites out, voice raspy. "Merlin, I just—I hate this."
"Me too," Hagrid agrees. "But good will out. One day all the harm she causes will come back to bite her in the—anyway. Here we are."
They're stopped before a clearing, a mound of boulders in the middle of it, and Hagrid looks at them expectantly.
Ginny's eyebrows pull together. "Hagrid, what are we—"
"Oh, god," Hermione gasps; beside her, Luna's eyes are wide, though not filled with the same fear. "Hagrid you didn't!"
"He didn't what?" Ginny asks.
"It's a giant," Luna tells her, watching both she and Pansy's jaws drop. "Not necessarily the tallest, but—a giant."
"In the middle of Hogwarts," Hermione says faintly. "Jesus, Hagrid, we had a hard enough time trying to sneak Norbert away, and he was only a baby!"
Pansy raises an eyebrow. "Norbert?"
"Dragon he hatched first year," Hermione says, waving it away like it's nothing before turning back to Hagrid. "Hagrid, really?"
"I had to." He insists, expression desperate. "He—he's my brother, on me mum's side. He's smaller than all the rest of them, and young, and he doesn't understand…I couldn't just leave him," He explains, begging them to understand.
"What all do we need to do to take care of him if you have to leave?" Pansy asks, regaining her bearings the quickest out of all of them.
Hagrid's eyes grow grateful. "It's not so much taking care of him—he gets his own food, 'n all that. He just needs company—I don't want him to be lonely, and he has a hard time when he doesn't get to socialize much. He won't talk back to yeh, really, you can just come down and ramble on, or even do homework and just sit by him—anything would help, if you all could manage to check on him once a week or so."
Hermione's tugging at her hair, muscles tense with stress at the prospect.
(One more secret, one more broken rule, one step closer to consequences they can't afford.)
(But this is Hagrid.)
"Of course we will," Ginny promises, a soothing hand moving to rub Hermione's back. "I'm sure the boys will come too, some days. They can play Quidditch, or something. They'll be thrilled at one more thing right under Umbridge's nose."
"And I'm out here a lot anyway, what with all the research I've been doing for my Independent study," Luna pipes up, voice cam. "We'll look after him, Hagrid."
Hermione clears her throat. "What—what do you want us to do if the end of term comes and Umbridge is still in charge? If we have to leave for summer…"
Hagrid pinches at the bridge of his nose, facing them reluctantly. "If summer comes and Hogwarts is still overrun, we'll have much worse things to worry about than loneliness."
/
She and Draco are firing hexes back and forth at each other as a means of studying for Remus's test the following day; it's one they've both already mastered, but they figure it can't hurt to practice both casting and shielding and building up dueling endurance.
Harry's lying down on the couch, with Ella draped across his chest, despite Pansy having left for a Prefect patrol.
The two of them are hissing in parsletongue incessantly, Harry occasionally bursting out laughing, attempting to relay the story to the rest of the room only to realize he's still speaking parsletongue and start laughing all over again.
"Okay, I give," Draco says, panting. "Can we do McGonagall's essay now instead?"
"You can. I finished mine while you were at Quidditch practice," she teases, sticking out her tongue when he makes a face.
"Keep that to yourself or I'll get ideas, and then we'll have to evict Harry," he threatens, eyes locked on her lips.
Hermione raises an eyebrow. "Why do you say that like it's a bad thing?"
"Ugh," Draco groans, taking a seat at the table they have set up for homework. "We need to be productive. Besides, we still have to figure out what we're going to do about ASA. OWLs are getting closer."
"And the war," Hermione murmurs, eyes going dark. "We can't stop heling them prepare, now. But I've been thinking about it constantly, I can't think of a way for us to get around Umbridge knowing about the room, now—at least not a way that allows all of ASA to still meet here."
(It's been two weeks since they were busted, two weeks of radio silence, two weeks of trying and failing to come up with an alternative way for the group to meet now that the RoR is compromised.)
"I know. Me either. But there has to be something," he whispers, mind racing a million miles an hour. "That can't just be it."
They're quiet for a moment, hopelessly trying to come up with an alternative.
Hermione's so frustrated, because they've made it against so many obstacles, this group that had every reason not to succeed and yet did anyway. They deserve so much more than to go out like this.
The four houses had been united for the first time in living memory, they were doing something to protect themselves and fight the powers that be attempting to systemically disadvantage them, and now because of something as simple as a traitor and an outed location she's sitting here watching her boyfriend's belief fade while her best friend chatters with a snake to distract himself from how his heart breaks at the loss of this group that's grown to mean the world to him.
(chatters with a snake—)
"That's it!" she gasps, feeling the air rush into her lungs. "We're all so stupid, I can't believe we didn't think of it sooner."
"What?" Draco asks, but she's not looking at him.
Harry meets her gaze with a quizzical tilt of his head. "What's up, Mia?"
"Let her think she's broken us," she whispers, the fire in her chest burning bright. "Let her think she knows the secret and so the fight has gone out in us. But we've only just begun."
"Clarification could be good, Meez."
And she smiles—a brilliant smile like she hasn't had in ages. "No matter if she figures us out, again, either, because she won't be able to get to us. We'll be meeting in the Chamber of Secrets."
(In unison, Harry and Draco grin.)
A/N: chapter title from move along by all American rejects
please if you can't afford to donate to BLM (or even if you can) go to watch?v=bCgLa25fDHM&list=PLSBEaAXSLjGhfjZHnYmscX4d378lfv0v_&index=1 all ad sense proceeds are going to the movement and it's literally SO easy to just turn on in a youtube window on loop even in the background of whatever you're doing
~climactic~ stuff will be the next two chapters so get hype (I am!) bc those will also be up in the next few days
so much love to y'all. thank you as always for your thoughts, comments, and love—truly they mean so much to me.