AN: Thanks to everyone who has favorited, followed, and/or reviewed! Love you all.

"You do realize how much trouble we could get in for this?" Hermione yelled at her classmates as they walked across the grounds. "Dueling is never allowed without supervision!"

"Did you agree to this or not?" Ron yelled back at her teasingly over the noise of the rain and the wind.

"I didn't say I wouldn't do it!" Hermione countered with a smug look on her face.

For a moment it was as though nothing had changed since they were first-years, and Ron felt his heart grow warmer as he looked back at her. Her confident expression fell away quickly and was replaced by a blush as he took her hand and kissed it gently. Hermione squeezed his hand in return and glanced at him bashfully, thankful their little moment had gone completely unnoticed by the rest of the group.

They made their way over to the same empty corner of the grounds they would occasionally use for Defense classes. There were eight in total now, as Ginny had heard them mention the plan at lunch and informed them she was upset at not having been invited and would be there whether they liked it or not. Nobody was opposed; in fact they had all laughed at her fiery attitude and decided they would invite Luna as well. Feeling much better than he had in the morning, and being used to taking the lead at D.A. meetings, Harry spoke up.

"Right. We need to raise some shields around us so none of our spells leave the area. Once we do that, let's start four-on-four. Me, Ron, Dean, and Luna will head over to that side." Harry announced, pointing away from the castle. "Hermione, Neville, Seamus, and Ginny, you four go that side." Harry gestured back towards the building. "Only use spells safe enough for class. No other rules."

Already soaking wet, they got to work raising shield charms all around them, enclosing a large portion of the grassy area in which to safely cast their spells. The two teams then spread apart to either side of the makeshift arena they had created. As soon as they were facing each other, without warning, Seamus shot a stunning spell at Harry. Just like that, they all moved to action.

Harry was thrilled. Though he was soaked to the bone and being lashed at by rain and wind, he had never felt better. It was the first time he had ever worked so much as part of a team. Yes, he had fought around friends plenty of times, but it had never felt so much like teamwork. He, Ron, and Dean stayed close together, all shouting strategies to each other and delegating attacks. This wasn't the panicked point-and-shoot mess he had always been used to. This was smart, coordinated, powerful. He felt they were truly allies and equals.

Hermione wasted no time implementing similar communication on her side, and the two groups soon found themselves evenly matched. Harry guessed they must each have been hit at least a couple times within the first ten minutes. Thankfully, his teammates were quick to revive each other when they had been stunned, and quick to check in when they were otherwise hurt. Time flew, cloaks were abandoned mid-fight and cuts began appearing on everyone, yet nothing – aside from the occasional grimace of pain- wiped the smiles off of their faces. Nothing in the world seemed to exist outside their shields.

The relentless anxiety and tension Harry had been feeling all year began to fade, and his connection to his magic grew to take its place. He felt liberated, as though after eighteen years of searching he was beginning to find himself. Gone was the cold fear of battle and pain of endless loss which came with being the Boy Who Lived. In this moment he found himself full of warmth; he was simply a boy finally living.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxo

Friday evening wasn't enough to cheer Draco up. To him the weekend was just the same as every other day, except there was no mandatory distraction from his desolate thoughts. After his last class, Ancient Runes, he had followed his usual routine and retreated to his room. Uncertain if he wanted to show his face at dinner or not, he spun his wand around in his hands and eventually decided to work on Transfiguration. Transfiguration had always been something he was capable of. Being one of the brightest in his year, he appreciated the way it was similar to a science, like potions was. It wasn't just putting all your 'passion' into a wand movement. Maybe that was why he was good at it.

He had more or less mastered the art of conjuring many different varieties of fire and water over the summer as he spent a lot of time playing around with the concept to pass each terrible day. Now he was attempting to move on to more interesting things. Ever a fan of practicality, he knew he would need something to protect him from physical attacks in the future. He had narrowly avoided a few already by ducking into a different corridor, and he had shield charms up to protect him from most of the magical attacks he had been on the receiving end of so far. Though they hadn't all worked well enough to keep him completely unharmed since the year began, he was usually able to come back to his room and heal himself decently enough. Frustratingly, the issue with his charms wasn't that he hadn't perfected it long ago; some days his magic just didn't want to cooperate.

As he gripped his wand, he knew today was one of those days. He could feel its inability to move through him, and his wand felt like nothing more than a stick a child would pick up in the forest to swing around. Taking a deep breath to clear his mind, he thought about conjuring a physical shield. He had only ever seen it done by the Dark Lord, though since then he had managed to read about a few other wizards who had regularly used it, and found the incantation for it.

"Agiserigo."

As he suspected. Nothing.

This wasn't the first time he tried the spell. His only real progress had been when he managed to make a silver poof of smoke appear for a split second before dissolving away, back out of existence. Now, though, his magic was as determined as ever to spite him. As he pulled his wand up and to the left in a diagonal motion across his chest and said the word, it resisted his attempts to manipulate it. It sat heavy in his veins like solidifying cement and wouldn't budge.

A few more patient attempts proved just as futile. Growing quickly frustrated as each effort was met with less than nothing, he growled and gracelessly dropped onto the couch, laying on his back and looking up at the dark ceiling. Lifting his arm to hold his wand in the air above him, he absentmindedly began testing his magic on the basics. He had always been rather fond of the bluebell flames he learned to conjure very early on in his time at Hogwarts.

"Ignis innoxius," he mumbled the words, though he didn't really need to speak them at all anymore. He had been doing it for so long it was almost second nature.

Except this time it only produced the tiniest wisp of dull blue flame.

Past frustration and well into defeat, the Slytherin couldn't even bring himself to sigh as he reached his arm behind his head to place his wand on the shelves at the side of the couch.

An unknown and seemingly infinite amount of time passed during which he simply stared at the cold stone ceiling above him and wondered if he would ever feel connected to his magic again. He was busy supposing it would serve him right if he slowly lost all his abilities until he was nothing more than a squib when he noticed an unfamiliar sensation spreading through his chest. Another panic attack? No. Too warm and no pain. His blood felt as though it was gradually heating up inside his veins. He sat upright and fidgeted for a minute, suddenly unable to sit still. He was too young to have a heart attack, right? Surely.

Soon enough he was pacing around his room, a tension building inside him. He focused on his breathing, but everything in him felt ready to explode out and he wanted to run, anywhere, as fast as he could. His fingernails, although short, dug into the palms of his hands as he clenched his fists.

The terrible combination of this feeling and the fact that now Draco couldn't even control his own body reignited his anger. He closed his eyes and bit his lip, all his muscles tensing as whatever was happening to him showed no sign of stopping anytime soon. His breathing became ragged and shallow, and he felt his face getting warm.

Faster and faster he paced. Faster and faster his thoughts raced. He covered his face with his hands, his fingers gripping his head tightly through his disheveled blond hair.

Faster still.

He couldn't take it anymore. Screaming loudly enough to make his throat raw, he threw his hands down from his head to his side.

There was a flash of orange and he felt pain burst across his right thigh.

Hissing in pain, he quickly gripped his leg and looked down to find raw and scorched skin through a hole that had been burned in his trousers. Too confused to even begin questioning why or how that had happened, he quickly returned to his wand. Limping over to take it from the shelves, he sat carefully down on the couch and held it over the burn.

As he healed himself to the best of his ability, he calmed down enough to realize a few things. First, he realized he didn't feel tense anymore. Nothing was burning and building up inside of him. Second, he realized he felt good. Strong. As he cast spell after spell to heal his leg, his magic flowed through his body more smoothly and with more power than he could ever remember. Third, he realized that while alone in an empty room with his wand nowhere near him his leg had suddenly been burned by a fire from nowhere. He instinctively supposed he had done accidental magic. Except everyone knew accidental magic didn't happen to wizards once their magic had properly developed itself in them, which was typically before the age of thirteen. It wasn't possible for him to do accidental magic anymore. Was it? Either way, it wasn't every day a wizard conjured fire from nowhere with his bare hands.

What the hell was happening to him?

xoxoxoxoxoxoxo

Out on the grounds dueling in the downpour, Hermione cleverly managed to deflect an attack from Luna back at Dean, who was promptly sent flying backwards. Ron took a second to cast something Harry could hardly recognize, which cushioned Dean's fall. Harry grinned as he dodged a stunner from Neville and turned to compliment his best friend's quick thinking. That was, until a sharp voice carried itself strongly over the wind and rain.

"That's quite enough!" it commanded.

The group froze and looked in shock at each other before turning to face the interruption. Somehow, they had been so caught up in their mock-battle that they hadn't noticed what looked like the entirety of the student body standing far off to the side, gaping at them. Pushing her way to the front of the group came Professor McGonagall. She gave them all a serious look, and perhaps by magic her voice cut clearly through the noise of the weather.

"What," she began disapprovingly, "do you think you're doing?"

Harry walked towards her, closing the gap slightly to be sure he would be heard.

"We were just… practicing, Professor," he tried for honesty.

Her expression softened, and although he couldn't be sure, it looked to Harry as though she gave him a wink. The remaining seven came over to join him in front of McGonagall. They each had at least one cut that was notably bleeding or some obviously massive tear in their clothes. Harry knew without looking that he was bleeding through his shirt from his left shoulder.

"Well," Professor McGonagall continued, turning so she was half speaking to the student body and half addressing Harry and his friends. "You should all know by now that dueling outside of the classroom and without supervision is not permitted."

Now she turned to the rest of the students. "Should any of you get any ideas from this, I wouldn't blame you. It is not our intention to stop you from learning… As such, I think a suitable punishment for our eight warriors here will be to oversee dueling practices for the rest of you. Two hours a weekend each would suffice. This seems like a perfectly fine location for it."

Harry almost grinned at the excited expressions and murmurs that ripped through the crowd of younger students, but maintained a serious expression as he knew this was supposed to appear to be a form of discipline for having broken the rules.

"I'll post a schedule outside the Great Hall after dinner," she informed them. When Harry opened his mouth to speak, she cut him off. "No, Mr. Potter, it won't interfere with Quidditch. For heaven's sake, I thought you'd know me better by now."

Harry looked at his friends, who were all similarly trying to keep a straight face out of respect, despite their 'punishment' obviously being a privilege. They nodded to Professor McGonagall and turned to head back to the castle. Before they could get anywhere, though, she stopped them.

"Oh, no, please," she insisted, again loudly enough for everyone to hear. "I do believe these students were quite excited to watch." The headmistress feigned indifference, and Harry supposed being put on the spot while exhausted and mildly injured could be considered punishment. Part of him, however, suspected she wanted to watch as well. "Perhaps they will learn something," she added finally, raising her own shields up and over herself and the students behind her, which also served to warm them and block the rain.

The younger students rushed forward to get as close as they could, clearly eager to watch. Some of them whispered amongst themselves and pointed to each of the seventh-years in turn. Harry caught a glimpse of Thea sticking out at the back of the crowd and smiled to himself as the teams of four split back apart. As if they had never stopped, they began their mock battle again as passionately as they had the first time. Twenty minutes later, their hour was up and the group decided they were all injured enough to call it quits for the day. Breathing heavily, they came to meet in the middle and exchange enthusiastic hugs.

"Brilliant!"

"Nice one, mate."

"You were incredible!"

"You really got me! Look at this hole in my sleeve…"

Grins and compliments and high-fives were exchanged all around; Harry was struggling to think of a time he had felt more at home. Glancing over at Professor McGonagall, who nodded at them slightly, the group picked up their discarded robes, rolled up bloodstained sleeves, and decided on a quick check-in with Madam Pomfrey before they went to dinner. As happy as they were, they hardly even noticed the looks of shock and awe on the faces of the spectating students as they headed back up to the castle.

AN: I'm sorry for making you wait this long for any actual plot development (please don't hate me)... Hope you like it!