Author's Notes: This chapter will jump to early October, skipping Harry's second week of detention, Umbridge being made High Inquisitor, and the formation of the D.A. Also, anytime Heather is in her room in the Room of Requirement now he will be referred to by that name.

As always, the world of Harry Potter does not belong to me but J.K. Rowling

Chapter Six

It was the night after the second meeting of Dumbledore's Army, and Harry lay awake that night glowing with pride over how it had gone. It seemed like everyone who showed up, with the possible exception of Zacharias Smith, was there to learn and possibly believed him. He'd have to buy Dobby a fantastic Christmas present this year as a thank you for telling him about the Room. It was so helpful the way it always had anything they needed during lessons. Anything I need, he thought, then suddenly sat up in bed, an idea springing to mind. If it can be a training room, or a room of chamber pots, would it be able to be a room for Heather?

Not wasting any time, Harry threw off his blankets and grabbed Heather's bag from his trunk along with the Marauder's map and Invisibility Cloak. The castle was as quiet as ever as he made his way along the seventh-floor corridor to the unseen door. Facing what appeared to be a blank stretch of wall, he slowly started walking back and forth thinking I need a place to be Heather, I need a place to be a girl, a private place. On his last pass he turned and looked and with a feeling of deep relief he saw the large doorknob appear.

Pulling it open Harry walked into the room and was felt his jaw drop open. It reminded him very strongly of the tent he had shared with the Weasley's last summer for the Quidditch World Cup. In front of him were several comfortable looking armchairs surrounding a bowl in the floor stacked with logs for a fire. The walls were covered in gold cloth with scarlet accents, giving the appearance that the room was on fire. There were two doors that led to a bathroom and a large walk-in closet. The closet was enormous, almost as large as the room he'd just left. Racks of clothes filled the walls, some of them looking brand new, others obviously from centuries ago. Lost for words Harry ran his hand over the garments, taking in the softness of them. There were dresses of a hundred different styles, girl's robes, skirts, pants, tops and jackets. It was a dream come true. Harry blushed when he reached the back and found a small selection of clothes he was sure were meant to be worn on dates.

Deciding against trying on anything from the closet tonight, he grabbed his bag and set out what he'd brought to wear, tonight a tight jumper and girl's jeans combination. The closet seemed to double as a changing room, as in one corner had a large dresser and vanity, with another mirror standing next to them. In front of the mirror, Heather let his pajamas fall to the floor, revealing the sports bra and knickers he'd been wearing under them. When he'd pulled the bra off over his head, He took a moment to look at his reflection, focusing on his chest. It was hairless like the rest of his body, with little visible muscle. He cupped his chest where a girl would have breasts in his hands, trying to imagine what it would feel like. Then he slid a new bra up his arms, easily clipping it behind his back, and stuffed it with some socks.

The vanity had plenty of room for him to spread out his makeup and brushes. He decided to put on a basic layer for the evening, then decided to add some lip gloss that he loved the taste of. When he was done the mirror spoke in a prim voice, "Very pretty, sweetheart" which made him blush. He took extra time to twist his hair into a single braid, wishing again he could keep it this length all the time. Fully dressed he stood and left the closet, going back out to one of the comfy chairs and lighting a fire with his wand.

For hours he sat there, letting the world outside drift away. For these moments the only place that existed or mattered was this place. Voldemort could do whatever he wanted but here, Heather was safe. The room had given him exactly what he had asked for, a safe place, a haven. The hours slipped by almost without him realizing, so deep did the comfort the room gave him go.

He kept his new haven a secret from Hermione and Ginny, feeling like he needed this to be just for him. At least once a week he gave up most of a night's worth of sleep to spend time in the room, trying on in turn all of the clothes that Ginny and Hermione had ever gotten for him, some of which he'd never been able to wear before. One night he went through the walk-in closet in just a bra and knickers, pulling down everything he saw that he liked and trying them on one by one. He adored the dresses, especially anything that swooshed around his legs when he twirled. It made dealing with the rest of the school easier knowing that for hours he could come here and just be Heather.

His studies suffered somewhat with his lack of sleep, in addition to the near constant practices that Angelina was putting the Gryffindor Quidditch team through and weekly D.A. meetings. She had Oliver Wood's old fire for winning at, almost, any cost. The team was responding with a will, though they all had silent misgivings on how Ron would perform in their upcoming match. It wasn't until the week before that things got better and they had hope of defeating Slytherin.

Look back, Harry knew that moment of hope was a mistake. If anything was true of this year, anytime he had a small amount of hope for something to go well, it inevitably went very badly. The Slytherins in true form had resorted to any cheat in an attempt to defeat Gryffindor, something they hadn't been able to do since Harry had joined the team. From the stands poured a song that they had written, Weasley is our King. Any confidence Ron had managed during the last week of practice was gone, and the game was not an easy win. Thankfully, Harry was able to catch the snitch and eke out a victory.

As he landed a bludger came out of nowhere and slammed him into the dirt, knocking the breath from his chest. A loud laugh reached his ears as he doubled up in pain and he looked around to see Malfoy standing there with a grin on his face.

"Always there to save Weasley's neck, aren't you Potter." He sneered.

"Harry didn't have the breath for an answer, so Malfoy continued. "Did you like my lyrics?"

By now the rest of the team had landed around him and were helping him up, clapping their hands on his back and punching the air in victory.

Loudly Malfoy called, apparently not finished trying to taunt him, "We wanted to write a few more verses! But we couldn't find anything that rhymed with fat and ugly, you know for his mother. Then again, I was trying to find something to with queer to sing about you…" he trailed off, his sneer growing even larger.

It was a moment before Harry realized he was running at Malfoy. To his surprise George was right beside him, eating up the ground between them and the Slytherin Seeker. Screams filled the air, along with the shouts of what might have been Fred, who was being held back by Angelina and Katie Bell, and Harry's open hand contacted with Malfoy's face. He slapped the blonde boy so hard that a red mark blushed out, in stark contrast to the rest of his pale skin. Then George ran into both of them, knowing them to the ground and trying to use his fists to pummel every inch of Malfoy he could reach.

"Impedimenta!" cried a voice, and the spell threw him several feet back, landing hard again on the ground.

There stood Madam Hooch, the referee, her wand out and pointed at Harry and George. In a ball between them lay Malfoy, whimpering with a bloody nose. Several Slytherin players ran forward to help him up. Once upright he turned to Harry and said, his face still bright red where he's been smacked, "You hit like a girl, Potter."

It wasn't long before Professor McGonagall showed up and gave both George and Harry a weeks' worth of detention for what she called "muggle dueling". With a small hem hem, everything got much worse. Unseen by any of them, Professor Umbridge was standing there, a broad smile filling her toady face. Harry had seen that smile before on the face of Snape, only reserved for the moments when he could cause the most pain to Harry.

Umbridge, with the authority of Educational Decree number Twenty-Five, gave both Harry and George lifelong bans from ever playing Quidditch again, and for added measure included Fred in the ban as well. "After all," she said, "If his teammates hadn't been holding him back, he too might have joined in on the unprovoked attack on Mr. Malfoy." Harry's Firebolt was confiscated, in order to enforce the ban, and they were sent back to Gryffindor Tower.

What should have been a victory party that night was a dour one in the Common Room. Word got out quickly of that had happened, and that Gryffindor had lost almost half of its team in a single day. The only bright side was when Hermione told them that Hagrid had returned. Together the three of them made their way down to his cabin on the edge of the forest and heard his story.

It took Harry a few days to realize that one good thing had come from his ban. He had more time to sneak off to his haven, while at the same time staying on top of his homework, teaching the DA, and getting enough sleep. Still he considered telling Hermione and Ginny about his new hiding place, but every time he was on the verge of spilling the secret, the little voice always whispered Not yet.