This is a small drabble that i wrote over my commutes a few months ago and forgot about in Google Keep until now. I have no idea what direction I want t9 take it in, but 900 words is not enough to staisfy my curiosity for this rare-pair, or rare-quartet I guess, so I most defonitely will be revisiting this ina while from now. Enjoy!


Rebels.

Misfits.

Anomalies.

They were always little more than that, she felt. People called them golden, but she knew. She knew that when she turned corners, people's regular conversations turned to whispered accusations. That when Harry walked into the common room, people went quiet. That when Ron got back from Quidditch practice and joined them on the sofa, people stared like they each had grown an additional didn't care. She insisted that she didn't care. No one was going to tell her how to live her life or with whom she would live it. Not after everything they all had been through. Gods she wished she didn't care. Ginny understood. Nevil, too. So did Luna, Hannah, and even their newfound (and very unlikely) friends in Slytherin. Ginny was a given. She wanted her brother to be happy, and she didn't care in what form that happiness came. Their other close school friends were quite okay with their situation, as they knew what it was like to be different, each in their own particular way. The Slytherins were quite surprising, though. After the war, Harry and Draco had developed an odd rapport, mainly built around one on one Quidditch sessions that went on for hours, and what they had dubbed as roasting matches, which took even longer to die out. Blaise, suave and flirtatious bastard that he was, had inserted himself into Dumbledore's Army so easily it was a bit shocking. In very little time, Hannah had taken a liking to him, and before anyone knew what was going on with them, she was found lounging in his lap, basically draped over him at almost all meals in the great hall. Hermione guessed she was just rubbing it in her housemates' faces. Gods, Hannah was quite the Gryffindor for a Hufflepuff.

The most surprising development of all was the appreciation that the trio of Golden Warriors had discovered for Pansy Parkinson. The Queen Bitch of Slytherin herself was a member of their little quartet. Somehow, she had fit into their relationship very snugly, her fiery personality working greatly with Ron's and Harry's, while matching Hermione's intellect very comfortably. The dark haired-witch also shared a distate for Quidditch with Hermione, claiming that she was above such brutish displays of power and agility, but they both enjoyed the physical benefits that the sport afforded their smiled at them from afar now, each doing their homework separately in the library. She didn't miss the subtle way Harry kept glancing at Pansy to make sure she was alright. Or the way Ronald kept checking his work was correct by snooping on Pansy's. It was all adorable, really. She'd gone to return some books that she'd checked out from the restricted section earlier that week, and pick herself up some light reading while she was at it when she found them like this, and it made her heart flutter. Flutter like that very first time Harry and Ron took her to bed. Flutter like when Pansy pulled her into an alcove in the third floor main corridor, shouted at her for a solid 2 minutes because she'd gotten herself into the hospital wing after a potions mishap, and then melted in her arms as their tongues melted into each other. Thank goodness Luna was on patrol duty that night.

They were all enjoying their eighth year at Hogwarts, and all the teenage freedom and debauchery that it afforded them. Almost all of them had exceeded NEWT level skills long ago, and they wanted to relax a bit this year, because they knew that what was to come, while not Horcrux hunt aroun the Britih Isles level of difficult, was not going to be easy. Draco, Harry and herself had had quite the shouting contest about it on Halloween. They'd all sworn that they would not allow things to go back to the way they were before. Prejudice like what they'd seen shouldn't be allowed to fester like that, no matter the cost. Harry wanted them to work their way through the Wizengamot and the Department of Magical Law Enforecement. Working the system in order to change it. She agreed with him. So did the Slytherin boys, if she was being honest. But their approach was a more radical one, and after she'd screamed herself hoarse letting them know that they were elitist, classist snobbish arseholes with a hunger for power that would kill them all, she had to admit that this was the best course of action, considering their nation's tendency for idiocy and blind bigotry.

And so, she put her mind at ease, as best as she could at least, and contended herself with long afternoon naps in Ron's arms underneath their favourite tree on the edge of the Forbidden Forest, pretending to be angry with Pansy for pinching her bottom on the way to professor McGonagall's class, and taking deep unadulterated pleasure in watching Pansy and Harry suck each other's souls out for the whole of the Great Hall to watch.

Because come Christmas of the following year, the Ministry of Magic was going to be theirs, and darkness like they'd known will never rise again.


Don't forget to RR.