A/N: Sorry for the slow update this time. Been sick this past week and let's just say my muse was drowning in snot instead of great ideas. I'll try and get back on track in the coming days, though I'm not sure if a chapter every or every other day is very sustainable for me in the long run now that I'm basically caught up with myself with what's written and what has been posted. I think I'll aim for twice a week, then we'll see.

The hustle and bustle of Platform 9 filled the air as students milled about, saying their goodbyes and lugging trunks onto the Hogwarts Express. Hermione stood near the entrance to the train, scanning the platform as James hauled their trunks onto the train. Her eyes caught sight of Regulus Black, seated in a compartment with his usual Slytherin crowd, his posture as rigid as ever. He stared out the window with a carefully composed expression of aristocratic indifference, his face a mask so perfect it could have been chiseled from marble.

But Hermione knew better. She could see the tension in his shoulders, the stiffness in his movements. If she had to guess, she'd say he was occluding—his defences up so high that even the tiniest hint of vulnerability couldn't slip through. Her heart sank. Despite the enchanted Galleon she had given him last spring, he hadn't reached out to her over the summer. She'd hoped he would take the chance to escape, but the call had never come.

"Hermione!" James called, snapping her out of her thoughts. He gestured to their usual compartment near the end of the train. Sirius and Peter were already making themselves comfortable, Sirius sprawled across one seat, Peter unpacking snacks for the journey.

As they made their way past the Slytherin compartment, Sirius scoffed loudly, ensuring the sound carried. "Death Eater wannabes," he muttered, glaring at the group. "They're all a bloody lost cause."

Hermione frowned but said nothing. Her gaze lingered on Regulus for a moment longer, but he didn't look up. Sirius, however, caught her hesitation. "Don't waste your energy, Kitten," he said as he strode ahead. "Trust me on this one."

Hermione sighed, following James into their usual compartment, but before she could settle in, she remembered. "Oh, hang on!" she said, turning to James and Remus. "We're supposed to go to the front of the train. Prefect meeting."

James groaned, slumping into his seat for just a moment before dragging himself up. "Right. Head Boy duties. How could I forget?"

Sirius raised an eyebrow, looking scandalised. "You're all ditching me?" he said dramatically. "Leaving me alone to fend for myself?"

"You've got Peter," Remus said with a mild twitch of lips.

Peter crossed his arms indignantly. "What am I, chopped liver?"

Sirius grumbled, muttering something about betrayal, but waved them off. "Fine, go do your boring Head Student and prefect things."

The prefects' compartment was buzzing with quiet chatter when the three of them arrived. All eyes turned to the new Head Students as they stepped in. Hermione could practically feel the weight of the stares and whispers. Lily Evans was already there, seated near the front, and her expression was a mixture of surprise and faint displeasure as Remus went to sit down by her side. Hermione caught the faint sound of Lily's voice, muttering to herself, "Well, that makes sense." But when her gaze shifted to James, her jaw tightened. "Head Boy," she murmured, clearly incredulous. "Unbelievable. I thought for sure it would be Goldstein from Ravenclaw."

Jacob Goldstein for his part did not comment on it.

Hermione tried to diffuse the tension with a light-hearted joke. "Let's not get into Professor Dumbledore's decision-making process, alright? We've got an agenda to get through."

The room settled slightly, though Hermione could still feel the resistance from some of the prefects. She and James hadn't been prefects before, which made their appointments to Head Girl and Head Boy unconventional, to say the least.

Just as Hermione was about to start the meeting, the door slid open, and Regulus Black stepped in. Her breath hitched. She hadn't even realised last year that he was a prefect. Their eyes met briefly, his expression unreadable, before he quietly took a seat with the other Slytherin prefects. Not a word, not a glance betrayed anything.

Hermione cleared her throat and pushed forward, focusing on the task at hand. "Alright, let's get started. First, patrol schedules for the train and the first week of term." She quickly outlined the shifts, pairing experienced prefects with the newer fifth years. Slowly but surely, the mood in the compartment shifted as Hermione's organised and authoritative tone commanded attention. The murmurs of doubt faded.

She moved seamlessly to the next topics: school year schedules, Hogsmeade weekends, Quidditch match dates, and other major events. She assigned the fifth-year prefects the task of escorting the first years to their common rooms after the feast and distributed the passwords for each house.

By the time the meeting ended, even the sceptical prefects seemed impressed. James, for his part, leaned back casually, flashing his trademark grin as the prefects filtered out.

"See?" he said, nudging Hermione lightly. "You've got this. I think you were born for this role."

She smiled faintly, her gaze flicking toward Regulus as he exited the compartment, still silent and composed. Whatever his reasons, he was keeping his distance.

Hermione shook off the thought and turned back to James. "Let's just hope the rest of the year goes this smoothly."

James laughed, slinging an arm around her shoulders as they made their way back to their compartment. "Don't jinx it, Kitten. We've still got Sirius to deal with."

As Hermione and James slid the door open to their usual compartment, Sirius was already pacing, a picture of exaggerated impatience. The moment the door opened, his head snapped up, and his grey eyes locked onto Remus, who followed behind Hermione and James, looking mildly amused.

"There you are!" Sirius exclaimed, throwing his arms up dramatically. He immediately crossed the compartment, stopping directly in front of Remus. "I've been abandoned for ages—left to suffer alone while you were off doing... prefect things."

Remus raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching in amusement. "Sirius, I've been gone for an hour."

"An hour too long," Sirius shot back, gripping Remus by the lapels of his robes and pulling him closer. Before anyone could say a word, Sirius kissed him soundly, the kind of kiss that made Peter choke on the sweet he was eating.

"Sirius!" James groaned, covering his face with his hands. "Could you not?"

Hermione burst into laughter, sitting down beside James and shaking her head. "Don't bother, James. You know he lives for the theatrics."

When Sirius finally pulled back, he grinned like he'd won a prize, leaving Remus looking mildly flustered. "What?" Sirius asked, looking entirely unapologetic as he flopped down onto the seat next to Remus and threw an arm around his shoulders. "I missed him. You lot can survive watching a bit of romance."

Remus sighed, adjusting his slightly crumpled robes. "I've been in the same meeting as Hermione and James this entire time."

"Doesn't matter," Sirius replied airily. "You weren't here, were you? And now you are."

Peter, who was still recovering from his earlier coughing fit, scowled. "Honestly, do you have to? We're trapped in here with you two, you know."

Sirius smirked, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "Oh, Wormtail, don't be bitter. Someday, you'll have someone who snogs you senseless after an hour apart."

"Doubt it," Peter muttered, stuffing another sweet into his mouth.

James leaned back, shaking his head as he glanced at Hermione. "And people think we're the ridiculous ones."

Hermione smiled, resting her head against James's shoulder. "Oh, don't worry. They've set the bar so high, I think we're safe."

Even though Hermione had spent the past six weeks mentally preparing herself for their new living situation, the reality of it hit her with a strange sense of surrealism. After stepping into Gryffindor Tower, instead of parting ways at the usual staircases leading to the boys' and girls' dormitories, she and James turned toward a door in the corner of the common room—a door she realised, with some amazement, she had never even noticed in all her years at Hogwarts.

The door opened to reveal a smaller, private common room that felt more like a cosy living room than anything else. A plush couch and a pair of armchairs surrounded a small coffee table in the centre, while a tiny kitchenette with polished counters stood tucked into the left-hand corner. Warm, golden light filtered in from a high, enchanted window from the right, casting a soft glow over the space.

Hermione paused in the doorway, taking it all in. "This is… different," she said, her voice a little awestruck.

James stepped in beside her, his grin boyish as he dropped his bag near the couch. "Not bad, eh? Cosy. Practical. Definitely better than dormitory chaos."

Her gaze swept across the room to the three doors situated along the curved wall directly ahead. James pointed them out casually. "Middle one's the bathroom. Right one's my room. Left one's yours. Figured you'd want to be close to your caffeine supply."

Hermione nodded absently, stepping further into the room to inspect her surroundings. Everything felt so intimate and unfamiliar at the same time. With a deep breath, she crossed to the door on the left and pushed it open, revealing a small but comfortable bedroom.

The room was furnished in the typical Hogwarts style, with a four-poster bed draped in crimson and gold hangings, a desk with a neatly polished top, and a few shelves for books and personal items. A cosy rug softened the stone floor, and an enchanted lantern on the desk cast a warm glow across the space.

Hermione set her trunk down at the foot of the bed, smoothing her hands over the fabric of her robes. She could hear James moving about in the room next door, the muffled creak of his own bed frame and the shuffle of his belongings breaking the quiet.

"Alright over there?" James called after a moment, his voice carrying easily through the walls.

"Yes," Hermione replied, sitting on the edge of the bed and looking around once more. "It's just… surreal, isn't it? This is where we'll live for the year."

James poked his head out of his door, his glasses slightly askew and his grin ever-present. "It's not too late to switch if you want the room with better light."

Hermione rolled her eyes, a faint smile tugging at her lips. "This is fine, thanks."

"Good," he said with a wink, retreating into his own space. "We'll make it work, Kitten. Just you watch."

Hermione leaned back on her hands, letting herself absorb the surreal reality of her situation. Sharing this private space with James was something she had prepared herself for over the summer, but living it was a completely different matter. This wasn't just about being Head Girl and Head Boy—it was about navigating their relationship in a setting that felt almost domestic. The small shared common room with its cosy couch and kitchenette wasn't just a workspace for their duties—it was their home within the castle walls.

She could hear James humming cheerfully to himself in the room on the other side with the door ajar, the muffled sound bringing a small smile to her lips. For all her mental preparation, she hadn't fully accounted for the shift in dynamics. At Potter Manor, they'd shared a semblance of space, but clear boundaries had always existed. Separate en-suite bathrooms, for instance, and the omnipresent Tilly, whose ability to appear at the most inconvenient—or perfectly timed—moments ensured that any display of affection remained innocent. Here, those barriers didn't exist.

Sure, they had separate bedrooms, but the shared bathroom was a glaring reminder of how different this arrangement was. It became obvious as Hermione gathered her toiletries and pyjamas, fully intending to claim the shower—only to hear the water running.

James had beaten her to it.

She sighed and flopped onto the couch to wait her turn. In the girls' dormitory, this sort of thing was normal; waiting out a bathroom queue was a routine part of sharing a space with four other girls. Sharing with just one person—one other person who happened to be James Potter—should have been easier to manage.

Except James wasn't just anyone, and he was very much not one of her roommates from the girls' dorm.

The thought had barely settled in her mind when the bathroom door creaked open, releasing a cloud of steam into the common room. Hermione froze as James stepped out, casually rubbing his damp hair with a towel, another slung low around his waist. His grin was as easy as ever, completely oblivious to the things running through her mind at the sight of his toned abs.

"Bathroom's all yours," he said casually, rubbing his head with another towel, completely unfazed by her wide-eyed stare.

Hermione's cheeks flamed as she scrambled to her feet, clutching her pyjamas and toiletries like a lifeline as she bolted past him. "Thanks," she squeaked, her voice an octave higher than usual.

James chuckled as he made his way to his room. "Relax, Kitten. It's just me."

Hermione didn't respond, slipping into the bathroom and closing the door a little harder than she intended. She leaned against it, willing her face to cool and her heartbeat to slow. Sharing a space might not be entirely new, but it was definitely going to take some getting used to.

As she turned the shower on, she could faintly hear James whistling from his room, completely unbothered. Hermione shook her head, muttering under her breath, "This is going to be a long year."

The morning didn't prove to be any easier for Hermione. Last night, she'd managed to avoid further embarrassment by darting from the bathroom to her room in her pyjamas without encountering James. Her face had still been warm as she climbed into bed, resolving to keep her dignity intact from here on out.

Now, as the early light seeped through the curtains of her room, Hermione was determined to make a better go of things. She wasn't going to risk stepping out into the common room in anything less than her full uniform. Taking her time, she brushed her hair, fastened her tie, and adjusted the pleats of her skirt before taking a deep breath and heading for the door.

When she stepped out, however, any semblance of composure she'd built up promptly vanished.

James sauntered out of the bathroom at the same moment, wearing nothing but flannel pyjama bottoms and a snug white T-shirt that clung to his shoulders in a way that was undeniably distracting. His hair was a damp mess, probably in an attempt to style it, but as usual, sticking up in every direction, and he was still brushing his teeth, the toothbrush hanging lazily from his mouth.

"Morning, Kitten," he mumbled around the toothbrush, his tone far too casual for someone walking around half-dressed.

Hermione froze mid-step, her eyes darting to the ceiling as if pleading for patience. "Morning," she said, her voice clipped as she forced herself to walk calmly to the kitchenette.

James leaned against the arm of the couch, watching her with amusement as he continued brushing his teeth. "Sleep well?" he asked, his words muffled but his grin unmistakable.

"Yes, fine, thank you," she replied briskly, busying herself with pouring a glass of pumpkin juice. Anything to keep her focus away from him. She could feel his gaze on her, and it was maddening.

"Good, good," James said, retreating to his room with a nonchalant wave. "Don't take too long. Breakfast waits for no witch."

Hermione let out a long breath as soon as his door closed. Living with James Potter, she decided, was going to require an immense amount of patience and possibly an iron will to maintain her sanity. She took a sip of her juice, steeling herself for what she suspected was just the first of many mornings like this.

There was a quiet tension in the air when Hermione made her way down to breakfast in the Great Hall. She could feel it the moment she stepped into the large room—the way her housemates' chatter hushed slightly as she passed, the sidelong glances, the shared looks exchanged between the girls at the Gryffindor table. It didn't take a genius to figure out what they were all thinking.

Sliding into her usual spot, Hermione greeted the group with a cautious smile. Lily glanced up briefly from her plate, offering a half-hearted "Good morning," though her tone lacked its usual warmth. Marlene and Mary didn't say much either, and Alice gave Hermione a small, supportive smile, but even that carried a hint of awkwardness.

It was clear what this was about. Everyone had been anticipating Lily to be made Head Girl. It was the natural assumption—she'd been a prefect for two years, was incredibly responsible, and had all the qualities one would expect from a Head Girl. But Dumbledore, in his infinite unpredictability, had chosen Hermione instead.

And James as Head Boy.

No one had seen that coming.

"So," Marlene finally broke the silence, her fork paused mid-air as she gave Hermione a measured look. "Head Girl, huh?"

Hermione nodded, her smile tight. "Yeah. Bit of a surprise, really."

"James is Head Boy," Mary added, as though that explained everything. "I mean, I get it. With you two being engaged and all, the living situation makes sense. But still…"

"It's not like anyone expected James to be Head Boy either," Marlene pointed out, her tone hovering somewhere between incredulous and teasing. "I would've bet good Galleons it would've been that Ravenclaw prefect—what's his name? Joseph?"

Lily finally looked up, her expression carefully neutral. "Well, Hermione being Head Girl makes sense," she said quietly. "She's… logical. Organised. Brilliant, really."

The words were kind, but there was a distinct coolness behind them. Hermione shifted uncomfortably, her gaze flicking to her plate.

"But James?" Lily continued, shaking her head slightly as though trying to process it. "I mean, he's improved. He's matured a lot. But Head Boy?"

"It's Dumbledore's decision," Hermione said, her voice steady but light, trying to defuse the tension. "Let's not try to dissect his reasoning too much. It's not like we'll ever figure it out anyway."

Alice chuckled softly, nodding. "That's true. Dumbledore's always been a bit… unorthodox."

"Unorthodox is putting it mildly," Marlene muttered, though there was a trace of amusement in her tone now.

Hermione glanced at Lily, who was pushing her food around her plate with a fork. "Lily…" she began, hesitating for a moment. "If it means anything, I think you would've been an excellent choice for Head Girl."

Lily blinked, looking up at her. For a moment, something flickered in her expression—surprise, gratitude, perhaps even regret. But then she nodded, her lips curving into a small, genuine smile. "Thanks, Hermione. That does mean something."

Hermione let out a breath she hadn't realised she was holding. The tension wasn't entirely gone, but it had eased enough for the conversation to shift into safer territory. As they returned to lighter topics, she caught Alice giving her an encouraging nod, and for the first time that morning, Hermione felt like maybe things would settle down. Eventually.

Of course, James decided to show up just then, running late as usual. Bit ironic, given that he had been the one who told her that breakfast didn't wait for anyone. His hair was still its usual mess, sticking up in every direction, and his tie hung loose around his neck as though he hadn't even attempted to do it properly. He sauntered over to the Gryffindor table with his signature confidence, dropping into the seat beside Hermione with a wide grin, and a quick kiss to her cheek.

"Morning, ladies," he greeted, grabbing a piece of toast from the tray and biting into it before Hermione could even offer him a proper good morning. "What'd I miss?"

The tension that had started to dissipate earlier seemed to ripple back into the group as James's arrival drew every eye to him. Hermione stifled a groan. Of all mornings to make an entrance, he had to choose this one.

"Not much," Marlene said dryly, raising an eyebrow. "Just trying to wrap our heads around the fact that you're Head Boy, Captain."

James grinned wider, leaning back in his seat as though he were being congratulated. "Surprising, isn't it? But Dumbledore clearly has excellent taste."

Lily let out a noise that sounded suspiciously like a scoff, though she quickly disguised it with a sip of pumpkin juice. "Taste is one way to put it," she muttered under her breath.

James's grin faltered slightly, his gaze darting to Hermione as though looking for reassurance. She gave him a small, supportive smile and reached under the table to squeeze his hand.

"Well," Alice said quickly, trying to smooth over the moment, "congratulations, James. And you too, Hermione. It's… a unique pairing, for sure."

"Unique?" James repeated, looking mock-offended. "Try legendary. Gryffindor's power couple, ruling the school. Right, Kitten?"

Hermione rolled her eyes at the nickname, but her lips twitched into a smile despite herself. "Let's just focus on doing the job, shall we?" she said, her tone a mix of fondness and exasperation.

"Of course," James said, straightening up and giving a mock-serious nod. "As your Head Boy, I solemnly swear to take this responsibility very seriously."

Lily finally turned to face him fully, her green eyes narrowing. "Oh, really? Because the last time I saw you take something seriously was… well, never."

James opened his mouth to retort, but Hermione cut in, her tone firm but light. "Alright, let's not start a debate at breakfast. We've got a busy day ahead, and we'll need all the energy we can get."

Lily sighed, shaking her head, but there was a flicker of amusement in her expression. Marlene leaned closer to Alice, whispering something that made them both giggle, and the tension that had threatened to settle again began to ease once more.

James, clearly oblivious to the earlier discomfort, leaned over to nudge Hermione. "See? We're already making waves. I told you this year was going to be brilliant."

Hermione just shook her head, hiding her smile behind her goblet of juice. Brilliant, indeed. Or, more likely, chaotic. But with James at her side, she supposed she wouldn't have it any other way.

The late morning sun streamed into the Charms classroom as Professor Flitwick stood atop his stack of books at the front of the room, his tiny hands clasped together with excitement. "This year, for those of you seeking extra credit—or simply a challenge—I am offering the opportunity to learn the Patronus Charm." His voice carried an air of anticipation that had the class leaning forward in interest.

"The Patronus is an advanced defensive spell," Flitwick continued. "Difficult to master, but exceptionally powerful against creatures like Dementors. It requires focus and a particularly strong happy memory."

The students exchanged glances, murmurs rippling through the classroom. Even Sirius and James looked intrigued, their usual casual slouches straightening slightly.

"We'll start today," Flitwick said with a broad smile. "A simple incantation—Expecto Patronum. But don't be discouraged if you don't succeed immediately. It takes time, even for the most talented witches and wizards."

Hermione glanced at James, who smirked and whispered, "How hard can it be?"

Rolling her eyes, she raised her wand and focused. A strong happy memory…

The image came to her almost immediately: the moment James proposed, the look of sheer determination and love in his eyes as he knelt on one knee. It filled her chest with warmth and a quiet, steady joy.

"Expecto Patronum!" she said firmly, her voice clear.

To everyone's astonishment—including her own—a silvery, shimmering otter burst forth from the tip of her wand, diving and swirling around the classroom. Gasps echoed as the ethereal creature darted through the air, its movements fluid and graceful.

The room fell silent for a beat before Flitwick exclaimed, "Extraordinary! Miss Prewett, that was magnificent! I must say, I've rarely seen such an adept first attempt. Twenty points to Gryffindor."

James leaned closer, his voice a hushed murmur in her ear. "If this is the diadem again, I'm going to hex you."

Hermione shot him a sideways glance, a smirk tugging at her lips. "I'd like you to try."

Sirius, unable to resist, leaned forward and quipped, "An otter, huh? Figures. Otters are part of the weasel family. You know, like ferrets, stoats… ermines." His grin was wide, the picture of mischief.

Before he could say another word, Hermione casually flicked her wand under the table. A nonverbal silencing spell hit Sirius, who opened his mouth only to find no sound emerging. He scowled at her while the rest of the class remained oblivious.

James, watching the silent exchange, chuckled softly. "Well played, Kitten. Well played."

Hermione turned to him with a more contemplative look, voicing her concern in hushed tones. "I always thought Animagus forms and Patroni were usually the same."

James shrugged, his hazel eyes dancing with amusement. "Usually, sure. But you're not exactly usual, are you?"

Hermione sighed but couldn't help the small smile that curved her lips. As the lesson continued, she noticed Sirius gesturing wildly in an attempt to communicate, but she simply ignored him, content to bask in the glow of her unexpected success.

The otter swirled back around her once more before fading into silver mist, leaving a sense of quiet triumph in its wake.

Remus, ever the peacekeeper, finally took pity on Sirius after ten minutes of exaggerated gesturing and pointed looks. With a flick of his wand, he murmured, "Finite Incantatem," releasing Sirius from the silencing spell.

Sirius inhaled deeply, ready to unleash another quip, but Hermione casually wiggled her wand at him, an amused yet unmistakable warning in her eyes. He held up his hands in mock surrender, muttering, "Alright, alright," before turning his attention to the task at hand.

He lifted his wand, clearly determined to get some sort of result after Hermione's success. "Expecto Patronum!" Sirius's voice rang out, confident as ever, but all that emerged from his wand was the faintest wisp of silvery smoke.

James snorted, patting Sirius on the back. "Not bad, mate. Maybe next time it'll resemble something other than a puff of steam."

"Oh, very funny, Prongs," Sirius shot back, though his grin remained intact. "Let's see you do better."

James shrugged, raising his own wand. "Expecto Patronum!" A faint, shapeless mist swirled around the tip of his wand, dissipating almost as quickly as it appeared.

"See? Told you." Sirius smirked triumphantly, but the mirth in his eyes showed he wasn't taking it too seriously.

Across the room, Lily managed a more substantial wisp, her forehead creased in concentration. "I think I almost had it," she muttered to no one in particular, frowning slightly as she examined her wand.

By the end of the lesson, only a handful of students had managed even the faintest glimmers of silver, James and Lily among them. But Hermione remained the only one to produce a fully corporeal Patronus. Her otter had long since disappeared, but the feat still lingered in the air, casting an unspoken challenge over the room.

Professor Flitwick clapped his hands to get the class's attention. "An excellent first attempt, everyone! The Patronus Charm is not something mastered in a single lesson, so don't be discouraged if you didn't achieve the results you hoped for today."

He cast a quick glance at Hermione, a proud twinkle in his eye. "As you've seen, a strong memory is the key. Now, we won't be practicing this charm during regular lessons going forward, but my office door is always open if anyone needs guidance. For those pursuing the extra credit, simply demonstrate the charm to me once you've mastered it."

With a wave of his hand, Flitwick dismissed the class, and the students began gathering their belongings, buzzing with chatter about the challenging spell.

As they walked out of the classroom, Sirius leaned toward Hermione, an exaggerated pout on his face. "Next time, warn me before you curse me, Kitten. I could've had a brilliant comeback."

Hermione raised an eyebrow, her lips twitching into a smirk. "Sirius, I'm just doing my part to keep the peace."

Remus snorted, shaking his head. "You mean keeping him quiet."

"Same thing," Hermione quipped, earning a chuckle from James, who slung an arm around her shoulders.

"Well," Sirius said dramatically, "the challenge is officially on. Just you wait, my Patronus is going to be spectacular. Something powerful. Majestic."

"Like what?" James teased. "A puffin?"

"Watch it, Potter," Sirius shot back, though his grin never faltered.

As they made their way down the corridor, Hermione couldn't help but feel a small swell of pride. She'd earned her spot at the top of the class once again, and even Sirius couldn't ruin her moment. Not that he wouldn't try.

The meeting started as any other Head Student discussion might. Hermione and James sat across from Dumbledore in his grand office, its usual clutter of curious artefacts humming faintly in the background. Fawkes sat perched on his stand, preening his fiery feathers, the gentle glow adding warmth to the room.

Dumbledore folded his hands atop the desk, his sharp blue eyes twinkling. "Ah, Miss Prewett, Mr Potter. How are you finding your new roles as Head Students?"

"Busy," James replied with a grin. "But manageable. Hermione's the real brains behind the operation."

Hermione rolled her eyes, though a small smile tugged at her lips. "It's going well, Professor. We're getting the prefects into a proper routine and finalising the plans for the first Hogsmeade weekend."

"Excellent, excellent," Dumbledore said, his tone light. "I've no doubt the two of you will manage splendidly. Now, onto more pressing matters…"

His tone shifted subtly, and Hermione immediately caught the change. James straightened slightly in his chair, and Hermione leaned forward, her attention fully focused.

"I trust you've been… observant over the summer?" Dumbledore continued, his words carefully chosen.

Hermione exchanged a glance with James before nodding. "We've been looking into Tom Riddle's past, Professor."

Dumbledore inclined his head, his gaze unreadable. "And what have you uncovered?"

Hermione launched into a summary of their visit to Wool's Orphanage. "We spoke to the staff there under the guise of researching family history. They confirmed what we suspected—Tom Riddle was… unsettling, even as a child. They spoke of strange incidents: a dead rabbit, children terrified after a trip to a seaside cave. He was manipulative, cruel, but clever enough to hide it when necessary."

Dumbledore's expression darkened slightly, though he nodded. "Yes, those were behaviours I observed myself when I first met the boy. Please, continue."

"We confirmed his parentage," James added. "His mother was Merope Gaunt, and his father, Tom Riddle Sr., was a Muggle. Apparently, his mother died shortly after his birth, and his father abandoned her while she was pregnant."

Hermione hesitated before continuing. "We wanted to investigate the Riddle family further—where they lived, what happened to them—but we didn't get that far before term started."

Dumbledore steepled his fingers, his gaze thoughtful. "I believe that particular line of inquiry may be unnecessary. As Chief Warlock, I have access to magical records that may yield more immediate results. I will personally follow up on the Gaunt family on this end."

Hermione nodded slowly, relief and frustration warring within her. "That would make sense. But we think the seaside trip might be significant. We couldn't find records of outings that far back, but perhaps the orphanage still uses the same location for their summer trips. We thought it might give us a starting point."

Dumbledore's eyes gleamed with interest. "An intriguing lead. If you are able to uncover more, it could indeed be relevant. Signifying a place where he was able to exert his will onto others."

Hermione hesitated, glancing between James and Dumbledore before adding, "Professor, I have to ask… appointing us as Head Students—it wasn't just about school, was it?"

She had honestly thought they would be stonewalled all through seventh year, but here they were discussing the Horcrux issue again.

Dumbledore's expression softened, the faintest of smiles tugging at his lips. "Very perceptive, Miss Prewett. While I have every confidence in your abilities to lead the student body, this arrangement does provide us with a discreet means to collaborate. The Head Students meeting regularly with the staff is hardly cause for suspicion."

James let out a low whistle. "Sneaky, Professor. I like it."

Dumbledore chuckled, though his tone turned grave once more. "We are working against a formidable foe. Every step forward is invaluable, no matter how small it may seem. I urge you both to proceed with caution, but I trust in your judgment."

Hermione and James exchanged a determined glance. "We'll do our best, Professor," Hermione said.

Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, his fingers steepled as he regarded James and Hermione with a calm intensity. The firelight danced in his eyes, casting fleeting shadows across his lined face.

"There is one more thing I feel it is time to share," he began, his voice low but steady. "With the escalation of Voldemort's activities, I have taken it upon myself to organise a resistance. A group of like-minded witches and wizards dedicated to countering his forces."

James leaned forward, his hazel eyes bright with curiosity and determination. "A resistance? Like a secret group?"

Dumbledore nodded, a faint smile playing on his lips. "Indeed. It is called the Order of the Phoenix."

Hermione's breath caught, the name resonating deeply with her. "The Order of the Phoenix," she repeated, her voice barely above a whisper. "You're building an organised front against him."

"Precisely," Dumbledore said. "It is not enough to merely react to Voldemort's attacks. We must be proactive, a beacon of hope and strength in the face of his tyranny."

James's jaw set, his usual light-hearted demeanour replaced by a rare seriousness. "You can count on us, sir. We'll join."

Hermione placed a hand on James's arm, her gaze meeting Dumbledore's. "But we still have school. And... if we join, won't that make us targets? Wouldn't that be counterproductive to secretly searching for Voldemort's Horcruxes?"

Dumbledore's expression softened, his voice carrying a paternal tone. "I would not ask you to put yourselves in danger while still under my care. However, after graduation, I would be honoured to welcome you both into the Order."

Hermione nodded slowly, the weight of his words settling in her chest. "You're giving us time to prepare," she realised. "Time to train, to learn."

"Precisely, Miss Prewett," Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling faintly. "You have both shown remarkable courage and resourcefulness. I believe you will be invaluable to the cause when the time comes."

James's lips quirked into a grin. "Don't worry, Professor. We'll be ready."

"I have no doubt," Dumbledore said, his gaze warm but firm. "For now, focus on your duties as Head Students. The school needs unity in times like these, and the two of you are in a position to foster that. Due to your position you will most likely be able to hear and see a lot of the comings and goings of Hogwarts, I'd like you to report anything out of ordinary to me."

As they rose to leave, Hermione hesitated at the door, looking back at Dumbledore. "Thank you, sir. For trusting us with this."

"It is I who should thank you," Dumbledore replied, his voice tinged with pride. "Your efforts, no matter how small they may seem, are part of something far greater. Remember that."

As they stepped into the corridor, the weight of the conversation settled over them. James slipped an arm around Hermione's shoulders, pulling her close.

"The Order of the Phoenix," he murmured, a small, determined smile on his lips. "Sounds like our kind of club."

Hermione glanced up at him, her expression a mixture of worry and resolve. "We'll need to make it through this year first."

"And we will," James said firmly. "Together."

As they left the office, Hermione felt a strange mix of responsibility and reassurance settle over her. For the first time, she truly understood the weight of their roles—not just as Head Students, but as pieces in a much larger, more dangerous game.

The next day, the morning air in the Great Hall was heavy with the usual mix of chatter and the aroma of breakfast. Hermione sat beside James, absentmindedly sipping her tea while going over the day's schedule in her head. The quiet rhythm of their morning was interrupted by the arrival of the owl post. Hundreds of birds swooped down, delivering letters, packages, and newspapers.

Hermione reached for the Daily Prophet that landed in front of her. She had barely unfolded it when her stomach sank. The front page bore bold, ominous headlines:

"MASSACRE IN MUGGLEBOROUGH: DEATH EATER ATTACK LEAVES TOWN IN RUINS"

She skimmed the article, her heart pounding. Words like "unprovoked," "Dark Mark," and "no survivors" leapt out at her. Her knuckles whitened as she gripped the paper tightly.

"James," she said, her voice low and urgent, passing the paper to him. "Read this."

James's hazel eyes darkened as he scanned the article. "Bloody hell," he muttered. His usual light-hearted demeanour was gone, replaced by a grim seriousness. He passed the paper to Sirius, who had been mid-conversation with Remus, and the words caught the attention of the entire table.

"What happened?" Lily asked, leaning forward from across the table.

"Death Eaters," Hermione replied, her voice clipped. "They attacked a Muggle village. Left no one alive."

The murmurs around the Gryffindor table began to swell as more students caught sight of the headlines. Across the hall, uneasy whispers were spreading. Students leaned in to read over their classmates' shoulders or exchanged anxious looks.

Sirius let out a low growl, tossing the paper onto the table. "They're escalating. This isn't just intimidation anymore. This is outright murder."

"Why that village?" Remus asked, his tone measured but tense. "Do they even say why?"

Hermione shook her head. "No. But knowing them, it probably wasn't for any reason other than sending a message."

James's hand clenched into a fist on the table. "We can't just sit here."

"And what would you have us do, Prongs?" Sirius demanded, his voice sharp but not unkind. "We're stuck in this castle."

"Organise," Hermione suggested, her voice steady despite the turmoil in her chest. "Keep our eyes open, stay informed. The Order—" She caught herself, lowering her voice. "The adults are out there, but we can be ready for when we graduate."

Lily, who had been quiet, finally spoke. "It's not just Muggleborns who'll be scared by this," she said softly. "This kind of violence—it affects everyone."

"And that's exactly what they want," Remus murmured. "To divide, to scare, to make people paranoid."

The Hall, meanwhile, buzzed with uneasy tension. Some students were quietly reading, while others whispered furiously, their faces pale. Over at the Slytherin table, there were a few smirks exchanged, though some faces—like Regulus Black's—were carefully neutral.

"Look at them," Sirius muttered, his eyes fixed on the Slytherins. "Probably celebrating."

"Not all of them," Hermione said quietly, her gaze flicking briefly to Regulus. He was staring down at his plate, untouched food in front of him, his expression a mask of indifference.

James sighed heavily, standing abruptly. "Come on," he said to Hermione, "we need to keep people calm. Let's see what we can do."

They left the Great Hall together, their footsteps echoing in the silent corridors as they headed toward their first prefect meeting of the year. It wasn't just about patrol schedules anymore. The atmosphere had shifted. Hogwarts felt like it was holding its breath.

A few days later, the Gryffindor common room buzzed with chatter as students settled in after classes. Sirius sprawled dramatically across one of the couches near the fire, his arms behind his head, looking smug yet exasperated. James sat opposite him, his arms crossed and his brow furrowed in a mix of frustration and disbelief. Hermione perched in an armchair nearby, a book open in her lap, though she clearly wasn't reading it.

"You're doing what?" James demanded, his voice tinged with affront.

"I'm removing myself from the Quidditch team," Sirius repeated lazily, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Effective immediately. Consider it my resignation."

James looked utterly scandalised. "You're resigning? You can't just resign! You're my Beater! Do you know how long it took me to replace you last year when you were recovering? I thought that was temporary!"

"Exactly," Sirius said, sitting up and leaning forward. "Temporary. I was always planning to come back… until now."

Hermione tilted her head, her curiosity piqued. "What's changed?"

Sirius smirked. "Marlene told me—well, Marlene heard from some Ravenclaw who's dating a Slytherin—"

"Oh, this is going to be reliable," James muttered, earning a pointed look from Hermione.

"—that dear old Reggie is the new Seeker for the Slytherin team," Sirius finished, ignoring James's interruption.

James blinked, his frustration giving way to surprise. "Regulus? Seeker? Since when?"

"Since this year, apparently," Sirius said, leaning back and folding his arms. "And I can't, in good conscience, stay on the team knowing that I'll be up against him. Because—and I say this with absolute honesty—I cannot be held accountable for my actions when it comes to my brother."

Hermione closed her book, a small smile tugging at her lips. "That's… actually surprisingly self-aware of you."

"Thank you, Kitten," Sirius said, grinning triumphantly.

"I wasn't finished," she said, raising a hand. "Self-aware, yes. But you could also just, I don't know, exercise some self-control?"

"Self-control is overrated," Sirius replied breezily. "Besides, this is me exercising self-control. By removing myself from the situation entirely."

James threw his hands up. "Great. Fantastic. So now I need to find another Beater. Again. And this time, it's not because you're cursed, it's because you're—what? Too emotionally fragile to play against your brother?"

"Exactly!" Sirius said, pointing a finger at James. "See? You're getting it."

James groaned, running a hand through his hair. "Unbelievable."

Hermione, on the other hand, leaned back in her chair, her arms crossed and an amused glint in her eye. "I actually think it's a good decision."

"What?" James looked at her, incredulous.

"It's called character development," Hermione said, her tone light but teasing. "Sirius is recognising his own limitations and acting accordingly. I think it's quite mature."

"Thank you!" Sirius exclaimed, gesturing toward Hermione as if she'd just proven his point.

James slumped back in his chair, looking defeated. "I don't believe this. First, I have to deal with losing my best Beater, and now I have to listen to him being praised for it."

"Well," Hermione said with a smirk, "maybe if you weren't so busy being affronted, you'd have time to find a replacement."

"I liked you better before you were Head Girl," James muttered, though the corner of his mouth twitched with reluctant amusement.

Hermione only laughed, opening her book again as Sirius threw an arm around James's shoulders, pulling him into a playful headlock.

"Cheer up, Prongs," Sirius said. "You'll find someone new. And hey, maybe I'll still come to practices. For moral support."

"Don't," James grumbled. "Your version of moral support usually involves heckling."

"Exactly," Sirius said with a grin. "Best kind of support there is."

Remus, who had been sitting quietly in the corner of the common room with a book in his lap, finally spoke up, his calm voice cutting through the playful bickering. "So, does this mean you'll actually have more time for me now, instead of going to practices you weren't even playing in?"

Sirius whipped his head around to look at him, mock offence written all over his face. "Excuse me? I was attending practices as moral support! That's a vital role, Moony."

Remus raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "Vital, was it? Sitting on the sidelines, making fun of the Chasers' technique, and distracting James every chance you got?"

Sirius smirked, undeterred. "Exactly. Someone has to keep them humble."

James groaned. "Yeah, and we definitely didn't ask for it."

Ignoring James's interjection, Sirius turned back to Remus. "Besides, it's not like you were exactly free during those times. Between patrols, prefect meetings, and all that studying you insist on doing, I was lucky to catch you for a few stolen moments in the evenings."

Remus gave him a knowing look, the ghost of a smile playing on his lips. "I think you're confusing me being unavailable with you being too busy to notice when I was."

Hermione let out a soft laugh, unable to resist chiming in. "He has a point, Sirius. You can't exactly blame him for your packed social calendar."

Sirius threw up his hands dramatically, leaning back against the couch. "Fine. You've all ganged up on me. I'll admit defeat. But mark my words," he said, pointing at Remus, "now that I've 'freed up my schedule,' don't you dare try to avoid me, Moony."

Remus chuckled softly, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "I wouldn't dream of it. Besides, it might be nice to have a bit more time with you, even if it's just to stop you from bothering the rest of the team."

James snorted, shaking his head. "Good luck with that. Sirius bothering people isn't a habit; it's his calling."

"Don't be jealous, Prongs," Sirius said with a cheeky grin. "There's plenty of me to go around."

Hermione rolled her eyes, closing her book with a sharp snap. "You lot are impossible. It's a wonder anything ever gets done around here."

James muttered something about "traitorous best friends" under his breath, but even he couldn't keep the smile off his face. Remus simply shook his head, looking resigned but fond as Sirius leaned over and stole the book from his hands, clearly deciding that teasing him was far more interesting than anything written on the page.