Chapter Five - The Defence Squad

Hermione

Hermione's spellwork was so good that it completely blocked out any noise from the girls in her dorm. The castle could have been torn apart, brick by brick, and she wouldn't have noticed. As it was, she was essentially slapped in the face by sound the moment she parted the fabric. Lavendar Brown was weeping on the floor and Parvati was comforting her.

Hermione felt like a Spector, peering down her nose at the other girls, but the angle they were sat at made it hard to appear as anything else. "Who is it this time?" She asked.

Parvati Patil rolled her eyes at Hermione, but Lavendar didn't take it as an insult. "Cormac McLaggen!" She wailed. "I just don't understand! He says he's too old for me."

Hermione pinched her lips. "Well, I think that's a bit high-and-mighty of him."

"I know!" Lavendar exclaimed. And Parvati, for once, was not shooting glares at Hermione. Apparently she'd said the right thing. So she tried again.

"Give it a few years, Lavendar," She said, putting her feet out of her warm sanctuary and finding her slippers on the cold floor. "This will all feel like a bad dream then."

"That's easy for you to say," Lavendar sniffed. "You already know who you're going to marry."

Hermione almost tripped. "Excuse me?" she asked.

Parvati, as politely as one could, put a hand over her best friend's mouth. "You told Lavendar and I last year that relationships are most successful between people who have good friendships. So, we figure it's just a matter of time before you choose between Ron and Harry."

"Oh," Hermione said, a little mad at herself that she'd said that in the first place. "Well… yes, that's true. But that's not an imminent decision and it's not guaranteed that I'll end up with either. I could find someone very nice for me somewhere else."

Both girl's attentions were shifting towards her. Hermione groaned inwardly. At least Lavendar wasn't crying anymore.

"Who would you rather right now?" Lavendar asked. "If you had to pick tomorrow, who'd you go with?"

"I… I'm not sure. Why?"

"Because you and Ron have been speaking more this year," Lavendar said, "But he's been at ends with you the past two years. And I know you believe Harry's story-" Hermione fumed. "-But I think having your name beside his in the press would drive you crazy."

"I don't mind having my name in the press one bit so long as they're reporting accurately and not chalking me up to being just his wife or girlfriend or… whatever." Hermione folded her arms. "I'd just rather they report on me and what I'm doing. Not who I'm with."

"I don't know what would drive you more crazy," Parvati said. "Harry in the press or Ron's goals."

"Ron doesn't have very many goals," Hermione frowned, trying to list them all. Become keeper… survive school…

"Exactly," Parvati deadpanned. Hermione felt her face go red. Though she couldn't exactly fault Parvati.

"It would probably become a drag to you," Parvati continued. "You're always running off to your next thing. Ready to create your next S.P.E.W. Ron's happy to take things as they come and ride out the good times. You'd probably begin to feel as if you were pulling a caboose."

"But with Harry, there's too much competition," Lavendar said. "No matter what you do, he's always got a leg up on some cool thing to do. You could invent a new potion, but he survived the dark lord." Then, after a pause as she itched a spot on her ankle, she said, "Crookshanks likes Harry though. Not Ron." As if Crookshanks could make the decision for Hermione.

"I see you both have been brushing up on your Divination," Hermione drawled. Though, she couldn't entirely fault their logic. "Who would you put me with?"

"Ron," Lavendar said at the same time as Parvati's "Harry".

The two stared at each other, as if shocked they'd spoken differently. Then Lavendar shrugged. "The odds are pretty evenly split, actually."

"The odds?" Hermione snorted.

"Almost everyone in our year has mentioned it," Lavendar said, before Parvati could stop her. "We don't keep track or anything, but even Draco Malfoy has voiced an opinion."

Hermion almost choked on her own tongue. "On me and Harry versus me and Ron?"

"He said you and Harry last year while you and Ron were fighting."

Hermione put a hand to her head. "Alright, I'm getting dressed now." She picked her wand off her nightstand and flicked it towards her chest. A set of robes floated out and placed themselves in her arms. "Places to be, homework to finish. Have a nice morning and good luck with Cormac."

She turned and left the room quickly.

She gave not one thought to the matter as she rushed through getting ready and hurrying down the stairs. She had no idea what time it was and cursed mentally for the umptieth time that her muggle watch wouldn't work in Hogwarts. But when she skidded into the great hall, it was only a quarter full and she realised she was a great deal earlier than she'd feared.

She found Harry and Ron sitting across from each other, playing wizard's chess, and went to hover at Ron's side. She glanced over the game, noting that Harry was about to suffer a loss that surely would be in the four hundred's against Ron (considering how often they'd played this over the years) and admired Harry's humility for being willing to lose that many times.

"Morning," she said to both of them, wondering if Harry would alight again. Both of them were too immersed to do much more than look up and reply though. She took a seat next to Ron and spared him a glance. His robes were clean. He had shaved. He didn't smell all that pleasant, so he must not have showered, but still. And his elbow was near her spot on the table. If she wanted, she could put her arm beside his so their forearms would be touching.

A shadow fell across the table before she could spare another thought. She glanced up. Draco Malfoy was back.

Hermione could count the number of times he'd come by the Gryffindor table on one hand and his facial expression reminded her strongly of the last time, when he'd come to ask her to begin a study group. He must be back for his next crazy plan – or the next stage of his current crazy plan. She straightened up.

Harry and Ron had paused their game to look over at Malfoy. Ron wore his usual look of barely-disguised hatred. Harry's face was entirely neutral. Perhaps he, like Hermione, was unsure of what to make of Malfoy's actions this year.

"Yes, Malfoy?" She asked.

"I'm not here for you, Granger," Malfoy snapped. He scuffed his shoe against the floor and angled his body towards Harry's. Then leaned in. There was a long pause in which Malfoy let his mouth hang open as he searched for the right words. "Potter," he said finally. "Some folks in Slytherin reckon… you could teach one hell of a defence course."

"Poke me with a feather," Hermione thought. "And I'll float away on the breeze."

Harry looked similarly starstruck. "What?" he asked.

"Zabini reckons you could teach one hell of a defence course," Malfoy said. "And Parkinson. And Nott. Though I'm not sure all of them would come."

Harry looked across the table at Hermione and she saw a bit of his temper rising. "Did you put him up to this?" he demanded.

Both she and Malfoy shared momentary looks of shock. "No," she said. "No, no, I didn't."

"As if she could put me up to anything," Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Look, Potter, I don't like you. But it's a subject we all want."

Harry continued staring at Hermione. His eyes bore into her soul. Hermione quailed under his look, wondering if he was going to shout again. Then, finally he shook his head. "They suggested the same thing last night," he admitted to Malfoy in a whisper.

"I wonder why," Malfoy drawled.

Harry fumed, then shook his head. For a moment, Hermione grieved. Then Harry whispered, "I gave it some thought."

Ron seemed a lot more willing to join the conversation once Harry had taken a deep breath. "I thought it was a good idea," he said.

"You did listen to what I said about it being luck, didn't you?" Harry said.

"Rubbish," Malfoy said.

Again, Hermione worried that Malfoy's comment would drive Harry's temper through the roof. Instead, it seemed to soothe him. Harry calmed even further. "I doubt anyone outside of you three would want to be taught by me anyway. I'm a nutter, remember?"

"I think you'd be surprised," Hermione said.

"Did you miss the bit where I got put up to come over here and talk with you about it?" Malfoy asked impatiently. And this raised a very, very good point. Harry's left hand came up and began to mess with his hair as he thought.

"Look," Hermione said. "you know the first weekend in October is a Hogsmeade weekend? How would it be if we tell anyone who's interested to meet us in the village and we can talk it over?"

"Why do we have to do it outside of school?" Ron asked.

"Umbridge," Harry and Malfoy said at the same time. It was the second time they'd spoken over each other in unison and seemed to jar the both of them. Malfoy finished the thought for both of them with a sour look towards Harry. "She doesn't want us to learn defence. That's why she peeks into our study group."

They all sat and looked at Harry until he nodded, very slowly, and said, "Okay. We can give it a shot." Hermione concealed a sigh of relief when he did. Malfoy gave a curt nod and turned to go. Before he could get far, Hermione's brain leaped into action.

"Malfoy?" She said. He glanced over his shoulder. "What do you get out of all of this?"

"Mind your own business, Granger." Malfoy flipped his collar up, like he was mimicking Snape, and stowed away to the Slytherin Table.

"Hog's Head Inn," Harry read. The sign featured a severed boar's head leaking blood onto a tablecloth it was set on. Hermione was glad that the sign wasn't charmed. It was frightening enough as it was.

Harry was not pleased to be here. Nor did he seem any more pleased as they opened the door and the smell of goats hit them. Only three people were in the room. One was a wizard, smoking behind the bar. One was a witch with a dark veil covering her entire body like a dementor. The last was Draco Malfoy, spinning a Galleon on a table in the corner.

"More money than your family's worth, eh Weasley?" he said as they approached. "You're a bloody idiot, Granger."

Insulting Ron's family caused a spike in her ire. Insulting her intelligence was like pouring gasoline on the flame. "Excuse me?" she demanded.

"Let me explain something to you about sound," Malfoy said, as if he were talking to a child. He continued playing with the Galleon, rolling it in between his knuckles and fingers. "It travels."

"Exactly," Hermione said. "No one's here."

"Exactly," Malfoy replied. "Which means everyone can hear you down the street, around the corner, and into the woods." He beckoned the smoking bartender over. "Think of it this way, Granger. How many conversations have you overheard in the Great Hall?"

"I… well…"

"Exactly," Malfoy said again, and Hermione discovered that she really didn't like that word when she wasn't the one using it. "And how many have you overhead in the library?"

Hermione put her lips together. "Well, where would you have picked?"

"Zonko's," Malfoy said. "You can't hear anything in Zonko's. And the owner is half deaf."

Hermione was stumped. The bartended sighed behind her. "What'll it be?"

"Firewhiskey," Malfoy said, though he was obviously underage. Ron perked up, but Harry shook his head.

"Butterbeers for us three," he told the barkeep. "Thank you." He and Ron sat down in the booth as far away from Malfoy as they could get. Hermione only set her bookbag down.

"I suppose I could set up some silencing charms," she mused aloud. "A few notice-me-nots."

Malfoy scoffed. "Now she thinks." He flipped the coin and then caught it on the back of his wrist. "Heads I pay, tails you pay?" he asked Harry.

"I've got my friends," Harry said. "I'm still not sure what side you're on."

"Right," Malfoy scoffed. The barkeep returned and Malfoy paid for his firewhiskey, which the barkeep passed over without any request for ID. Ron looked downright jealous. Harry put down six sickles for the butterbeers.

Malfoy popped his lid using an engraved opener in his pocket and took a sip. Then he leaned back and blew a smoke ring in the air, like the drink was a Muggle cigarette. "Granger, I've been curious," he said. "Have you put all the pieces together of that paragraph on my parchment?"

Hermione had been wondering when this would come up. She felt sure that Malfoy knew what it was and wondered if it was a trick of some sort. But he had seemed just as confused in Dumbledore's office as they had.

Another sip of firewhiskey. Another smoke ring. "You don't know still?"

"Neither do you," Hermione replied.

Before any more words could be exchanged, the door of the pub opened and a band of dusty sunlight split the room in two. Neville Longbottom entered. Parvati, Padma, and Lavendar Brown soon followed. Then, as if the floodgates had opened, Luna Lovegood, Katie Bell, Alicia Spinnet, Angelina Johnson, Colin and Dennis Creevey, Ernie Macmillan, Justin Finch-Fletchley, Hannah Abbott, Blaise Zabini, and even Pansy Parkinson. The flood did not stop until Fred and George finally entered, having been holding the door open, and one proclaimed "Whew!" in a boom that shook the tiny shack.

Harry looked thunderstruck. "A couple of people," he said hoarsely to Hermione. "You said a couple of people!"

Malfoy put his feet on the table and snorted.

As Fred or George went to the bartender for drinks for the students and George or Fred began pulling up chairs, Harry began whispering fiercely to Hermione. "What have you been telling people? What are they expecting?"

"They just want to hear what you have to say," Hermione tried to reassure him. "You don't have to say anything yet. I can start."

Malfoy began fiddling with his galleon again. Pansy Parkinson and Blaise Zabini slid into the booth beside him, knocking Hermione's bag to the ground, and Malfoy ended up scooting to sit next to Ron, who Hermione did not think could be more miserable as Malfoy continued flashing the gold coin between his fingers.

Fred or George collected payment for the butterbeers from the gaggle of frozen students while George or Fred handed out the drinks. Hermione had to admit they were efficient. They had gotten some hosting skills from their mother, for sure. When everyone was heated and cheerful, they turned quiet and turned towards her, Harry, and Ron. Hermione noticed that those in their study group also glanced at Malfoy, as though he were also in charge of this operation. She found her way to her feet.

"Er, um, hi," She began.

Malfoy withdrew his wand and flicked it a few times. People ducked, but nothing happened and Malfoy replaced his wand. Silencing charms. Right.

"Well," she said, a bit lamely, "Harry here had an idea-" Harry whirled in his chair to give her a sharp look, "- I mean, I had the idea that it might be good if people who wanted to study Defence Against the Dark Arts – and I mean really study it, not that rubbish that Umbridge is doing with us-" She swallowed and straightened up, "Because nobody could call that Defence Against the Dark Arts-"

"Here, here!" Anthony Goldstein said, and a few people echoed him. Hermione straightened up. She was in charge of this expedition. The people were listening to her.

"Well, I thought it would be good if we, well, took matters into our own hands!" She glanced at Harry here and he did not seem to have any complaints. "And by that, I mean learning how to defend ourselves properly, not just in theory, but doing the real spells!"

"And you'll pass your end of year exams as well," Malfoy said.

"Of course!" Hermione agreed, then paused. Had she just agreed with Malfoy? "But it's important to be trained for more reasons than that. Because, well, Voldemort has returned!"

Cho Chang had brought a friend, who shrieked and slopped butterbeer on herself. Pansy Parkinson rolled her eyes. Many of the people who had been agreeing with Hermione moments before now looked skeptical. Their attentions were lost.

"Where's the proof?" A Hufflepuff in the back spoke.

"Well, Dumbledore believes it," Hermione said stiffly.

"You mean Dumbledore believes him," the boy said.

"Who are you?" Ron snapped.

"Calm down, ladies," Malfoy said from behind Hermione. He put the cap back on his drink. "I think it's safe to assume you lot have showed up for one of two reasons. Reason number one is to hear the story from the storyteller himself." Everyone's gazes flit over to Harry, who seemed very upset. "Reason number two," Malfoy continued, "Is because the storyteller does happen to be a… competent person in Defence." He had begun glaring at Harry again.

Harry drummed his fingers on the table. "If you came to hear what it's like to watch Voldemort murder someone, I can't help you," He said. "I don't want to talk about Cedric Diggory, alright? So if that's what you're here for, you might as well clear out."

Just one person away from Harry, Hermione observed Malfoy pause in thought, then act as if he hadn't heard anything of interest at all.

"As I was saying," Hermione said, attempting to regain the focus of the group. "If you want to learn some defence, then we need a teacher. A proper teacher. Harry has skills that could be of real use to us."

"Even if," Malfoy said again, "you don't believe the Dark Lord is back."

It was strange. She was starting to not mind him elaborating on her statements.

"Is it true you can produce a patronus?" Someone asked Harry. There was a murmur of interest.

"Yeah," Harry said, acting as if he was about to defend himself.

"A corporeal Patronus?"

Harry pointed at her. "You wouldn't happen to know Madam Bones, would you?"

The girl smiled. "My auntie. She told me that your patronus takes the form of a stag."

Harry nodded. "Yes."

Fred and George were chuckling about how Mrs. Weasley had told them not to go spreading that around while everyone else put their hands up for questions.

"Did you kill a Basilisk with that sword in Dumbledore's Office?"

"And you saved the Sorcerous Stone!"

"Sorcerer's Stone, Neville."

Cho's voice broke through the crowd. "Not to mention all that you needed to get through during the Triwizard Tournament last year."

Hermione took her in and found that she was quite disappointed Cho was here in the first place. Something about the girl grated on her. She noticed Ron reacting a similar way as Harry's eyes locked onto her. His cheeks turned pink from the praise.

"Look, I don't want to sound modest or anything, but I had help along the way,"

"But skills sufficient to accomplish the task," Malfoy interrupted Harry before he could continue. "Is once a week alright?"

"We've already got the other group once a week," Blaise Zabini said. Hermione wished he hadn't said anything. The idea of teaching all thirty of these people every week… of course, that was what she was condemning Harry to…

"This is in addition to that," Malfoy said, as if he were in charge. Though, from his perspective, he'd suggested the idea as an original to Harry, and was largely responsible for the other group existing – and it was a success so long as he stayed involved to translate for Hermione.

Hermione had the thought suddenly that maybe she should just sit down and let Malfoy hammer out the details. So far, he'd united the students who didn't believe Harry and the ones that did, prevented Harry from sabotaging himself, and stopped about another half hour of debating whether or not they should actually have Harry as their teacher. Not a bad track record for having said about four collective sentences.

But her pride would not allow her to. She remained on her feet. "Which day of the week would work best for everyone?"

Everyone shifted uncomfortably except for Angelina and Cho, who blurted out "Not Mondays!" and "Not Tuesdays!" almost immediately.

"Quidditch practice, Hermione," Ron reminded her, as scandalised as if she'd suggested those days on purpose. "It can't interfere with Quidditch!"

"Or Gobstones!"

"Or-"

"Thursdays," Malfoy said loudly, making everyone jump. "Six to seven-thirty, sharp. If you have something that starts at seven, feel free to leave early."

Ron seemed to have finally had enough. "Who died and put you in charge?" He snapped.

"Thursday works for us," Cho said.

"And us!" Angelina agreed. And like magic, Hermione watched everyone else nod, or think and whisper to themselves, "Yeah, I can be late to chess." Or whatever it was.

Only Blaise looked thoughtful. "We usually end Quidditch by six, right?"

"We fly with the daylight," Malfoy replied.

Harry looked starstruck by that. "You… can do that?"

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Obviously," he said, in such a good impression of Snape that Neville quaked. But he did not elaborate on how they'd managed to score such a convenient, consistent time. Hermione wondered if that was part of the Slytherin design – to get better options with minimal effort. Malfoy seemed to be rather honed on the skill.

"And where?" Neville said. He looked to Hermione first, then to Harry, and then to Malfoy. "The library?"

"I've got a feeling Madam Pince won't appreciate that," Hermione said quickly.

"And I've got a feeling Umbridge will put a stop to it if Madam Pince doesn't," Harry agreed.

"McGonagall let you use an empty classroom last year to train for the Triwizard," Ron said. "Reckon she'd let you again?"

Harry shook his head. "Doubt it," he said. "Worth a shot as a last resort."

Hermione paused with a hand on the table and then spared a glance over her shoulder. She met Malfoy's cold, grey eyes. He did not offer up any suggestions, so she turned away. "We'll meet Thursday then," she said. "Place to be determined. Any suggestions would be helpful."

Everyone nodded and, with that, the meeting seemed to be adjourned. Blaise Zabini, Draco Malfoy, and Pansy Parkinson were the first up. They swept through the other students and had almost made it to the door when Hermione said, "Hold it there!"

They paused. Pansy had a hand on the knob.

Hermione picked up her bookbag and pulled out a piece of parchment. "We want everyone to sign their names on this parchment before they go, so that we know who to notify. By signing this, you agree to not tell Umbridge if you decide to not come."

A wave of unease swept through everyone. Hermione especially eyed Pansy's expression. At least it wasn't Milicent Bulstrode. She still felt hairballs in her throat when she worked with her.

Fred and George stood, cracking the knuckles of their hands, and one gestured for a quill. Hermione procured one, and they became the first to sign. Then Neville and Justin. Luna and Ginny, whom Hermione hadn't even noticed had snuck in. Just before she could sign her name, Cho Chang, who had not noticed her either, moved it to sign as well. Ginny did a "He-hem," resembling Professor Umbridge and Cho not only jumped, but immediately let Ginny finish writing her name. Ginny's Umbridge could rival Malfoy's Snape.

And speaking of which, Malfoy returned. He took a sniff at the parchment and raised an eyebrow at Hermione. She did not let her facial expressions change. So Malfoy signed the parchment, as did Blaise and Pansy. And then the three of them led the exodus out of the Hog's Head.

In the end, everyone signed, and Hermione whisked the parchment away for safekeeping. "Smart idea, having everyone sign their names," Ron said as they, too, left. "Now we don't need to remember everyone."

"Exactly," Hermione said, though it was also smart for reasons she didn't think Harry would appreciate and Ron could keep his mouth shut about. Neither of them had stopped to consider for a moment that there had been anything about the parchment. But Malfoy had seemed to wonder, if only for a moment. Hermione was glad he had signed. Despite the study group, he was still the one she worried about the most. "I didn't know a few of the people there. Or I knew them through someone else. Cho through her friend, Justin Finch-Fletchley… I'm sure Michael Corner only came because he's been going out with Ginny, and-"

She regretted saying anything the moment it slipped out of her mouth, but it was too late. Ron, who had been draining the last few drops from his butterbeer bottle, gagged and sprayed butterbeer down his front. "He's WHAT?" said Ron, outraged, his ears now resembling curls of raw beef. "She's going out with — my sister's going — what d'you mean, Michael Corner?"

"Well, that's why he and his friends came, I think — well, they're obviously interested in learning defense, but if Ginny hadn't told Michael what was going on —"

"When did this — when did she — ?"

"They met at the Yule Ball and they got together at the end of last year," said Hermione composedly. They had turned into the High Street and she paused outside Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop, where there was a handsome display of pheasant-feather quills in the window. "Hmm . . . I could do with a new quill."

She turned into the shop. Harry and Ron followed her. "Which one was Michael Corner?" Ron demanded furiously.

"The dark one," said Hermione.

"I didn't like him," said Ron at once.

"Big surprise," said Hermione under her breath.

"But," said Ron, following Hermione along a row of quills in copper pots, "I thought Ginny fancied Harry!"

Hermione looked at him rather pityingly and shook her head. "Ginny used to fancy Harry, but she gave up on him months ago. Not that she doesn't like you, of course," she added kindly to Harry while she examined a long black-and-gold quill. Harry did not react for a full second before his mouth suddenly opened in surprise.

"So that's why she talks now?" he asked Hermione. "She never used to talk in front of me."

"Exactly," said Hermione. "Yes, I think I'll have this one. . . ." She went up to the counter and handed over fifteen Sickles and two Knuts, Ron still breathing down her neck. "Ron," she said severely as she turned and trod on his feet, "this is exactly why Ginny hasn't told you she's seeing Michael, she knew you'd take it badly. So don't harp on about it, for heaven's sake."

"What d'you mean, who's taking anything badly? I'm not going to harp on about anything . . ."

Ron continued to chunter under his breath all the way down the street. Hermione rolled her eyes at Harry and then said in an undertone, while Ron was muttering imprecations about Michael Corner,

"And talking about Michael and Ginny . . . what about Cho and you?"

"What d'you mean?" said Harry quickly. His face went white.

"Well," said Hermione, smiling slightly, "she just couldn't keep her eyes off you, could she?"

Harry pretended to become very interested in the scenery around them. "Reckon?" he muttered.

Hermione nodded to herself, then paused. "Malfoy's been acting odd as well. I've never known him like that."

"He's coy," Harry said shortly, composure changing. "He's managed to unite the Slytherins behind him multiple times."

"Snake charmer," Hermione said.

Ron almost tripped. "You did not just call Malfoy charming?"

"Of course not!" Hermione turned bright red. "Snake charmers can, like, brainwash serpents into dancing with music. Malfoy knows the snake song. It's… an allegory."

Ron looked downright scandalised. "Well, don't go around with him. He's been nothing but trouble so far."

"I would never-" Hermione had never been more affronted. Her and Malfoy? Completely insane. Though she appreciated his talent for… "translating" for her, and couldn't deny he was a very good-looking wizard, he had been cruel far too many times. He had hexed her in the face not even a month ago. And his family was wrapped around the finger of the darkest wizard since Grindelwald.

Nope, no, absolutely not.

The next chapter will be called Couplets and Pairs