A moment later, the door to his room burst open. Hermione hurried inside, her cheeks flushed with a high, frantic energy. "Lucifer, did you---" She cut herself off mid-sentence, her eyes locking instantly onto small, glinting object resting in his palm. The breath caught in her throat. "You got it!"
Before he could even respond, she sprinted across the room, launching herself at him with such force she almost toppled him backward onto the mattress. Her arms threw themselves around his neck as she crashed her lips against his, giving him a fiercely passionate, hungry snog that tasted faintly of the sweet tea she'd been drinking downstairs.

"Lucifer!" Hermione gasped between a flurry of delightful, breathless kisses, her fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt. "You got Prefect like I did! Oh, I just knew you would! There was absolutely no one else!"
Lucifer's free arm, the one not currently holding the polished badge wrapped firmly around the bushy-haired girl's waist, effortlessly hoisting her up to steady her weight against him. A supremely confident, easy smirk spread across his lips. "I'm glad I did, love. I would've been right furious if it had been anyone else. No guy in Gryffindor starting their fifth year but me deserved to be Prefect."
Right at that moment, the heavy wooden door creaked open further. Harry, Fred, and George walked straight into the room, stopping dead in their tracks as they caught sight of Hermione enthusiastically peppering Lucifer's face with her lips.
The Weasely twins instantly let out a pair of loud, synchronized whistles, their eyebrows wagging wickedly. Harry, however, stood there completely blank-faced. Having missed the arrival of the morning post, he looked utterly bewildered by the sudden, intense display of affection. "What's going on?" he asked, crossing his arms.
"Lucifer got Prefect! Look!" Hermione cried out joyfully, breaking away just enough to point down at his hand.
The glint of the scarlet and gold badge caught dim light of the room. Harry blinked, a sudden wave of complicated emotions washing over his face before he forced a genuine smile. He walked a few steps closer. "Nice! Can I get a look at it?"
"Of course," Lucifer said smoothly, handing the heavy metal piece over to Harry as his girlfriend finally slid off his lap, though she kept a firm hold on his arm.
"I guess if anyone deserved Prefect, it was definitely Lucifer," Fred remarked, leaning against the doorframe with a casual shrug.
"Getting top marks in every single class just like Hermione," George added rhetorically, flashing a grin. "Who else would've honestly got it? The bloke's a genius."
A second later, Ron slinked into the room. His shoulders were visibly slumped, and his face was a mask of poorly hidden disappointment. It was glaringly obvious he had harbored a quiet, desperate hope that the badge might have been his. Yet, looking at Lucifer, he managed a stiff, awkward nod. "Congratulations, mate. Really."
Before the tension could curdle, Molly's frantic footsteps echoed in the hallway, and she appeared at the threshold. "Ginny said the booklists had come at last, what---" She paused, immediately picking up on the thick, charged atmosphere in the bedroom. "What happened?"
"Lucifer got Prefect, look," George said, pointing a finger toward the badge in Harry's hand, who promptly passed it back to Lucifer to avoid any awkward confusion about who the real recipient was.
Molly's face lit up with a brilliant, motherly smile, and she let out a loud gasp. As Lucifer thoroughly expected, she was genuinely happy for him, but it lacked the explosive, ecstatic hysteria that would have erupted had the badge belonged to Ron. "Oh, how wonderful, Lucifer! How absolutely wonderful!"
She hurried forward, enveloping him in a tight, rib-crushing hug that smelled comfortingly of flour and laundry soap. Lucifer politely returned the embrace, his sharp mind tracking the subtle drop in her eyes when she glanced at her youngest son.
He knew the family history well. Bill, Charlie, and Percy had all been Prefects. Fred and George couldn't be bothered with rules if their lives depended on it. Molly had desperately wanted Ron to break the streak of mischief and claim the honor.
'But I would have been quite furious, honestly, if it had been Ron,' Lucifer thought coldly as Molly pulled away. As far as he was concerned, the ginger boy was the absolute least deserving of such authority.
He lacked the discipline, the grades, and the basic drive.
"Oh, this calls for a proper feast! I'll get started on it immediately!" She declared excitedly, her domestic instincts kicking into overdrive as she spun on her heel and hurried back down the stairs to the kitchen.
Lucifer rolled his shoulders, a sudden, restless energy taking hold of him. "I'm going to 'Apparate' straight to Diagon Alley to get that book about Defense Theory," he announced to the room. "I already read through it last summer, but I burned the bloody thing when I realized how utterly stupid and useless the Ministry's curriculum was... I can buy everyone their required copies while I'm out there. Save everyone the time and the headache."
Hermione's face flushed a delicate, light pink as she looked up at him. "All I need is that book too, honestly. I bought Grade 5 earlier in the summer."
"All George and I need are that book and Grade 7," Fred chimed in, checking a crumpled piece of parchment from his pocket.
Lucifer turned his eyes toward Harry, who was staring quietly at the floorboards.
"Which means all Ginny needs is that book and Grade 4?" Harry asked, his voice sounding flat, trying to contribute to the conversation.
"Exactly," George confirmed with a sharp nod.
"Alright, I'll be back as soon as I can," Lucifer said. With a sharp, effortless 'crack' that vibrated through the floor, he vanished from the spot, Apparating cleanly through wards of the house.
Left behind in the room, Hermione was still practically vibrating with glee over the fact that she and Lucifer would be sharing the Prefect duties. The academic and social victory of it filled her with a bright, radiant energy. She turned toward her other friend, and noticed.his quiet demeanor. "Harry?"
"Hm?" he asked, cocking a dark eyebrow.
"Rowena just came here, but... I really want to write and tell my mum that I made Prefect," Hermione said, her fingers twisting together as a sudden, inexplicable wave of nervousness washed over her. "It's, it's something she can actually understand, you know? Muggle school structures and all. I know she will be absolutely thrilled about it."
"Yeah, no problem," Harry's voice didn't quite sound like his own, it was hollowed out by a quiet, lingering sting of rejection that he was desperately trying to suppress. "You can take Hedwig if you want. She needs the exercise."
Hermione gave him a soft, deeply sad look, sensing the hurt buried beneath his words, but she wisely chose to say nothing. She gently squeezed his shoulder before exiting the room to head down to Harry and Ron's quarters to fetch the snowy owl.
Before she even cleared the doorway, Fred and George vanished with a loud 'crack,' Apparating back to their own room to plot.
Harry and Ron followed her out, their feet dragging heavily against the carpets, but they stopped at their own threshold, watching silently as she gathered Hedwig and left to find a quiet corner to write.
Hermione felt a brief pang of sympathy, but as she walked away, a streak of cold rationality took over. 'Did they seriously think they'd get it over Lucifer?' she thought, a small scoff escaping her breath. 'They were utterly fooling themselves if they honestly believed they stood a chance against him.' She sat down at the small desk in her shared room with Ginny, uncapping her inkwell and letting her quill fly across the parchment.
A short while later, a sharp 'crack' echoed in the main hallway. Lucifer had returned from Diagon Alley, a heavy, enchanted leather bag slung over his shoulder packed to the brim with pristine, fresh-scented textbooks.
"Don't bother paying me back, none of you," he said smoothly as the teenagers gathered around him. He began handing out heavy volumes, his tone entirely detached. "Consider this a one-time charitable act from me."
Ron and Harry took their books with tight, mumbled thanks. They didn't look entirely grateful. Hermione, standing slightly behind Lucifer, watched them closely. She could see right through the fragile, polite fronts they were putting up to mask the bitter contempt swirling inside them.
The sting of Lucifer getting the badge over them was a bitter pill to swallow.
"We should probably start packing, you know?" Hermione said, deliberately cutting through the awkward silence. "Tomorrow is September first, after all, and we have an early start."
"Yeah, you're right," Lucifer agreed easily, tossing his empty bag onto a chair.
Fred turned to his twin, a mischievous glint returning to his eyes. "Should we be careful this year, George?"
"With these two ruling the corridors as Prefects?" George matched his brother's smirk. "We probably should."
"Are we going to be?" Fred asked.
"Of course not," they said in perfect unison. With a double 'crack,' they Apparated straight up to their rooms, leaving a faint smell of gunpowder in the air.
Hermione looked over at Lucifer, who was simply shaking his head with a look of lazy amusement.
It took the rest of the afternoon, until about six in the evening, for everyone to get completely packed and sorted for the journey tomorrow. The only exception was Lucifer, who casually slipped his few belongings into his nearly bottomless enchanted pouch within seconds.
He had already pinned the gleaming Prefect badge onto the front of the first set of Hogwarts robes he planned to wear, tucking them safely away.
When they finally walked downstairs for dinner, the grim atmosphere of Grimmauld Place had been completely transformed. Hanging directly over the heavily laden dinner table was a massive, brilliant scarlet banner that read:
CONGRATULATIONS HERMIONE AND LUCIFER, NEW PREFECTS!
"I thought we'd have a little party to celebrate you both becoming Prefects," Molly announced happily as they entered, her face flushed from the heat of the stoves. It was glaringly obvious to everyone that she was trying her absolute best to be fair and celebratory, despite her internal disappointment for Ron.
Hermione couldn't fault her for that, giving the older woman a warm, incredibly grateful smile.
The kitchen was already crowded. Sirius, Lupin, Tonks, and Kingsley were standing near the hearth, and the moment Lucifer and Hermione stepped into the room, a chorus of deep congratulations echoed off the stone walls.
Lucifer navigated the crowd smoothly, grabbing himself a cold, sweating bottle of Butterbeer from the counter. Just as he popped the cap, the heavy cellar door opened, and Alastor Moody stomped into the room, his wooden leg thumping rhythmically against the floorboards.
"Alastor, glad to see you again! We're having a little celebration," Lupin called out cheerily from his seat at the long table. "Lucifer and Hermione got Prefect."
"Prefect, eh?" Moody growled in his usual, low, grizzled tone.
Lucifer took a slow sip of his drink, his celestial gaze locked onto the old Auror.
Moody's bright blue magical eye spun violently in its socket, drilling straight into Lucifer, while his normal, scarred eye focused entirely on Hermione.
"Well, congratulations," he grunted, a grim, respectful nod following his words. "Authority figures always attract the worst kind of trouble. But from what Dumbledore has told me about you..." He pointed a gnarled finger specifically at Lucifer. "...being able to completely shrug off the 'Imperius Curse' without a single flinch... you'll make a fine, dangerous Prefect."
Lucifer couldn't help but smile, lowering the Butterbeer from his lips with a dark, satisfied glint in his eyes. He appreciated a man who understood power.
Arthur entered the kitchen not long after, looking exhausted but happy, with Bill following right behind him.
"Well, I think a proper toast is in order," Sirius shouted over the chatter, ensuring everyone had a full drink in their hands. He stood tall, raising his heavy silver goblet high into the air. "To Hermione and Lucifer, the new Gryffindor Prefects! May they give the professors hell!"
Neither Lucifer nor Hermione hid behind a 'false' wall of modesty; the smug, fiercely proud looks on both of their faces as they clinked their glasses spoke volumes.
"I was never a prefect myself," Tonks said brightly as everyone began moving toward the table to pile food onto their plates. She had changed her hair to a vibrant, tomato-red color that cascaded halfway down her back. "Professor Sprout, my old Hufflepuff Head of House, explicitly told me that I lacked certain necessary qualities for the badge."
"Like what?" Ginny asked, grinning as she dished out some potatoes.
"Like the basic ability to behave myself," Tonks said with a wicked smirk.
Ginny burst into a loud, ringing laugh. Hermione, standing right next to Lucifer, didn't know if she should laugh along or maintain her new, strict Prefect decorum. In her slight panic, she resolved to take a massive, hasty gulp of her Butterbeer, a choice she immediately regretted as the liquid went down the wrong pipe, causing her to instantly start choking and sputtering.
She was incredibly glad when Lucifer's large hand immediately began rhythmically hitting her upper back. The steady, firm pressure helped her clear her throat, stopping the embarrassing coughing fit as her face turned as red as Tonks's hair.
"Thanks," she wheezed softly.
"What about you, Sirius?" Ginny asked, turning her attention back to the adults. "Were you a prefect?"
Sirius let out a barking, boisterous laugh that echoed off the rafters. "Oh, absolutely not! No one in their right mind would have ever made me a prefect. I spent far too much time in lockup and detention with James. Lupin here was the good boy. He got the badge."
"I think Dumbledore might have secretly hoped that giving me the badge would allow me to exercise some modicum of control over my best friends," Lupin said dryly, a nostalgic, weary smile touching his lips. "I need scarcely say I failed dismally."
Hermione noticed that Harry's mood instantly improved upon hearing that his father had never held the title. The tense line of his shoulders relaxed slightly, a genuine smile returning to his face as he realized he wasn't failing James's legacy.
Ron, however, still seemed entirely inconsolable, staring blankly at his empty plate. But just as the dinner platters were being passed around, a sharp tapping sounded at the window.
A large, heavy package sailed cleanly through the glass, landing with a loud 'thud' directly in front of Ron. The delivery owls that brought it scrambled backward, soaring out into the rainy night as quickly as they had arrived.
"What's this?" Ron asked, his voice snapping out of its funk as he stared at the long, brown-wrapped parcel.
"Obviously a broomstick, Ronald," Ginny said in a thoroughly droll, sarcastic tone.
Ron didn't care about the sarcasm; his fingers were already tearing frantically into the heavy parchment wrapping. As the paper stripped away, a gleaming, polished handle was revealed. "It's a Cleansweep! The latest model!" his voice cracked with pure, unadulterated excitement. His entire gloomy demeanor vanished in a fraction of a second as he read the small, elegant parchment tag tied neatly around the tail end of the twigs.
"To Ronald Weasley, I hope you enjoy your new broom..." Ron read aloud, his eyes wide with shock. He looked up, his gaze sweeping wildly around the chaotic table. "Who did this? Who bought this for me?"
No one's face gave even a single hint of guilt. Everyone looked equally surprised, exchanging bewildered glances. Ron's eyes lingered for a long, heavy moment on Lucifer. But he had never been good at reading people, much less seeing through the flawless, ancient façade of a celestial being.
Molly's eyes watered as she looked at her son's ecstatic face. "Well, go put it straight up in your room then, and hurry right back down to eat before it gets cold!" she ordered gently.
The moment Ron scrambled out of his chair and sprinted out of the kitchen, his heavy footsteps pounding up the stairs, she turned a suspicious look toward her husband. "Arthur... you don't think Dumbledore would've...?"
"I highly doubt it, Molly... but with him, anything's possible," Arthur said thoughtfully, taking a slow sip from his goblet.
Hermione shifted slightly in her seat, leaning her shoulder tightly against Lucifer's arm. She leaned in close, her voice dropping into a barely audible whisper. "Did you do that?"
"I haven't the faintest idea what you're talking about," Lucifer said smoothly. Without a single stutter or tell, he casually cut into a piece of juicy roast turkey, pairing it with a forkful of mashed potatoes.
Hermione stared at him, her eyes narrowing with absolute certainty. She knew it was him. But even if she begged Sirius or Lupin to try and poke around in his mind, Lucifer was a flawless, natural 'Occlumens;' there was no breaking past those ironclad mental walls, no matter how hard an external wizard tried.
A soft, profoundly tender smile broke across her face. She leaned in just a fraction closer, her breath brushing his cheek. "That was incredibly kind of you, Lucifer," she whispered.
He gave absolutely no verbal acknowledgement of her words, keeping his focus entirely on his dinner plate, but the tiniest, almost imperceptible softening of his lips gave him away. Hermione's heart swelled with a quiet pride, entirely captivated by the hidden warmth of her boyfriend.
xxxxxxx
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