"I think yesterday went brilliantly," Hermione said cheerfully as she served herself roast potatoes, "don't you?"
Harry wasn't quite sure who she was talking to - Ron certainly wasn't listening, too busy inhaling sticky toffee pudding. Ginny and Blaise were sat eating their dinner in silence and exchanging long looks, and Harry was too busy feeling generally anxious about everything to muster up any kind of positive response.
In the end, Draco took pity on her, "Yes Granger - it went very well,"
She practically beamed at him, "I was really quite pleased to see so many Slytherins in attendance as well. I feel like we're really embracing the sorting hat's message about school unity," Draco only hmm'ed, "You said you knew somewhere we could meet Draco?"
"Yeah - on the seventh floor by the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy,"
Harry shifted uncomfortably in his seat at the thought of the room.
"I didn't know there were any rooms along that corridor," Hermione said slowly.
"Just trust me, Granger," she pursed her lips, but nodded anyway, "when are we holding the first meeting?"
"I was thinking maybe this Friday coming, after dinner. So long as there are no clashes," she added, rolling her eyes, clearly thinking about the Quidditch practices people were so desperate not to miss.
Draco nodded, "Sounds good," with Hermione pacified, Draco waited a beat before saying, with his voice lowered so only Harry could hear, "You alright?" He looked pointedly at the dinner Harry had only half eaten.
Harry shrugged, "Yeah," and reluctantly ate another chip, "Not hungry," it wasn't a lie, but it wasn't entirely the truth - he wasn't hungry, because he felt faintly sick. Draco left it alone though.
The sick feeling had almost entirely gone away, until Draco placed his cutlery to one side on his plate, and leant closer, "You ready to go?" Harry forced himself to his feet, and followed Draco out of the hall, all the while the feeling of dread grew in his stomach.
This time, it was Harry who paced back and forth in front of the tapestry, and Draco who waited patiently to one side. It was only now that they were here, that Harry realised how overwhelming his memories of finding this Horcrux were. He hadn't felt anxiety like this since his Auror days. He felt as if he were once again searching for the diadem in a Hogwarts under attack, hoping and praying that its discovery would save his friends. He hoped they would be more successful this time around.
'I need the place where everything is hidden. I need the place where everything is hidden. I need the place where everything is hidden.'
When the door to the Room of Requirement appeared on his third pass, Harry felt as if a permanent sticking charm had been applied to the bottom of his feet; he couldn't move. Rationally, he knew that there was nothing beyond the door that would harm him. But all he could think of was the sound of a roaring fire and screams of terror.
"Harry?" his attention was grabbed by Draco's concerned call, as he inched closer into Harry's view, "Are you okay?" and it suddenly occurred to Harry, that this room contained as much potential trauma for Draco, as it did for him.
"Sorry," he licked his lips, "I may be working myself up to a panic attack - I think this room is a bit of a PTSD holdover," he admitted, and then added at Draco's confused look, "It's a muggle term - means post-traumatic stress disorder,"
Draco hesitated a moment, before stepping forwards into Harry's space, and placing a calming hand on his shoulder, gently massaging above Harry's collar bone with his thumb, "And what does that actually mean?" Draco said patiently.
"Means certain things bring me right back to some pretty awful things in my past," Draco hmm'ed, never releasing Harry's shoulder, "not the things you think would either," he said with a choked laugh, "I had no issue in combat situations. But put me in a small room, or- or too close to an open fire," Harry's eyes shifted to the door behind them, and Draco's hand froze, "it only just occurred to me what room this is,"
"What room is it?"
"The room where you repaired the vanishing cabinet," Draco inhaled sharply, "and the room where Crabbe died. I just… I hadn't thought about it till now. I didn't realise… I didn't think I'd still be so affected like this - it's been nearly twenty years," he finished quietly, making a deliberate effort to keep his breathing slow and even, his eyes fixed on the door handle in front of him.
Draco recovered quickly, "It's just a room Harry," Draco said softly, "Just a room," sliding his hand into Harry's and encouraging him forwards, "And all those awful things - they haven't happened. They won't happen," he said gently, and Harry shuffled forwards with difficulty, "That's why we're doing all this - remember? So that those things never happen," a few more steps, and Harry was close enough to reach the door handle; he hesitated for a moment, his hand refusing to move by his side, "We can come back another day if you need us to - when we've had more time to prepare," and that was just what Harry needed to hear, to spur him onwards.
"No - we need to do this now," his hand was on the handle, and he was pushing the door open, and stepping over the threshold before he had time to let his brain catch up with him. Draco followed, closing the door behind them. For a moment, they just stood side by side, and took in the room in front of them.
It was just as Harry remembered it; as big as a cathedral, with great arching ceilings, and corridors formed by the lost items of the ages that had been built up into great towering structures - magic must have been involved in maintaining their shape. Harry was struck for a moment by how quiet it was; whenever his mind drifted to this room, it was always paired with the roar of fire rushing at his heels. The fact that it was near silent helped to draw Harry back from his past, and into his new present. He realised with a jolt, that he and Draco were still holding one another's hand.
He tilted his gaze up to the taller man and found his eyes flicking back and forth between the alleys that lead deeper into the heart of the Room, and up to the mountainous peaks of the discarded belongings in front of them. Harry squeezed his hand to get his attention, and grey eyes immediately turned their attention to him.
Draco paused, looking at him closely, "Are you okay?" He said finally.
Harry nodded, even though his heart was still racing, "Yeah," he said, surprised at the breathless quality of his voice, "Yeah, I'm okay. It's quiet," he said simply, "I always remember it as being loud,"
"It was loud - that last time," Draco reminded him.
"Yeah but, I mean, it was loud in my head too,"
Draco nodded in understanding, and they stood together a little longer, still holding hands.
"Which way?" Draco said finally - but Harry couldn't remember.
"I have absolutely no idea," he admitted, "I had to pass the vanishing cabinet to get there, if that helps,"
Draco's expression soured for a moment, "It does," he said, resigned, and pointing to the second corridor to the left, "That way," Draco stepped forwards, and was then suddenly looking down to where their hands were joined, "Ah," he released Harry with a small smile, "Sorry," though he didn't sound sorry in the slightest.
Harry followed him down the corridor, taking the opportunity to peer about himself at the towers of furniture, and bags, and statues, and busts, and boxes, and crates, and cabinets, and all manner of objects - some that he could never have imagined, and none that he had managed to appreciate the previous times he had been in this room. Harry nearly walked into Draco's back when he came to an abrupt stop.
"What is it?" he asked curiously, peering round Draco to the empty space in front of them.
"This is where I moved it to - the cabinet. I haven't done it yet," he added, his brows furrowed in contemplation as he eyed the floor in displeasure, "How did you even know the diadem was in here? Amongst all of this?" Draco gestured to the tower of tables and chairs around them, topped by a bed frame, complete with mattress and bedding.
"I came here to hide my potions book," Harry said.
"To hide what?" Draco twisted around, his expression incredulous.
Harry swallowed and answered reluctantly, "It was in the sixth year. It had a spell written in it - a spell that I hadn't known what it did, until I used it on you," he said quietly, and realisation dawned on Draco's face, "I don't think I ever apologised for that," his eyes flicked to Draco's chest, wondering if he had still had the scars in their past life, "I am - sorry, that is," but Draco only shook his head.
"Don't be - I had it coming," his gaze turned back to the vacant spot in front of them, and Harry had caught his hand in his own before he realised what he was doing.
"It hasn't happened," he reminded the blond firmly, "It hasn't, and it won't,"
Draco nodded reluctantly, and gave a heavy sigh, "Where now?" Harry glanced around and spotted something familiar at the end of the path to their left.
"This way," Draco didn't try to take his hand back, and allowed himself to be led closer to a cabinet packed with rubbish that looked like acid had been thrown on it. Harry brought them to a stop in front of it, and peered about, "It's somewhere here," Harry said with certainty, his eyes darting around the items just above their heads. Draco released his hand to spin on the spot, gazing up at the stacks behind them, but Harry didn't bother. He knew what he was searching for was somewhere in front of him.
When he spotted a familiar mottled bust of a warlock, adrenaline thrilled through him. The dusty old wig was easily found immediately after, and then -.
"There!" Harry cried triumphantly, pointing to the glittering tiara just above the wig, "That's it! Right there!"
Draco was beside him immediately, following his gaze, "Sweet Circe," Draco muttered, "How did you ever find this in the first place?" He glanced down at his feet, and shuffled forwards as closely as he could to the pile in front of him.
"Chance," Harry said, watching him eagerly, "Pure chance,"
Draco reached out his hand, and raised himself up onto his tiptoes, and plucked the diadem from its resting place with a satisfied 'ah', "How did you reach that last time? Did you stand on a box?"
"Yes," Harry admitted reluctantly, and Draco grinned at him, "Oh shut up," he said, feeling lighter than he had all day, "We need to get out of here, and lock it away in the cabinet,"
Draco nodded, still smiling and peering with interest at the circlet in his hands. He followed Harry as he picked his way carefully back to the entrance - he was particularly concerned about them getting lost or causing a catastrophic avalanche on their way back.
"Do you want to do the honours?" Harry said, once they were out in the corridor again, catching the diadem with his finger and pulling it out of Draco's grasp to inspect it himself. Draco only rolled his eyes before doing as he had been asked. Running his finger across the inscription on the back, Harry truly regretted that they were being forced to destroy such amazing pieces of history, and he felt a new layer of scorn for the arrogance of Voldemort in defiling items that were the cultural heritage of every witch and wizard in Magical Britain.
When the door materialised, they stepped forward into their room, and found it had changed again, though not by much. Where Crocker's imitation office had once been, now there was only a completely bare room, like the one Harry had found Draco in on the day he realised that everything had changed and there was no going back. The only thing that remained, was the filing cabinet, which had relocated itself to the middle of the room. The third draw down opened by itself in expectation of receiving their prize.
Draco placed it at the bottom of the drawer, and once more it shut itself, sealing around the edges with a flash of white light. Harry eyed the forth and final drawer, and thought of the two horcruxes that still remained, wondering, with more than a little anxiety, if the room knew something they didn't.
"What are we going to do about the ring?" Harry asked, though it was more a question posed to the universe at large rather than specifically to Draco, "Wait till the summer holidays, and then disappear maybe?" he mused, but he didn't much like the sound of that plan. They'd be unbelievably vulnerable, with no option to call on others for support - not without facing significant questions and consequences.
"I've been trying to figure out contingencies," Draco admitted reluctantly, hands on his hips, staring down at the drawer that had been open moments before, "There's a potion - a very illegal potion," he added, "that can break the trace for a short period of time,"
"Really?" Harry said in disbelief, "How come I've never heard of it?"
Draco shrugged, "It's another pureblood thing, and it's not very well known - or frequently used. It's as complicated to brew as the polyjuice potion, its ingredients are expensive, and the only people who would have any reason to brew it are children - and for the previously listed reasons, it isn't exactly being brewed by teenagers left right and centre,"
"But we can brew it - right?" Draco pulled a face over his shoulder, "What's that mean?"
"Well, I purchased most of the ingredients at Hogsmeade yesterday, but the last few are rarer - they can probably only be bought at Diagon or Knockturn Alley, but we can't risk owl ordering. And even if we brew it, we only get an hour, and I'm not sure what we could accomplish in that time,"
Harry sighed, "So we can't brew it, and even if we could, it's not that useful,"
"We'll see," Draco said shrewdly, "I think we should explore every avenue available to us," he finally stepped away from the cabinet and back towards Harry by the door, "We've still got time - it's only just October," Draco reminded him, "we'll think of something,"
Harry nodded, but he didn't have Draco's confidence. Worse came to it, he figured they could simply allow Dumbledore to deal with it as he had before.
On Monday morning, Harry headed down to the common room with a familiar nervous tingle - anxious to see if any new Educational Decree's had been announced since the night before. He was practically tiptoeing down the stairs, holding his breath as he went. Upon reaching the common room however, he released his breath in a whoosh of relief.
There were no students gathered around the notice board, wringing their hands anxiously about their gobstones clubs, or charms study groups - he rushed forward until his nose was nearly brushing the notice board, and he found that there was nothing of note on there at all. He grinned madly (and a few first years gave him a wide berth) - the Three Broomsticks had been the right choice after all.
Harry practically skipped his way down to breakfast, nearly colliding with Snape as he leapt off the bottom step of the Grand Staircase. Not even the ten points that the Potion's master took from him dampened his mood, and he was humming happily to himself when he arrived at the Gryffindor table, finding Draco already there, a plate of buttered toast (that might as well have had Harry's name on it) waiting for him.
Draco gave him a knowing smile when he sat down opposite him, eyeing his expression with interest, "You're very cheery,"
"No new Educational Decree," Harry said, taking an enthusiastic bite out of his toast and saying, with his mouth full, "Thank you,"
"You're welcome," Draco said simply, pouring Harry a glass of pumpkin juice as well, "you've got butter on your face," and Draco made an odd, aborted gesture with his hand, that he covered by grabbing himself an apple and taking a loud bite out of it.
Harry wiped at his mouth and watched Draco curiously - what had that been?
"Harry!" sudden hands on his shoulders made him jump as Fred and George sat either side of him, "or should we say, Professor Potter," Fred said in his ear with a cheeky grin - Harry rolled his eyes and slapped the twin away.
"Was that Dung we saw you with on Saturday, Malfoy?" asked George, and Harry was surprised by how genuinely annoyed Draco looked at their interruption.
"It was," he said reluctantly.
"I wonder what he was doing at The Three Broomsticks," Fred mused.
"Stalking me most likely," Harry pointed out.
"What did he say anyway?" George continued, "He left in a hurry after you spoke with him," if that was true, Harry hadn't noticed it at the time.
"I don't know - you'd have to ask him. Probably off to smuggle more cauldrons knowing him," Draco said dismissively, but Harry had spent enough time with Draco to catch the slight edge to his voice.
"It's a shame he didn't come and say hello," said Fred, rubbing his chin, "there're one or two things I'd like to have seen if he could have gotten for us. Ah, not that it matters - not long before we're finished with school and living it large on the outside," he grinned, and shook Harry's shoulder a little.
"Anyway - it was lovely seeing you two gentlemen, but we need to see Lee Jordan about a fire breathing chicken," George said with a wink, and with that they both stood and ventured further down the table to their friend.
"Did he just say fire breathing chicken?" Draco said incredulously, but Harry ignored him.
"What were you talking to Dung about?" he half expected Draco to sidestep the question as he had the day before.
Draco sighed and scratched the back of his head, "I… I don't even know if he'll do it for me, or if it will be helpful in any way shape or form, so I'd rather not say until I know," Draco said frankly, "I promise, the second I actually have something, I'll tell you - okay?"
Harry considered forcing the issue, but staring into Draco's earnest grey eyes, it was all too easy to capitulate, "Okay," Draco let out a breath of relief, and offered him a weak smile. He hoped that whatever scheme Draco was working on bore fruit.
His good mood carried him through the rest of the day, like a cloud across stormy seas. Even Crabbe's attempts to sabotage him during potions class, with a poorly thrown bat spleen, weren't enough to ruin his good humour. If anything, watching Snape scold him furiously and assign him a week's worth of detention for his failed crime had only served to buoy him further.
By the time his double period of Defence Against the Dark Arts class had come around that afternoon, he was determined not to let Umbridge spoil his day, and it was with a renewed focus and vigour that he attempted to shrink her shoes, and further unravel the seams of her clothing. By the end of the class, she was walking with a distinctive limp, and the back of her cardigan had half unravelled.
It didn't feel like enough though - it didn't feel like nearly enough. If this woman had her way, they would be benign dolls waiting to fall at Voldemort's first venture into power. Though most of his memories of her were to do with this year at school, he had not forgotten the terror she had inflicted on the magical community as an eager cog in the Death Eater Machine. No - static shocks, helmet hair, frayed cardigans, and shrinking shoes were not enough.
And it was with that mentality, that Harry turned to Fred and George over dinner, sailing past Draco (with a reassuring hand on his shoulder, and a murmur that he would be right back), and sitting himself down opposite the pair. If there was anyone in this school who could claim to have elevated causing chaos and mischief to a professional level, it was the Weasley twins. Perhaps sensing that he came with purpose, the twins took one look at Harry's face, and lowered their cutlery.
"Alright there, Harry?" Fred said, a curious edge in his voice.
"Can we help you with something?"
Harry leant forward, and answered quietly, "I want to make Umbridge's life a living hell," the twins exchanged a glance, "and I don't mean mildly inconvenience her - I mean make her feel like the school is actively persecuting her. I want her to wake up every morning, knowing she's not wanted, and going to bed every evening, dreading what's coming the morning after," they exchanged a glance, "but we can't get caught," he added reluctantly, "and it can't be anything so awful, that the other teachers would take pity on her and put a stop to it,"
"Well Harry," George said with a slow grin, "I was under the impression you were undertaking certain measures already,"
"Umbridge's helmet hair hasn't gone unnoticed," Fred said in amusement.
"And she nearly threw herself down the stairs to avoid bumping into Lee last Thursday," George added.
"And I don't know what you think Fred, but she's definitely been walking funny recently,"
Harry waved a dismissive hand through the air, "Yes, but it isn't enough," he said firmly, "I can hardly stalk her day and night being a nuisance, can I?"
"I can think of someone who probably can though," Fred said slowly, exchanging a meaningful look with his twin.
"I can too, Fred," George winked at Harry, "Leave it with us, Harry,"
Harry nodded, and climbed to his feet, though part of him was tempted to remain and take it all back - Mrs Weasley would kill him if she found out that he had egged her sons on into getting into more trouble than necessary.
"This is ridiculous - you're not even a Gryffindor!" Harry heard a seventh year say angrily to Draco as he returned to his spot on the table, "It's bad enough that you sit here, eating our food, and now you're hoarding the best desserts! Get them from the Slytherin's table - where you belong!"
"I'm saving it for someone," Draco responded, his voice like ice, "Now if you would kindly fuck off, that would be great," Harry spotted the slice of treacle tart that he was subtly guarding behind his forearm.
The seventh year scoffed, but Harry interrupted before he could say anymore, "Thanks Draco," and in one smooth movement, he seated himself at Draco's side, plucked the plate that he had been protecting from in front of him, and immediately dug in with the nearest fork, "My favourite! Oh, is there a problem," he said innocently, pretending to only now notice the furious seventh year for the first time.
"A problem?! Yes there's a fucking problem!" He shouted, "The fucking problem, is that this slimy snake keeps sitting at our fucking table!" more than one person had glanced over at them, the seventh year's raised voice carrying down the table, "I don't care if he's your boyfriend or something," he sneered, disdain dripping from his words, and Harry felt a jolt of surprised alarm somewhere behind his navel; he glanced out of the corner of his eye at Draco, and found a snarl twisting the blondes features, "he should be sitting with his own kind, over there," he jabbed his finger angrily in the direction of the Slytherin table, "rather than eating our fucking puddings!"
With every word that the Gryffindor said, Draco's shoulders had drawn further up his neck, the muscles around his jaw twitching furiously, and by the time the seventh year had finished, Draco was hissing through his teeth with every breath. He was saved from having to respond however, by the arrival of an outraged McGonagall.
"Mister Dale!" She hissed, "How dare you shout such foul language in the Great Hall - and at another student, no less!"
"But Professor," Dale tried to protest, "this stupid Slytherin should be at his own table!" his response did not endear him to the deputy headmistress.
"There is no rule against students sitting at the tables of different houses," she snapped, "and even if there were, it is not for you to police. Twenty points from Gryffindor," Dale let out a sound of outrage, "for harassing another student - you are of age now, Mister Dale. It may surprise you to hear that there are no schoolhouses outside of Hogwarts," she said tartly, "Now return to your seat!"
Dale shot them a nasty look, before reluctantly doing as he was told. With his and the Transfiguration Professor's departure, Harry waited a moment, chewing on his treacle tart, before prompting Draco to speak.
"You alright?" He said cautiously.
Draco, who had been staring daggers at Dale down the table, reluctantly turned his back on the seventh year to face Harry, "Yes," he practically hissed the word, before taking in a deep calming breath, "Just that buffoon trying to dictate who can and can't have which dessert," he paused, eyes fixed on the slice of treacle tart that Harry was already half way through eating, "but you haven't even had your dinner yet," he said, sounding faintly bewildered.
Harry scoffed, "Who says you can't eat dessert first? I'm a grown man, I can do what I like,"
Draco's lips twitched in amusement, "What were you talking to the twins about anyway?" he asked curiously, just as Harry spotted Hermione and Ron approaching from the other end of the table.
"Just about causing a bit of trouble," he answered vaguely.
Draco frowned, "Is that wise?" Draco frowned,
Harry shrugged, "Too late now."
The twin's plan was immediately clear the next morning at breakfast.
Harry, Ron and Hermione walked into the Great Hall, and found the morning's normal murmured conversation was unusually loud and interested. Students at all four tables were glancing back and forth between their breakfast and the faculty table. More than one of the shorter students were half out of their seats, kneeling on the benches, and peering over the heads of their peers.
"What's going on here?" Ron said curiously, "Oi," he snapped at a particularly short first year who had decided to actually stand on the benches, "sit down before you break your neck," he said harshly, scowling at the cowed boy.
"Look," Hermione said with interest, "behind Umbridge," Harry followed her gaze, and couldn't help the wide smile that split his face.
Umbridge was sat having her breakfast, but despite her eyes being fixed determinedly on her meal, and her refusal to look around behind her, her irritation at the entity hovering just out of her sight was obvious to anyone watching.
Peeves, with his bell covered hat jingling gently, hovered a few inches off the ground behind the Defence Professor. He was stood to attention, his back rigid, his neck straight, and a surprisingly serious expression on his face. One arm was held behind his back, while the other supported a silver jug on his palm. When Umbridge made the mistake of draining her coffee cup dry, Peeves was suddenly directly in front of her, inspiring a yelp of surprise from the Professor. Maintaining eye-contact, and saying nothing, Peeves refilled her mug from the jug in his hand, until it was full to the brim. Then he grinned and said something that Harry couldn't hear from his distance from the table, but made Umbridge scowl, before he was suddenly stood behind her again in his same formal position.
"What the hell is happening?" Ron said, bemused as they took their seats at the Gryffindor table - Draco had already arrived, and was watching the top table with interest.
"Morning," Draco said with a smirk, shuffling along the bench a little so that Harry had more room, "you've missed an excellent start to the day,"
"What's going on with Peeves?" Hermione asked curiously, serving herself breakfast with one eye on the table at the top of the hall.
"No idea," Draco said, offering Hermione the milk, "but Peeves has been acting like Umbridge's butler all morning, and it's been excellent. She tried to tell him to go away, but he started sobbing and rocking in the middle of the hall. And then he served her a six-tier bacon sandwich, and when she wouldn't eat it, he started pelting bread at students until Dumbledore asked him to stop," he grinned, "it's been very entertaining. I hope he follows her to class,"
Draco's hopes were answered almost immediately when Umbridge rose from her seat and shuffled in between the house tables and out of the hall - Peeves marching behind her the entire time, crying at the top of his voice, "Make way for the Hogwarts High Inquisitor! Make way!"
"I wonder why he's doing it though?" said Hermione, and Ron scoffed.
"It's obvious, isn't it? Someone put him up to it,"
Harry caught the twin's eye further down the table, and they shared a knowing smile.
By dinner time, the school was abuzz with talk of Umbridge's new private poltergeist.
With their Herbology class having finished late, Harry, Ron and Hermione arrived at the Great Hall to find Ginny entertaining Draco, Pansy, and a misty-eyed Blaise with tales of her afternoon Defence class.
"… and then, she tried to stun him," she recounted, a wide grin on her face, "and he disappeared on the spot, and she ended up stunning John Fairview who was sat behind him,"
Draco sniggered, "After all that talk about, are we expecting to be attacked in her classroom and how ridiculous that notion could be," Draco said with a smirk, nodding at Harry in greeting and shuffling up to make more room for him, "Hey! Weaslette was just telling us about her Defence class,"
"Oh Harry, it was amazing," she gushed, "Peeves sat next to her the whole class, and then started reading loudly from the textbook, then he stole her copy of the textbook, then she tried to get it back from him, and she managed to grab it, so he started screaming at the top of his lungs,"
"And is that when she tried to stun him?" Harry guessed.
"Yes!" Ginny crowed gleefully, "it was fantastic! And then Professor Flitwick arrived cause' he'd heard all of Peeves' screaming, and he revived Fairview, but then he just left and didn't even try and get Peeves to leave, just said he was sure that she could handle herself and he'd leave her to it,"
"Well," Harry said, "I never thought I'd say this - but I think I'm looking forward to Defence Against the Dark Arts class."
When Friday rolled around, and with it Harry's next class with Umbridge, and the first gathering of the New DA, Harry's high spirits weren't dampened, but they were certainly unbalanced by the slight thrill of nerves every time his thoughts wandered to the class he would be teaching.
"Are you alright?" Draco asked, not for the first time that morning as they ate breakfast together. This was a meal that they more often than not ate alone, as they appeared to be hardwired to wake up significantly earlier than most of their teenaged friends. Only the Ravenclaw table currently contained more than a smattering of students.
Harry shrugged, stirring his porridge disinterestedly, but knowing his mouth was far too dry to manage the toast on offer, "Bit nervous about this evening," he answered, flashing Draco a weak smile, "it almost feels like, now that I actually know how best to employ magic defensively, the pressure is on to accurately pass that knowledge on,"
Draco hmm'ed, and said, "Tell me - how old were you when you joined the Aurors?"
"Eighteen,"
"And how old were you when they asked you to become the youngest Head Auror ever?" Harry frowned at his light tone.
"Twenty-five," he answered reluctantly.
"And how many years' of experience did you have with the Department of Mysteries?"
"Nearly six - okay, fine, I get your point," he grumbled, but Draco continued anyway.
"I think, with all that experience, you will have no problem whatsoever, teaching a bunch of teenagers how to pass their OWLs," Draco's smile was indulgent, and he rested a warm hand on Harry's shoulder, at the junction where Harry's muscle began to slope upwards into his neck, "I promise," Draco said seriously, "that you'll be amazing - and I'll help," he squeezed gently at Harry's trapezius; Harry hoped that he didn't notice the full body shudder that his firm touch inspired, "I might not be the two time destroyer of the Dark Lord, but I'm sure I can demonstrate a disarming spell well enough," Harry felt Draco's thumb brush against his hair line for a moment, before the other removed his hand, "okay?" Harry nodded, offering him what he hoped was a stronger smile than he'd managed before, and spooning his porridge into his mouth to avoid having to speak.
He avoided thinking about the goose bumps spreading across his back; he'd been trying to ignore how increasingly affected he was becoming by Draco's touch, and he wasn't quite prepared to stop now. They didn't have the time to deal with what he was beginning to recognise as an inconvenient minor infatuation with the other man, but it was difficult to avoid when Draco seemed so determined to take care of him at every turn and seemed to enjoy using a hand at the small of Harry's back to encourage him in whatever direction Draco wished to move him.
"Morning," Harry glanced up at Ron's sleepy greeting, and his eyes were immediately caught on the dark-haired girl looking in his direction from the Ravenclaw table: Cho was watching him him through curious eyes, that flicked to Draco more than once, before widening when they realised they had been caught. Harry sent her a small wave and received one in return after a moment's hesitation.
It was beginning to occur to Harry, that the conclusion that so many people seemed to have silently come to regarding his and Draco's relationship, was becoming more and more accurate. At least from his side of things.
That afternoon, all thoughts of the New DA were temporarily knocked clean from Harry's head, as he and the rest of the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw fifth years got their first experience of a Defence Against the Dark Arts class with Peeves as Umbridge's unwanted assistant.
Peeves was easily spotted on their arrival. He had stolen the desk at the very front of the class, positioning it directly next to Umbridge's, and had adopted a pose that exactly mirrored that of the Professor. He had also somehow managed to source a vibrant pink beret (that Harry was sure was one of Umbridge's own).
Glancing at the Defence Professor with interest, Harry had to disguise his bark of laughter as a coughing fit. The pink beret was most certainly Umbridge's, as perched upon her slicked back hair was Peeves' familiar orange hat, complete with a golden bell that jingled gently with every movement of her head. Judging by the fixed smile on her face, the swap had not been a voluntary one.
"Wands away please," the class were not looking at Umbridge as she spoke however, and were instead fixated on Peeves, who had adopted her fake simpering smile, and who managed to sync his lips perfectly to her words, "Today class, we shall be reading Chapter Three of our textbooks. There will be no need to talk," at this point, Peeves mimed a shushing motion, and then followed it up with a significantly more sinister mime of running his finger across his throat, his (or rather, Umbridge's) threat obvious.
For the lesson, Peeves did little more than imitate Umbridge's every movement, every noise, every clearing of her throat or scratching of her nose, and though she never looked in his direction, it was clear by the subtle twitch in the corner of her eye that she was not amused. At one point, when Harry was looking away, Peeves had somehow managed to steal, and put on the pink cardigan that she had been wearing - Harry was disappointed however, that he made no attempt to force the Professor into his own vibrant waistcoat.
The only other significant event for the entire class occurred when Seamus's bag fell over with a soft thump, mildly disturbing the rooms silence, and in response Peeves screeched, "QUIET!!!!" at the top of his voice, making the entire class jump, and inspiring a small whimper from Umbridge.
"That was a bit of a let down," Ron said grumpily as they left the class, "I was hoping she might stun someone again,"
"Oh Ron," Harry said, unable to wipe the grin off his face, "I'm pretty sure this is just the beginning,"
That evening, just after seven, found Harry, Ron, and Hermione stood on the seventh floor in front of Barnabas the Barmy and his trolls. It felt strange to be stood there without Draco by his side, but Harry tried not to let it distract him.
"Are we sure this is the right spot?" Hermione said slowly, "There's nothing here,"
"It's the right spot," Harry said firmly, before ushering them closer to the tapestry, "step back so I have space," his friends exchanged confused looks, but otherwise did as they were told. They watched quietly as Harry paced back and forth in front of the spot where he knew the Room's door was just waiting to spring into existence.
'We need a place to train - somewhere we won't be found - somewhere safe - somewhere only we can enter. '
This he repeated twice more, as he paced back and forth with his eyes closed, and his brow furrowed. On his third pass, he heard a gasp from the pair behind him, and upon opening his eyes he was greeted by a familiar door. Pushing the door open, and leading the way into the room, Harry was surprised by what he found.
He had expected the same torchlit room as before, bookcases lining the walls, shelves filled with dark detectors, and plush cushions in the place of chairs. This was not the room they stood in now; instead, the Room had clearly taken inspiration from the kind of large hall Harry had been trained in during his first years as an Auror.
The room was light and airy, with enormous windows lining each wall, though they were too frosted to see through. Along one wall were bookcases filled to the brim with defensive textbooks, and to the other were thick padded exercise mats stacked one on top of the other, with inactive training dummies lined up side-by-side, waiting to be called to action.
At the furthest wall, was an elevated duelling platform complete with a shimmering protective barrier enclosing it. Harry expected it would be months before they found any use for it.
And finally, tucked just beyond an archway at the leftmost corner, was a small classroom which included at least thirty chairs placed in a semi-circle around a small platform with a lecturing podium. Behind this was an empty blackboard, and a tall oak cupboard. Harry expected that anything he could possibly think of could be found behind the cupboard's doors.
The familiar nature of the room put Harry at ease almost immediately - he could do this.
As he expected, Hermione had immediately gasped at the sight of the books and had hurried to inspect them. Ron meanwhile, had spun on the spot, awe filled eyes taking in the space that had been created for them, before wandering off to look at the training dummies with interest.
It wasn't long before the door was opened behind them, and Draco stepped through, closely followed by Pansy and Blaise. Pansy let out a little gasp of surprise, her eyes looking about wildly, whereas Blaise's response was more subdued, though even he looked reluctantly impressed. Harry couldn't help his pleased smile when his eyes met Draco's.
"This is perfect," Draco said, stepping closer and adding quietly so that only they could hear, "I completed my mandatory combat training somewhere like this,"
"So did I - and trained others for a few years as well," Draco shadowed him as he made his way over to their small classroom, "probably the only bit of the job I enjoyed towards the end," he admitted, running his finger along the podiums edge, and then investigating the tall cupboard with interest; he was unsurprised to find it was currently empty.
Draco was silent for a moment, before asking, "Did you turn down that promotion because of- of," here he stumbled, "that traumatic stress response we spoke about?" he offered the others who were arriving a nod of greeting as they trickled in and explored the room with interest, though none of them stepped through to the classroom.
Harry nodded, "I burnt myself on the oven and had a panic attack," he said frankly, and Draco's brow was furrowed as he listened intently, "I decided then that it was enough,"
"And now?" Draco asked cautiously.
"Better," he said firmly, "I took a few years out - best thing I ever did," Harry had to clear his throat to hide his reaction when Draco reached forward to briefly squeeze his hand.
"Good," they were forced to separate as the group was finally called to order by Hermione, and herded into seats around the pedestal Harry was stood at. Draco stepped back and seated himself between Ron and Ginny (who had chosen to sit next to Blaise rather than her brother), his eyes finally leaving Harry's to look about at the group with interest. He looked away very quickly when he spotted Astoria towards the back with her sister.
At the sight of Astoria, Harry took a moment to compose himself: they were just friends. This was just a poorly timed crush. Draco was still reeling from the loss of his wife - he didn't need to deal with Harry's tumultuous feelings on top of that.
He had finally shaken off the nervous squirming in his stomach when the last to arrive, the Creevey brothers, had seated themselves, and the room at large was looking expectantly up at him.
"Well," he said finally, "this is the place we've found to hold these sessions," he exchanged a glance with Draco, and was surprised by the intense look being directed at him, "I'm glad to see that everyone found it okay,"
"We've been here before, haven't we Fred," said George, arms crossed over his chest as he inspected their surroundings.
"Yeah - Cept' it was a broom cupboard back then,"
"It can change shape?" Pansy said sharply.
"It changes to whatever we need most," Harry answered patiently.
"It's bizarre," Dean said dubiously.
"It's just what we need!" Neville cried excitedly, and Harry could only smile, carried by his enthusiasm.
"Indeed," he agreed, "anyway - I've been thinking about what we should - oh, yes Hermione?"
Hermione had politely thrust her hand into the air and waited patiently to be called upon. Harry knew precisely where this was leading.
"I think we should elect our leader,"
"Harry's our leader," said Draco and Cho at once, though Draco sounded significantly more aggressive about it than the dark-haired girl. Harry noticed with interest, the frown Draco directed over his shoulder at Cho, and the faint flush high on his cheeks when he turned back to the front.
"Yes - but I think we should vote to make it official, and so that we all agree to do as he tells us," Hermione continued patiently, "All those in favour of making Harry our leader?" almost at once, all hands were in the air, except -.
"Put your fucking hand up Smith," Ron growled, and more than one person was immediately glaring at the Hufflepuff's less than enthusiastic response to Harry's nomination. Zacharias grumbled but raised his hand higher.
"Right," Harry said slowly, "thanks,"
"And I think we should decide on a name - to promote feelings of unity and team spirit. Don't you think?" she continued brightly.
"How about the Ministry of Magic are Morons Group?" said Fred with a grin.
"Or the Umbridge is the Worst Gathering?" suggested Dean.
"We should probably have a name we can say in public, and not have people know what we're doing," said Pansy dryly, and Hermione nodded enthusiastically.
"How about the Defence Initiative Collective," George said with a smirk, "We'd be the DIC's," there were a few chuckles and rolled eyes.
"How about the Defence Association," Cho said, "Or DA for short?" there were murmurs of agreement, and Harry held his breath, hoping that Ginny would suggest Dumbledore's Army as she had last time. Draco, it seemed, was not willing to leave it to fate.
"Fine - but let's make the DA stand for Dumbledore's Army," he said drily, catching Harry's eye.
"That's brilliant!" crowed Ginny, unknowingly applauding her own stolen idea, "Since that's what the Ministry is so afraid of happening!"
Hermione put it to a vote, and with the majority approval, she pinned the list of their names to the blackboard with their 'newly' decided name scrawled at the top. With it firmly in writing, Harry let out a breath of relief.
"Right - anyway - I think to start with, there are three main things we should focus on," he said, his tone business like, "we'll start today with the disarming spell-," Harry was cut off by Zacharias's loud scoff.
"Expeliarmus? Are you joking? If I'd have known that's the rubbish we were going to be learning, I wouldn't have bothered to come,"
"We all agreed to listen to Harry," Draco snapped through gritted teeth before Harry could reply, "if you don't want to, fine, but get the fuck out!" Zacharias shifted in his seat, a scowl fixed on his face, but he didn't move.
"…as I was saying," Harry continued after a beat, "we'll start with the disarming charm - it's saved my skin more than once, including this summer against Voldemort," there was a collective gasp at the name; it wasn't strictly true this time around, but anything to get Smith to shut his mouth as far as Harry was concerned, "and dark wizards can't very well be cursing you if they haven't got a wand in their hand. Then we'll move on to practicing the shield charm, and finally, before we move into more advanced magic, the basic combat jinx - also known as the basic cast, or the combat bolt. This one you probably haven't heard of before," he added, "has anyone heard of it?" Hermione raised her hand, and Harry suddenly wished he had the ability award points like an actual teacher, "What do you know Hermione?"
"The combat bolt is a nonverbal offensive spell used to cause injury or pain to an opponent during a duel," she said, "though it hasn't been taught at Hogwarts since the nineteen twenties, it is still popular amongst wizarding law enforcement," she was definitely repeating verbatim from something she had read once; maybe he should bring sweets or something as a reward - was that patronising?
"Yes, exactly, well done Hermione!" she beamed, "Any idea why they stopped teaching it at Hogwarts?" she hesitated, and then shook her head, "It was decided, in the wake of the First World War, that Hogwarts should not be teaching wizarding children magic that was purely offensive, with no other utility. Other spells fell out of favour as well - the slashing curse, the burning curse, and the aptly named eye-exploding curse," more than one person winced, "others that were banned have since worked their way back into the curriculum, such as the blasting curse, but the combat bolt wasn't one of them. But I'm going to teach it to you," Harry was surprised to find Draco's hand in the air; he knew for a fact that Unspeakables were trained in the basic combat jinx, "Draco?"
"Why?" he asked curiously, "Out of all the curses and jinxes, why do you want to teach us this one?"
"Because once you've mastered it, it is extremely easy to cast again, and again, in rapid succession," he explained, "no need to try and think of what curse you want next, and no need to say an incantation. It's essentially like being slapped with magic - if you cast a strong enough bolt, you can disorientate your opponent and do some real damage," Draco gave a contemplative hmm, and crossed his arms over his chest, "Any other questions?" no one said anything, "Excellent! Get into pairs and we're going to start practicing expelliarmus," there was a great scrambling of chairs as the group leapt into action, eager to begin.
Harry paced around the hall, weaving in and around pairs, correcting form and offering advice as he went. He rolled his eyes when he found both Fred and George repeatedly disarming Zacharias Smith whenever he raised his wand.
"Very funny," he said dryly, and Fred winked.
"Sorry Harry, couldn't help it,"
"Well, since you both have a good mastery of the disarming charm, why don't you take it in turns with one of you disarming, and the other using a shielding charm to deflect it," still chuckling to themselves, they nodded, and moved to follow his instructions.
Satisfied, he turned to wander to the other side of the hall, and noticed for the first time, that Draco appeared to be doing the same. He gave a small confused, questioning shake of his head as they passed one another, and Draco shrugged.
"Including you, we're an even number, and I don't need the practice. Two heads are better than one," for a moment they stood toe to toe, before Draco turned smartly on his heel, as if it were the steps of a dance, and progressed towards Pansy and Luna, who had formed an unlikely pair. He suddenly noticed a silent spot directly to his right and realised that Cho had stopped trying to disarm Marietta in favour of watching him. She flushed, and flashed him a smile, before continuing to practice her spell work; Harry didn't miss her gaze travelling to Draco first though.
By the end of the session, everyone had managed at least one successful disarming charm, and spirits, including Harry's, were high.
"That was brilliant everyone," he said encouragingly, helping Lavender Brown to re-stack the exercise matts she had accidentally thrown across the room with a wayward charm, "is everyone happy with meeting again in a week?"
"Sooner," Dean said enthusiastically.
"Okay - we'll organise a way to agree a date, don't worry. For now, you should all be proud of yourselves!"
Gradually, they all filtered out of the room in small groups. Harry couldn't help but freeze when Astoria stepped forwards before she left, with Daphne hovering uncertainly behind her younger and apparently bolder sister. She held out her hand, and Harry shook it uncertainly.
"Thank you very much, Potter," she said seriously, "For allowing us to join your group, and taking the time to teach us how to defend ourselves," Harry could see Draco hovering out of the corner of his eye, "I wasn't sure what to expect, but you've been an excellent teacher!"
"Uuh, thanks Greengrass - don't mention it,"
"Call me Astoria," she said firmly, releasing his hand.
"Only if you call me Harry," a smirk tipped the edge of her mouth, and abruptly Harry could see the woman she would grow into. She nodded and left.
Daphne stepped into the spot she had vacated, and said dryly, "You may continue to call me Greengrass," before she left with a singular twisting wave of her hand, as if she were dismissing an adoring audience.
When it was just Harry, Draco, Ron, and Hermione, Harry encouraged his friends out of the Room's door, with a promise that he would be close behind.
"That went well," Draco said when the door had swung shut.
"It did, didn't it," said Harry, unable to suppress his proud smile, "Did you see Neville deflect Hermione's disarming charm?" he asked eagerly, "I think I'd forgotten how much fun these meetings were,"
"I did see," Draco said, his eyes fixed unblinkingly on Harry's face, "You're an excellent teacher - did you never want to teach at Hogwarts?"
Harry wrinkled his nose, "Not exactly conducive to family life - working at a boarding school," he pointed out, "I might have enjoyed it though, after the kids had grown," he conceded, thinking fondly of his children, and trying not to be weighed down by the sadness that always accompanied thoughts of them, "You were pretty good yourself - I saw you curse Smith though," he said shrewdly, and Draco scowled.
"Prick had it coming - why'd he even join if he's so sceptical of everything?"
Harry only shrugged, "No idea - he was the same last time," he paused, considering, "Thank you for encouraging us to do this," Draco's face relaxed into a soft smile, "I think I'll benefit from this more than anyone, to be honest,"
Draco patted his shoulder and used his hand to turn Harry towards the door, taking him under his arm as he led him forwards, "Good - that's all I really care about anyway," it was the casual way in which he said it that inspired butterflies in Harry's stomach - as if it were obvious that he held Harry's well-being above all others.
"Are you coming to Quidditch practice tomorrow?"
Draco grinned and said, "Of course."
Lying in bed that night, Harry couldn't help but dwell on the blonde. It was as if, by acknowledging that maybe he had crush on Draco, it was now all he could think about. It wasn't an unfamiliar feeling for him - it had been exactly this scenario that had led to him and Ginny separating.
He and Draco had worked on one other case together before the one that had sent them here. It had been a month solid of early morning coffee and late lunches, and by the end of it, Harry had barely been able to look at the blonde without blushing, and he had realised that maybe he wasn't as straight as he presumed. And then he realised that he'd never quite felt like this about Ginny, or any woman, and the only thing that had come close was when he and Cho had briefly been a thing - but reflecting on it now, that had only been from the novelty and thrill of knowing someone liked him.
What had sealed the deal, so to say, was when Harry caught sight of Draco giving one of his subordinates a firm but thorough dressing down, and Harry had had to lock himself in the bathroom until he had himself and his inconvenient arousal under control. For obvious reasons, nothing had come of it - Draco was happily married, and most likely straight, and after that case they had barely crossed paths except for in the atrium.
But when reflecting on that month of self-discovery, Harry could tell that this wasn't quite the same. It felt both more, and less at the same time. Though maybe less was the wrong word - perhaps softer was more accurate. At the sudden rush of feeling in his chest, Harry took a deep breath and held it until it had subsided, keeping the breathy noise that had threatened to escape trapped inside.
In one sudden movement, Harry flipped himself from his back, onto his side, curled himself into a ball, and shut his eyes firmly to block out the world. It was fine - it was just a silly crush. He was fine.
He fell asleep with a smile on his face.
The next day, Harry was still riding the weeks high. Even the torrential down pour that Angelina had made them train in for nearly an hour, before allowing them to give up, couldn't dampen his mood. Draco had quickly gone back on his earlier promise to train with them, but Harry couldn't really blame him - especially when it took him nearly half an hour to get all the mud out of his hair. That evening however, Harry found himself dragged back down to Earth with an unpleasant crash.
It was nearly midnight, and Harry and Ron were finishing off their latest potions homework, while Hermione poured over the books she had been able to find pertaining to wizarding law in the library.
"It's ridiculous Harry," she'd said grimly, furiously scribbling notes, "there are at least twenty wizarding laws to do with the fair treatment of House Elves going back nearly one hundred years, and yet I can't find a single example of them being enforced!" At least she wasn't insulting the Hogwarts' House Elves with knitted hats and forced freedom.
The common room had been empty but for them, and Harry had been on the verge of rolling up his parchment, when his eyes were caught by movement in the fireplace, and he froze. He held his breath, eyes fixed on the flames, waiting and hoping he hadn't actually just seen a head in them. When the logs noticeably shifted, and the flames flickered again, Harry hissed through his teeth.
"You alright mate?" Ron asked in concern.
"I'm pretty sure I just saw Sirius's head in the fireplace," Harry grumbled.
"What?!" Ron and Hermione exclaimed, before looking around urgently to make sure they were alone. Together, all three of them moved to gather around the fireplace and block it from view should anyone else enter the common room. It took less than five minutes for the flames to flicker, and for the familiar face of his godfather to appear in the embers. A wide grin split Sirius's face, but Harry could barely hide his scowl.
"Hello you three!" Sirius said cheerfully.
"Sirius! What are you doing?!" Hermione said in a frantic whisper.
Sirius rolled his eyes, "Trying to speak to you lot, that's what. I've been popping into the fire every ten minutes since nine, hoping to get you alone,"
"Did anyone see you?" Harry asked, his eyes narrowed on Sirius's now guilty expression.
"I think a girl might have - but I was gone before she could look back!"
Harry hissed through his teeth, "This is reckless," he said flatly, and now it was Sirius's brow that furrowed.
"Well, there's no other good way to talk to you now, is there," he said darkly, "what with the mail being watched,"
"All avenues of communication in and out of Hogwarts are being watched Sirius. That includes the floo network!" He snapped, and Sirius scowled.
Ron interrupted before they could start arguing, however, "Why are you here? What's so important?"
Sirius spoke almost reluctantly, clearly wanting to bite back at Harry, "Dung told us about the Defence group you're forming - I wanted to offer my support, and obviously I can't do that in a letter without getting you all into trouble," his light mocking tone only managed to rile Harry up further.
"Dung?" Hermione said in confusion.
"He was the witch at the bar," Harry answered distractedly, "thanks for the support and everything, we'll talk about it at Christmas," Harry continued firmly, resisting the urge to grab the fire poker and use it to force Sirius's head back, and instead settling on cutting off their conversation as quickly as possible.
"What's your problem?" Sirius barked.
"What's my problem?" Harry hissed in response, "My problem, is that you're a wanted wizard, risking your freedom to tell me congratulations through the fireplace. It's like you want them to put you back in Azkaban!"
"Oh, well excuse me for wanting to speak to you!" Sirius responded furiously, the flames around his head crackling as he shifted in the fireplace, "I thought the risk was worth it, and I thought you might agree!"
"The risk of you being arrested? Of being given the dementors kiss?" Hermione hushed him when his voice started to rise, "I prefer my godfathers with their souls intact, thanks," Harry said sarcastically.
Sirius scoffed, "I try to do something nice for you, and this is the thanks I get!"
"Don't you dare try and put this on me," Harry thundered, vaguely aware of a frantic Hermione casting privacy spells around them (she must have learnt them following their Hogsmeade visit), "Don't you pretend that this little escapade was for anyone's benefit but your own - have you no restraint? None at all?"
"This is ridiculous - here I was thinking you might be happy to see me, and instead you're telling me off! You're the teenager remember! Not me - you don't get to tell me off!" Sirius was shouting as well, and Ron was now anxiously staring back at the stairs that lead to the dormitories.
"I am the teenager. You're right. I'm your responsibility. So think for just one second what would happen to me without you," Harry said coldly; Sirius visibly hesitated, "I'd end up back with the Durlsey's until I was seventeen, being locked in my room and fed through a fucking cat flap," Sirius's eyes flashed in alarm; Harry shook his head, and clambered to his feet, "You're so fucking selfish," and with that, he trudged his way to the spiral staircase, and up to the dormitories.
When Ron eventually came up, twenty minutes or so later, Harry pretended to already be asleep, and waited until Ron was in his own bed to wipe away the few tears that had rolled down his cheeks. What a shit end to such a good week.