#umbridge

You worried they would be getting annoyed by this. By you waking them up again, just to climb into bed with them. Would it be better that you just straight up moved in there with them? Would the other students in their dorm be annoyed by your presence? This wasn’t your assigned bedroom after all.

You tried to power through those worrying thoughts, as you pushed the door open. You were too scared of Umbridge to give a care about what others thought. She hated you. Hated you because those twins liked you. You were the enemy by association.

You would tip toe across the room, and would hug yourself tighter. Just worried about being a burden, and a bother. Something she would often say you were. Just attacking your insecurities. She was good at that. She was good at making people hurt. Oh she was damn good at hurting people, and getting away with it.

Finally, you reached the familiar bed. Fred’s bed. Well, Fred and George’s bed. They never really out grew sharing a bed. George’s ended up being a make shift work shop table for their inventions. You found it utterly adorable how they would hold each other. They had a special bond. Magic tended to play a heavy role in that, but you still found it sweet. How that no matter how old they get they would still make sure to be there for each other. No matter what. Was comforting to see that guys don’t always worry about masculinity.

“Psst….Guys-“ You gently shook George’s shoulder, as you tried to wake them up. Didn’t want to wake the other students up, but you also didn’t want to just climb into bed either. Could startle them. Or worse. They didn’t want you to, and you invaded their personal bubble. Consent is important after all.

“Hm-?” George would rub at his eyes, while Fred yawned. They were annoyed as hell, until they saw it was you who bothered them. George gave a comforting smile, before scooting away from his twin. Fred, in turn, lifted the blanket up. You gave a sigh in relief, before climbing between them. Snuggled safely between them both.

“Thanks.” You whispered, as they would wrap their arms around you. A tangled of limbs, just like that. Was so warm. So warm, and safe. No one could get to you now. Safe between a pair of tricksters. Just like that. The smell of fire crackers, and cinnamon. That was such a comforting scent to you. Baked goods, and fire.

“No pink toads will get you-“ “Not on our watch.” The twins would tease you, as they gave you a tight squeeze. A reminder that they weren’t going anywhere. Not without you, at the very least. That had you smile, and feel a weight lift off your body. Safe. Safe again.

“We’ve got plans for her. Don’t worry.” George would reassure you, as he would nuzzle into the back of your neck. Enjoying the warmth you gave him, as his arm reached over to keep physical touch with Fred. The two most important people he has, right in his arms.

“And it’s going to be utterly spectacular. Just you wait and see.” Fred would echo, as he rested his head on yours. Forcing your nose into his neck, as his arm did the same thing. Keeping George close, as you were all safely hidden under the blanket.

“Promise.” They would share, as you were already drifting to sleep. Safe in their strong arms, and knowing you’ll be safe by morning all the same. No scary toads to haunt your dreams. Just a pair of pranksters to defend you. No matter what.

Safe snuggles. What a dream come true.

The Room of Requirement had transformed itself once again for Dumbledore’s Army, who were meeting as usual that evening. Flickering torchlight danced across the stone walls and the clutter of practice dummies was pushed aside to make space for the group. Harry stood at the front, his voice steady if not a little awkward as he demonstrated the Disarming Charm. He reminded you, in these moments, of Professor Lupin: cool, calm, and genuinely interested in what he was teaching; it was no fault of his that you often struggled to keep up with what was taught.

“Expelliarmus!” Harry cried, flicking his wand with a sharp, controlled motion. Neville’s wand flew onto the floor behind him, and his jaw dropped.

“Amazing, Harry!” Neville remarked.

Harry smiled. “Remember — it’s all in the wrist movement. Don’t just wave it. Commit.”

You stood near the back, paired with Hermione because she knew you were struggling to keep up: wandwork had always been your weakest subject, and so Harry had suggested you pair up together given Hermione’s natural inclination for teaching.

Your heart was already hammering— not just from the excitement of these illicit meetings, but from your awareness of Hermione's gaze on you as you got ready to practice. The two of you had been growing closer during these secret meetings: stolen glances, quiet conversations after practice, the occasional brush of fingers when passing notes… You didn’t know what to make of it, but it didn’t feel like friendship: you hadn’t been especially close with her before, but, over the past few weeks, you found your stomach flipping in her presence.

“Ready?” Hermione asked softly, her angular eyes focused on you with that familiar mix of encouragement and determination. You tried to ignore how doe-like she looked, and to concentrate on the spell, instead.

"Right," you nodded, raising your wand. “Expelliarmus!”

As expected, nothing happened. Your wand movement was clumsy, the word lacked conviction, and the practise wand barely moved on the small table you were using as a target. You repeated this five times, to no avail.

You finally groaned, lowering your fatigued arm. “I just can't do it!"

Hermione smiled empathetically a little at your frustration, and glanced around to see if anyone else was struggling: Harry was busy helping Seamus and Dean; the others seemed to be successful within their pairs. She sighed and stepped closer, her voice dropping to a gentle murmur.

“You need to know how to defend yourself, Y/N. Can I show you?"

You nodded and rubbed your tired eyes, grateful for her determination to teach you. She moved behind you, her body pressing lightly against your back and muttering a quick "sorry" as she went.

You didn't mind at all: the warmth of her was immediate; the soft brush of her robes, the faint scent of parchment, and the tickle of her hair on your face calmed you. One hand settled on your shoulder to steady your posture, while the other slid down your arm until her fingers wrapped around your wand-hand.

“Relax your shoulders down a bit,” she said, “or your hand will be too stiff.”

You complied, trying to relax yourself. She guided your hand slowly, her palm covering yours completely, fingers interlacing so she could control the motion. Her touch was firm yet tender.

“Say expelliarmus, and I’ll move your hand the right way. Ready?

“Alright,” you cleared your throat and wiggled backward a little into her slightly taller frame. “Expelliarmus! Oh, it worked! Look, Hermione!” The wand on the table flew backward, hitting the wall and dropping to the floor with force.

“Knew you could do it,” she smiled. “Let’s keep practising”. She didn’t pull away once the basic flick was done; instead, she lingered, her thumb tracing a small, soothing circle on the back of your hand as she spoke.

“Just remember that the wrist snaps forward at the end, but the power comes from here—” Her free hand moved to your waist, pressing gently to straighten your spine and pull you back against her just a little more. “Feel the difference?”

You tried the spell again under her guidance. Your wand moved smoother this time, but still not perfect. Hermione didn’t let go. Instead, she repeated the motion with you, her body molded to yours, guiding every tiny adjustment.

“Let’s try again,” she murmured, “but don’t rush it this time.“

Her fingers tightened around yours, not just guiding the wand but holding it, lingering. The contact sent warmth spreading through your chest and a blush onto your face. Every time you went through the motions, her hand on your waist slid a fraction, steadying you while her thumb drew idle patterns against your side through your robes.

“You’re getting it,” she encouraged, though her voice had grown softer, huskier. “But your elbow is still dropping. Here—”

She wrapped her arm lightly around yours from behind, pressing her cheek against the side of your head as she corrected the angle. The position was incredibly intimate — her chest brushing your back, her hips aligned with yours, her hand never leaving yours on the wand.

his hands were held tightly around your wrist the rings digging into your skin like knives. 

“Blaise,” you whimpered, shaking your head as he ignored you and the ache in his heart. “Blaise please,” you sniffed. “It’s hurting me,” his gaze shifts and his vice-like grip softened slightly. “Shut up,” he grunts as he tugs you along. His eyes gave you no hint to his expression. The ghastly pink greets you as you lock eyes with Umbridge, whose thin lips turn up in an ugly smile. “Ms Y/L/N,” she tuts as one would to a child. “I thought you had better sense than to fool around, I even offered you a place on my squad.” You fought against your restraints, rage blinding your vision. “he’s back! I know it!” You hiss as metal cuts into your skin, a warning. Umbridge dismisses you with a sneer like look. It’s silent for a moment as she circles Harry, a predatory look on her face. “Where is he?” She yells, her wand thrust into his face. Harry blinks. “I don’t know!” He says exasperated. “Don’t lie to me boy,” she spits. You tremble, Umbridge opening her mouth before Neville is marched in.