Disclaimer: I don't own anything from the Harry Potter universe.

Changed the rating from M to T.

This is not going to be a fluffy story. This is going to be dark. Language and maybe a little violence in the future. No romance.

Chapter 1:

The hurried staccato click of heeled shoes echoed annoyingly in the Dining Hall, capturing the attention of everyone in the vicinity. The din and bustle of the morning feast died down quickly as the source behind the noise passed them, heading for the front of the great room. Acting stealthily, the students turned to each other with annoyed, impatient looks, signaling to each other with their eyes, 'What is it this time?'

The staff looked on passively from their table, still eating their breakfast. Sybil Trewlaney looked fearful and almost on the verge of breakdown, but that was how she had looked ever since Professor Umbridge had tried to sack her. Thanks to Dumbledore she stayed, but he was not here now, and everyone was almost counting the days for when that nasty toad of a woman gathered the nerve to try again, wondering what would happen then. The sharp gaze of the Transfiguration Professor followed the movement of the dumpy woman as she buttered her toast. On the other half of the table Snape made no effort to conceal his disdain, his lip curled as she marched her way through the room, jowls aquiver.

When Professor-ahem-Headmistress Umbridge had at last reached the pulpit she planted her meaty little fists onto the flat surface and did her best not to glare at the student body, who were doing their best not to do the same. The awful pink robe she had donned for the day made no effort to conceal her rotund figure-in fact, the unflattering garment made her look more toady than ever, with pom-poms made of yarn sprinkled around the neck to fashion a collar, but more closely resembled warts when viewed from a distance. Many of the students found themselves wishing the robe was green, as it would quite transform her, but further thoughts were silenced when she opened her mouth to speak.

"To whoever is responsible for the mess on the third floor; if you confess now your punishment will not be severe. If anyone has any knowledge on who the culprit is, you are encouraged to come forth. If you do so you will be rewarded handsomely for doing the right thing."

Across the room, some students smiled slyly, and the more sensible ones kept their faces neutral. Those with a flair for theatrics had the idea to appear surprised. This entire display wasn't out of the ordinary. Since Dumbledore had gone the students had started up their own rebellion against the new Headmistress. Every day left them with a new surprise, another wanted culprit for one act of defiance or another. Nasty messages on the walls in the corridors, an attempted food fight by the lower years, barrages of flying paper cranes or dragons that pelted Filch on the head were only a few. Someone (everyone suspected Peeves) had got some of the ghosts to gather around Umbridge for a whole day and blow loud raspberries every time she opened her mouth, drowning out every word she uttered until she somehow got the Bloody Baron to scare them off. No one would confess to it, but someone had charmed the suits of armor that lined the halls to croak like a toad whenever she passed by them. But, much to everyone's collective displeasure, she remained in the castle despite all their admirable efforts to drive her out. To hers, no matter how many privileges she took away or threats she made, no one would admit guilt.

Umbridge looked around, waiting. When no one stepped forward, she gave a long sigh.

"I know how you must all be keenly suffering the loss of your previous Headmaster, but the way he has run this school for the past years have not been satisfactory. The Ministry has placed me here to right was has been done wrong. I am merely here to help you, don't you see? I am not your enemy, I am your friend. If you work with me, we can correct his mistakes." She attempted a look at pity, "It pains me to have to treat you so strictly, but I do it all for you. Unless you all begin to behave like good children do you force my hand in retribution, so effective today, all trips to Hogsmeade are cancelled," she said. Immediately there was uproar from every table except for the staff, who wisely kept quiet.

"You can't do that!" Pansy Parkinson shouted loudly above everyone else, who angrily nodded their agreement.

"Keep your voice down, Miss Parkinson! Until the persons responsible for these…atrocities are caught, I am forced to continue tightening restrictions."

"That's not fair!" shouted Dean Thomas.

"But we didn't do it!"

"Silence!" the Headmistress shouted, rapping her knuckles against the pulpit for attention. "If these disgraceful acts continue all free periods shall be taken away next! You are dismissed!"

"She didn't say what it was this time, did she?" Harry asked Ron and Hermione as they walked away from the Gryffindor table. They walked quickly, taking care to conceal the fruit and bits of toast they had not had time to finish at the table. When Umbridge was in a worse mood, she had the habit of ending breakfast hours earlier than usual, and often prohibited the taking of food from the table. They weren't sure if she had forgotten to enforce that rule on this particular morning, or if she was too angry to care.

"No," Ron said, looking over his shoulder before snagging two muffins from a bowl and stuffing them into his pockets.

"It must have been very bad then," Harry said. "Or nasty enough to make her too squeamish to mention it."

Hordes of other students passed them, also concealing various breakfast foods in their hefty robes or schoolbags. Lee Jordan passed them, hurriedly cramming a brown parcel into his pocket.

"Lee Jordan," Hermione called. When he turned, there was an innocent smile on his face. "How's the boy's lavatory on the third floor?"

"It'll be out of order for a few days," he said, grinning widely. "Unless you're fond of music."

"Huh?" Ron asked.

"Nevermind. I've got to run," Lee Jordan said, pulling a pear out of his pocket. Patting the other, which was heavy with the mysterious parcel, he smiled at Ron. "Your brothers send their love," he said, and left.

Once he was gone Hermione leaned in to speak to Harry and Ron.

"I caught him last night on my way back from the library. He's charmed all the toilets to sing loudly every five minutes. Really raunchy stuff, he couldn't stop laughing when he showed me."

Ron whooped. "I've got to take a look at that later, if she hasn't got Filch guarding it."

"Reckon he's behind the suits of armor thing?" Harry asked, laughing.

"The what?" Hermione asked. "Oh, the croaking, you mean? Probably. He's really talented at charms, isn't he?"

"I'll bet that parcel was from Fred and George," Ron muttered, peering after Jordan, who was still making his way down the corridor. "I wonder how they're getting all this stuff past the new security checks."

"Dunno," Harry said, nibbling on some French toast. "What do we have first?"

"History of Magic," Hermione said, looking at her timetable. "With Slytherin."

"There goes the prospect of a good morning," Harry sighed.

Ron snorted. "Yeah, mate, it's been such a pleasure so far."

"Seat taken?"

Hermione jumped, and turned to the right. Draco Malfoy arched an eyebrow at her and motioned at the chair he was referring to.

"No, go ahead," she said, turning back to face the front of the room and he sat down, shrugging off his robe. Pulling his satchel onto his lap, he began to rummage through it for some parchment and a quill. In the front of the room, Professor Binns had already begun the lecture, failing to notice half the class was still just barely settling into their seats. Hermione glanced across the aisle. Harry couldn't seem to find his notes from the previous class, and Ron had already sunk low into his seat, staring blankly at the words that appeared on the board as their Professor droned on. She scowled at them.

Dimly, she heard Malfoy swear under his breath. A second passed, and she heard him clear his throat quietly. Another passed, and he did it again, more pointedly. Having gotten the hint, Hermione turned to face him with her eyebrows raised politely.

"D'you need something?"

He was slouched in his seat; hands still in his bag but his eyes were fixed on hers. "Could you lend me a quill?"

She motioned for him to wait, and reached into her schoolbag to grab the spare she always carried, fighting the mad urge to laugh. At least he'd been polite, which was more than she'd expected.

Once she'd handed it to him, she turned back to her notes, but didn't miss him discretely wiping the grip of her quill with the sleeve of his robe. She rolled her eyes. Perhaps she'd been wrong. Still, this strange behavior was preferable to his regular taunts and insults, though it made her feel weird. Her eyes swept across the room. There was more than one empty seat-why choose to sit next to her?

We all know how he feels about blood purity or-she rolled her eyes-the lack of.

She glanced at him suspiciously from the corner of her eye. Sudden change of heart? Extremely unlikely. It's got to be something else.

The class was uneventful, as always, but by some small miracle they were assigned less homework than usual. Malfoy had remained silent through the whole lesson, which kept her spirits up. His thoughts were definitely wandering elsewhere; he hadn't even bothered to keep up with the note taking. From the few glances she stole of his face, it was clear he was unhappy about something, but Hermione was content to chalk it up to the news about Hogsmeade and leave it there, for his troubles were none of her concern.

When class was dismissed Hermione sprang out of her seat, gathering her things at top speed to meet Harry and Ron at the door before moving on to her next class, which was two floors up.

Malfoy had stood up too, and came closer, slinging his bag over his body. His robes were folded neatly inside his bag.

"Thank you," he said stiffly. Avoiding her touch, he placed the borrowed quill on her desk even though she had reached for it and swept from the room without another word. Hermione frowned, and put the item back into her bag before walking out of the room. By then he was gone, but Harry and Ron met her outside the classroom.

"What was that about?" Ron asked as Hermione met him and Harry at the door.

"Nothing," Hermione said. "Malfoy was just returning my quill. It was strange."

"How?" Harry asked, cleaning his classes. They began walking down the hall to the stairs leading up to the upper floors.

"He was almost civil."

"Alert the Ministry!" Ron exclaimed, laughing.

"Maybe he's upset about the Hogsmeade thing," Harry suggested.

"That's what I thought. But never mind, I've got to run. See you in a bit!" She hurried off before they could reply.

Draco slammed his chosen book down onto the table. The resulting boom echoed through the library, earning him a soul-withering glare from Madame Pince. Draco shrugged half-heartedly in reply, miming he had hurt his wrist, and she turned away, still scowling.

There was an Inquisitorial Squad meeting with Umbridge in a half hour. Until then he had best find what he needed. Draco closed his eyes and let his hands fall from the table. At least it got him out of class, but he really didn't care at all for these constant meetings, and they'd just had one this morning. Draco wasn't against Umbridge, but he certainly didn't want to spend any more time in her presence than he had to.

Someone walked past and he focused back on the book, flipping it open but his eyes didn't take in a single word.

It won't be easy, he thought to himself. Umbridge doesn't know what she's signed herself up for. As if I didn't have enough on my bloody plate with OWLS coming up, now I have to spy on Granger of all people. What fun that'll be. Shame I didn't get Potter. That at least would have been slightly more interesting than following the Mudblood around the school.

To be fair, he knew Umbridge wasn't too far off the mark about that secret organization inside the school. It was definitely something he could see Potter doing. The only problem was none of them had proof of it.

And if they've gone half the year without revealing anything I doubt we'll get any answers from them so quickly.

Off in the farther end of the library two second years were talking too loudly. Their whispers carried over to Madame Pince, who rushed over to scold them. Draco stood up, irritated. He couldn't focus and it was nearly time for the meeting anyhow.

Just as he exited the library someone passed him in a rush, and her shoulder knocked into his. Draco barely noticed but looked behind him at the same time she looked over her shoulder, frowning. It was Granger. He heard her soft-spoken apology but didn't acknowledge it since he was already too far away and just seeing her made him angry. For a very brief moment he found himself almost wishing Dumbledore was back. Almost.