Chapter 1
“Maybe I should just ask the twins if I can work in their joke shop after I graduate,” Ron whispers to Harry, staring blankly at the career form in front of him. Hermione shoots him a glare, unamused. “Just joking,” he manages to get out, squeezing out a strained smile to convince her.
He’s really not, but that's not something she has to know. “Sure,” she says sarcastically, scratching out the paragraph Ron spent his entire afternoon painstakingly writing. “And remember, it's a counterclockwise motion, not a clockwise one. That’s an entirely different wand movement.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he grumbles, watching as an hour's work is destroyed in less than a minute. Harry sends him a sympathetic look as he clears his throat and passes his form over to Hermione to double check. Lucky bastard, Ron thinks miserably. Bet he’s glad he doesn’t have to redo his entire essay.
“I've been thinking about joining the Aurors recently,” Harry says, and Ron pauses in his self wallowing to stare in disbelief.
“Well,” they both start off, before pausing and staring at each other awkwardly. Ron nods, moving back so she can continue and she looks at him gratefully.. “It’s a commendable job,” she finally settles on saying, before grimacing. “And you certainly have first hand experience, being the boy who lived and all. But…I didn’t think you were all that into…you know,” she struggles to find the right words.
“Just thought you’d want a little more peace and quiet after all this is over,” Ron finishes for her before shrugging. “And dad’s always complaining about all the dangerous stuff the Auror’s bring in, like artifacts enchanted with blood curses. It’s all dark stuff, honestly.”
“But,” Harry taps his fingers on his leg, furrowing his eyebrows. “If you and I are partners then I won’t have to worry about any danger. I trust you with my life, Ron.””
The redhead chokes on air, and Harry jumps into action, passing him the glass of water next to him.“While I appreciate your confidence in me,” Ron croaks after he gets the coughing under control. “I don’t think I’ll even pass the entrance exam.”
”Well, not with the way your O.W.L scores are looking right now,” Hermione remarks, but the frown at her lips betrays her concern. When she sees Ron looking, however, she shoots him a glare before burrowing her head into her book.
Ron glances at the title, “Secrets of the Darkest Arts,” and wisely decides to keep his mouth shut about the redness creeping up her face. Harry, on the other hand, doesn’t seem to share the same survival instinct.
“Hermione,” he says, ignorant of how Ron bumps his shoulder to get him to stay quiet. “You’re looking a bit flushed. Is it too hot in here?”
Ron groans internally, belatedly realizing the fact that Harry is as perceptive as a rock. “Yes,” she grits out through clenched teeth, raising her book even higher. “It must be the heat getting to me.”
“It’s…November,” Harry says with a confused face, raising an eyebrow. “Are you sure you don’t need to see Madam Pomfrey?”
“Hermione,” Ron cuts in, almost desperately. “What about that other thing we were talking about during lunch. Isn’t this the perfect time to tell Harry about it?”
Harry snaps his head up, interest gleaming in his eyes. “You’re talking about the D.A, right?” Hermione asks, ignoring the question that was aimed at her as naturally as possible. “I can’t just sit back and watch Umbridge try to erase spells just because she thinks they’re too dark. She’s depriving us of the resources to learn and gain more knowledge. Does she think just because we won’t be using Dark magic, that the Death Eaters aren’t going to be using any unforgivables or curses?”
“Exactly, besides-” Ron turns to face Harry, ready to explain. “I’ve been talking to the others and they also think its bloody dumb to expect us to fight You-Know-Who with no knowledge. The way the Professors are just standing by, allowing Umbridge to get rid of anything related to the dark arts when everyone and their mom knows You-Know-Who is out there almost jumping at the opportunity to kill you-,” he winces at how blunt that sounds, looking at him apologetically. “Sorry mate, you know what I mean.”
Harry waves him off. “It’s fine. I know better than anyone how badly Voldemort wants me dead.” The redhead tries not to flinch at the mention of his name, huffing out a laugh to hide his discomfort.
“That’s where you come in, Harry,” Hermione pipes up, nodding in satisfaction. “You’re going to be the leader. The face of the club, if I may say so myself.”
And there goes the interest. Harry stares at them in disbelief, shaking his head. “Me?” He asks, voice wavering. “Are we talking about the same person right now? Wouldn’t you or Ron be a better fit that me?”
“No,” the brunette says, stressing the word forcefully. “It has to be you, Harry. You’re the one these students believe in. You’re the only one whose ever seen You-Know-Who in the flesh and survived twice. Ron and I…we just don’t have the same experience you do.”
Ron nods his head. “Besides, it’s not like we aren’t going to be there with you. We’re going to be right there, no matter what.”
There’s a misty look in Harry’s eyes as he listens to them, and for a second Ron thinks he’s going to cry before he lets out a shaky laugh. “Well, I can’t say no after that, can I?”
He grins at them, and Ron feels an overwhelming urge to hug him. He shares a glance with Hermione and giving a slight nod, they both launch themselves at Harry, tumbling back into the couch as they become a mess of limbs and fly away papers.
“You’ll always have us, mate,” Ron says, praying no one mentions his suspiciously wet eyes and Hermione echoes her agreement, tightening her hold on them. “Don’t ever doubt that.”