The day's classes were nearly over, and for whatever reason Draco had insisted on walking with Cecelia to all of hers the day before as well as today. Annoyingly enough, they had the same electives as well, leaving her to deal with Draco throughout all of her classes.

It wasn't that she truly minded his presence. For the most part it seemed he was trying to get away from Crabbe and Goyle, which was perfectly understandable. She just didn't get why he'd come and bug her in particular. He had plenty of friends in Slytherin to fall back on if he really felt like he needed a break. They'd never been close and had only ever had one real conversation up until now. She didn't understand why he was suddenly latching on.

The last class she wanted to spend with Draco Malfoy was Defense Against the Dark Arts. She already knew this class would be nothing but a massive headache considering their toad-like professor. And based on Draco's words from the other night, he had a rather high opinion of the woman. She supposed it made sense considering his father likely worked with her, but she definitely didn't agree with him.

Even worse, they shared this class with Harry Potter. Cecelia had never so much as interacted with her infamous classmate despite being in the same year as him. She'd never had any reason or desire to. Hanging out with someone like him was just asking for trouble. She didn't need the unnecessary risk, and didn't need to be outcast in her House even more than she already was.

He was also going to have one of the biggest issues with Umbridge's presence. The Ministry had been opposing the Boy Who Lived ever since he started spouting off about Voldemort's return. Cecelia knew she wasn't the only one in Slytherin House who believed him, though many others were more aware because of their family's involvement with the Dark Lord. To her distaste, Draco was included in that group.

When they entered the class, it was set up like any standard muggle classroom. It was almost disconcerting with its plainness. The desks were lined up in rows with enough room for two to three people per table. At the front of the room was an empty blackboard along with a few pieces of chalk and a crisp, seemingly unused eraser. Beyond the basic layout of the room, there were some sparse decorations. A few paintings here and there, and some educational or inspirational posters dotted around on the walls. It almost felt like Cecelia was back in primary school.

Professor Umbridge stood at the front of the room, leaning against her desk and watching intently as each of them filed into the room. They weren't the first ones there, but they certainly weren't the last. Cecelia went to take a seat in the very back of the class, and like a lost puppy, Draco eagerly followed.

Over the next few minutes, the rest of the class slowly trickled in, filling up the rows of tables in front of her and Draco, as well as Pansy Parkinson who had decided to take a seat on Draco's other side. She was far enough away that Cecelia didn't mind her being there too much, though she could feel the calculating glances the other girl kept shooting her.

As soon as the class was full, Umbridge was ready to go. She clapped her hands together with a falsely cheerful smile adorning her features. "Good evening, class!"

There were a few grumbles in response, but no one bothered speaking up for the most part. "Hem, hem," she coughed daintily, "now that won't do. I said, good evening, class."

"Good evening, Professor Umbridge," the class chanted back unenthusiastically. Despite their lackluster response, her face lit up like it was Christmas morning.

"Lovely," she said in a dreadfully high-pitched tone. Cecelia could already feel her annoyance bubbling up. Combining her over enthusiastic attitude with an already stressful day of classes led to nothing but a headache. "Alright, wands away, please. Quills out."

Cecelia began pulling her materials out at a purposefully slow pace. Once she was done and had her desk space set up, the chalkboard was covered in clean, smooth writing that read: "Defense Against the Dark Arts: A Return to Basic Principles".

She internally groaned. Another lecture on the basics before they got to practicing the real stuff. Most teachers did so on the first day, but that had never been the case for DADA. She really should've expected as much from a Ministry pet like Umbridge, but she'd been hoping to avoid another boring lecture on safety protocols and the basics.

"Now then," she began with another dopey smile sweeter than sugar. It made Cecelia feel sick. "I'd like for you to copy this down from the board, please."

The sound of writing filled the room. Cecelia took her sweet time with the notes, exaggerating each loopy letter as she went to drag it out as much as possible. She ended up being one of the last to finish, and as soon as they were all done, Umbridge moved on.

"You all have a copy of Defensive Magical Theory by William Slinkhard, yes?" She asked sweetly.

Cecelia didn't bother with a response, already digging around in her bag for the book. The most she heard from the rest of the class was an indiscernible grumble.

"When I ask a question," she began with feigned tenderness, "I expect a clear and concise response. Now, do you all have a copy of Defensive Magical Theory by William Slinkhard?"

"Yes, Professor," the class chorused back at her in a dead tone.

Cecelia was still slumped over her bag, digging around for the book. She heard the sharp clack of heels approaching from behind her and glanced up just in time to meet Umbridge's cold eyes.

"Do you have a copy, Miss...?"

"Nadir," she replied sharply. "I do."

"Good, good," Umbridge said consolingly. "In the future, please do respond with the rest of the class when I ask a question. And do try to keep your nose out of your bag when I'm trying to teach, thank you."

She walked away, a grin still held tight on her face like it physically pained her to drop the expression. If Cecelia were anyone else, she may have been embarrassed. At the moment, though, there wasn't anyone in here who's opinion she gave a damn about enough to care about a professor telling her off in front of them.

"Open your books to chapter five, please," Umbridge ordered. When Cecelia finally acquired her book, she flipped to the directed chapter, wrinkling her nose at the chapter title about Defensive theorem. "I'd like you all to read through this chapter now."

The room was dead silent as everyone sat reading the bland chapter. Cecelia felt her eyes nearly slipping shut when Draco nudged her shoulder gently. She blinked slowly at him in question, wondering why he'd want her attention. He jerked his head to the side, over toward where she knew Harry Potter was sitting. Cecelia sighed, wondering if this was his obsessive streak peeking its head again when she noticed one person in the room not reading, her hand futilely raised in the air—Hermione Granger.

Granger was known as one of the brightest students, not only in their year, but at Hogwarts in general. She was the last person Cecelia could've imagined ignoring a teacher's orders, especially when it came to something like reading. Every time she visited the library, Hermione Granger was already there, curled up and reading a book. Seeing her ignore one now was definitely out of character.

Cecelia and Draco weren't the only ones staring, though what Draco was doing couldn't really be called staring. He was futilely pretending he wasn't paying any attention to the girl at all while peering quite obviously out of the corner of his eye at the scene now and then. Pansy, on the other hand, was eagerly watching for Umbridge's reaction as though this were some soap opera set up just for her entertainment. She wasn't alone in this, as more than half the class had their eyes drawn towards Hermione's raised hand and Umbridge, who was stubbornly turned away.

When it became clear this had gained more attention than whatever they were meant to be reading, Umbridge finally gave in and turned to face Hermione. "Did you have a question about the reading, dear?"

Hermione shook her head, "Not about the reading."

"Then what?" Umbridge still wore that saccharine smile, though her eyes were sharp and cold. "I'm sure it can wait until after we're done reading."

"I have a few concerns about the course aims, actually," Hermione said matter-of-factly. "I've read them through, but they never mention anything about using defensive spells."

Cecelia felt her blood freeze. She hadn't even noticed that detail. Did Umbridge really plan to not teach them how to use defensive spells? Knowing the theory meant nothing in a life or death situation. Sometimes even knowing plenty of spells and how to use them wouldn't be enough to save your life. Her grip on her quill tightened painfully at the reminder of who she'd lost last year because of that. She didn't want there to be any more Cedric Diggory's.

"Using them?" Umbridge questioned innocently. "Why would you ever need to learn that? You'll learn the theory now and that should give you a clear enough understanding of how to use the spells during your O.W.L.S."

"Wait, no magic?" Ron Weasley exclaimed suddenly. He seemed pretty off-put by the news. To be fair, so was most of the class. "We can't learn spells on theory alone."

"You will raise your hand when you wish to speak in my class," Umbridge replied sharply. "Mister.."

"Weasley," Ron finished, raising his hand aggressively. Umbridge turned her back on him, effectively ignoring him.

Harry and Hermione were both quick to raise their hands as well. Umbridge's eyes glossed right over Harry and instead landed on Hermione. "Yes, Miss—?"

"Granger. Isn't the point of Defense Against the Dark Arts to learn defense? Theory won't help us protect ourselves."

"Protect yourselves from what?" Umbridge asked redundantly. She knew exactly what—or who—they were talking about. "There is nothing to protect yourselves from in this school, and therefore no need to practice these spells. This is an artfully designed, Ministry approved course orchestrated by witches and wizards with much more experience and wisdom than you. This is a way to learn magic in a harmless, risk-free way."

"If we're attacked," Harry Potter grit out, "it won't be in a risk-free—"

"I said," Umbridge bit out, "to please raise your hand when you wish to speak in my class, Mr. Potter!"

Cecelia's hand went up at the same time as a Gryffindor boy across the room from her's did. Umbridge noticed his hand first, narrowing her eyes at him but motioning for him to speak all the same.

"Dean Thomas," he introduced hurriedly. "Anyways, it's like Harry said—" Cecelia could see he'd lost her as soon as the words left his mouth, "—if we're attacked it won't be in a risk-free environment! We won't get do-overs like we would in class—"

"Do-overs where? Where could you possibly get attacked?" Umbridge asked frantically. "This school is safe. And outside of it, too. I understand the curriculum in the past has been rather disjointed and unnecessarily dangerous considering your exposure to madmen and filthy halfbreeds—"

"You mean Lupin?" Cecelia cut in. She'd been quick to catch on to the fact the man was a werewolf, especially considering how spot on his name was. Even still, she hadn't cared. The man had been a damn good teacher, and she was disappointed to see him go. "He was the best Defense teacher we've ever had."

Draco shot her a warning look, though the glare Umbridge faced her with was much colder. If looks could kill, Cecelia would certainly be in trouble. "Your hand is not raised, Miss Nadir! The lessons that man taught you were dangerous and potentially lethal for no good cause! Your former teachers have you believing you'd be attacked at any moment!"

"That's not true!" Dean Thomas cut in. Cecelia found herself liking the boy more and more by the minute.

"I've heard," Umbridge continued, not even bothering to reprimand him for speaking out of turn, "that your former professor not only taught you illegal curses, but performed them on you in class!"

"And he turned out to be mad, didn't he?" Harry snapped. "And you say we're safe in this school? Who's to say you're truly even Dolores Umbridge?"

Umbridge's face turned an impressive shade of red. "Hand, Mr. Potter! How dare you accuse me of such!"

"Every danger I've faced has been directly or indirectly a result of being at this school," Harry continued, ignoring her furious expression. "Sorry if you claiming nothing can attack us here doesn't make me feel very reassured. Not to mention Voldemort—"

"Do not speak his name in this classroom!" She said haughtily. She turned to face the rest of the class. "I understand that Mr. Potter here along with your Headmaster have led you to believe some untruthful things about the return of He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named, but I assure you these are nothing but lies—"

"They are not lies!" Harry yelled, standing up ramrod straight. "He's back!"

"Your hand is not raised, Mr. Potter!" She shrieked. She patted down her well-pressed suit as though fixing her clothing could help placate her anger. "I will not allow these lies to continue in my class. I'd like to see you after classes for detention for the rest of the week, please."

"He's not lying," Dean Thomas piped in, though Umbridge didn't bother listening.

"I see he has you all brainwashed," she said, as though it truly hurt her to hear. "But I would like to reassure you that you are perfectly safe both within and outside of Hogwarts."

"So according to you Cedric Diggory dropped dead of his own accord, did he?" Cecelia mouthed off. She was tired of them neglecting to mention who Voldemort had killed. A boy had died by his hand and they were still going off about semantics. "Or what, you think Potter killed him? In which case we'd still be in danger, contradicting your earlier statement."

A lot of the students in class shot her sympathetic looks at the mention of Cedric. Cecelia sank low in her seat, not regretting bringing him up. It needed to be talked about. She wouldn't let his death be forgotten, no matter how much the Ministry tried to brush it off as an accident.

"Cedric Diggory's death was a tragic mishap," Umbridge said, voice honeyed like sugar. Cecelia bristled. "But it was not the cause of any dark forces! You're all safe here!"

"We don't feel safe," Cecelia pointed out. She hadn't felt truly safe at Hogwarts since she'd found out about Professor Quirrell. "And not being allowed to learn how to defend ourselves isn't helping. Voldemort is not the only dark wizard out there, you know. Even if he hasn't returned, someone will eventually rise to take his place. It's time the Ministry realized that."

"Enough!" Umbridge said, looking close to murderous. "I think you ought to join Mr. Potter in his detentions this week, yes?"

Cecelia scoffed. She couldn't think of anything worse Umbridge could do to her than make her sit through her lessons on defensive theory. Detention didn't bother her.

"I think we'll leave class there for today," Umbridge said. Cecelia smirked at the woman's obvious annoyance at the way the conversation had gone. She clearly hadn't expected so many people to agree with Harry. "Please finish your reading for homework and take notes on what you've learned. Class dismissed."

Cecelia was one of the first out the door, Draco hot on her heels. She could feel him burning to say something, but he kept his lips pressed tightly together in a thin line, throwing furtive glances at Pansy now and then as she trotted along beside them.

They eventually left the girl behind at her final class of the day, heading outside towards Hagrid's hut for Care of Magical Creatures in a tense silence. As soon as they'd stepped outside, Draco grabbed her arm with a tense hand.

"The hell were you thinking back there?" He asked, shooting her a dark look. "Talking back to Umbridge like that. She has the power to make your fifth year a rather miserable one."

"I'm well aware," Cecelia sulked. "Will you let me go, Malfoy? I'd really rather not be late to class."

"It's right over there," he said, jerking his head in the direction of where the class had gathered across the grounds. "We have plenty of time. I just thought I ought to warn you. Umbridge is not a woman you want to mess with. You should really consider being more careful around her."

"What's with you all of a sudden?" Cecelia asked, jerking her arm out of his grip. "We've never been close. I haven't even talked to you until two nights ago, and suddenly you're trying to be all buddy-buddy and looking out for me. The hell is that about?"

"Sue me for trying to be nice," he snapped. "I was trying to be a sympathetic housemate with what happened to Diggory last year."

"You? Nice and sympathetic?" Cecelia snorted derisively. "You're doing a piss poor job of it, I assure you. Someone trying to be nice and sympathetic would be more understanding as to why exactly that woman pisses me off so much."

"I don't understand personally, no, but I can see why you would dislike her," Draco admitted huffily. "But you're a Slytherin. You can't go mouthing off like that in a House like ours. A lot of kids in our House are related to death eaters, and if they don't think you're on their side, you'll become a target. Don't be stupid enough to let that happen, or maybe you'll be seeing your boyfriend a lot sooner than you thought."

With that, he stomped off petulantly like the dramatic child he was. Despite this, Cecelia had to admit he had a point. She hated admitting Draco may be right, but he made surprisingly good points now and then. Her housemates would definitely be wary of her now with how she'd acted with Umbridge, and if she wanted to avoid becoming a target in the upcoming war, she'd need to make it clear where her loyalties lied to them—and it couldn't be with Harry Potter.

-

"Susan."

Devara found the girl sitting alone in the Hufflepuff common room. Those who had been present in their class earlier kept shooting her sad looks, but made no move to approach. Others could tell something was off but couldn't quite pinpoint what. Devara walked towards her slumped figure as soon as she saw her.

"What's up?" She muttered quietly in return to Devara's call. She offered Devara a weak, wobbly smile.

She sat down on the couch beside the girl, wanting to reach out to comfort her but not being sure how much it would really help. She didn't know Susan all that well. But she had to do her best to make her housemate feel better.

"I am so, so sorry about what you have gone through. With your family," Devara started, her voice quiet. "I cannot imagine how you feel, and the Professor surely didn't help with the pain I imagine you must be going through."

Devara paused for a little bit before continuing. "I just wanted to remind you that I'm always here if you need anything. I know we haven't been all that close in the past, but that doesn't mean I wouldn't help if I were able to."

Susan sniffled, but was able to muster up a wobbly smile. "Thanks, Devara. Your support means a lot."

"Anytime," she said, patting the girl's shoulder softly in what she hoped was a comforting gesture. She was about to head off to their dorms, but something had her lagging behind. "Hey...just because Umbridge isn't teaching us how to perform spells doesn't mean we can't learn. If you want to get together some time to practice, let me know."

"Yeah, that sounds nice," Susan agreed half-heartedly, though her voice held an undertone of steely determination. "I want to be prepared. I can't let myself be another one of his victims."

Devara grimaced at the grim reminder of what her housemate had lost. Of what all of them had recently lost the past year. "I get what you mean. Maybe we ought to bring the rest of our house in on it."

Susan shook her head. "If we bring in too many people it'll draw too much attention. Maybe some others in our year, but I wouldn't extend the study sessions too far. It is a good idea, though. Defense is one of our most important classes right now, but Umbridge is a rubbish teacher."

"How does tomorrow sound? Sorry it's last minute," Devara hurriedly apologized. "I'll bring a few people I trust, and you do the same."

To Devara's relief, a bit of light returned to Susan's previously sad eyes. "Tomorrow works perfectly. We'll meet in the library and figure out where to go from there, yeah?"

"Yeah," Devara felt a grin taking over, lighting up her face. She was far too timid to openly defy Umbridge to her face, but this was the next best way while also keeping herself and others safe. "See you then, Susan."

-

After Care of Magical Creatures, Cecelia reluctantly made her way to Umbridge's office. The sight of the place made her want to vomit with how much pink there was covering the walls and furniture. From the quick glance she got of the woman's tea, even that was pink. That couldn't have tasted good.

They were still waiting on Harry, and Cecelia made no effort at small talk. She sat in the chair designated for her across from Umbridge's desk, drumming her nails against the arm rest impatiently. He showed up about five minutes later, looking just as annoyed about being there as she felt.

"Oh, good, you've finally decided to arrive, Mr. Potter," Umbridge said sweetly, though her words were dripping with poorly hidden malice. "We can get started, then! How lovely."

She got out two pieces of parchment along with two quills. Oddly enough, she didn't bother getting them any ink. She slid them one of each of the items, smiling eerily all the while.

"You'll be doing lines for me, dear students," she said, gesturing towards the paper. "'I must not tell lies'."

Cecelia had to physically repress an eye roll. "How many times?" She asked drolly.

Umbridge's smile only grew, "Until the message sinks in."

As if that wasn't ominous. Cecelia eyed the parchment and quill concernedly, glancing over at Harry to see if he found anything about the situation odd as well. He had his eyebrows furrowed, staring at the woman in clear anger.

"Won't we need ink?" He asked, pointing it out before Cecelia had had a chance to ask. "You didn't give us any."

"Not with these quills, you won't."

A bad feeling settled into the pit of Cecelia's gut. She didn't bother beginning to write until after Harry had already picked his own quill up. With an annoyed scowl, she poised her hand to write before looking over at Harry when he let out a shocked gasp. To her horror, the words 'I must not—' were etched onto the back of his hand. The wounds were shallow, dripping down small slivers of blood.

"Anything the matter?" Umbridge asked, tilting her head condescendingly at them.

Cecelia considered saying something. But her mind went back to what Draco had said earlier. If she wanted to survive this war, she needed to play it smart, and getting on Umbridge's bad side would be the opposite of that. With a grim sort of acceptance, she kept silent. Harry did as well, shaking his head tightly.

They went on like that for hours. Cecelia's hand was shaking and burning, but she didn't stop. She didn't allow herself to show any sort of discomfort for fear of that being exactly what Umbridge wanted. And the last thing she wanted was to play into her hands.

After detention had ended, Harry booked it out of the room, hand shoved deep in the pockets of his robes. Cecelia just barely managed to catch the wrist of his other arm before he left, meeting his furious eyes with her own solemn ones.

"Don't mention this to anyone," Cecelia said. "Don't try to start something. It's not safe for you to do so right now."

Harry nodded, glancing quickly back at Umbridge. "You're pretty decent, Nadir," Harry said, head still bowed. "Thanks for sticking up for me back there. For sticking up for Cedric. I don't want him to be forgotten."

Neither do I, she didn't say. Instead, she watched as he turned his back on her and stormed off. Anger radiated from him in waves, though she was sure it wasn't directed towards her. She could hazard a pretty good guess of who it may be for, if only in part.

Remembering Draco's earlier warning, she turned back towards Umbridge with a sigh. The woman was sitting ramrod straight at her desk, eyes fixed towards her in an almost disturbing manner, as though she were waiting for Cecelia to say something.

"Something wrong, dear?" She asked with false sympathy. They both pointedly didn't look down at Cecelia's hand dripping blood onto the professors carpets.

"I wanted to apologize, actually," Cecelia said through grit teeth. "I shouldn't have argued with you earlier. I'm just...scared."

She hated that the last part was true. After everything that had happened in this castle during her time here, it was hard not to be scared. She couldn't imagine being someone like Harry Potter right now.

"I know you weren't aware," Cecelia said, clenching her fists, "but Cedric and I were dating. His death hit me pretty hard. Sorry if I seem particularly—volatile, right now."

Umbridge placed her hand on her cheek in a false way of understanding. "I appreciate you telling me, dear. I think I won't be needing to see you for the rest of your detentions. You've learned your lesson well enough."

The sight of the grin she gave afterwards haunted Cecelia all the way back to the common room.