"Look," Dean says when he gets up from the sofa to leave for yet another DA meeting, "I'm sure if you just apologise to Harry, he will let you join."

I stubbornly remain sitting with my arms folded firmly across my chest. "I'm not fecking apologising after he called me mam stupid!"

Dean looks utterly exasperated with me. "But in all fairness, she was calling him a liar."

My mouth falls open as I look up at my so called best mate in horror. "So you're saying me mam is stupid?!"

"No- no, that's not what I mean, Shae," Dean says quickly, running a hand through his hair, "I just meant in that moment Harry was defending himself."

"He wouldn't have needed to if you hadn't blabbed about me mam having doubts about sending me back to Hogwarts in the first place!"

"Yes, I know, I'm sorry. I didn't think. But at the end of the day, you now know he was telling the truth-"

"-maybe telling the truth." I correct him. "Malfoy could have just been implying that because he was sore about me turning him down."

Dean shakes his head. "I still can't believe he actually asked you out. What was he thinking?"

"That's fecking charming that is! Maybe - just maybe - he is insanely attracted to me. I'm not that ugly!"

"I didn't mean- shit, you're not ugly at all. In fact you're quite possibly the fourth hottest girl in Gryffindor."

My mouth falls open yet again. "Fourth?!"

"Well," Dean gives a nervous cough, "after Ginny, Parvati and Katie, of course."

I don't know whether to feel flattered or completely insulted.

"Well, I don't have a fecking list because all you guys in here are butt ugly!" I lie.

Dean is definitely topping it. But I'm not going to lose any further dignity by telling him so.

"Look, just know you can do a lot better than Malfoy. Harry said his dad was laughing at him when Who-Know-Who was torturing him - not exactly the kind of person you want your kids to be calling Grampy."

"Wow, Harry seriously said that?" I ask, curiosity piquing my attention. "What else did he say about Malfoy's dad?"

"That he's an evil supremacist who seems to display no empathy in the slightest. I'm pretty sure that makes him a psychopath. Think about all the poison he's been dripping in Malfoy's ear all these years. You mark my words, you start hanging out with Malfoy, next thing you know he'll be turning you against people like me and your dad, and you'll be queuing up to get matching tattoos."

"Don't be so dramatic." I scoff. "And besides, I told him to feck off, didn't I?"

Dean gives me a steady look. "But you're flattered by his attention. I can tell."

"Of course I'm fecking flattered. Malfoy's hot and rich, why wouldn't I be?"

Dean narrows his eyes and purses his lips. "Don't be shallow, Shae. Looks and money aren't everything."

"Says the guy with a list." I pettily retort.

"I put you above Angelina Johnson, didn't I? And she's well fit."

I don't know what's wrong with me, I'm getting all flustered over Dean referring to me as attractive, and at the same time feeling intense jealousy at being pit against other girls.

"Okay, I'm no longer comfortable with this conversation," I say sharply. "Can we please drop it?"

"Fine. So, are you going to apologise to Harry or not?"

"Nah, he can feck off."

"Fair enough."

I sigh loudly as I watch Dean leave through the portrait, the common room now empty except for little old me who is too stubborn to beg to join Harry's stupid club.

*****

It's not until Dean shows me a copy of the Quibbler containing an article about Harry's night out in the graveyard do I grudgingly agree to apologise.

"SorryIcalledyoualiarandafecktard." I say quickly, looking down and scuffing my foot.

"A feck what?!" Harry asks, his eyebrows knitting in confusion.

"Never mind. Sorry about the whole not believing you thing. Can I join your club now?"

"The DA you mean?" Harry frowns. "Is this why you are apologising?"

"No, I'm apologising because I read that article and I believe everything you said about You-Know-Who coming back." I give him a sincere and genuine smile. "And I'll be sending it to me mam to read and all."

"Thank you." Harry nods, looking solemn. "Go see Hermione about signing up, and I'll see you tonight."

As Harry strides away, a hand lands on my shoulder. I look up to see Dean smiling warmly down at me.

"I'm proud of you, Shae," he murmurs with a twinkle in his eyes, "and I'm glad you're going to join. Harry's the best Defence teacher we've ever had - he sure knows his stuff."

"And it's not two hours of just watching Harry show off?" I ask sceptically.

"On the contrary - he's actually teaching us to cast Patronuses. Do you realize how amazing that is?"

"Seriously? Wow, me mam can't even do that."

Dean fills me in on everything I'd missed so far, and eventually, when the time comes to leave, I am baffled when we find ourselves on the seventh floor, facing a seemingly blank wall.

"It's just through here," Dean says gesturing to the wall.

"But there's no door," I state.

Dean chuckles, and I watch, confused, as he begins to pace up and down, muttering something to himself.

"Dean, are you okay?" I ask, feeling more worried by the second, "should I take you to the hospital wing?"

But then a door appears, and, taking my hand, Dean leads me through it.

"Wow! What the feck?" I breathe as we walk into a huge room filled with hundreds of students. At the front, Harry is on a stage, already in mid-demo as he casts a Patronus.

"Welcome, Shae," he says loudly and dramatically as a silver stag canters around him. "To Dumbledore's Army."

Everyone turns around and starts clapping. Someone even whistles. I wish the ground would just swallow me whole.

I have to give it to Harry though, the guy can teach. By the end of that first lesson I had already cast enough of a Patronus to make out something furry.

"Wow Shae," Dean says impressively as he struggles to make much out of his. "What were you thinking about?"

I was thinking about our wedding day, how when I walk up the aisle in my stunning white dress, Dean's breath is literally taken away.

I shrug. "Just cake."

*****

The rest of the year goes by in a blur, with Dumbledore's Army taking up all my free time.

I love it, and the more I learn, the more I feel ready to fight. If one day, I might ever come face to face with Voldemort, then I can at least try and protect myself.

However, that shit gets shot down after it turns out we have a traitor amongst us.

"RUN!" Harry screams to the room at large after Dobby turned up to tell us that we were about to be rumbled by Umbridge and her Inquisitorial Squad.

"Ah feck," I sigh as I get carried out with the stampede.

As soon as we fall out into the corridor, everyone - with panic stricken faces - hurries off in different directions.

Without giving it much thought, I turn left, not even knowing where Dean is.

I'm faster than everyone else, and easily run ahead. Turns out that was a bad move because when I whip around the corner, I find myself careering right into a body.

Hands reach out and steady me.

"Finnigan?"

I gulp, looking up into a pair of silver grey eyes, and I don't miss the flicker of disappointment in them.

"Move, you're in my way," I say, my voice sounding braver than I feel.

"So you believe that crackpot's lies, do you?" Draco snarls, his lip curling into a sneer. "I thought you were better than this, Finnigan. You were the one Gryffindor who seemed to have actual brains."

"I have brains!" I snap, shrugging out of his grip. "And I'm intelligent enough to know that people like you should be avoided at all costs."

Draco's eyes widen. "Is that what Saint Potter has been telling you all in these pathetic little meets of his?"

"No! All he's been doing is teaching us what Umbridge refuses to - how to defend ourselves against You-Know-Who-"

"You seriously think a few high school spells are going to save you?" Draco says, giving a derisive snort. "Dear Merlin, Potter really has got you all deluded hasn't he? Let me tell you something for nothing, Finnigan, if the Dark Lord is really back, then the best thing your little Mudblood friend can do is play the best damn game of hide and seek he's ever played in his life."

"And is he? Is he really back?"

"Clearly you think so."

His eyes flick up past my shoulder as distant shouts are heard behind me.

"So, are you going to hand me in then?"

Draco looks me up and down, as though considering his answer. Eventually his eyes rest on mine as he slowly shakes his head.

"No. You're not worth a damn. Potter's the only one I want tonight."

Fecking charming.

"Right," I say awkwardly, "so... I'll just be on my way then."

"Whatever, Irish. And stay out of trouble. Potter isn't worth getting expelled over."

He steps aside, and I take this as my cue to scarper.

And, despite everything, a small smile tugs at my lips at the fact that he is back to calling me Irish.

******