Chance--A Fremione OneShot

Fifth Year: Confringo

"'Yes, Mr. Potter, I think a lifelong ban ought to do the trick,' said Umbridge, her smile widening still further as she watched him struggle to comprehend what she had said. 'You and Mr. Weasley here. And I think, to be safe, this young man's twin ought to be stopped too — '"

—J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, Chapter 19

***

The Room of Requirement was rapidly becoming Hermione's favorite place to practice her spells. She used to steel away into an empty classroom before Professor Umbridge banned students from being in classrooms when no members of staff were present. This was probably because students had taken a liking to leaving dung bombs in her classroom when she was off chasing down Peeves or sending owls to the Minister suggesting new school ordinances. At first, Hermione had raged to Harry and Ron about the horrible affront on their education. Not only were they learning less than nothing in Defense Against the Dark Arts, but now they weren't even able to properly complete their Charms or Transfiguration assignments without being blocked (or worse) by that awful toad. Hermione knew, that once again, she'd have to act.

One evening Hermione was waiting in the Room of Requirement, as it presented itself for the DA meetings, to turn away any members that showed up. Harry cancelled their meeting last minute because of a pop-up Ravenclaw quidditch conflict. As she sat idly practicing her charms, it occurred to her that this room was ideal for practicing all kinds of spells, not just DA practice. She'd used it every night for the remainder of the week and the next. Hermione was getting a knack for asking the room to provide just what she needed to study or research her essays, too. Her latest addition that evening had been a wide table for her books and a very fluffy armchair for extended reading. The number of books available for perusal had rapidly grown as her needs diversified as well. She began to think of it as her own personal library.

Hermione was searching through the shelves to find a source for their latest Charms essay, when the doors to the room flung open and slammed back shut. The crash echoed so loudly that Hermione jumped a full three feet into the air, threw herself behind a nearby table, and drew her wand. She gripped it tightly and leveled it at the lone figure, which had stormed past her and hurtled towards the practice dummies.

"Confringo!" A familiar voice boomed, and a dummy across the room exploded into a thousand tiny shards. Hermione's hands were shaking tremendously as she stood up, took three steadying breaths, then stepped out into the open. Fred, the owner of the the voice yelling curses, hexes, and swear words in rapid fire succession, seemed not to have notice her. She cleared her throat loudly in between Fred's shouts, then she tried calling his name to no avail. The reverberating explosions drowned everything out. Several feet behind the raging Fred, Hermione stood helpless, watching, until a few dozen particularly large and pointy shard of wood rocketed in Fred's direction. Two quick hexes had collided on one dummy and, instead of shattering like the others, splintered into a hundred lances that launched out like a deadly, wooden firework.

"Protego!" Hermione shrieked, shielding her and Fred from the blow just in time. He whirled around with a wild look in his eyes—wand held aloft and panting.

"Merlin's saggy balls, Hermione! When did you get here?" he demanded.

"About an hour ago," Hermione huffed at his accusatory tone, "and you're welcome for saving your skin!" Fred stared hard at her, then his eyes wandered over her open book bag, the newly added armchair, her mass of books sprawled across the table, and finally met her eyes again. He lowered his wand, took a very deep breath, and smiled as he exhaled a slow hiss through his teeth. The result was rather manic looking at first, but then Fred transformed back to his usual, jovial self.