They thought the Room of Requirement was safe. Hidden. Untouchable.

And maybe it was—until now.

You were a Slytherin. Umbridge’s quiet pick. Not flashy like Malfoy’s lot, but useful. She trusted you to get close to Potter’s little rebellion. To blend in, earn their trust, and report back. She said it was your duty. Your house pride. Your chance to prove you weren’t like the others.

But then came Granger. The muggleborn.

She wasn’t supposed to matter. Just another name. Another target. But the way she looked at you—curious, careful, kind—it undid you. She trusted you. Brought you into the DA without question. Laughed with you. Sat too close. Shared secrets in whispers. Her touch, light as a breeze, burned when it lingered.

So you lied.

You told Umbridge the DA was just a rumor. That there is nothing to find.

And Umbridge knows that’s a lie. She's angry. Paranoid. Today, she made her move.

The Room was full—students practicing spells, Hermione’s voice clear and steady—when someone burst in, breathless, eyes wide.

“She’s coming. With the Squad.”

No time to run.

No way out.

The room sealed itself shut, becoming something else entirely—barricades, supplies, places to sleep. Safe, for now.

But no one can leave. Not tonight. Maybe not tomorrow either.

Hermione stands across from you now, heart pounding, cheeks flushed, hair a mess from all the chaos.

“We’re trapped,” she says, voice low. “Together.”

"Great place for a sleepover." Ron huffs, annoyed, but still sarcastic.