A Nice Day

A Nice Day

Faith O'Brien

The day had begun as any other. The Order was up at dawn, standing at attention in the field awaiting daily instruction. Usually, it was Hermione who handed out assignments for training, reconnaissance, and special projects but today was different. The early morning air was charged with something other worldly and electric. Everyone could feel it—they could almost see it crackling as Harry stepped to the front and cast his eyes upon his troops.

“Men…er…people,” he stumbled in his address, catching Ginny's rolling eyes at his blunder. “Guys,” he corrected himself, allowing a look of affection to cross his face, “We all know what tomorrow is, so there's no point in going over it again. I have a special assignment for you all today.”

“More weapons?” Fred asked, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

“No, not exactly,” Harry cleared his throat and glanced at his feet nervously, “I want you to take the day off, all of you.”

A murmur of confusion rippled through the crowd; Lupin stepped forward, his brow furrowed, “Not to be contradictory, Harry, but don't you think the day would be better spent preparing for what lies ahead?”

Harry shook his head, his resolve firm, “Tomorrow morning, we march on Hogwarts—we face Voldemort and his army head on. And we will be prepared. We have spent every waking moment of the last two years making certain that when the day of reckoning comes, we'll be ready for it. And we will be. But today is yours to do with whatever you like. Go out, have fun—just please exercise caution. Do whatever you can to find yourself some happiness—there's been far too little of that to go around lately.

“You have twenty-four hours to be together or alone, to be kids or lovers or whatever you want—don't waste it. Live today as if it were your last,” Harry allowed his eyes to fall upon Hermione and Ron, “it just may be.”

They had been dismissed, then, left to their own devices. Everyone had more or less scattered, leaving only Fred, George, Ginny, Ron, Hermione, and Harry. They looked grimly at one another before Harry offered a smile, “Who's up for some Quidditch?”

Ron and his brothers took off for their tent for the brooms and balls; Harry noticed Hermione starring at something beyond him. He turned around, unable to capture what she was seeing with his own eyes. “You can be on my team, if you want,” he offered gently, “I'll try to keep the ball away from you.”

Hermione offered a distracted smile, “Maybe in a bit,” she said, tilting her head to see further past him. “I've got something to do first.”

He'd nodded and watched her take off toward the woods. “Be careful,” he called, knowing that his warning had been heeded long before it had been uttered.

When the boys returned with their brooms, it was Ginny who took off next. “I'll be right back,” she promised, “don't start without me.”

“Bloody hell, Gin, where are you going?” Ron asked, not bothering to hide the irritation in his voice.

“Just…give me a second.”

“I don't understand these women,” Fred commented with a shake of his head. “Never have, never will.”

***

Hermione had followed Luna's inane humming deep into the forest surrounding the camp before she actually came upon her, sitting on the edge of a babbling stream.

“Hello, Hermione,” Luna greeted without turning around. “I do hope my singing hasn't bothered you.” She swished her bare feet through the water.

“Oh, no,” Hermione assured her, watching as Luna appeared to be one with nature. “Do you want to be alone—or may I join you?”

“Of course,” Luna motioned gracefully to the mossy spot next to her. “The stream is quite warm this time of year, it feels very refreshing.”

“I'd imagine,” Hermione sat down beside her but did not remove her shoes as her companion had done.

“My mum used to take me to a stream like this one, in the forest behind our old house,” she murmured, more to herself than to Hermione. “She used to enchant the animals—change their colors, their sounds…it never hurt them, of course, it was just funny to watch.”

“She sounds lovely,” Hermione commented, tucking her hands underneath her. “I wanted to say I'm sorry, by the way, about your dad. I'm sure he was a fine man.”

Luna smiled, “He was; he's happy now, though, back with Mum. And anyway, I'm sure it was quick, I doubt very much that he felt any pain at all.” She looked sideways at Hermione, “Are your parents quiet all right?”

“Yes, last I heard. They've gone to the States for awhile—staying with my aunt in New York.”

“You must make them very proud,” Luna commented with a dreamy sigh.

“I'm sure your parents are proud of you as well,” Hermione said softly. “You're a great witch, Luna.”

“I do what I can.”

“That's why I was wondering something…”

“Yes,” Luna looked at her with a smile and a glittering set of eyes, “I will.”

“What?”

“Look after Ronald for you…if something should happen.”

Hermione, not for the first time, wondered if Luna could actually read her mind or if her thoughts were always so clearly expressed on her face. “It's just that…I still worry about him.”

“He was your first love,” she sighed languorously, “it makes perfect sense.”

“I would just feel better about things…about tomorrow…if I knew that he and Harry…that they were, you know, looked after.”

“You shouldn't worry about tomorrow, Hermione. You're the greatest witch I know. If anyone can survive, it's you. But if in the rare chance that I survive instead, I would happily look after your men for you.”

There was something about the blunt honesty of Luna's words, her simple speech and straightforwardness, that caught Hermione off guard. “Th-thank you, Luna.”

“You're most welcome, Hermione. I do very much enjoy your company, but if you don't mind, I have a few things I need to be doing on my own.”

“Oh, of course,” Hermione gathered her senses about her and got to her feet.

“I expect you're missed back at camp. I should be back before dinner—if there's pudding, will you save me some?”

Hermione smiled at the very odd girl before her, a girl who could go from talking about her impending doom one moment and pudding the next, “Yes, of course.”

Luna smiled, “You're a good friend, Hermione.”

It was not a friend that Ginny was after, though lately he had not been much of an enemy either. Draco Malfoy had proven himself worthy of the Order's time, providing valuable information and Death Eater secrets which had led them directly to Voldemort at the most crucial time. He had been Veritaserumed until he was drunk on the stuff to assure them of his loyalty and had mostly kept to himself, usually retreating to his private tent early in the evening, right after dinner, with a book. Ginny had watched him leave the group and return to his tent as always, a strange feeling in the pit of her stomach. She knocked softly on one of the wooden posts holding up his dwelling.

“Come in,” he called from within.

Ginny ducked under the flap, surprised to see him working his way across the floor, away from her, with a broad sword. He sliced through the air with expert precision and evident skill. “What are you doing?”

“Training, Red,” he said casually as sweat dripped from his forehead onto his shiny black boots, “what does it look like?”

“But Harry said—”

“That we're supposed to go out and have one perfect day of bliss and happiness,” he sounded bored as he continued carving his imaginary foe to ribbons, “I know.”

“So why aren't you…?”

“Gallivanting around London with a gorgeous prostitute named Buttercup? Drowning my considerable sorrows in a finely aged Ogden's?”

“Something like that.”

“Because there is no such thing as perfect day—not for me, not for anyone.” He stopped, breathless, but did not look at her, “We're not going to live happily ever after, Weasley, you know that, don't you?”

“I do,” she nodded.

“We're going to die tomorrow…most of us, if not all.”

“I know.”

“And you're all right with that?” Draco suddenly looked impressed.

“I trust Harry—he knows what he's doing.”

“He's going to get a lot of people killed.”

“If you try not to get anyone killed,” she said darkly, “you wind up getting everyone killed. Harry knows what he's doing.”

“So you've said.” Draco looked at his sword, mindlessly wiping the blade with a stray towel, “You're really not afraid of dying?”

Ginny gave a shrug that didn't quite achieve carelessness, “As long as I don't go down without a fight, that's all that matters to me.”

Draco turned; he looked at her for a very long time, “You know, you're a much bigger person than I gave you credit for.”

“Thank you. I could say the same.”

“Not in size, of course. In size you're actually…quite petite.”

“Likewise.”

An awkward silence passed over them.

“So, Weasley,” he began, “what exactly are you doing here? Don't you have a day to be seizing? Potter waiting to snog you senseless under a tree somewhere?”

Ginny gave a meek smile, “I came to ask if you wanted to play Quidditch with us.”

Draco set down his sword and gave her a long and serious look, “As a matter of fact, I would.”

She smiled—her first real smile in weeks, “I was hoping you would say so.”

He held open the flap for her and they fell into step alongside one another. “One hundred generations of Malfoys just rolled over in their graves,” Draco found himself grinning down at her, “This might be a good day after all.”

***

Quidditch was played late into the afternoon—an afternoon of laughter and celebrations of small victories and breath after breath of gorgeous spring air. As the sun was falling, Mrs. Weasley called everyone to a magnificent supper—a spread so savory it would have made any Hogwarts feast pale in comparison. She had truly outdone herself—including everyone's favorites and all of her specialties.

Luna appeared late to the table and began helping herself to some dumplings. Hermione noticed that pudding had already been portioned out and flushed with regret. Luna would never say anything, she knew, would never call her on the fact that she had broken the only promise she'd ever made to her. She was about to offer her own share when from across the table, she saw Ron get up from his seat and set a large bowl in front of Luna.

“Um…here you go,” he said, stuffing his hands in his pockets and looking at the sky.

Luna's large eyes became glassy and she stood up to be at eye level with him. Placing one hand on either side of his face, she stared into his eyes and smiled, “You're one of the most wonderful boys I've ever met.”

“Uh…um…we'll I just…I mean…” Ron's cheeks flamed purple, “It's just some pudding…and I thought you should…y'know…uh…yeah.”

Luna said not another word and happily ate her pudding while Ron returned to his spot between Fred and Harry, his face still a pleasant shade of plum. Hermione smiled and couldn't help but thinking that Luna had never been more right about anything.

After dinner the remaining Order seemed to scatter. The twins left for the shop, hoping to help a few more mischievous children before they had to close; Arthur and Molly disappeared to their tent, as had Lupin and Tonks for the better part of the day.

Draco stood from the table and loped off by himself in the direction of his own lodging; Ginny found herself walking after him. “Hey, Malfoy,” she called, “wait up.”

He stopped and looked down at her curiously, “What is it?”

She shrugged, “What are you doing?”

“Do you really want to know?”

“I asked, didn't I?”

“I'm going to go and listen to some Brahms, have a glass or three of wine and contemplate just where a tortured soul such as mine might end up when all is said and done.”

Ginny blinked. “Want some company?”

He found himself smiling against his will and better judgment, “Argument seems pointless at this stage of the game. Do you prefer the preludes or the nocturnes?”

Ron watched their exchange with a disgusted look, “She can't be serious. Will she pursue anyone?”

“Leave it alone, Ron,” Hermione rolled her eyes as she and Harry flopped down on the warm ground.

“At least when she was with you,” he motioned to his best friend, “I knew she was in good hands. Now…apparently anyone's fair game.”

“Oh honestly,” Hermione sighed, shuffling the deck of cards, “she's not with him. I'm sure she's just keeping him company. It doesn't take a genius to see that he's lonely.”

“He bleeding deserves to be lonely!” Ron exclaimed.

“He's not evil, Ron” Harry reminded, “he's got a place here just as much as the rest of us.”

“Yes, here, fine. Here, in the general area of the Right Side. Not here, snogging my sister!”

“I don't see any snogging,” Hermione pointed out, dealing out a game of Exploding Snap. “Maybe they're just being friendly.”

“Ha!”

“I'm sure no one wants to be alone on a night like this,” said Harry quietly, more to himself than anyone. “Not even Malfoy.”

That shut Ron up about the whole subject for the rest of the evening. When Exploding Snap failed to excite them, the trio turned to a customized, three-player version of wizard's chess before returning to the fire pit.

The stars were twinkling overhead as they sat on the comfortable logs, Hermione in the middle with one boy on either side of her. Ron yawned suddenly. “I say that when this is all over, we go on a nice, long, holiday. What do you say?”

“I hear Majorca's nice this time of year,” Harry mused lightly.

“We could all get a tan,” said Hermione, “and drink those drinks with the little umbrellas in them.”

“Always wanted to try those,” agreed Harry.

“Maybe we could figure out a way to live there—on holiday—forever,” suggested Ron through another yawn. “Without getting jobs or growing up or any of that awful stuff.”

“If anyone could concoct such a plan, it's us,” Hermione said quite proudly. “Three heads are better than one.”

“Except when on a giant dog,” said Harry with a smile.

“Yes,” Hermione's eyes glittered, “except on Fluffy.”

A silence passed over them as they pointedly avoided looking across the fire to Hagrid's usual spot. A spot which had been left respectfully empty for the past two weeks.

“I was trying to think,” began Ron, sitting forward and resting his elbows on his knees, “if there was anything I'd do differently about today…y'know, if I had the chance to do it over again.”

“Come up with anything?” Harry asked, interested.

Ron smiled—that same smile which had calmed Harry's fears of never making any friends on that first train ride to Hogwarts, that had always managed to produce a similar effect on the faces of his best friends, the smile that would forever remind Harry of the fiercely loyal eleven year old he had met so many years ago. “Not at thing, mate. Not a thing.”

“What about you, Hermione?” Harry asked, “any regrets of the day? Anything you wanted to do—anywhere you wish you would have gone?”

Hermione's honey eyes caught the fire light and Harry was reminded with a pang of how lost he would be without her. The first person who had ever hugged him, who had believed in him when everyone else thought he was a liar and a cheat, who defended him with a courage and patience that even he found staggering at times. She smiled and he marveled at how she had transformed from a bossy, bushy-haired know-it-all to a beautiful, confident, woman—the brightest witch of her generation. Hermione reached a hand to both of them and entwined their fingers. “I'm here with my boys,” she said softly, “where else would I want to be?”

“I don't know about you two,” Harry nodded, “but I had a rather nice day.”

“There'll be more of those to come, Harry,” Hermione promised with a squeeze of his hand. “You'll see.”

It was near midnight before anyone else joined them. The twins were back first, then Neville and Luna and finally Ginny who dragged along a rather pensive looking Draco. There was very little to be said as they sat together, staring into the fire and the ground and occasionally each other's faces. At one point, George reached into his knapsack and produced a large bottle of Ogden's Firewhiskey and enough glasses to go around.

“Thought we could all use a bit of cheer, eh?” No one objected.

They passed around the bottle until all their glasses were filled and then sat waiting for someone to say something, to address the gravity of what they were about to do, to be honest and say that they were really just lambs being led to slaughter or to lie and make promises of the world they were going to save. Fred half-heartedly raised his glass. “Let's eat, drink, and be merry, chaps. For tomorrow…” he trailed off, not wanting to finish the well-known proverb.

Harry stood suddenly, and thrust his drink toward the flame, “For tomorrow,” he continued, “we fight.”

Ron nodded slowly to himself and stood as well, “We fight,” he repeated.

Hermione was the next on her feet, offering her toast to the center, “We fight.”

One by one they were standing together, glasses touching over the smoldering fire. The whiskey burned down the throats of the world's last hope.

When dawn broke, their perfect day would be only a memory. They would bleed and die or live and conquer depending on whose house Fate was in. But no matter what happened, they would fight.

___

A/N: There were a few Angel quotes, as always. Spot them for treats. I couldn't write a conclusion to the series. I just couldn't. I don't think anyone should unless they're JK. Anyway, this is just my little take on what I think will end up being the most important: the Trio, and the willingness to fight and die for the cause. Review please. It is my favorite.

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