Harry looked as if he expected for the room to erupt, but in fact, the opposite happened. There was complete silence as his words registered and everyone considered what they meant.
Hermione kept her eyes locked on his, and she felt like all the air had been sucked out of her lungs at once.
Fawkes was back. The Order was back.
Since Dumbledore's death, the phoenix hadn't been seen. She had assumed he left to live in the wild, or had maybe died with his master. But Fawkes being back...Fawkes coming to Harry...she had an idea of what that meant but wanted to hear what Harry had to say.
When no one said anything, Harry cleared his throat uncomfortably. "I believe the attacks on us are part of a greater conspiracy. Someone out there is attempting to gain power much like Voldemort did. For Fawkes to show himself to me is, I think, his way of saying to reactivate the Order."
Hermione felt like her heart was in her throat. "Harry," she finally managed to gasp out, "What you're saying...you're implying that there is a threat as great as Voldemort out there again."
Harry was silent and the whole room went still again.
Harry nodded slowly and Hermione slumped in her chair. "I don't think Fawkes would appear unless the threat was serious. Dumbledore always said Fawkes would come to those in need." Harry supplied.
Hermione let out a strangled laugh at his words; they were certainly in need.
When Harry spoke again, his voice was stronger and the tone was one that implied he was to be listened to. "Due to this development, I'm going to officially re-activate the Order of the Phoenix. If anyone at this table chooses not be a part of it, there will be no judgment; but you will need to leave immediately."
No one moved. Hermione wasn't sure anyone even breathed. And then, as if he had been summoned, Fawkes appeared on Harry's shoulder, looking just at home there as he had been on Dumbledore's.
One golden plume floated down, and with a flash, transformed into a phoenix feather quill. A roll of enchanted parchment appeared just as suddenly and hung in the air before Harry.
Slowly the quill and paper move around the table, methodically marking down the people present. As it paused in front of every individual and added their name to the newly formed Order, each person had some sort of reaction. When it finally made its way to Hermione, she watched as her name was magically inscribed, and then a shot of what she could only describe as pure magic went through her, forcing from her an involuntary `oh'. Harry's was the last name to be listed, and Hermione thought she saw a flash of gold cross his irises before the parchment and quill disappeared into nothing.
That bit of housekeeping taken care of, all eyes turned to Harry.
"I know I don't have to say it, but anything discussed in this meeting or any subsequent meeting is to be held under a magical bond and in the highest of confidences." She could see that this new responsibility was causing a strain, and although she wished to provide him comfort or encouragement, she knew he needed to do this on his own.
"Of course, Harry. You have our word," Arthur responded, speaking for the entire Weasley clan.
"My job is still highly confidential, but I believe that it is somehow involved in these attacks. No one knew where I was," Harry said firmly, but she saw his eyes flicker toward her. Maybe not everyone, she thought. "Despite this, I was attacked as soon as Hermione was spotted in Diagon Alley." She had to swallow down the shame that rose up, along with a flush of embarrassment, even though she knew very well that he didn't blame her.
Harry's wand came out, and with a few flicks there was a floating map over the table with several areas marked on it; namely central Russia and Great Britain.
"I've shared this with Hermione, but I believe whoever is behind this has been planning for a long time. There is no other explanation for how three simultaneous attacks could have been orchestrated to such a degree. They've also managed to infiltrate my operation. These people are serious and five steps ahead of us."
Harry's words hung in the air, much like the magical map that transformed the formerly warm family kitchen into a war room.
"What's the plan, Harry?" Charlie spoke up from the end of the room.
Harry raked a hand through his hair roughly as he glanced at Hermione and Ron with an almost apologetic look. "I think we need to leave England." No one was under any doubt who he meant by `we'.
"Until we have a better idea of whom or what we're dealing with, all we know for certain is that they are after us. I can only surmise that the first step in the plan is to take us out." Molly gasped at this, and pulled a well used cloth from her pocket to dab at her eyes.
"How do you know it's not the only plan?" said Percy "How do you know this isn't just some leftover Death Eater going after you three and that's all there is?"
Harry nodded, acknowledging Percy's implication that Harry seemed to be jumping ahead in what they knew. "That could be true, but quite honestly it just doesn't feel right. I don't think Fawkes would come back if it was just an attack on the three of us. I also don't see someone being this methodical if there wasn't something much bigger behind it. I can't explain it, but I just have this feeling that this is deeper than we know right now."
"Where will you go?" Molly squeezed out, and Arthur dropped a supportive hand on her arm.
Harry looked at her for a long time. "I'm sorry, but we won't be able to say," he answered. Hermione was sure Molly already knew that would be the answer.
As she watched him standing there, Fawkes on his shoulder, looking so much more confident than he had all those years ago, she realized she had not witnessed this transformation. He had still been Harry, the unsure and scared boy doing what was necessary, but not truly believing he could have succeeded. Now he was a grown man, experienced and sure, and a shudder passed through her as she considered what he must have seen and done for this to have changed.
The next two hours were spent planning and organizing. They made lists of others who could possibly be interested in joining the Order. It was assumed that Harry was operating under the blessing of the Ministry; therefore, there was little doubt that they would receive full support.
Charlie spoke of his contacts in Romania and abroad. Bill and Fleur stepped out for a while. When they returned, Bill said he'd like to talk to Harry later.
Molly busied herself by baking and taking care of the girls, while Arthur and Percy gave Harry an insider's look at the Ministry's post-war administrative and structural changes.
Ron, George, and Hermione splintered off, and the boys gave her a rundown of `covert' merchandise they had created in the past few years. The war had clearly had an impact on their work, and even though it was over, they hadn't abandoned the mindset. Some of what they were working on was in the experimental stage, but some was ready to be operational and Hermione was pleased with the potential applications.
Hermione wanted to begin stocking her magical beaded bag with supplies. She knew it was in her trunk, but she hadn't laid eyes on it since tossing it in there three days after the war. She offhandedly wondered about its condition and what could still be in it.
Her head was starting to ache and she caught Harry looking at her as she rubbed a hand over tired eyes. She gave him a tight smile, but at his expression she thought he may have misinterpreted it as a wince.
He came to stand behind her and rubbed a hand over the base of her skull. She bit her lip to keep from moaning. Her head hung down lower and lower until it was almost touching her chest. and as Harry kept up the steady pressure, her attention wavered until all she heard was a low murmur as her eyes slid shut of their own volition.
A happy squeal from the baby caused her eyes to fly open, and she realized the kitchen was mostly empty. Ron, Bill, Fleur, Harry, and the little girls were the only ones left. Even Fawkes seemed to have mysteriously disappeared as he was wont to do.
Hermione sat forward and wiped her eyes, trying to wake up. "Sorry, must have dozed off there for a moment."
"Considering everything you've been through, it is more than understandable," Fleur said reassuringly; however, her words caused all three men to catch their breaths in varying ways, and it was a long minute before the charge in the air dissipated.
Hermione cleared her throat loudly, hoping to break the moment. She didn't think she could face the bare look of grief on Harry's face as Fleur's words took him back, even if it was for only a few seconds.
"Where is everyone?" she asked
"Work," Ron responded. "And Mum and Charlie went back to the Burrow to get some things," he said, voice tight.
"Everyone's decided that moving in here is the best idea, for the short term at least," Bill said, and Fleur reached a hand out to cover his.
Bill gave her a smile and then slid a small scrap of parchment to the center of the table where the rest could see it.
Shell Cottage.
And suddenly Hermione could remember the solidly built house overlooking the sea. "Fidelius," Harry stated, and Bill nodded.
"We thought you may want to use it as a base of operation outside of London, or maybe just a safe house. Whatever you choose, it's yours to do with as you please until this is over. Fleur and I thought it best to keep it in the family and put it to good use," Bill said, his voice sure.
Harry swallowed heavily and he couldn't find his voice to answer, so Ron did it for him. "Thanks Bill, I'm sure it'll be more than useful."
"When will you be leaving?" Fleur asked, obviously trying to change the subject.
Harry looked at Hermione and Ron to see if he had their permission to make the decision without discussing it first, and when he saw no protest he continued. "Tomorrow, first light: Hermione needs some more time to rest and George is gathering supplies. I don't want to leave until we're prepared."
Tomorrow. The Trio would be on the run again.
The room was silent except for the sound of Victoire entertaining her sister on the floor in front of the fireplace. Then two chairs scraped back as Bill and Fleur each took a child and quietly left the room, leaving the three to their thoughts.
"You really think it's that bad, mate?" Ron said, getting up to toss the torn bit of paper Bill had laid down into the fire and watched as the flames quickly consumed it.
Harry tipped his head back until it hit the top rung of his chair and reached out his left hand to grab Hermione's. "Yeah, I do. Before Fawkes showed up I thought the attack on me was a breakdown in my mission, thought I had missed something somewhere. But as soon as he arrived I just knew you two were in trouble and I needed to get back." With his head tilted back, the hair fell off his forehead and his scar stood out vividly.
A clock chimed faintly in the deep recesses of the house and seemed to jog Ron's memory. He started rummaging in a nearby cabinet and removed two vials of potion. Just as he was turning back, Harry sat back up and saw what he was doing. "Best get the other one as well," Harry said, and Ron turned back to the cabinet once again.
Soon enough the three potions were set before her along with a cup of tea and a second helping of Mrs. Weasley's soup. Hermione gave a rueful shake of her head. "You two. Turned into nursemaids," she said before tipping back the first potion. Blood replenishing potions were notoriously horrid tasting. The second one looked and smelled like a restorative draught. Just as she was about to take the third Ron reached out a hand. "You may want to wait on that one," he said, giving her a slightly nervous smile.
"Why, Ronald?" she replied, her voice calm. "If I didn't know any better I'd say it's a Dreamless Sleep potion, but I'm quite sure that's not necessary so it must be something else." Her eyes narrowed as she spoke.
Ron had the good sense to look to Harry to save him.
" `Mione..." Harry started and she turned her glare on him, but he soldiered on. "We have to walk out of this house tomorrow capable of dealing with anything that comes our way. I need you at top shape. That means you're going to take the potion, get a good night's rest, and you're not going to argue with me. You promised not to argue with me."
Ron watched the exchange with a dropped jaw, in disbelief that Harry was actually telling Hermione what to do, and shocked that Hermione hadn't gone through the roof at Harry's statement.
Her jaw clenched and she had a good idea that the vein in her temple was noticeably throbbing as she took a long moment to consider whether this was the hill she was going to die on. In the end she chose to lose this battle; but that didn't mean she was done.
Her answer was to pick up her spoon and resolutely ignore Harry while she took her time enjoying the soup. She was halfway finished before she saw Ron's mouth shut, even though Harry never took his eyes off of her. She wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of gloating over his win however, and as soon as she had her fill she rose to her feet. The boys looked at her curiously and she thought Harry was about to demand she take the potion, mistaking her rising as an act of defiance. Instead, she grabbed the remaining potion, gave the boys a sarcastic salute with the bottle, and threw it back with one swallow.
She had done this action so quickly she caught them off guard. She didn't immediately understand why they both lunged towards her trying to grab the bottle.
"No!" Harry shouted, while Ron's fingers swiped the glass just as she brought it back to the table.
"It's full strength, Hermione!" Ron exclaimed. "You only needed a bit to help you get to sleep."
Harry's hands were already reaching for her. "Oh damn," she muttered before the room faded out of sight.
When she opened her eyes later, she regretted the action immediately. The clock let her know it hadn't been that long since she'd been in the kitchen, only a few hours really. However, her mouth felt like she had licked a gnome and her head was foggy and small feeling. The potion was strong enough to knock her out immediately and make sure she would want to do nothing else but sleep the rest of the night as well.
Pushing herself to a seated position she looked about the bedroom. Her magical beaded bag had been pulled out of the trunk, and from the looks of the various piles all about the room it had been emptied in its entirety. There were piles of books, papers, clothes, old dried up potions, extra quills, cooking supplies, tents and chairs. Everything they could have possibly needed had been in that bag.
By the way it was laid out it looked as if someone was doing an inventory. Over by the door sat two over stuffed packs with `WWW' stamped on the side. She assumed George had made his delivery.
She was alone in the room, but it didn't bother her. She knew they had a lot to do and a limited time to do it in.
A trip to the bathroom was in order and it wasn't until she got in front of the mirror that she realized she was wearing Harry's jersey again. Her cheeks flamed for a second as she realized he had seen her in it, and had more than likely been the one to put her in it.
Her eyes still half shut and feeling so tired she could have gladly fallen asleep on the toilet, she barely glanced in their direction when she spotted Harry and Ron standing around the bed looking at the acquisitions.
"How are you?" Harry said with concern, but she just glared at him. "Like I've been on an all night bender," she replied sharply.
His hand wrapped around her waist, and if the slightly possessive nature of how he gripped the fabric over her lower back was any indication, she knew he wasn't complaining that she had borrowed his clothes.
He helped her back in bed, and she petulantly pulled the covers up under her chin and rolled on her side to better see what they were doing. The bag was laid open on the other side of the large bed, and Ron was beginning to add items to it.
"You can't stack the books like that, Ron; they need to be kept perpendicular to the tent, which has to go in second after the trunks, but only if the things inside them have been properly balanced or it throws off the entire structure!" she exclaimed and Ron froze, one hand in the bag, the other about to grab a handful of camping supplies.
His eyes were wide and she took secret pleasure in seeing how frightened he was. "If you two dolts hadn't doped me, I could be doing that right now. As it is it'll have to wait until I'm capable of coherent thought," she spit, and Ron slowly removed his hand and looked at Harry for guidance.
When neither of them moved, she gave an exaggerated sigh. "For Merlin's sake! Stack everything on the floor over there," she said and pointed towards the empty space on the right of the bed. "I'll sort your mess in the morning. I'm going to sleep. Don't touch my bag if you know what's good for you." She drifted off muttering about seemingly ingrained deficiencies of wizards with regards to packing.
Morning came quickly, and she woke to a clear head, no pain, and Harry's hand flat across her bare stomach. The jersey was rucked up about her hip as if he had been looking at her newly acquired scars. The feeling she had low in her belly had nothing to do with her injuries.
She rolled to her side and saw him sleeping, peacefully it appeared. His glasses were off and his hair was a frightful mess, but she thought he had never looked more endearing.
Sliding off the bed silently, she headed to the bathroom before coming back to the mess the boys had left her the night before. With a long suffering sigh, she began to pack the bag with practiced ease, her wand movements orchestrated each item in turn. As she bent over to gather a stack of books that weren't placed properly, she heard Harry's voice behind her.
"Nice view," he said roughly, and she whipped around to see him laying on his side, head propped up on one hand, not looking at all ashamed that he had gotten caught looking at her bum.
"I'm still mad at you," she said. She didn't mean it, but turned back to her packing anyways.
His hands slipped around her waist and she stifled a surprised yelp and tried to squirm from his grasp. But when his mouth ended up next to her ear and he pulled the hair away from her neck, she stilled.
"I just thought you should know that seeing `Potter' across your back is something that I like very, very much." His voice was dark and heavy and made her knees weak. She swallowed thickly. "I like it too," she replied, and then gasped as his mouth descended on her neck causing her to arch back into him.
One of her hands went back to thread through his dark hair, while the other came up to cover the hand that swirled lovely circles at her hip.
He started to move down to where the jersey fell away from her shoulder when the door banged open, and they were interrupted by Ron's uncontrollable shouts.
"Oi! My eyes! Bloody hell, mate! Put a towel on the doorknob or something," his voice began to fade as he backed out. "There are going to be rules, mate. Rules. I'm not going to keep walking in..."
Hermione dropped the hand from her mouth where it had flown when Ron had come in and after a beat she began laughing.
Harry's head fell heavily to her shoulder and she could feel as he joined her in laughter. "Poor Ron," she said, smiling and turned to look at Harry. "We're really going to have to be more mindful."
"We will," Harry confirmed and pulled her more securely towards him, suddenly serious.
"I can't believe we're doing this again, `Mione. I can't believe we're about to go on the run again." He sounded tired already.
She cupped the back of his head and held him to her. "I can't either, but we'll do what we have to do, just like we did last time."
He gave her a hard kiss and then pushed her away.
"I'm going to get dressed and then I'll meet you two downstairs," she stated, knowing they needed to put a bit of distance between them or they'd never make it out the door.
He nodded once and was gone.
Hermione exhaled slowly, let one of her hands skim where his lips had been, and shivered before returning to her task.
Ten minutes later she was dressed for war; heavy black boots, utilitarian trousers, long sleeved t-shirt in a dark grey, and a tight fitting jacket that would stand up to use. She finished strapping on her wand holster and grabbed the magical bag off the end of the bed, catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror. If it hadn't been for the extra lines around her eyes and mouth, she'd have thought she was looking at a picture of herself from five years ago when the three of them had first set out on the horcrux hunt.
She shook her head quickly and forced herself away from the mirror before she could get too maudlin.
The Weasleys were waiting in the drawing room. Conversation came to a halt when she entered and went to stand between Ron and Harry.
Molly was the first to approach. "Stay safe," she said simply and then gave each of them long hugs. After that it was like a dam had been burst. Everyone was a tangle of arms and good wishes. Luna and Ron were having a very enthusiastic goodbye.
Hermione found herself holding Victoire who had her little arms wrapped securely around her neck. Bill came up and detached his eldest. "Come on now Vic, Auntie `Mione has to go with your uncles on a trip." Reluctantly, the little girl released her hold and went to her father. Bill stared hard at Hermione for a long moment. "Come back alive. All of you," he said gruffly, and all she could do was nod before giving him one of her hugs and pressing a kiss to his scarred cheek.
All too soon the rest of the goodbyes had been said, and they stood on the front stoop, the door opened before them. With the magical bag around one wrist, she had Ron's hand firmly in her left and Harry's firmly in her right.
"We'll be in touch," Harry said in a tight voice. Then they were gone.