For maybe the fifteenth time, Autumn pushed aside the curtain to peer onto the street, though she knew that it was a useless endeavor. It was a nervous habit as much as anything else, to watch the front entry, even though she knew logically that when they returned it would most likely be with the popping of air and then simply appearing, not walking through the front door. Still, she couldn't merely sit and read a book while she waited, so she alternated between staring out the window and willing some of the glare from the streetlights to gather into the forms of her newfound friends, and pacing back and forth between the kitchen and drawing room.

Willow lay sleeping by the fire in the drawing room, and Autumn paused for a moment, staring at the way her face scrunched and grimaced. Mr. Dumbledore had left a bottle of what he called 'Dreamless Sleep', and told them both to take it if the worrying grew too much. Said that the liquid would lull them into a peaceful sleep. Willow did not look peaceful. Willow looked almost as terrified now as she had before Autumn had insisted that the red-haired woman drink it.

The Order of the Phoenix. In all their demonstrations of making things fly and dance and appear from nowhere, both Severus and Remus had neglected to mention that this creepy old house was the headquarters for a group called the Order of the Phoenix, and that they battled a group of evil witches and wizards called Death Eaters. They hadn't seen fit to mention that tonight, there was a battle planned, and that all of the members of the Order of the Phoenix would be disappearing, leaving Autumn and Willow alone to bite their fingernails and speculate as to what happened in a battle that involved magic.

And then, Willow had seen something. She'd seen the different members, in different places, places she could identify. She couldn't explain how she knew they were there, only that she saw them there. She'd argued when Mr. Dumbledore said he trusted her abilities. God, how Willow had argued. I can't tell you what it means, though! she'd screamed. Just because I see you there doesn't mean you should be there! Mr. Dumbledore, though, seemed to be the leader of this Order of the Phoenix, and he'd decided to trust Willow's vision. After all, he had reasoned as Willow grew increasingly hysterical, they would have to base their decision of where to put people on something, and the best they had were random placements. Bath and London and Liverpool and Glasgow were as good as any stations. Better than some.

And then they'd left. Just like that. A cacophony of popping, like the popping of popcorn, and they were gone. Autumn had brewed tea. It wasn't five minutes before Willow dropped her teacup suddenly, her hands shaking, her face white as ivory. "No…" she'd whispered.

"No what?"

But there was only 'no', in increasingly hysterical tones, and Willow had become a fury, ripping through the house as though looking for something, not seeming to know what she was looking for, Autumn following on her heels demanding to know what was wrong. But there had been only 'no', howled and wailed, then screamed, then whispered, then sobbed. Willow had clutched at curtains, she'd pounded her head against a wall. She'd opened the door, and Autumn was convinced that she would have run out had she not stopped her. And finally, Autumn had forced Willow to drink the medicine that Mr. Dumbledore had left them.

And now, the house was silent. Silent as a tomb.

"No…" Willow was whimpering now, and Autumn looked around, helpless to offer any comfort to her friend, terrified of what Willow could see but not speak.

"Shhh…" Autumn said softly, smoothing the hair from Willow's face, not sure if her friend could hear her or not. "Everything will be fine…" She wished she didn't sound like she was trying to convince herself. She wished she believed it, with all her heart, that everything really would be fine.

There was a sudden pop! in the kitchen, and Autumn hurled herself in that direction, running out of the drawing room and down the corridor, coming to a skidding halt in the kitchen door. It was Mr. Moody.

"Are you all right, girl?" he asked in his grizzled voice. She nodded, wide-eyed, unable to rip her eyes away from him. There was blood on his face. "Where's Willow?"

"I-I gave her some of the Dreamless Sleep," Autumn whispered. Mr. Moody terrified her. "She was hysterical."

"For how long?"

"About five minutes after you all left." Autumn backed away until she felt the wall at her back, her eyes still wide and locked on Mr. Moody. "Where is everyone else?" she whispered, fear beginning to boil in the pit of her stomach. "Where is Mr. Dumbledore and Ms. McGonagall and… and Severus… and Harry and Hermione and…" She trailed off as Moody was advancing on her, his uneven gait clumping like the knocking of the Grim Reaper on the door.

"I think you need to sit down, girl," he said in a surprisingly soft tone. Soft, but still grizzled.

"What happened?" Autumn whispered. "Where is everyone? What happened? What went wrong?"

"You're certain something went wrong," Moody asked, reaching for her hand. His gnarled fingers closed around her wrist and drew her closer to him. "Why?"

"Willow's never wrong," Autumn whispered. "And she's never hysterical. Nothing worries her. But tonight…"

"She was wrong tonight," Moody replied gruffly. "She was wrong about where we should be."

"No," Autumn shook her head firmly, her heart pounding, a buzz beginning in her ears. "No. She didn't say that was where you should be, she said that was where you would be. There's a difference," Autumn protested. "There's a difference, and she tried to tell you and… what happened? Where is everyone? Where's Severus?" He voice was taking on a note of panic, and even the ugly, scarred face of Mr. Moody seemed to soften.

"I think you need some of that potion too. Is there any left?"

"Where is Severus?" she repeated, trying to pull her hand away from him. "Where is he? Where is everyone? What happened? Dammit, what happened?"

The more she struggled, the more tightly he gripped her hand, apparently set on not letting her go anywhere. "Calm down, girl. Getting worked up won't change anything. Come on, sit down." He was pulling her to the table, forcing her into a chair, and she breathed harder, her throat tightening with fear.

"Where…?"

"It was a trap," Moody said softly, crouching at her knees. "It was wrong from the start. The Death Eaters were at Stonehenge."

"The children!" Autumn was crying now, not even trying to check the tears as they flowed down her cheeks. "Are the children…?"

"They're alive," Moody said gruffly, and that frightened her more than anything could have. They're alive? They were injured then. Is someone not alive? "They…" He was interrupted by another popping, and Mrs. Weasley appeared, looking horrified and worried.

"Is anyone else here yet?" she asked, looking at Mr. Moody. He shook his head.

"No. Just the girls and me and now you."

Mrs. Weasley nodded and bustled quickly to the stove, pulling a pot on top of it and filling it with water, then set it to heating. "I'll be upstairs," she called as she moved quickly from the kitchen. "I'll put all three boys in the…" whatever else she was saying was interrupted by another series of pops. Autumn couldn't remember all these people's names. She couldn't remember any of their names.

"Where is Severus?" she repeated to Moody. "And Remus? And Mr. Dumbledore and…"

There was suddenly a shuffling sound upstairs, and she heard muffled voices, and then a clear voice that she recognized as belonging to Mr. Dumbledore. "The boys need to come down here. Molly has a room ready for them. Minerva, put Severus in his room. Remus, Bill looks like he could use a stiff drink."

Autumn needed no more. She was up and flying from the kitchen, careening up the stairs to the third floor, wheeling past Mr. Dumbledore and Tonks and Bill and Remus. Remus tried to catch her hand, but Autumn had learned to duck her way through a crowd long ago—it was one place where her petite stature helped immensely.

"Autumn, no!"

She ignored Remus' shout and came to a skidding halt at the door of Severus' bedroom. He was lying on the bed, fully clothed, his face smeared with blood. Ms. McGonagall was pale-looking as she smoothed his hair from his face, and her lips were moving, as though she were whispering something to him.

"Severus!" Autumn cried softly and lurched forward, taking his hand in hers. His hand was cold, his fingers stiff. "No…" she whispered, suddenly reaching for his throat. She pressed her fingers against the vein in his throat, and felt frantically for a pulse. "NO!" she screamed.

"Autumn?" Remus' voice sounded distant, as though they were separated by an ocean. She was only vaguely aware of him pulling her into his arms, turning her head away from Severus. Away from Severus' body. "Shhh," he whispered, holding her tightly. "He wouldn't want you to cry."

"Minerva, put Severus in his room," Dumbledore ordered, and Minerva nodded, trying to swallow the lump that kept rising in her throat.

"You two," she pointed her wand at Harry and Hermione, "go downstairs with Professor Lupin and stay out of the way while we get everyone settled. I am certain that Professor Dumbledore will want to speak with you both. Go on, now." When the two of them were heading downstairs, she breathed a slight sigh, then turned her wand to Severus, who was lying crumpled against a wall.

"Come on then," she murmured to him, though she knew it was no use. He couldn't hear her. Still, she made a point to be gentle and careful as she elevated his body and murmured "Mobilicorpus," directing him along the corridor and into the room that had been his while he was staying here last week. She lifted him onto the bed, and then pocketed her wand, gently arranging his hands on his stomach, his head on the pillow. She removed his mask, and dropped it into the drawer of the bedside table, then removed his shoes, placing them under the bed, as though he might need to find them quickly, then bent over him again. His hands were so cold, his fingers already growing stiff, but there was still a faint hint of life lingering to his face. She touched his face softly, smoothing the limp black hair away from his gaunt features.

"Another fine victory for Slytherin," she whispered against his temple, and closed her eyes. He'd been such a fragile child, and she'd never been able to decide how much mothering he needed. Perhaps, if she'd given him a bit more, he would have made different decisions. Perhaps he would not be lying here now. Or perhaps there were some things that were written as destiny, and this was one of them. Besides, if she were quite rational about it, how many lives had been saved because of the path he had chosen?

"Autumn, no!"

Her head jerked up, and she saw Autumn in the doorway, her eyes wide, and the young woman suddenly lurched forward, clasping Severus' hand in hers. "Severus!" she cried, then a stricken look crept across her cherubic features. "No…" she whispered, and frantically felt at Severus' throat. "NO!" it was a scream this time, and the pain in that cry wrenched free the tears that Minerva had been holding back. Autumn collapsed at Severus' side, clutching at him, and a moment later, Remus appeared, his hands grasping firmly at the young woman's shoulders, pulling her away and sheltering her in his arms.

Beyond him, other figures were appearing in the doorway. It was Albus, though, who held Minerva's attention, and she pushed herself away from Severus' side, slipping towards the door. She paused as she reached Remus, and whispered, "Take Autumn downstairs." Remus nodded, and Minerva slipped out of the door, placing herself in Albus' arms. He tightened his arms around her in a firm embrace, and she looped hers around his waist.

"What have I done?" he whispered against her hair, and Minerva's arms tightened around him.

"This is not your fault, Albus," she whispered. "It is not." She hugged him tightly again, and pulled away, taking a steadying breath before looking at the small crowd gathering at the door. "Downstairs," she commanded, more briskly than necessary. "All of you. Go on." When everyone had stepped away from the door, Minerva cast one last glance at her one-time student and long-time colleague, then shut the door firmly. He had never wanted an audience for anything in his life, and she doubted he would appreciate all of them milling about his bed now.

Albus touched her elbow, and she looked up at him. "I need to go speak with Harry and Hermione," he said softly, and Minerva nodded.

"I'm just going to peek in at Fred, George and Ronald, see if Molly needs any help."

Albus nodded that time, and then slipped quietly downstairs. The entire house was quiet, in fact, though Minerva knew that there were more than twenty people in it at the moment. It was as though everyone knew what had happened, and no one knew what to say about it.

When she reached the second floor, Minerva turned to the room where she could hear Molly's voice, and knocked softly on the door. She was not surprised when there was no answer; Molly was preoccupied, she knew. Pushing the door open slightly, Minerva peered inside, then stepped in fully. "Molly?"

Molly was bent over the form of her youngest son, removing shoes from his feet. A glance at the other two told Minerva that Fred and George were both still in possession of their shoes. "Molly?" Minerva repeated, louder this time, and the Weasley matriarch turned around, her eyes bright behind a veil of unshed tears. "May I help you with the boys?" Minerva asked softly, and Molly hesitated for a moment. Minerva could almost see the inner argument. On the one hand, the mother wanted to be the one to care for her children, and she wanted to protest needing help to do it. On the other hand, the sensible woman knew that her children would become comfortable more quickly with a second set of hands. Finally, Molly nodded, and Minerva moved to Fred's bedside.

She tugged off his shoes and dropped them on the floor under the bed, then lifted him to a sitting position so she could ease the shirt over his head. Across the room, Molly had stripped Ron to his shorts and was washing his face and hands, so Minerva followed her lead, and then drew the sheet and blanket firmly around Fred's shoulders. They tended George together, in silence.

"They're going to be all right," Molly said as George's blanket was settled, and she cupped his cheek in her hand, looking at him with a look of concern that only a mother could manage. Her voice was far from confident, though, and Minerva reached across the bed, placing her hand on Molly's shoulder.

"They'll be fine, Molly," she said firmly. "All three of them have had worse from Quidditch practices."

Molly nodded, but there were tears on her cheeks now. "Severus was right," she whispered. "They're too young. I should have never allowed…"

Minerva stood and moved to Molly's side. "All children grow up, Molly," she said softly. "Even yours. They have yours and Arthur's spirit, and they won't give in easily, so don't give them less credit than they deserve."

"But why Fred and George and Ron?" Molly asked softly, and there were tears in her eyes again as she looked away from Minerva. "I know it sounds horrible, but why my children? Why not Harry or Hermione?"

It did sound horrible. Minerva, however, understood what Molly meant, and there was no graceful way to ask such a question. "We may never know," Minerva replied. "But I'm certain that Severus had his reasons."

Molly nodded. "I wish I could hate him," she whispered. "Using my boys as pawns in… in whatever game he was playing. But I can't, because he… he gave Hermione the means to save them, too. It's as though I wish he were still alive so I could kill him myself, and I wish I could fall at his feet and thank him and hug him and…"

"Shh…" Minerva placed her arms around Molly. "He was always a complex man, Molly. It was rather like that game of chess—he saw everything five and six moves beyond the present. Unfortunate that he would never explain what he was doing to the rest of us, but I am confident, Molly, that he had his reasons."

There was a knock on the door, and Molly quickly dried her eyes. Minerva slipped away from the worrying mother to open the door, and lifted an eyebrow as she saw Bill standing there. "Are they…?"

"They're fine, Bill," Minerva said firmly. "They are just sleeping."

He nodded, and then peered past Minerva's shoulder. "And mum…?"

"She'll be fine once the shock wears off. Just leave her be."

He nodded again. "Dumbledore is calling the Order together," he said softly. "Do you think Mum…?"

"Molly, I'm going downstairs. You stay here, though. I'll send up if you're needed, and we'll fill you in on details later."

Molly nodded gratefully, and Minerva ushered Bill downstairs.

"What are we going to tell Dumbledore?" Hermione asked in a hushed voice as she and Harry settled themselves onto the sofa in the lounge. They'd been following Professor Lupin downstairs, but he had suddenly bolted back upstairs to catch Autumn, and they'd continued to the first floor. It was the first time Hermione had spoken to Harry since they'd offered their initial broken explanations back on the hilltop at Stonehenge.

"The truth?" Harry suggested. "Why would we lie?"

"I don't mean to lie, Harry, but how much should we tell?"

"What do you mean?"

"Like, that he… what he did to me? Do you think I have to tell them that?" Hermione rubbed her arm subconsciously, and Harry eyed her thoughtfully.

"No," he said finally. "I don't think we have to tell that." Harry looked up, as though he could see through the ceiling. "How about the part about him drinking the blood?"

"I'm not even sure he really did," Hermione said softly. "I was trying to watch, but I couldn't tell. I don't think he did, though."

"Of course he did!" Harry replied, looking at Hermione as though she were nutter. "That's how he died!"

Hermione frowned. "But no one else died," she whispered. "Didn't you hear Shacklebolt? All the Death Eaters were still alive, and they wanted to keep them alive. Why would Professor Snape die if they didn't?"

A line deepened between Harry's eyes. "I hadn't thought of that," he said softly. "I… but what killed him, then?"

"I don't know," Hermione replied, staring at her hands. "I just don't know." Irritatingly, there were tears in her eyes, and her vision was blurring.

"Are you crying?" Harry asked as a tear splashed onto Hermione's hand. "Why?"

Scowling, Hermione glared at Harry. "Because he died! Doesn't that mean anything to you?"

"It means we'll have a new Potions Teacher," Harry replied, and Hermione just glared at him.

"Don't you have any conscience at all?" she asked. "He died protecting us, and you still hate him?"

"He poisoned Ron and Fred and George, and cut their throats!" Harry replied indignantly. "How can you forgive him for that?"

"If he hadn't poisoned the Death Eaters like that, do you think any of us would be alive? And how about the way he fought You-Know-Who?"

Harry stood suddenly and stalked across the room, staring at the wall. "Just shut up, Hermione!" he hissed. "I'd rather hate him."

"Fine!" she retorted, folding her arms across her breasts. "Then be a prat."

For a long moment, Harry stared at the wall, then suddenly punched it, hard enough to rattle the entire room. "Surely the wall didn't do anything to deserve that, Harry," came a voice from the door, and Hermione looked up, wide-eyed at Dumbledore. The Headmaster moved into the room with a calm that seemed out of place, given everything that had happened. "Come, sit with Hermione. I need you both to tell me what happened." He pointed his wand at the wall and murmured, "Reparo," and the wall knit itself back together.

A moment later, Professor Dumbledore was sitting in the chair beside the sofa, looking at Harry and Hermione. After a long pause, he lifted an eyebrow. "Well?" he prompted, "what precisely happened?"

Avoiding looking at Harry, Hermione spoke up first. "Almost as soon as Mr. and Mrs. Weasley left us at Stonehenge, black-cloaked men started appearing from behind the stones," she said softly. "There were four of them. We tried to fight, but…"

"No one could expect six students to take on four Death Eaters," Professor Dumbledore assured her.

"Fred hid the map. It's probably still there, actually, by one of the stones. And that was about all we had time for before they tied us up. And then, a few minutes later, they began Apparating from all around. They were all wearing masks and cloaks, so it was hard to tell who anyone was."

"How many?"

"Fifteen," Hermione replied, just as Harry answered, "I didn't count."

Dumbledore nodded. "Continue."

"Then You-Know-Who told Professor Snape to…" Hermione paused for a moment, once again avoiding Harry's eyes. "To begin the… slaughter." She finished in a tiny voice. "And he started with me. He slipped a bottle in my hand and told me it was an antidote and instructions on how to use it, and then he loosened the ropes around my wrists and… I don't know how he… poisoned… Ron and Fred and George. I really don't." Her eyes were wide as she looked at Professor Dumbledore, but he merely nodded.

"It's all right, Miss Granger. Go on."

She took a deep breath, thinking quickly about what precisely she was going to tell him next. She decided to leave out a great deal. "And then they… the Death Eaters… they were drinking…" It was harder to say it than she'd thought it would be, and once more Dumbledore nodded.

"I know what the Death Eaters do, Miss Granger. Continue."

She nodded gratefully. "They started to collapse. And then You-Know-Who got really angry and…" She shut her eyes and shook her head. "I can't," she whispered, dropping her face to her lap. "I'm sorry."

There was a pause, then arms around her shoulders, but Hermione didn't think she could look up just then. After a minute, Harry picked up the story.

"Voldemort was going to kill us," Harry said quietly. "He was going to kill Ginny first, and he had his wand pointed at her. And Snape… he was swaying, but he came up behind Voldemort and… and hit him. And they fought…"

Hermione murmured, her voice muffled as she still had her head in his lap. "The Cruciatus Curse. At least four times. You-Know-Who wouldn't just kill him, he was going to make him suffer."

"Voldemort was really angry with Snape," Harry explained unnecessarily. "And… and while they were fighting, Hermione untied Ginny and told Ginny how to get to London… got her hands loose, and then she gave Ron and George and Fred the antidote… and then she came back to sit by me, and she had a wand from one of the Death Eaters… " Harry was leaving out a lot of details, Hermione realized. "And then she untied my hands, and… and we were going to try and… I don't know what we were going to do, actually," Harry whispered. "But we were going to get out of there. But Voldemort saw that we were free and… and he was going to kill us then I think… well, I'm pretty sure. But Snape cast Crucio, and… and when Voldemort recovered, he… he…and then he and then Snape fell… and then Kingsley came… and… and they fought… and Voldemort got away and… and then you came… and…"

Hermione suddenly sat up and looked at Dumbledore beseechingly. "Professor Snape took three Cruciatus curses, sir," she whispered. "Is that why he…?"

Professor Dumbledore was quiet, and after a moment, he shook his head. "I doubt it, Miss Granger. Professor Snape has more Cruciatus Curses many times. I know this has been difficult for the both of you," he said softly, "but I must ask one more question. Did Professor Snape say anything to either of you to indicate what he had planned?"

Hermione shook her head, her eyes round as saucers. "No, Professor," she said softly.

Harry was shaking his head too.

Dumbledore nodded. "I didn't expect he would," he said quietly. "But I had hoped. Both of you, stay here. You've had enough excitement for one evening."

"Sir?" Harry asked as Dumbledore rose.

"Yes, Harry?"

"Ron and Fred and George…?"

"They're fine, Mr. Potter. They are resting. I'd tell you that you could see them, except that I think Mrs. Weasley needs time alone with them just now. I will see to it that you can visit them before we go back to Hogwarts, though."

Harry nodded, and Hermione slipped her hand into his, squeezing gently.

"Come on, Autumn," Remus whispered, though he didn't really give her a choice in the matter. Placing his hands firmly on her shoulders, he guided her away from the room where Severus' body was laid out on the bed, and was halfway down the hall with her when he heard the door close. "I think it's time for you to get some rest."

She shook her head, and tried to pull away from him, but it was almost like stopping a child. Between her petite physique and the hysteria that was weakening her overall, there was little to prevent him from dictating her movements.

"Yes," he murmured insistently. "I have a bottle of Dreamless Sleep with your name on it," he told her, steering her into her bedroom on the second floor. "It's been a long night, and you've had enough of it. I'm locking this door, Autumn, and when I come back, you'd best be ready for bed, because you're taking this potion and going to sleep. So if you want to change…" he let the half-hearted threat hang in mid-air and shut the door firmly, locking it with his wand. It pricked at his conscience to do that, but he couldn't trust her not to try and leave, and he didn't think he had the strength to chase her all over the house.

He slipped down the corridor to his own room, and opened his wardrobe, reaching to the back for the bottle of purple potion that would lull her to sleep. As his fingers curled around the bottle, Remus closed his eyes, suddenly latching onto the different facets of Severus' death. For one thing, there would be no one to brew the Wolfsbane potion for him anymore. It seemed almost disrespectful to be thinking of such a thing, but the full moon was only two weeks away. Two weeks was not long to find a safe place to lock himself away where he would not be a danger to others.

Surprisingly, though, that didn't seem to matter to him as much as it mattered that he'd lost one more friend to Voldemort. And Remus did consider Severus a friend, whether or not the sentiment had ever been returned. He hoped it had been. He thought it had been in the last couple of weeks, but it was so difficult to say. Severus was quiet, and his very nature was one of mystery. He never let anyone get too close to him. All the times in the last two weeks that he'd hissed 'don't touch me,´ when Remus had placed a hand on his shoulder… Remus wished now that he'd ignored the request a few times more. He hoped that Severus realized how much he'd been cared for, by so many people.

Opening his eyes again, Remus decided that Autumn had had long enough to ready herself for bed if she was going to, and he walked slowly back to her room, offering a cursory knock and waiting a moment before pointing his wand at the door and opening it with a spell. As he'd expected, Autumn was sitting on the edge of the bed, still fully clothed, staring blankly at the wall, tears falling down her cheeks.

"Come on," Remus murmured, kneeling beside her and sliding her shoes off her feet. "Into bed. There we go," he whispered soothingly as he guided her feet onto the mattress and gently pushed her against the pillow. "Now, drink this for me," he said softly, holding the violet vial to her lips. He tilted the contents down her throat, and she swallowed, almost too obediently, and he placed the empty bottle aside, easing her onto the bed again.

Her head touched the pillow, and a powerful sob suddenly erupted from her. "Shhh…." He whispered, lying beside her, pulling her into his arms. "It won't bring him back."

"Why did he have to die?" she whispered against his chest. "Why?"

Remus rocked her gently. "He died so that others could live," he replied softly. "Remember that, Autumn, Severus gave his life heroically to save the lives of others. I know it doesn't help much now, but remember it."

Her sobs were beginning to subside, but Remus was not delusional enough to believe it had anything to do with his soothing words; the Dreamless Sleep potion worked almost instantly. It would provide her enough strength to make it through the next day, with luck; he knew that she was going to need all the strength she could find.

When her breathing had assumed a steady rhythm, Remus eased himself away from her and extinguished the lights in the room, then slipped out. He left the door slightly ajar in case she woke in the night and needed anything, though he hoped she would sleep through the night. That would be the best thing for her. He made his way downstairs slowly, and entered the kitchen to find a solemn-faced gathering around the table.

No one spoke, but Tonks, at least, lifted her head in acknowledgement of his presence. With a sigh, Remus moved over to the stove and made himself a cup of tea before joining the others at the table. They all sat there, in utter silence, for several long minutes. After an eternity, the front door opened, and Bill turned towards it.

"That'll be Dad and Ginny," he said unnecessarily, standing.

Remus nodded. "Where are Harry and Hermione?"

"Dumbledore's talking to them in the lounge," Tonks replied.

Nodding again, Remus moved to the door, glancing into the hall. Arthur was guiding a stumbling Ginny, half holding her up, and down the hall, the door to the lounge opened. As Dumbledore emerged, Remus ducked back into the kitchen. "Tonks, can you manage tea for three? With something in it to calm them? Brandy, perhaps?"

Tonks nodded and pushed herself away from the table, and Remus stepped into the hall again, moving towards Arthur and Ginny. "Come on, Ginny," he said soothingly, reaching for the youngest Weasley. "Let's get you into the lounge with Harry and Hermione." Arthur looked grateful, and stepped aside to speak with Dumbledore as Remus guided the young witch into the lounge. Harry and Hermione were sitting on the sofa, curled up together, hand in hand, and for a brief moment, Remus wondered if he was interrupting anything. Perhaps the addition of a third person would not be welcome.

Any doubts he might have had, though, were eased as Hermione unfolded herself from the sofa and rushed to Ginny. The two of them fell together in a fierce hug, and after a moment, Harry joined them. Tonks appeared with a tray of tea, and Remus slipped out of the room quietly, leaving them to find comfort from each other.

"We need to meet, I think," Dumbledore was saying as Remus slipped into the hall again. Arthur was nodding, and Bill, who had apparently joined them while Remus was in with the children, took a step towards the stairs.

"I'll go get Mum and Professor McGonagall," he offered, and was heading towards the second floor before anyone could respond to him.

A few minutes later, they were all in the kitchen, slumped around the table, each of them coping with the night's events with varying degrees of success. No one, it seemed, was in the mood for excessive chatter, and when Dumbledore called the meeting to order, there was not chatter for once to stop.

"The Order has lost its spy," the Headmaster began without preamble, "As much as we mourn the loss, we cannot afford a long period of grief. Aside from being a friend, Severus played an important role in the Order, and we will need to find a way to continue to function without the information he has been passing to us."

This was met with a long moment of silence before Moody cleared his throat. "What are the chances we can establish another informant?"

"Not good, I fear," Dumbledore replied. "There is not another among the Death Eaters whom I would trust…" His words were interrupted by a sudden crashing and a scream outside the door, and chairs scraped against the floor as the meeting abruptly adjourned and the members came flooding out of the kitchen, most of them with their wands at the ready.