The next day dawned bright and cheery to Harry and Ron's delight. Hermione, though, didn't share their sentiments. The seemingly infinite expanse of bright, cloudless blue sky was a temptation she could do without, although she couldn't help nudging the dusty window open a bit to let the fresh air and sunlight in.

Well, she stared at her books in grim determination. Back to 101 ways of transfiguring a shoelace.

She gave the thick pages a few half-hearted flips before giving up entirely with a frustrated groan. Really, what had gotten into her today?

So it was with a defeated sigh and a reassurance that she had gone over it once that Hermione clambered down the stairs to the kitchen, where it was in its usual flurry of activity.

"Oh, hello dear, have you finished studying already?" Mrs Weasley asked kindly, although she looked a bit flustered from running about the small space and monitoring the progress of the various utensils that chopped, mixed, stirred, sliced, mashed and fried by their very own selves.

"Not really, I've only come down for a bit of fresh air."

"I see, I see. I do wish Ron had your efficiency," the homely redhead said conversationally whilst fiddling with the chopping board, "But all he's got in that brain of his is Quidditch, Quidditch, Quidditch. He'll soon turn out like the twins, he will."

Hermione attempted a modest grin but failed miserably. "Boys will be boys, I suppose. Can I help with anything?"

"No, no, everything's under control. Go join Ginny and Tonks in the living room, dear, lunch won't be for a while yet."

She was about to protest, but when Mrs Weasley turned her back on Hermione and started waving her wand at a pot, which immediately started sizzling, she decided she'd rather lounge in the living room.

It was dark and gloomy there save for merry flames in the fireplace that caused ominous shadows to dance on the walls. Sternly scowling portraits trained their beady gaze on Hermione as she walked into the room, and various scraps of anatomy adorned the remaining space. The house elves' heads, thank Merlin, had been removed from the corridors, but the living room had yet to be refurnished. What seemed to be acromantula legs were artistically splayed (probably the reason that this was Ron's least favourite room), multiple eyeballs floated eerily in a jar filled with murky water, and a chimaera head was frozen in mid-roar and took a place of honour right above the mantel. Hermione shivered a little before sinking into one of the overstuffed armchairs.

"Oi, Hermione, come to join the show?" Tonks was sporting a dark shade of green hair today, but the Head Girl's attention was drawn to something else: Fred and George Weasley. The Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes owners were brandishing a queer blue object in a clear glass box that squished into a different size every few minutes.

Before she could question them on it, though, the fireplace coughed a cloud of ash out at them, causing her and Ginny to leap from their seats in alarm. It spewed another puff of dust before the flames burned green and spat a figure out; he sat there for a moment before standing to dust his shabby robes.

Tonks stood with a grin and attempted to pat the ash from his robes before giving up and whipping her wand out. "How nice of you to drop by, Remus… scourgify ; there, nice and clean now." She stepped back to survey her work and nodded, apparently pleased.

Lupin, who looked scruffier than usual, gave her a wry glance. "Thank you, Tonks. Dumbledore and Minerva will also be stopping by soon, I believe." He gave the rest of the room a weary smile.

True to his word, two loud pops sounded not long after, and a chorus of greetings from the hallway alerted them that it was, indeed, the Headmaster and McGonagall.

A moment later the room was filled to the darkest of corners with Order members. Hermione literally had to perch on the edge of her chair to accommodate Ron, Ginny, and Harry. She looked at the sea of faces as she mentally ticked off names, but couldn't help noticing Lupin giving a brief nod to Dumbledore as he drew up a chair to sit next to McGonagall, who flanked the old wizard along with Severus.

"Dumbledore, do you think it wise to include the children in this?" a disapproving frown was on Mrs Weasley's face. She still wasn't comfortable with them being privy to Order meetings, but Dumbledore had insisted that they be informed after the confrontation with Harry earlier last year.

"I'd rather they be, Molly," Dumbledore surveyed the room with sober blue eyes, waiting until the rising swell of conversations had faded enough for him to be heard before starting again. "I'm certain most of you must think this queer, but I wouldn't have summoned you all if it were not an important matter. A select few know that Severus, Minerva, and myself have been developing an interesting… weapon, if you will, for the past few years." He allowed a pause as a ripple of excitement travelled from group to group. "We have yet to determine its form – that is to say, whether it will be substantial or spell work – but the basics have already been established."

The assorted crowd pressed closer at this, all eager for the Headmaster to continue. Hermione, too, leaned forward, and she saw Harry do the same.

"Now, we have been suspecting, from Mr. Potter's findings, that the greatest advantage we have over Lord Voldemort is love, as trite as this may sound. Putting the more complex aspects aside, we basically extract the element of love from a couple. This we have accomplished, and I believe it will weaken Voldemort considerably, but alas, not to the point of peril."

He turned his gaze to Harry for a fraction of a second before once again addressing the crowd with that famous, omniscient twinkle in his eye that belied his old age.

"If anyone should wish to further comprehend it, I'm certain that Severus would be glad to assist."

A quiet snort came from Ron's direction, and Hermione elbowed him before looking at Snape herself; there was a sour expression on his face, and he looked like he'd be anything but glad to help. She doubted anyone would truly go to him anyway unless they were absolutely required to, and couldn't help feeling an inkling of compassion for the broody Potions master. But the idea did have some credibility; she herself would like to get to know more of the details…

"Hermione, you're not seriously thinking of going to that old bat, are you?" Ron hissed from beside her.

She started at his words, sometimes Ron could be incredibly sensitive, but more often than not he was in too much of a daze to notice people around him. "Really, Ron, I don't know why you have to be so callous about him."

"Well, let me think now, maybe it's 'cause he's been nothing but prejudiced and snide to us since first year?"

"Oh, come on -"

"When will you two ever stop?" Harry groaned in an exasperated way.

"Well, he started it," Hermione murmured sullenly, aware that she sounded like a five year old.

Dumbledore cleared his throat just then and gave the three a significant look. "We have hatched a plan that's, of course, in early stages. Please consult Minerva if you are in any way interested, she shall be explaining whatever may be revealed at the moment and taking your names down." And with a curt nod that clearly signified the end of the meeting, Dumbledore stood and smoothed his robes.

"What do you reckon?" said Harry, absently running a hand through his unkempt dark hair as a line started to form in front of their Head of House.

"What, about the couple? I'd say Tonks and Lupin are in the running."

Hermione only barely suppressed a gasp. "What? You're not joking, Ron, are you? Tonks and Lupin?"

"No, Miss Granger," she whirled to meet a pair of merrily twinkling blue eyes. "I daresay not."

"P-Professor Dumbledore!" a blush bloomed on her pale cheeks.

He nodded in acknowledgement while gesturing at the adjoining room. "A private word with you three, if you please?"

Practically bursting with curiosity, the trio threaded through the crowd (most of whom were gathered before McGonagall) after Dumbledore into the next room. It was dusty and ancient, but wonderfully so. Shelves and shelves of books lined the walls, towering gloriously over them all, and directly opposite the door was a window that swept from the floor to the ceiling, offering a murky view of the London streets. Dumbledore flicked his wand, and heavy red drapes slid over the window pane.

"Have a seat," he lifted a hand in the direction of a cluster of brown, leather chairs before the fireplace. Hermione glimpsed a few of the book titles and noted that most of them had to do with the Dark Arts, must've been Sirius's dark wizards' heritage then; she hadn't had a chance to venture into this part of the house before, and wouldn't mind doing so in the future, but it didn't seem that they would allow her to browse the dusty tomes anytime soon.

A steaming mug of cocoa appeared before her the minute she sat down. The same happened to Harry, Ron and… Snape. She gave him a tentative nod of greeting but he, as expected, gave no indication that he had noticed, although she did catch those dark eyes lingering on hers for the barest of seconds.

She tried to dismiss the queer little leap of satisfaction that her stomach made at the near-acknowledgement.

"Now, Harry, I know you've yet to reveal the prophecy from the Department of Mysteries." Dumbledore started as he lifted a Pensieve and settled it on the coffee table.He prodded his wand into the silvery mass, and a second later Trelawney rose, slowly rotating as she clasped her shawls tight. She recited the prophecy in a harsh, guttural voice, and then sank back into the mysterious substance.

There was a stunned sort of silence when none of the five occupants spoke.

Then Hermione said timidly, "So… does that – must Harry be the one who vanquishes You-Know-Wh… V-Voldemort, then?"

"Yes, Hermione, it does. I gather that you have an idea of why I wanted to speak privately with you?"

She did have an idea, but found that it wasn't to her liking. "You want to include Harry in your plans, don't you? You want him to be the one who kills You-Know-Who?" She hadn't meant for the question to sound accusatory, but she did have an unfortunate habit of speaking without thinking first.

"Very good, Miss Granger. Toffee, anyone?" his long fingers fished for a candy from a small yellow dish and unwrapped it while holding the dish out. Ron leaned forward curiously to take one, ignoring the glare from Hermione. He too unwrapped it and observed it for a while. "I am rather fond of Muggle sweets, although they aren't quite as exciting as ours." Dumbledore said with a chuckle as he popped the toffee into his mouth.

"So why have you included us too?"

Clear blue eyes met hers for a long moment, and she thought that he had been about to speak when he steepled his fingers, but the entrance of two people caught their attention and forestalled the explanation.

"Remus, Minerva," Dumbledore greeted in turn, waving his wand to conjure two more chairs. Rather than sinking into the comfortable armchairs, though, Lupin headed straight for the Headmaster, who stood up and led him to a corner where they were partially hidden by a bookshelf. Hermione's gaze met the other two's curiously, and they all tried to lean forward inconspicuously to eardrop.

"I think," drawled a familiar voice, startling them into throwing themselves back into the chairs. "That the Headmaster would have at least had the foresight to cast a Silencing Charm to prevent nosy Gryffindors like yourselves from listening in."

"Potter." said McGonagall in a warning tone as she sipped some tea from her cup and sniffed rather primly while addressing Snape. "Do refrain yourself from aggravating my students, Severus. They are, after all, 'nosy Gryffindors' of my House."

The Potions Master's lip curled, but he said nothing in return. They all sat in awkward silence until Dumbledore and Lupin returned, both looking a tad disconcerted. He sank into his puffy chintz chair and stared contemplatively into the licking flames of the fire, a small frown marring his otherwise serene features.

After about five minutes, he seemed to remember that there were other people in the room, and his expression immediately cleared, although Hermione suspected that it was a result from years of practice. "Yes, well, there is also the matter of the spell I mentioned earlier. We have yet to secure candidates for it, and perhaps…" the lilting flow of his speech trailed off, and Hermione could just feel his gaze on her. Oh, no, he didn't mean……

"Professor… you're not - you don't want me to do it, do you?"

An amused chuckle came from McGonagall. "Why, Hermione, of course he doesn't." She turned, still with that airy tilt to her lips, to Dumbledore. "Don't mislead the poor girl, Albus, surely you don't…"

"She is the likeliest choice, Minerva."

"What, you mean me and Ron?" Hermione said, a little shriller than usual as she tried to will her blush away – but, of course, to no avail. She turned to Ron, whose face was approximately the shade of his hair, and he gave her a wide-eyed look of bewilderment in return.

"But of course."

Hermione found herself for once resenting the Headmaster's ability to somehow know about everything that happened within the walls of his castle. Didn't someone like him make better use of his time rather than matchmaking and participating in school gossip?!

"Your training shall start as soon as the second term does. It will not," he raised an eyebrow at Hermione. "Interfere in anyway with your school work. Professor Lupin will be paired with Harry, Professor McGonagall with Ron, and last but not least, Professor Snape with Hermione. Now, I find my stomach asking for lunch."

He stood to leave but was stopped by McGonagall, who was protesting (Hermione hoped) in furious whispers. Someone tugged on her sleeve, and she stood dazedly to follow the others into the kitchen.

What in Merlin's name had just happened?