Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter (J.K. Rowling and her publishers do).

Chapter One

"Little brother, I'm afraid we just can't help you."

"We're swamped --- swamped!"

"The snackbox advertisements just went up in Norway ---."

"And Belgium --- ."

"Thank-you, Fred. I had almost forgotten Belgium."

"Impossible. Their taverns have the best butterbeer east of the Atlantic."

"No, dear brother. You're mistaken. Arabia – what a dry heat does for the fermentation process!"

"You were just impressed by that fountain they had it shooting out of. Went dancing in that, we did. But the best butterbeer is fermented in wet cellars underground --- like in Belgium."

"Uh-huh. Belgian butterbeer on the lips of a slim brunette is what you're thinking of. Had to clobber you with a tankard to get you out of that bar."

"You've got it all wrong. That was in the Netherlands ---."

Ron cleared his throat.

"Ahem. What if I told you I want it for Hermione?"

George, who had been ripping wizard photographs from his jacket pocket of a blonde in the Netherlands, gaped, taking a seat on the bar stool next to him.

"Granger?" Fred croaked, grasping the edge of the ingredients table for support.

Ron rolled his eyes, "Is there any other?"

"That's a sick joke," George sneered, shoving the photographs back in his pockets and pulling flasks near him as if to continue the experiment he and Fred had been working on when Ron came into their lab.

"You don't understand. It's for her protection," Ron pled with desperation.

George sighed, placing a hand on Ron's shoulder, "Ron, I understand you feel like you need to protect her, but don't you think she's safe enough in hiding --- under Dumbledore's watch? Under Harry's watch?"

"Bull. Harry can barely take care of himself," Ron responded, heatedly. "He's supposed to have been hiding all summer, and he's already had two skirmishes with death eaters. I respect what Harry believes is his obligation, but sometimes he is an…an…an idiot."

"We're not making it for you. It's too dangerous, and they are protected."

"You think that wherever Harry Potter is…is safe? He has managed to anger more dark wizards in the past two years than the entire Order in twenty. He fools them, he antagonizes them, he challenges them, and Hermione goes with him every single time. Did you hear what they did last week? Did you!"

Fred and George resignedly took seats, conjuring stomach antacid, which they sipped as Ron continued:

"Broke into Pettigrew's stodgy, rat hole on the sea! Took something too…I don't know what. Probably snatched his knickers, bet we'll see those hanging off Gringott's flag pole tomorrow!"

George sniggered, "Wish they would, but Hermione's classier than that ---."

"Harry might," Fred grinned, taking another swig of antacid.

"He has turned into a mischievous chap."

"This is the third time this week that Dumbledore has personally checked in on me," Harry grumbled, "And it's Wednesday."

Hermione put down the book she had been reading, which was not of its usual flavor, as her new determination had become cooking, "He cares about you."

"He's stopped letting me talk to Remus, and that's making me nervous. I have never been restricted in my contact with the Order."

"Remus might be doing something dangerous right now," Hermione rationalized.

Harry screwed up his face, suppressing whatever he wished to say. Hermione ignored him.

For the past few months, since they had left Hogwarts, Hermione and Harry had been staying in a secured location. They were not even supposed to know where they were in hiding, but Harry had sneaked out so many times that he had figured out they were in a mountainside in Romania. There were no outside entrances. Apparation was the only way to gain entrance to the roomy tunnels they occupied. However, Dumbledore had placed so many protective spells around the area that it was impossible for anyone but an Order member and a couple of houselves (Dobby and Winky) to enter. Harry himself was caught every time he apparated onto the exterior premises, but he was usually two miles away before anyone could contain him to bring him back inside.

The rooms were cavernous, long and narrow, with ceilings of a gothic cathedral and thick walls of rock. Tapered candles lined the room Harry and Hermione used to study and visit with the Order members, casting spindly streaks of warm light on the floor rugs and overstuffed furniture. Dumbledore always conjured comfortable settings.

Except in the opinion of one: Harry. When he first fled Hogwarts under unfortunate circumstances, he had been able to rest easily in the safe-haven created for him. But now he knew every corner and crack. He was suffocated in the cavernous halls…and bored. Harry Potter never dealt with boredom well.

"They give Remus too much to do, especially now that he cannot take the Wolfsbane anymore. His hair is grayer every time I see him --- for the few moments Dumbledore shuffles him in here to keep me from complaining about never seeing him."

Hermione, who had attempted to return to her book, laid it aside again, pulling herself off the couch and walking over to Harry, "Harry, you've gotten worse about not listening to Dumbledore. Look at all he's done for us. Can't you just trust that he's doing the best that he can --- and that it is better than we could do on our own?"

Harry took a long look at Hermione, studying her almost. He sighed, then turned and walked to a chest that leaned against the fireplace brick, fiddling with the rusty handles, deliberately knocking them against the wood of the drawers, "And what would we do on our own?"

Hermione raised an eyebrow.

"You know, if there was no Order, no Dumbledore. Just Voldemort, me, and a prophecy. What would we do in that case?"

"I don't know, Harry. Run, I guess," Hermione replied brusquely, trying to sound disinterested.

"How far do you think we'd get?"

"Only place in the wizarding world we can get to with no help is Hogwarts, and we can't go back there."

"Weird, isn't it?" Harry gave a wan smile, "You'd think that unlimited opportunities would be open to us now. But…."

Hermione squeezed his arm, "You'll get your chance, Potter."

"Just got to kill Voldemort first."

"Not funny…."

"Sorry," Harry teased.

A few moments of silence followed. Hermione began to gather her cookbooks and notes, preparing to get ready for bed. Harry stood next to the fire, watching her peacefully. Before she left, however, he bridged one last question.

"Have you thought anymore about the Order's proposal?"

Hermione tensed, "I've thought about it a lot."

"Well?" Harry prompted awkwardly.

"Many aspects of their…uh…proposal…are very promising. But there's this one thing that keeps getting in the way of my decision. Quite annoying this thing…this person… is, actually," Hermione smiled.

"I try," Harry muttered.

This is how your main characters found themselves at the end of their time at Hogwarts. No, they did not acquire normal jobs and flats in London. Hermione did not continue on to higher education. Ron was living at the burrow, lying low as instructed. He wanted desperately to join the Order, partly because Harry could not. He did not feel any outright animosity towards his best friend, just that same old nagging of insecurity and a need to prove himself. A need for a great equalizer. Hermione has never dated either Ron or Harry. She never dated anyone at Hogwarts. She spent her time in the library, and, oh, how fortunate will that be for all later. She could not bring herself to return to the muggle world, to abandon the execution of her studies for a hope of safety. Nor could she walk in the bright sunlight of the wizarding world. She was, after all, the brains behind Harry Potter. Sent into hiding with Harry, Hermione continued to study persistently. Studying for what? For any and everything that may cross her path. Harry had indeed become a danger to those around him. When he sensed that Voldemort's plans were inching closer to the shadows of Hogwarts, he would do his best to tempt the death eaters into the forest or the surrounding mountains. He spent many nights in the Shrieking Shack, trying to protect those who believed themselves safe in the school. But no longer could he maintain that lifestyle; after a brutal afternoon of petitioning to Dumbledore and the Order, he was dismissed from school in March of his seventh year. He finished his courses from the mountain hideaway, spending the first months in a cold sweat as Voldemort tried to penetrate the defenses in Harry's mind to determine his location. School ended, and Hermione joined him, declaring that under no circumstances would she or Ron let him spend so much time alone again. Through no act of his own, Ron was unable to visit Harry and Hermione often. So, here the three are. Freshly trained and eager to make some kind of life.

A/N: more to come