A/N: My thanks, as always, to Anastasia, She-Who-Must-Be-Named. Thanks to Luna for the beta and the criticism. And to my readers, thank you for your patience. Bit of a busy week this week, but summer's coming…
For Once, Then, Something
The noise silenced the Order, who turned as one to stare at Hermione.
With Tayet peeking out through her hair, Hermione blushed furiously.
"Miss Granger!"
"Hermione, dear - "
"Hermione!" Harry advanced cautiously on Hermione, as though she were some new species Hagrid had bred rather than one of his best friends. "Hermione," he began again, easing carefully toward her, not wanting to startle the phoenix. "That's not Fawkes," he breathed.
"No," she said quietly, "she's not Fawkes."
At the word "she," Arthur, Molly, Kingsley and Minerva exchanged pale looks.
Tayet rubbed her head on Hermione's cheek. Hermione reached up to stroke her. She could feel the mirror growing warm in her pocket, but that couldn't be helped.
"Her name is Tayet."
"A phoenix," Harry said in wonder.
Hermione half-laughed. To Minerva's ears, she sounded slightly hysterical. "Of course."
Kingsley's voice rumbled, "That's impossible."
Hermione, Harry, and Tayet all looked at him, and Tayet sang a few notes – unmistakably phoenix song. And unmistakably amused.
Molly was still patting herself vaguely as if to reassure herself that she hadn't died. "Is there… " she began weakly, then, finding her voice, she tried again. "Is there anything else we need to do here?"
Everyone looked expectantly at Hermione. A shadow of fear remained on Molly's and Arthur's faces, and a certain over-rigidity lingered in Minerva's posture.
"No," Hermione said quietly. "I don't see how there could be. The Horcruxes are gone – not even Voldemort can get them back now – so it seems logical to conclude that the Indemnities vanished with them."
They all stared at her, blinking, apparently afraid that even a breath would somehow undo what had just happened.
"Anti-climactic, isn't it," Hermione said, feeling absurdly as though she should apologize. Then her hackles rose. Would they have preferred it be otherwise?
Molly leaned on the arm of a suddenly flushed Arthur, and Minerva's face broke into a smiling map of wrinkles as she took her first full breath in what felt like a lifetime.
Hermione reached into her pocket and gave the mirror a fleeting brush before she realized Harry was still looking at her.
"Hermione," he began, but a soft call from Tonks stopped him.
"Not here, Harry," she said from the doorway.
Hermione, trying to be inconspicuous, took her hand out of her pocket.
"And not tonight, lad, not unless… " Kingsley looked at Minerva, who nodded.
"Tomorrow morning, 7 a.m." Minerva said, starting to herd everyone away from the dais and up the stairs toward where Tonks was still at her post. "Everyone, I think."
The Weasleys and the Aurors nodded, but Harry shot a dark look at the headmistress before turning back to stare at Hermione and Tayet.
Drawing Hermione away from Harry and the others, Minerva spoke in a low tone. "I believe it would be best for you to return with me to Hogwarts, Miss Granger – if you think it" – she pursed her lips – "she – will follow?" Minerva looked a little dazedly at Tayet.
Hermione nodded, then wished she hadn't. A hundred plausible explanations for returning to Grimmauld Place sprang to mind, but it was too late; Minerva was sweeping up the stairs behind her. Tayet spread her wings a bit to keep her balance.
Harry tried to fall back to get closer to Hermione as the Weasleys exited the chamber, but Kingsley's hand on his shoulder stopped him. He glanced back at the veil, once, before dropping his head and allowing himself to be led out.
Only Hermione caught the determination in his eyes before he looked down.
/x/
In the empty chamber, the veil fluttered softly on the dais.
Perhaps there was whispering still. The Unspeakables had yet to determine if the whispering continued when there was no one in the chamber to hear it.
They'd been arguing that one for centuries.
And Tayet wasn't telling.
/x/
"Mum!" Ginny cried, throwing herself into Molly's arms as the Burrow contingent entered the living room.
Bill and Charlie stood, speechless, looking from their mother, in wonder, to their father, questioning. Every freckle stood out starkly on Ron's face as it drained of all other color.
"I'm fine, Ginny, I'm right here, dear."
The twins grabbed their mother and sister between them in a fierce, wordless circle. As he backed into the kitchen to where Tonks had put the kettle on, Harry heard Ginny wail, "How could you?"
Closing his ears – or trying to, to give the family some privacy – he joined Tonks.
"Could you grab the tea, then, Harry?" Tonks said, the circles under her eyes doing nothing to diminish the lilt in her tone.
"A battle won is a battle won," Kingsley rumbled sagely, nodding at Harry as he leaned in the window frame and looked out on the darkness.
Harry blinked at that, then asked, "That phoenix… why was everyone so worried about the fact that it's a girl?"
Tonks leaned back against the counter and crossed her arms. She looked at Kingsley.
"There's no such thing as a female phoenix," Kingsley answered gravely, his dark eyes worried.
"Why not?" Harry asked.
The corner of Tonks' mouth twitched and she looked down at her crossed arms.
If Kingsley registered her amusement, he didn't show it. "If you think about it, you'll see why."
Harry frowned at Kingsley. "Or you could just tell me," he said.
"They don't come from eggs, lad."
Harry crossed his arms and waited.
Kingsley looked at him, and finally chuckled. "Fine, then. You'd do better to ask Hagrid for the earthy bits, and, for the philosophy, you should talk to… " his voice caught, and his gaze darkened slightly before he shook it off. "Well, you could always ask Minerva, I suppose."
Tonks broke in with a snort. "He thinks there's no such thing as a female phoenix because they don't need to mate, see?" She glared at Kingsley.
"Exactly," Kingsley muttered.
"But what he really means by 'There's no such thing' is that there's never been one before, and he's too much of a sodding prat to know the difference."
Kingsley had the decency to look startled.
"Maybe I'll get a Tayet tattoo," Tonks mused. She cocked her elbow to look at her upper arm, and knocked over the sugar tin.
/x/
Minerva closed the Hogwarts gates behind them, and Tayet zoomed off toward the lake. Something in it was moving, and if it flashed she might catch it.
Minerva turned to Hermione, her eyebrows raised, and Hermione smiled slightly and shrugged.
"I'm not certain," Hermione said, with a glance in the direction Tayet had flown. She half-turned, expecting the headmistress to move immediately toward the Entrance Hall, but despite having lit her wand, the older witch didn't move.
"Miss Granger," she began, seriously, although her eyes were unmistakably sparkling in the wand light, "Your solution was remarkable."
Hermione's face grew warm.
"Remarkable indeed," the older woman beamed at her. "I am quite… quite pleased, and profoundly grateful. You cannot know how much." She smiled.
Hermione returned her smile.
For the first time in days, it was just a smile. The smile of a favorite student.
/x/
In the library at Grimmauld Place, Severus had begun, once more, to pace.
Table… archway… bookshelves… loveseat…
Once his breathing had returned to normal after the Compulsion had constricted around his chest, he had received only one fleeting touch on the mirror.
Loveseat... bookshelves… archway… table…
He told himself he was thinking.
Table…
His pacing slowed.
Something had triggered the Compulsion. Harry, in danger, the Department of Mysteries.
Archway…
Unlikely to have been a Death Eater attack, not there. Almost certainly not without his Dark Mark flaring, not once Pettigrew had been spotted.
Very probably not.
Bookshelves…
Other enemies in the vicinity… Pettigrew, of course, if the Imperious Curse had lifted. The presence of Pettigrew had been enough, once before. Of course Hermione would have been as much a target as Harry, had that happened…
Loveseat…
… but probably not a physical target. A verbal attack, maybe.
Severus winced.
Nothing to be done right now if word of their… collaboration – Coward - was out. His own voice, in memory: "I won't be there to help you."
The touch on the mirror had been reassuring, though.
Bookshelves…
If the Curse had been lifted, somehow, Pettigrew had either been Cursed again - Would she? … Yes. Quite probably… - or he'd escaped again - She wouldn't have let that happen… nor been reassuring if he had… - or was dead.
Archway…
There was also the possibility that Potter's danger had come from the veil itself. Perhaps he had gotten too near it and tripped.
Severus scowled.
I breathe, therefore he didn't trip. Delightful.
The mission had probably been successful, then – in which case…
Table…
… Hermione was being questioned.
Severus sat at the table and stared blankly at the smooth lines and whorls on its surface.
After a moment, he reached for the parchment that had yielded Molly's name.
It was inert.
He raised an eyebrow at that, and reached for Minerva's.
Also inert.
Interesting…
He'd read about the possibility of such an Arithmantic effect before, but had never witnessed it, nor met anyone who had.
Except possibly Dumbledore.
He reached for Hagrid's.
Balanced, kinetic.
He stood up again.
Archway… bookshelves… loveseat…
He resisted the urge to touch the mirror.
Bookshelves…
He couldn't contain his curiosity.
Archway…
And where the bloody hell was Tayet?
He stopped pacing and swept into the hallway. "Mrs. Black?"
Neither Mrs. Black nor Phineas Nigellus did more than blink.
"Have you seen Tayet?"
"Yes. She flew by on her way out. Awfully polite, for a chicken," Mrs. Black's voice was softer than her words.
Phineas Nigellus gestured toward the kitchen. "She flew that way, warbled, and disappeared."
Severus ran his hands into his hair. His fingers caught on the braid, and he disentangled them sharply. "Where did she go?"
Phineas Nigellus looked at him sharply. "First the witch goes off her head, now the wizard?" He turned to Mrs. Black. "This doesn't bode well."
Severus waited, staring.
"I don't speak 'warble,' young man. Do you?" Phineas Nigellus turned from him, then a got a hazy look.
Mrs. Black drew in a breath. "Hogwarts?" she asked.
Phineas Nigellus nodded and left the frame.
Mrs. Black looked at Severus. "He always gets that look right before he leaves. Must be a difficult transfer." She looked at her frame and frowned. "He'll bring back a report, though. He can't resist a good gossip afterwards." She smiled, only a little evilly. "Some of it is even true. Usually."
Despite himself, Severus asked.
"The gossip? Or the report?"
Mrs. Black shrugged. "Yes."
/x/
They talked little as Minerva swept up the marble staircase and ushered her along the fastest route to her office. Only after the gargoyle had swung back behind them and they were well up the spiraling stairs did she speak at all, and then only to inquire whether Hermione would care for tea.
"No, thank you, Headmistress," Hermione said.
"Well, I myself could use a spot of something stronger, but I believe I will have the house-elves send a tray regardless. Ah, good - " she said, entering the office. "They've left the lamp, as I asked." Removing her traveling cloak, she continued, "There are one or two subjects on which I'd welcome clarification before the meeting of the full Order in the morning."
"Of course." Hermione stifled a yawn.
Minerva paused on her way to the fireplace. "Miss Granger, I realize you're done in. This won't take long, and you may of course stay here tonight."
Hermione's mind seized on the word "may," and some flicker of an eyelash would have betrayed her in that instant had the headmistress not already been turning back to Floo the kitchens.
"You're sure you wouldn't care for tea, Miss Granger?" The headmistress' voice sounded muffled.
"Quite sure, thank you." Hermione was anxious to have done with this conversation. She glanced up into the shadows toward Dumbledore's portrait, and was startled to find the frame empty. Her eyes swept the frames for him and fell on Phineas Nigellus, who winked at her and shook his head slightly.
"Coffee, then?" Minerva had come partway back into the circle of light cast by the glowing lamp on her desk.
Hermione barely heard the older witch; she was trying to read some message in Phineas Nigellus' expression. "Pardon?" she asked.
"Coffee?" Minerva repeated, patiently.
Phineas Nigellus tilted his head behind him and shook his head again. Not here, then, and not in Grimmauld Place. "Thank you," Hermione said, turning to the headmistress in time to see her head back to the fireplace.
Hermione stood by the desk, waiting.
Minerva was smiling slightly. Although the Malfoys had been in England since the time of the Norman Conquest, the family was infamous for their Gallic affectations. The Slytherin table – and everyone else within earshot, which included the High Table, where one could hear almost everything spoken by the students – had often been treated to young Mr. Malfoy's lengthy morning diatribes regarding Hogwarts' lack of civilization as far as breakfast beverages were concerned.
The request made to the kitchens, Minerva returned to her desk and picked up the three envelopes she had left centred on it.
Hermione averted her eyes from their obvious significance.
Minerva tucked two of them into her robes, then tapped the corner of the third thoughtfully against her cheek. She sighed, and put it face down on her desk.
"Are you aware, Miss Granger, that there has never been a female phoenix?"
Hermione shook her head.
"It's always been assumed that because their succession is rather different from other Magical Creatures that sexual difference was unnecessary among them."
Hermione put on her best classroom face and nodded again.
"Regardless, a phoenix was historically considered male, until Hagrid suggested that they should more appropriately be designated "neuter" – a notion that Professor Dumbledore considered quite insightful."
The young witch looked up, startled, and the headmistress smiled at her. "He really does have a remarkable knack for the study of Magical Creatures, Hermione. His position at the school was not merely a sinecure, not granted merely out of Professor Dumbledore's seemingly endless supply of good will."
Hermione smiled, and nodded.
"You said her name was… "
"Tayet," Hermione supplied.
Minerva looked at her.
"I assume this name has some significance to you?"
"Yes, some," Hermione agreed, "but it's difficult to explain without the full context."
"Very well, Miss Granger. Can you tell me how this… this marvelous creature came to be?"
"I can describe what happened, certainly, Headmistress – but I can't begin to explain it."
Minerva couldn't help beaming proudly as Hermione delivered a heavily edited version of her Arithmancy workings.
"That formula would, I believe, have resolved into two names, as it required the recognition of James' sacrifice as well," Hermione finished.
"You did not see any names?" Minerva sounded both solemn and shaken.
"I – I didn't see them, no," Hermione finished lamely. "The parchment burst into flames, and when it turned to ashes, Tayet was in the middle of them. And - "
Minerva leaned in slightly. "Yes, child?"
"And my patronus just… appeared. I didn't call it. It seemed… curious."
"Your patronus is an otter, I believe?"
"Yes, Headmistress."
"Hm. And you're quite sure you didn't Summon it?"
"Quite sure."
Minerva's eyebrows arched. "Remarkable. Most remarkable." She sat back in her chair, and stared at the lamp's reflection in the dark windows.
She did not tell Hermione that the fact that Tayet was female was not the only anomaly she presented. Phoenixes had been one of Dumbledore's favorite research areas, and he could – indeed, had – gone on for hours about them. Every detail of their history, every mention, every theory regarding their origin, even their influence on Muggle mythology and their role in the Muggle paradox about chickens and eggs – a question originating in the Wizarding world as "Which came first, the phoenix or the ashes?"
Minerva's brow furrowed. She strongly suspected that Tayet would put at least one division of Unspeakables out of business.
The headmistress tapped her lip with a long finger on which rested a ring with a dark red stone. Hermione watched it reflect the lamplight as the headmistress thought.
Every recorded phoenix, every mention, in all the literature, insisted that phoenixes be the colors of flames.
Not of twilight, dusk, and midnight.
Minerva wished that there had ever been stability in the Defense Against the Dark Arts position. Something of Hermione's Arithmancy, of her narrative, of her sources at Grimmauld Place, bespoke an influence by, or at least proximity of, Darkness.
But the spontaneous appearance of a patronus… That suggested… Oh, dear, Minerva thought, glancing at Dumbledore's empty portrait frame. Oh, dear.
That had happened to her.
Once.
When her daughter was born.
A house-elf Hermione had never seen before brought the tea things and a steaming mug of coffee.
Unthinking, she reached for it, steeling herself against its bitterness.
Minerva sighed, and made a mental note to talk to Lupin. His insights might be helpful, even if he wasn't half the Dark Arts theorist that… She flinched. She forced herself to continue. … that Snape was.
"Is your coffee strong enough, Miss Granger?" she asked, quietly, coming out of her reverie.
"Yes, it is, thank you."
"It is admirable of you to protect Mr. Malfoy."
Hermione went slightly green. "Mr. Malfoy?" she repeated, shocked, her mind racing.
Minerva watched her closely from behind her glasses. "Young Mr. Malfoy, Hermione," she said quietly. "He always preferred coffee; by his third year, half of Slytherin House had acquired a taste for it."
When Hermione realized the headmistress was talking about Draco, and not his father, she unconsciously relaxed. She thinks it's Draco... of course; that would make sense… oh, dear.
Minerva was confused by Hermione's reaction. Did the child think I meant… Lucius? Surely her source can't be Lucius Malfoy… but she did relax when she realized I meant the son… Startled, she peered more closely than ever at Hermione. How deep is she in
Hermione held her coffee steadily and returned the headmistress' gaze.
"Miss Granger, is there anything you wish to share with me?"
"No," Hermione said. "No."
They regarded each other steadily.
The silence was broken by a cough, and the looked up to see Albus Dumbledore back in his frame.
"Minerva," he smiled.
"Albus," she nodded.
"Well done, Miss Granger. Well done, indeed," he said quietly.
Feeling very suddenly awkward, Hermione replaced her mug on the tray and turned to Minerva.
Minerva reached for the envelope on her desk and hesitated slightly. "This seems less important now, but… this was for you, Miss Granger. In case… Those others I will burn; they were administrative – but this one - " a shadow of doubt crossed her eyes, and Hermione saw her consciously decide to ignore it. "But I should very much like for you to have this one."
Hermione wordlessly took the sealed envelope.
"Until tomorrow morning, then, child. Do try to get some sleep."
/x/
Severus sat at the table, drinking brandy.
He restrained himself from touching the mirror only through extreme act of will.
With each sip of brandy his will slipped infinitesimally.
His one consolation through years of spying had been knowing the movements and situations of both sides.
That was lost him, now.
He sighed.
A small enough loss, all things considered.
He felt the mirror warm in his pocket.
His hand was on it and it was out of his pocket, in his hand, before he consciously reached for it. "Hermione," he thought instantly.
The mirror clattered on the table, and he stared at his hand. She'd ensnared his reflexes.
His face changed color, very slightly.
He touched the mirror again.
After a moment, he thought he felt her smile.
"Help me call Tayet?" she asked. "She's zooming over the lake and doesn't seem to hear me."
Mentally, Severus nodded.
Two thoughts, one word. "Tayet."
He felt Hermione relax.
Only then, he did.
/x/
"If anything else happens, I'll go barking," Ron said to Harry once the family was finally upstairs and everyone had gone to bed. He was picking at a thin patch on his Chudley Cannons bedspread.
"This probably isn't a good time to bring this up, then," Harry replied, unable to keep the hope out of his voice.
Ron looked at Harry with something close to trepidation. "What now?"
"Hermione is in the middle of this, somehow. Without us. We have to get to Grimmauld Place."
"But - "
"I'm going. Tonight. Now. Are you coming with me?"
"Sure, mate, but how? We still can't use the Floo – not with Shacklebolt snoring on the sofa – and if we try to sneak out to the edge of the wards, we're sure to get caught."
Harry opened his trunk and pulled out his Invisibility Cloak.
"Think we can both still fit underneath?"
The light of adventure was instantly kindled in Ron's eyes, matching the intensity of Harry's determined expression. "We can sure as hell bloody try."
A tense moment on the stairs as a step creaked. They heard the sofa springs creak as Kingsley moved, but the snoring soon started again.
A few moments later, they were outside, down the lane, and at the edge of the wards.
Ron looked toward Harry. He could barely make out his shape in the near-total darkness. "You know, it's one thing to be in the corridors after hours. They're Order members, but they're also Aurors, Harry."
Harry's voice was flat. "I know."
Ron nodded. "There's going to be hell to pay."
They separated, and Harry tucked the Invisibility Cloak under his arm.
They concentrated. Harry screwed his eyes shut and focused.
Destination… Determination… De…
/x/
…liberation.
Hermione Apparated behind Severus before he'd had time to stand up.
Her hands on his shoulders, running around his chest, and his head leaning back against her, his hands rising to her wrists, moving slowly on her forearms, brushing her sleeves away, skin...
Their eyelids fluttered closed, lost in his trailing touch, alive where his fingers, palms, touch, trailing…
She tipped his face around toward hers, leaning down, their lips a breath apart, and his touch on her cheek, and they were still, a breath apart…
And every breath they drew was…
/x/
"Bloody hell!" Ron shouted.
Harry's eyes flew open, and then widened in shock. "What… what!"
They couldn't believe their eyes.
They had Apparated – they'd felt it. But they were still standing some distance outside the Burrow's wards, with the lights of Ottery St. Catchpole twinkling in the distance.
Note on sources: The title of this chapter is from Robert Frost's poem of the same name.
