Were Severus Snape a man given to analogies, he might have said that the Order's work was beginning to resemble a game of Whack-a-Mole. If, that is, he also wanted everyone to realize that he wasn't a pureblood. As he sat eating his burnt toast and bangers in the sitting room, the kitchen seemed to spring to life with a ruckus of people. Granger, Weasley, Potter - and more! Snape stood up and retreated back to his room, where the silence would be comforting.
Hermione Granger felt, rather than saw, Ron refusing to look at her. His hostility seemed like it could burn through her paper with a single glare. Harry, as usual, was trying not to get in the middle of the fight - definitely not having realized this fight was a little more than the usual. Or maybe Harry Potter had noticed, and was simply choosing to act otherwise, until someone decided to spill their guts. Either way, the newspaper was far more important than either manchild. For the newspaper told of three Muggle villages, burnt to a crisp - and all with the symbol of the Dark Mark overhead. Hermione thought that she at least might be glad that since everyone was dead, the Obliviators would not be put out by the unwarranted violence - that was the shock talking, Granger was pretty sure.
No one was telling them anything, and Hermione could see how much it rankled Harry - because it angered her even more! Putting children in harms way was one thing - if they weren't in harms way already! And Hermione knew that there were people at school that would as soon kill her as step aside to let her through. They were bound by convention, by nicety - but mostly, by the very dire punishments that Snape and Filch were sure to hand out if they ever contemplated doing something that unsubtle.
None of that mattered right now, Granger thought with a chill running up her spine. She wasn't at school, and should any evil catch her - they'd have the freedom to do as they pleased.
Molly Weasley's irrepressible good humor itched on Hermione Granger's very skin, the feeling of cheer at utter odds with how she felt. It felt like ice had crawled, slithered into her veins. And Ron's anger was just making her colder. Hermione refused to shiver, refused to put the paper down, as she read on, looking for clues, for hints about a new attack - not daring to presume that she'd find anything.
Lupin woke to the sharp smell of anger and the creeping miasma of despair. Inhaling it slowly, he stood and dressed, carefully sidling down the stairs into the kitchen for a bite to eat. The smell seemed to cluster about the kids at the table - how in Hel's Name was Molly Weasley that cheerful this early? Couldn't she notice, even a little, how troubled her youngest son was? Lupin was tempted to usurp her role as mother figure - if he wasn't sure that Hermione would sear his ears off! That little lady had quite the temper!
Snape reappeared about midmorning, contriving to buttonhole all three of the Golden Trio in the library - when Ron saw Hermione, he turned around, as if to leave in a fit of stifflegged anger, but Snape's glare had him simply stepping into a corner - backwards, still facing Snape and ignoring Hermione. "None of you are to leave Grimmauld Place with a wand. I have heard rumors, and snips of information more credible than that. Someone is using wands to track us, it's why we haven't been able to catch hide nor hair of the Death Eaters. If you must leave - for any reason, and you'd best make it a good one, if you value your hide - wear a disguise." Snape did not pause for any comment from his audience, simply whirled and strode away, his mind already on Parkinson and Nott.
[a/n: Review, plz?]