AN: Thank you to everyone still reading this fanfic and I'm so sorry I don't update enough, I know how frustrating it is to wait for an unpredictable author, but my real life unfortunately can be pretty hectic, and so my writing suffers as an effect, so thanks for sticking with this. Also, thank you to my reviewers; riaroo400 and Guest, as always, I love hearing from you all, it really does help me when I'm stuck with writers block and keeps me updating when I can.
To riaroo400; your Mum is incredible and I hope she continues to recover and have a happy, fulfilled life; and I think I speak for everyone when I say she is an amazing, strong person who inspires us all. Send her our well wishes from our secret world of fanfiction.
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Chapter Forty: Raiding Needs.
"I hear you're going on a raid tonight?" Hermione's voice broke through Draco's concentration. He glanced up and eyed the brunette.
Her mouth was tight around the edges and her hands were pressed tightly together, allowing him to glimpse her frustration. He knew how much she hated to be left out of the war and all the action, but she couldn't even research to aid the Order because she could no longer read. Draco knew it pained her to be left behind, while her friends faced danger, and it hurt her pride to be stuck in the infirmary, though she tried to hide her disappointed emotions from her friends and the Order of the Phoenix.
"Well, George and Fred are." Harry corrected her with a sigh, "You know Mrs Weasley won't let Ron and Ginny go and Lupin deems me 'too important' to go on raids."
"I can't believe Fred and George are even allowed to go, after what happened to George…" Hermione shook her head, "Where are they raiding?"
"Somewhere in Ireland, I think. Our supplies are running low and the last raid on Diagon Alley nearly got Fleur killed."
"We got lucky." She agreed quietly.
After the war, many Order Members and sympathisers were forced into hiding, as the Death Eaters reined terror and murder over those they deemed as 'unfit' in Wizarding society. As many Order Members were forced underground, fearing for their survival and to join the Resistance, food was rationed and gaining supplies was a constant worry. During the initial months after Hogwarts fell under Voldemort's rule, the Order were able to gather supplies to stockpile, but soon the Death Eaters realised, and began a counterattack, in order to drive the Order out of hiding through starvation and deprivation of needs. Since then, the Order had struggled to find supplies to enable their continued survival.
During their last raid for supplies, the Death Eaters had been waiting to ambush them. A few of the shopkeepers in the Diagon Alley area left windows ajar and doors unlocked as an unspoken agreement to aid the Order, after months of secret negotiations to gain the allowances. The Order was to 'break' into the shops and take the supplies left for them in designated areas. Everyone had deemed the mission relatively easy and planned it would not take an hour to be in and out of the area without being noticed.
However, they were betrayed by a tortured shopkeeper, and the Order had barely arrived when the first curse was thrown. The fighting had been fierce and not without casualties, though thankfully no fatalities. The Order had quickly retreated, having only managed to collect a few essential supplies. In the past few weeks, the Order had been making do with the rations they had left, but they were quickly dwindling, and desperation for supplies was beginning to be felt throughout the bunker. Mrs Weasley had stretched all of her knowledge and capabilities to make fulfilling meals out of the measly remains of their stockpile and scourgifies were being used to supplement daily showers; bathing rationed to every two days to spread the soap supply further. But a raid had to take place soon, or the Order would no longer be able to remain underground gathering support.
"Lupin thinks they shouldn't have any trouble in Ireland. We've only ever raided England and Wales; they shouldn't expect us to cross to Ireland." Harry said after a moment of silence, "He's hoping they'll all be back before midnight."
"Hopefully we'll get more supplies then." Hermione reached to take Harry's hand and squeezed it gently. Everyone felt the effects of the diminishing supplies, including Draco, who had stopped producing potions due to so many being used up in the process of Hermione's rehabilitation.
"Fred and George are hoping to get some Firewhiskey." Harry smiled. Draco wanted to roll his eyes at the Wizard. After suffering multiple unsuccessful raids, it seemed foolish to him that the Order would risk taking anything none essential. While he himself did enjoy Firewhiskey, he couldn't condone their reckless goals, as only Gryffindors would. Although, Hermione didn't look like she agreed either.
"Mrs Weasley will kill them if they bring that back." She sighed in exasperated, "What are they thinking?"
"They're thinking it will boost morale." The aforementioned twins appeared in the entrance of the Infirmary grinning. Fred appeared to be the one who spoke, while George nodded his agreement.
"Come on, Hermione, don't spoil our fun." George winked and leaned against Hermione's bed. Malfoy could almost hear her sarcastic response, wars are meant to be fun, but she merely aimed a blind, stern stare at the two.
"Draco needs more supplies too. You should ask him for a list. I'm sure Lupin will be happy to restock our cupboard as well, not just the alcohol drawer." She eventually said and the two gingers turned to look at him, as if they had just noticed his presence.
"Go on then, Draco; fetch your shopping list and basket." Fred joked and Draco stood to fetch the list he had prepared for such an occasion, "We'll all skip along to Grandmother's house." Hermione sighed quietly at their joking, while it was endearing, she knew Draco wouldn't appreciate their teasing.
"So, its Draco now, is it?" George sat beside Hermione and leaned close, as if they were best friends about to share confidences.
"Not turning traitor on us, are you, Hermione?" Fred moved to her other side to sandwich her between the two.
"No switching sides, eh? We need your brain."
"Yeah, Ron hasn't got a brain cell between his ears, and Harry's not much better."
"Hey." Harry retorted playfully.
"There are no switching sides." Hermione replied tartly, "We're all on the same side now."
"Ah, we're all on the same side now, of course." Fred nodded at George.
"Of course." George agreed with another nod. Hermione rolled her eyes internally at the pair. Only Fred and George could remain so light hearted at such a time, though the Order appreciated their humour all the more for its constancy. Morale was three quarters of the war won, after all.