Chapter 14

New money meant new starts. Newly trained Order members. New safe houses. A new infirmary. New Portkeys. And soon, new training in explosives. The Order was truly building itself from the ground up and Hermione was thrilled to be at the center of it all. The responsibility which often bogged her down was buoying her instead. She loved working to make her ideas come to fruition. She was nervous and excited with all the ways the Order was developing.

Despite the setback with Dolohov, things didn't feel so hopeless. Malfoy was bringing her estate plans to capture Bellatrix and Rodolphus. That would be a tough operation. But with enough planning, the Order was sure to have another two Inner Circle members at Pinner.

She grinned and gripped the steering wheel, eyeing the traffic in her rear view mirror.

Hermione was worried about Apparating her first attempt at a Portkey potion. Renting a car seemed the best way to transport it from her bedroom at Paddington safe house to the newly acquired infirmary in Dorchester. Stasis and heating charms were cast on the cauldron and Harry held it steady in the back seat. Despite the stasis charm, she was driving extremely slow to prevent the contents from spilling. It didn't hurt to be extra cautious.

Ron would periodically duck when a lorry passed them on the highway.

"Honestly, this is scarier than driving my dad's car in the air above the Hogwarts Express," he commented, apprehensively watching the road behind them.

She smiled, noticing his white knuckles gripping the door and arm rest for dear life. His legs were tense, braced against the car floor.

"You have no idea how glad I am to have avoided that little adventure," Hermione replied. "From now on, no more aerial adventures for me. No hippogriffs, no thestrals, no brooms. I'll fight the rest of the war with my feet planted firmly on the ground."

Another lorry driver passed, honking, yelling angrily and giving them the two fingered salute.

Ron ducked again, warily. "What's his problem?"

"We're driving far below the speed limit," Harry answered. "They're naffed off."

"It's like they want to kill us," Ron replied. "I think we're going too fast."

Hermione smirked, and pressed on the accelerator. They were all pushed backwards slightly from the sudden forward momentum.

"Aaaaaaah! Hermione, what the hell!"

Harry laughed at Ron's terror.

"Harry," Ron turned around to face him and pointed at his chest. "You're driving on the way back."

He snorted in reply. "Trust me, you do not want me to drive."

"But you ride a broom so well!" Ron protested.

"Not the same thing, Ronald," Hermione said rolling her eyes. "At all. Obviously."

"Next time I'll Apparate and meet you two. I'm never riding in a car again. Unless it's magically suspended in the air and away from all these homicidal lorries."

"You could always travel by TARDIS*," Hermione suggested.

"What?" Ron yelled, eyeing the closely approaching lorries with trepidation.

Harry laughed at the Doctor Who reference and she pressed on the accelerator again.

"HERMIONEEEEEEEEEEE!"

ooooooooooooooo

Harry and Ron helped Hermione set up her cauldron with the heater and unpack all her potions ingredients, knives, vials, cutting boards, weights and scales, distillation glassware, mortar and pestles, and other items for potion brewing. She was still missing Wild Hornflower seeds, but the Portkey potion required simmering for at least a month and time to coalesce before their addition anyway, so she had started the potion without them.

As Cho had informed her, the infirmary had its own potions lab for brewing healing salves and other medically necessary potions; Hermione set herself up in a tiny corner. She tried to take up as little space as possible so as not to make Mary angry. But at least the older witch would approve of the purpose. Hermione scowled when she thought of Mary. The Healer was always so irritable when she spoke with Hermione. She didn't even try to be nice.

Hermione was unpacking another box when she noticed Harry and Ron silently communicating with each other.

She turned to them warily. "What are you two up to?"

Ron grinned and pulled a clear bag full of what looked like tiny, black beads out of his back pocket.

Hermione squealed and jumped up and down, clapping her hands. "Is that what I think it is?"

Harry crossed his arms and smiled down at her. "That's exactly what you think it is."

"Where? How?"

Ron made to dump the contents of the bag in the cauldron. "So I just throw the lot in here-"

She grabbed his wrist, digging her fingers into his skin. "Don't you dare!"

Ron sniggered.

She plucked the bag of Wild Hornflower seeds out of Ron's hand, grabbed a set of tweezers and began transferring them to a glass vial, greedily counting out loud as she went.

"25… 7…. 16… 42…" Harry spoke with a grin, trying to disrupt her. "42. The answer to the ultimate question of life, the universe and everything.**"

"You're not funny." She promptly smacked his chest. "Now I'll have to start all over!"

"How many can you make from this?" Harry asked, curious.

Hermione peered at her potion, showing the beginnings of congealment, and the collection of Wild Hornflower seeds. "I think… four. Maybe five from the seeds? And that's assuming I made the potion correctly. But I'll have to brew more, that cauldron is only enough for two – three at most – and I need more Rockwurst root."

Harry's face fell. "Bloody fuck, that's depressing."

Hermione nodded. "It is." Her brows furrowed and she turned to him. "How did you get the seeds, Harry?"

"Erm." He scratched the back of his neck and glanced to the side. Hermione shifted her gaze to Ron. He didn't meet her eyes either.

"What could be worse from stealing? That's how we got the Rockwurst root."

Ron looked at her sheepishly. "Buying it?"

She put her hand on her hip. "Where did you get the money?" Neither Harry nor Ron answered and she raised her voice. "Where did you two get the money?" Her eyes widened in understanding. "Harry please tell me you didn't use your inheritance!"

He shrugged. "If You-Know-Who wins, I won't be alive to use that money anyway. I agree with you; we need Portkeys or we're all dead."

The cold, brutally pragmatic part of her thought the funds usage made sense. Win or lose, Harry might not be alive to spend it. But approving of him clearing out his inheritance was akin to admitting her fears on him being a Horcrux were correct.

He couldn't. He just couldn't.

"You used all your inheritance for possibly five sodding Portkeys? Harry!"

Hermione fell onto him in a hug and felt the beginning of tears. He was absolutely terrible and she loved him so much. He didn't deserve any of this.

"I must say, I thought it would get you more than five," he said, awkwardly wrapping his arms around her. "They're just potions ingredients. No need to get so emotional." He sounded embarrassed by her sudden breakdown.

"You're surprised?" Ron quipped. "Remember when she first saw the Astronomy telescopes?"

"Sod. Off." She pulled back to gaze up at Harry, wiping her tears away. "You shouldn't have! These ingredients are ridiculous! Did you know I can repurpose existing Portkeys? We don't need the potion for that. Just Arithmancy and I'm getting better at it."

"Well, we need to start somewhere," Harry replied, blushing. "And this is your first Portkey potion. You need to know how to make it and correct mistakes. Better now than later."

He was right.

But still.

Ron piped up, responding to what she had just said. "We'd probably have better luck stealing Portkeys than stealing potions ingredients. But we can do both."

"I agree," she said with one last sniffle, returning to seed counting. "We can also try buying illegal Portkeys on the black market. Bit by bit, we'll get a Portkey for everyone."

"Where will the Portkeys send us?" Ron asked.

"Remus has a location."

"You can't tell us?" Harry asked, the annoyed crease in his brow showing that he already knew the answer to that question.

Hermione sighed and gazed up at him. "Not even Kingsley, Tonks and Minerva know. If I wasn't doing the Arithmancy, I wouldn't know either. This is our evacuation plan; we don't want it compromised or we're finished."

"I wish you could trust us," Ron said.

"It's not a lack of trust," Hermione explained. "You could be captured and," her eyes started tearing again, "tortured or worse."

Neither appeared to be mollified by her explanation. "Do you two know who the Secret Keeper is for the safe houses?"

She knew they didn't. There was no reply and she continued, "I don't either. And I don't even know who does. That's how the Order keeps us safe. They compartmentalize information, just like You-Know-Who does. You know I'd tell you if I could. The Order learned from its mistake when Snape compromised 12 Grimmauld Place when we moved Harry. If you don't need to know, then you won't know."

Harry sighed, resigned to the fact that there was a wall between them ever since she had joined the Order leadership meetings. Hermione didn't like it either, and the wall was getting higher.

He looked around the potions lab. "What's with all the eagles?"

Ron scanned his surroundings, only just noticing the pictures. "And who's that lady?" Ron pointed to a picture on the wall to the opposite of where Hermione had set her cauldron.

"Rowena Ravenclaw," she replied.

Ron took a step back, bumping into the lab bench, taking in the blue walls and bronze trimmings. "Is that why there's all these pictures of eagles? And the whole lab is blue."

"Cho told me that this place is no longer called Dorchester safe house. They've renamed it Ravenclaw Tower."

Harry snorted. "That's a bit much, isn't it?

Hermione shrugged. "As long as we've got competent Healers at the ready they could call it Slytherin dungeons for all I care."

"Now that's going too far," Ron replied.

ooooooooooooooooo

A few days later, Hermione entered the infirmary from the potions lab at Dorchester safe house.

Er… Ravenclaw Tower.

She thought an infirmary needed to be white, with sparse decorations if there were any at all. However, like the potions lab, the infirmary walls were decorated, quite gaudily, with Ravenclaw banners, blue walls and bronze trimmings. Someone had charmed pictures of an eagle to flap its wings and Rowena gazed down sagely from the far wall.

Hermione surveyed the Ravenclaw trio. Mary was teaching Cho and Terry. The three were bent over Bixley, who had been put to sleep. Mary had waited a few weeks before removing his implant, until the Ravenclaws could follow and understand what had to be done.

The three looked up from Bixley's unconscious form. "Do you need me to leave?" Hermione asked. Cho and Terry turned to Mary for an answer.

Mary held up her index finger and pointed to a chair in the corner, Hermione walked over to sit down and watch. "Cho, perform the sealant spell on the stomach lining. No – with your wrist – wait – a bit to the left - yes."

A look of triumph appeared on Cho's face.

"Alright. I'm going to remove the Disinfectant Charm. Terry, reconnect the blood vessels just like you practiced. Cho, you restart the blood flow when he's finished. Ready? And… Now."

She watched the three of them work together. Mary's face was stern and calm as she observed their wand work. "Terry, your turn for the sealant charm: up the muscle, through the fat, to the dermis layer. Wiggle slightly…" her voice tapered off. "Yes."

He smiled, proud of himself.

Mary inspected the area after they were done. "Seamless," she commented with a nod. "As it should be." She backed up and looked at her two mentees. "What next?"

"Diagnostic for internal bleeding," Cho immediately answered.

Mary nodded towards Bixley. Cho and Terry cast twin diagnostic charms at the same time, and a green glow reflected in their faces.

"And now?"

"Pain relief potion," Terry replied, looking upwards as he recounted from memory. "Monitoring charm for internal and external bleeding."

Mary turned towards Hermione. "I've thought more about supplies we need for Dorchester infirmary."

Terry cleared his throat and Mary's lips quirked upward. "Ravenclaw Tower," the Healer corrected herself.

Hermione could see that Cho and Terry were quickly growing on Mary, and was heartened that this mentorship was working out so well. She held up a bag with two newly minted Portkeys. "I have something for you."

Mary narrowed her eyes and gave her a curt nod before returning her attention to Cho and Terry. "When can he be transferred by Apparition safely?"

"Three days at a minimum," Cho responded. "After a positive diagnostic check."

"Portkey?"

"Twelve hours following a sustained negative on the monitoring charm," Terry replied.

"Floo?"

"Now, if he can walk."

"I'll see you two tomorrow."

Cho and Terry grinned, high-fiving each other. Mary rolled her eyes, but watched them go with a pleased smile on her face. She turned to Hermione and her happy expression fell immediately. Mary wasn't agitated all the time now, knowing that the Order wouldn't be resorting to torture anymore, but she held a grudge against Hermione anyway.

Cho and Terry exited the infirmary and Hermione stood up, walking over to Mary.

"I've got your Portkeys."

She held out the sack and Mary took it from her, opening it up.

Two Knuts.

"I thought you and Reginald would want to carry them on you all the time without detection," Hermione explained. "If you feel the flat sides of the coins, there are tiny stubs so you can pick it out of other coins, should you carry it in your pocket."

Mary reached inside the sack, feeling the Knuts with her fingers. She took one out and inspected it, flipping it over a few times. The Healer glanced back up at Hermione, her dark eyes warring between gratitude and hostility.

"That's… thoughtful."

It seemed that saying something positive to Hermione was going to give her a hernia. She didn't completely understand why Mary was always so antagonistic towards her, if it was solely connected to the Order using torture or if there was something else.

In the end, it didn't matter. Mary was here. She was training Cho and Terry, she was building their infirmary, and there was no indication she was going to leave any time soon.

Hermione knew when to pick her battles and when to leave them. Having to deal with her was infuriating though.

The twins barged through the door.

"Mary, Mary, quite contrary!" Fred called out.

Mary jumped and swiveled around, ready to scold the twins for disrupting her space. Ever since Dolohov's suicide, prisoner guard duty consisted of two people at all times, taking shifts.

"We're here to guard the body!" George told Hermione, giving a mock salute and clicking his heels.

"Whose body?" asked Fred.

"NObody," answered George. "There's NObody here!"

Mary pointed to Bixley on the table, trying very hard not to smile.

"Oh THAT body," George said with a silly grin. "D'ya think he'd miss his ear if I borrowed it? I miss mine. Mary, can you give me his ear?"

"You seriously want Death Eater germs in your body?" Fred asked in disbelief, giving an exaggerated shudder.

"Whose body?" George asked.

"NObody!" Fred answered in irritation.

Mary shook her head, chuckling. When she met Hermione's eyes she abruptly stopped laughing. Hermione couldn't understand what Mary held against her. Perhaps one more shot to bridge the gap between them couldn't hurt.

"We really appreciate what you're doing here," Hermione said.

Mary brushed a greying lock of hair out of her face that was dislodged from her bun, nonplussed by her gratitude.

Fine. Forget it.

"You're the first to receive her own personal Portkey," Hermione informed her.

Let alone two of them.

Mary's eyes widened slightly and Hermione walked out the door.

This wasn't a philosophical exercise. They needed a Healer and Mary took priority. Let her chew on that.

"Bye Forge. Gred," she waved and closed the door behind her.

"Good-bye Supreme Commander Hermione!" they called after her in unison.

ooooooooooooooooooooooo

"Explosives?" Dean gaped bug-eyed back at Hermione.

They sat on the porch of Paddington safe house, swinging back and forth on the bench together. It was evening after a long day of potion brewing for Hermione, and combat training for Dean. They were discussing the potential use of Muggle weaponry.

Hermione watched Lavender amuse herself with variations of Fire-Making Charms on the far end of the porch while they spoke. Hermione supposed looking into fire was the closest she could get to a crystal ball.

Hermione rolled her eyes. The fire would be nearly as useful as one. What a waste of time.

She returned her attention to Dean. He was bright. He performed fairly well in Potions which was the closest analogue to Chemistry in the wizarding world. And she thought he'd be interested. He was Muggle-born and knew what explosives were, as well as the objects necessary to make them. Furthermore, the additional responsibility of specializing in explosives would be a way to make up for falling asleep while Dolohov committed suicide. Hermione knew he hadn't forgiven himself.

Dean was everything they needed.

"You'd have to keep it a secret though," Hermione explained. "You'd be developing a skill we wouldn't use for a long time. No bomb making anytime soon."

Dean sat in thought for a while. She'd never seen him so quiet. Truth be told, she didn't know him very well. Ron and Harry talked with him more than she did.

She faltered. "Maybe it's not so interesting if you're not-"

"Oh no, I'm interested!" he interrupted her with a big grin. "And you've already hired an explosives specialist from the British military?"

"He's retired, but yes," Hermione affirmed. "Right now, we can afford ten hours of training a week for you. We hope to do more as we increase our funding sources."

There had been a bitter fight between her and Tonks over this. Hermione had pressed for more funding to be diverted towards Portkey procurement, Tonks towards more hours of explosives training. Remus made a compromise which left both of them grumbling after the meeting. The fact that neither one of them was happy with his decision was probably a good indication that his judgement was sound.

Remus was a good leader.

"When do I start?"

Hermione considered his question. "Well, we'd like you to start immediately but we need to pair you with someone else in case…" Her voice faltered. "In case something happens to you."

Dean nodded sagely. He understood. It was a reality they all faced. No one had gotten injured or killed yet, but they had been lucky. As Tonks had said the night of the party, it was only a matter of time.

"At first we were thinking of training the Weasley twins-" Dean burst out laughing and Hermione smiled. "I agree; they make sense but they're…" She tried to think of a diplomatic way to put things. "Wild."

Dean laughed even harder. Lavender glanced over at them, curious, and then went back to playing with the Fire-Making Charms.

"We thought they'd probably kill themselves. Or you. Or someone else. Or blow up the entirety of Paddington safe house even with blast containment charms. There would definitely be accidental death in some form." She shrugged helplessly. "We need someone else."

Dean was still smiling. "Who did you have in mind?"

Hermione pursed her lips in thought. "Someone who is Muggle-born so that this won't be a completely foreign concept to them. There's the bombs themselves, the tools, the components, just a working knowledge of how the non-Magical world works." Dean peered above her head in thought. She could see he was tallying up a list in his mind of Order members that would fit the bill. "And we'd need someone who was good in Potions. It's the closest we have to Chemistry." He nodded and furrowed his brow. That list just got smaller.

"Cho?" he offered.

Hermione shook her head. "She's training to be a Healer."

Dean gave her a knowing look.

"What?" she asked.

"You," he answered, as if it were obvious.

"Oh!" she said, surprised. Bomb manufacture did sound incredibly interesting actually. But her work with the Horcruxes, Portkeys and being Malfoy's handler was too consuming. She needed more flexibility than the lessons would allow, and nearly all of her spare time was spent on complicated Arithmancy. "I can't because of my leadership duties."

"What else are you looking for then?" he asked.

"Motivation," Hermione replied. "That's the most important part. It will be lonely, tense, dangerous work. For months it will be just you two and the explosives specialist. You likely won't see any benefit to your work for some time. I know that working with explosives sounds exciting and fun now, but it won't be in three months. We need someone with the motivation and discipline to see this work through."

Dean's eyes shifted to something behind her and she turned around. Lavender was shooting little balls of fire out into the yard and extinguishing them. They even looked like crystal balls.

"Lavender," he said.

"But she's none of those things." Confused, Hermione turned back to him. "She's not Muggle-born, she was passable at Potions at best, and while I admit she can hold her own in a fight, she's got no other academic interests aside from Divination." Hermione motioned to her. "Look at that deranged grin of hers. Trying to tell the future through fire. Ridiculous."

"Oh, no," Dean said with a crooked smile. "That's the deranged grin of a repressed pyromaniac. Motivation won't be an issue."

Hermione's voice lifted in surprise. "What?"

Dean looked over at Lavender and raised his voice. "Lavender!"

She was so entranced by the flames she was playing with that she didn't even hear him.

"Oi!" Dean yelled. "Lavender!"

Startled, she glanced up, still distracted. The flame immediately extinguished from her wand. Hermione had to admit. Lavender had excellent control of the fire she played with. And she did seem to play with fire an awful lot in the evenings. Maybe Dean was on to something.

"Do you want to learn how to make Muggle bombs?"

Lavender tilted her head, looking at them curiously. "What's a bomb?"

Chapter end notes:

*The TARDIS is the blue police box that Doctor Who and pals travelled around in.

**In Douglas Adams' "The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy," a supercomputer was built to give the answer to the ultimate question of life, the universe and everything. The calculation took 7.5 million years and the answer was 42. Unfortunately, no one knew what the question was.

I always thought Lavender got a shit deal in the books. She's slut-shamed (which I hate), called stupid, and gets mauled by Greyback at the end. She's essentially the slutty female victim in a slasher film. Fanfiction is usually no better in its treatment of Lavender. So she's getting an BAMFy job in this story. Meet pyromaniac bomb-making Lavender.

One last thing - next chapter is aaaaaaaaaaaaaall Draco/Hermione. Time to fan the flames of that burn.