Author's Note: Okay, I know I made you wait for this, so I made it extra long. Just for you. ;-)

As always, huge thanks go to bluefirefly5 for her brilliant beta skills. Her encouragement and consistent prodding has not only made this story better, but gotten it to you in a more timely matter. A round of applause, please...

Old Magic

Chapter III: Willow and Amaranth

~.~.{H.*.G}.~.~

26 November 1977 - Saturday

I woke warm, obscenely comfortable, and surrounded by the scent that was distinctly Severus. I smiled involuntarily and burrowed myself a little deeper into his warmth. His arms tightened around me and he sighed but didn't wake. I turned my face toward his and took advantage of the moment to appreciate how peaceful he looked with his face softened in sleep. It still hurt to think about everything I'd left behind in my own time, but being here with Severus made it more than merely worth it. I knew that if I had the opportunity now to return… I couldn't do it.

His eyelids fluttered briefly and then drew back to reveal those bottomless black eyes that I loved so much. He squinted a little at me, and then a small smile turned his lips. "G'morning," he muttered.

"Morning, love," I replied.

He lifted one hand to trace his fingers lightly down the side of my face. "You look happy," he noted quietly.

"It's hard not to be when I wake up next to you," I admitted.

A faint blush touched his cheeks and he leaned forward to press his lips to my forehead. When he withdrew, it was to extract his wand from under his pillow. He cast a quick cleansing charm on his mouth, then tipped his wand toward me and lifted his brow. When I nodded, he repeated the charm on me. "That's better," he smiled, returning his wand to where he'd found it, then rolling toward me to immediately capture my lips with his.

I sighed with pleasure and relaxed into his hold. His tongue explored my mouth at a leisurely pace, and I returned the favor.

Until the clock next to the bed began to play its symphony of bells.

I groaned unhappily. It was absolutely cruel to be expected to ever leave my bed when Severus was in it.

He collapsed back on his pillow with a sigh. After a moment, he turned his face toward me. "How are you feeling?" he asked quietly.

I knew that he was still feeling concerned about last night. Poppy had checked us both over when we'd returned from the ordeal with Molly. Apart from being chilled by my swim and subsequent time outside, neither of us had had more than a few scrapes and bruises, and we'd been allowed to leave after just a few minutes. Personally, I thought Poppy was presently much more mild than the version I'd known in my time.

"Severus, I'm fine," I said gently.

He frowned at me, "Hermione, last night, the… Voldemort apparated you to his headquarters and almost killed you," he said plaintively.

I couldn't help but smile a little at his use of the name. He'd gotten a lot better at hearing me say it, but this was the first time he'd done so. I made the effort to focus on the rest of what he'd said. "I know, love," I nodded, sobering as I spoke. "It's not the first time I've been in a near-death situation, and it won't be the last."

He got a stubborn look on his face.

I sighed and leaned up on my elbow to kiss him softly. "I know that it isn't easy, Severus," I admitted when I withdrew to look into those gorgeous eyes. "Believe me, it makes me crazy to think about you being in danger, but there's nothing we can do about that. We can minimize the danger by training hard and always being prepared for anything, but we can't avoid it completely. Not until that monster is dead."

He grimaced faintly and turned his face toward the ceiling, which was currently streaked pink with the sunrise. "We should get to breakfast," he said after a moment.

I bit my lip as I nodded, trying not to cringe at his letting the subject drop so abruptly. I had the feeling that he didn't want to agree, but couldn't figure out how to disagree either. I rolled out my side of the bed while he sat up on his.

"Hermione…" I heard him say, his tone a bit strange.

I turned to look at him curiously and followed his gaze to the wall on his side. Between the foot of the bed and the wardrobe, there was… a door. I blinked at it, then turned to look at the door to the hall toward the common room, which was still right where it should be. I could only shrug in response to the questioning look he turned on me.

After staring for a moment more, Severus got up and approached the new door, his wand in hand. I moved around the bed to join him as he reached for the knob and drew it slowly open.

My jaw dropped at the room that was revealed.

Severus hesitated briefly before stepping through into the small room. I followed, noting the chest at the foot of the bed. It was a little beaten, but the silver plate on the front clearly displayed the double S of his initials. A laugh bubbled up my throat as I took in the fact that my room was evidently now connected to his.

He turned bewildered eyes on me. "How…?"

I shrugged helplessly, gazing back through the door into my room. "I think the castle may be trying to tell us something," I admitted with a smirk.

"The castle…" he said flatly.

"You don't mind, do you?" I asked knowingly, moving to twine my arms around his waist.

His lips curled into a bemused smile as he looked down at me. "Why would the castle connect our rooms?"

"Maybe it was because of what we did yesterday," I mused. "Using your magic to stabilize mine. Maybe the castle noticed that and recognized us as a couple."

"Is it really that sentient?" he wondered. "I thought it was more limited to just providing for the students and staff. Knowing how many rooms were needed and such."

I shook my head, "I've always thought it was a bit more. This might be proof."

He nodded distractedly.

I leaned up to kiss him briefly, then extracted myself from his arms regretfully. "We should get dressed," I suggested, heading toward the door to my room. I really hoped it would stay there. I kind of loved the idea of adjoining rooms. And being able to go back and forth without anyone else in Slytherin being the wiser.

Interestingly, I couldn't feel either of our wards as I passed through the door. Our rooms were in no way protected from each other. I liked that too.

~.~.{S.*.S}.~.~

After breakfast, I joined Hermione in going to Diagon Alley, since she now needed a new wand. We walked out passed the gates together and I took her hand to apparate us both. Despite her life-saving apparation last night, she still didn't feel comfortable trying to do it herself if she could avoid it.

When we reached the wandmaker's shop, Hermione hesitated with her hand on the handle. She glanced back at me, her expression pensive.

"What is it?" I asked cautiously.

Her teeth worried her lower lip for a moment. "I was just thinking…" she admitted quietly. "Ollivander. He always seems to know more than he should, doesn't he?"

My eyes widened as I realized what she meant. "You don't think he'd tell anyone, do you?"

She considered it a moment, then shook her head, "I don't think so, but… I'm not entirely sure that he even realizes how absurd some of the things he says are." She was quiet for a moment, then deliberately shook herself. "Well, there's nothing for it," she declared briskly, and entered the shop.

I followed closely behind, now stuck with something between worry and vapid curiosity at just what might be said that she was so worried about. It still kept me up some nights, wondering exactly what it was that made her history so dangerous – and when she might ever feel comfortable confiding in me about it. It came down to the fact that I trusted her, of course. She would tell me when she felt that she could.

Though that would not stop me from avidly snatching up any detail that might slip…

The old wandmaker appeared from the back shortly after I'd pushed the door to, and he glanced at me, "Birch and unicorn hair, 13 ¼ inches, quite rigid. Excellent for healing and protection spells."

I sneered slightly in response. It always made me feel dreadfully… Gryffindor, when he went on about healing and protection spells, like I was running around saving people every chance I could get. I had a reputation, after all. At least no one except Hermione was here to hear it.

Then those ancient eyes settled on Hermione. And narrowed. "You… I have never met," he said thoughtfully.

I blinked, but Hermione wasn't looking at me – rather studiously not looking at me, actually. I'd always assumed that she'd gotten her wand here when she was eleven, like virtually every other witch and wizard in Britain. Maybe she'd had a relative's wand? Or they'd taken a trip back to Australia to go where the family traditionally got their wands?

"Hermione Wilkins," she smiled tightly. "A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Ollivander. I'm in need of a new wand."

He stared at her for a long moment, his expression assessing and avidly curious. "Well, let us see what we can find…" he murmured after a moment and tottered back into the towering shelves.

We waited for his return in silence. I wasn't sure what to say, and she didn't seem any more inclined to conversation.

After several minutes, Ollivander returned with a dozen boxes hovering along behind him. He lined them up on the counter and opened them one by one, eyeing Hermione with what might have been trepidation tempering his clear excitement. "Now, just touch them," he warned sternly. "Don't pick them up unless I tell you to do so."

I frowned. This certainly wasn't the way I'd found my own wand. I wondered why she wasn't meant to pick them up.

She nodded and moved to the end of the line of boxes, reaching down to touch the first wand carefully.

The process was overall, underwhelming. She touched each wand in turn with no obvious reaction at all. She flinched slightly a couple times, so I figured she might have been feeling something. And watching Ollivander's face, he seemed to be seeing something that I couldn't.

When she'd finished, Ollivander frowned in concentration for a moment, then chose a wand near the middle and hesitated briefly before presenting it to her handle first.

She eyed him briefly, then carefully took the wand. Her fingers had barely closed around it when Ollivander snatched it away again. "No. Definitely not," he muttered. He returned it to its box and waved his own wand to close all the boxes, which then leapt into the air and followed him back into the shelves.

"What did you feel?" I asked quietly.

She shook her head as though it was difficult to explain. "From most of them… nothing. One felt like it stung me. One actually felt like it was recoiling from my touch. The one I held felt… Angry?"

I blinked at that. "Angry?"

She shrugged as though it had confused her just as much.

Thrice more Ollivander brought wands to Hermione, and the process continued much as it had the first time. Wand after wand after wand was summarily touched and dismissed. Two more, Ollivander asked her to hold, then snatched them back almost before she'd done so. My feet were beginning to ache from standing still for so long, and I found myself trying to estimate how long we'd been at this without looking at my watch, which seemed like it might be a little rude to Hermione. She was beginning to look rather frustrated with this entire thing.

Finally, Ollivander laid his hands flat on the counter, leaned his weight against them, and just stared at Hermione as though he was trying to identify one last elusive puzzle piece that would solve the mystery of what wand she needed. After a long moment, his eyes narrowed and took on a bit of a speculative gleam.

Hermione stared back at him without fidgeting, though her stare was starting to look a bit like a defiant glare.

After at least ten minutes of silent staring, Ollivander shook his head, then nodded vaguely as though he was having a silent argument with himself. Finally, he muttered something that sounded a lot like "why not?", and retreated back into the shelves once more.

Hermione heaved a heavy sigh once we were alone and crossed the few steps between us to wrap her arms around my waist and lean her head on my chest wearily. I closed my arms around her and savored the sensation of holding her in my arms, as I always did. I could never seem to get used to these demonstrations of affection, but I rather hoped I never would. The risk of taking them for granted would be too high.

She drew away from me as we heard the shuffling step of the wandmaker approaching the front of the shop again, and we both turned to see him emerge from the shelves with a black-lacquered wooden box clutched between his hands carefully. He placed it on the counter and stared at it mutely for a long moment. Then he stared at Hermione some more.

I glanced at Hermione, but she seemed entirely focused on Ollivander, as though she was exerting as much effort to understand him as he was her.

After several minutes of alternating his gaze between Hermione and the box, Ollivander settled on the box again, took a breath that looked disturbingly… bracing, and turned it around so that the small silver latch was facing her. I blinked at it when I noticed that it was in the form of a small, coiled snake.

Ollivander carefully freed the latch, and opened it with trepidation.

My eyes widened as the wand was revealed. Settled into a bed of emerald green velvet, was the most stunning wand I'd ever seen. The wood was two colors. It was very pale, almost white, inset with a wide, serpentine strip of a rich, purple wood that I recognized as amaranth, which completed one full turn around the wand from the tip to the intricately carved handle. The snake theme was continued on the grip, which ended in a small curve where a snake head was carved, the eyes inset with small emeralds.

~.~.{H.*.G}.~.~

My breath caught as Ollivander opened the ebony box. The wand was… stunning, but that was the least part of what caught my attention. That wand sang with power, and the instant the box was opened, I could feel my own magic humming inside me, rising instinctively toward the call of that powerful conduit.

"Just the lightest touch," Ollivander's quiet voice brought me to my senses enough to realize that I'd been reaching for it.

I glanced at him nervously. What makes this wand so much different from all the others? I wondered. It was possible that it was only different to me because it responded to my magic – or my magic responded to it… But I knew that couldn't be all of it. I could plainly see that this wand was crafted of two different types of wood, which was something I'd never even heard of before. Well, there was that and the fact that Ollivander was very obviously treating this wand differently than any of the others. Even the ornamentation of the box screamed that it was unique and special.

I wanted to ask him questions before I touched it, but I didn't get the sense that he'd answer them. So I steeled my resolve and very carefully extended just one finger with which to touch the wand, despite the almost overwhelming eagerness rushing through me, the urge to pick it up and cast, and feel my magic flowing through it…

My finger touched the wand with just the very tip, and my thoughts promptly became unimportant. My magic stirred like a tempest within me, and the cool wood of the wand almost seemed to vibrate in response.

My fingers pressed into it more firmly, almost desperate to know what more contact would feel like.

It was everything I could have hoped and more. My magic hissed and crackled, and the emerald eyes at the base of the grip seemed to glow from within. I think I even heard it hiss at me, but it was impossible to tell with all the noise going on in my head.

The wand was in my hand before I'd realized the intent to pick it up, but that thought was gone as quickly as it had come. The wand absolutely throbbed with power, and my magic rose enthusiastically to meet it.

It wasn't until I felt Severus that I realized just how deeply I was drawing on my magic. His magic was touching mine with the lightest caress. I sighed at the sensation, and embraced his magic while I worked to back off on my draw without destroying the shop. My magic began to settle slowly and I became aware of the fact that Severus was standing flush against my back, his arms wrapped around my waist, his cheek pressed gently against my temple.

When I finally felt completely in control, I reluctantly withdrew my magic from his and he reciprocated by gently breaking the connection.

I took a deep breath and focused on the wand still in my hand.

"Wow," was absolutely the only thing I could think to say.

"What does it feel like," Severus asked softly.

I shook my head, trying to summon words capable of encompassing even a fraction of what I'd just felt. What I was still feeling from this amazing wand. "It… It calls to my magic," I started. "It wants me to cast with it. It feels like… power."

I lifted my eyes to Ollivander, who was approaching the counter, though I wasn't sure when he'd moved away from it.

"Thirteen inches," he said quietly, eyeing the wand, "Amaranth and Willow with a basilisk plume core."

I frowned at him. "Basilisk plume. But what about the three Supreme Cores?" Come to think of it though, that actually did sound right. The wild, unrestrained power of the wand was something I could equate to a basilisk.

"The Supreme Cores were my revelation, Miss Wilkins," Ollivander said with a faint smile. "This wand predates me. It was, in fact, crafted by one of my ancestors in the tenth century. It is the only wand ever known to possess a basilisk plume core, as slaying a basilisk is a nigh impossible task."

That brought a faint smile to my lips, as I did happen to know someone who'd slain a basilisk – when he was twelve. Of course, Harry defied convention by rote, so that wasn't so surprising. I pushed that thought away before it could start to make me feel homesick again. This was my home now.

I refocused my thoughts on what Ollivander had said, and frowned. "This wand has been in your family for a thousand years? Has it never had a master before?"

He shook his head, "That story is actually rather curious…" he said thoughtfully. "According to family lore, Salazar Slytherin himself commissioned that wand, constructed to exacting specifications. But he did not want the wand for himself. Indeed, he wished for it to stay with my ancestor, to be passed through our family until it was claimed."

"Salazar…" I breathed in disbelief, noting from my peripheral that Severus had just snapped his lolling jaw closed.

Ollivander did not seem to note our awe at his revelation as he still appeared deep in thought. "Only twice before have I offered that wand to a customer. Both times it reacted rather… violently at the slightest touch. I did not believe I would live to see it find its master." He was studying me again. "I wonder if it was always meant for you…"

I knew that I'd gone terribly pale at that, but I couldn't help it. What he was suggesting sounded disturbingly like a prophecy or something. I wanted absolutely nothing to do with any prophecy. I'd already watched one destroy the life of my best friend. "That's not possible," I asserted as strongly as I could manage. "For that to have happened so long ago…" I shook my head stubbornly. "You're talking about divination," I said with as much distrust as I felt for the foul subject.

Ollivander tilted his head at me as though that angle might make me easier to figure out. "Perhaps," he said mildly. "But that is not the only way to know the future, is it?"

He knew. I could see it in his curious, amused, creepy eyes. He absolutely knew that I was from the future. I could only think that he could see something in my magic. It was my theory that he saw auras that allowed him to know so much that he shouldn't, but also gave him the ability to pair a witch or wizard with the best wand. Not that the how or why mattered much to me right now.

"How much do I owe you, Mr. Ollivander?" I asked brightly, eager to get out of the shop before he spilled all of my secrets.

Ollivander blinked several times as though he'd forgotten that I had a purpose in his shop besides chatting. "Nothing, Miss Wilkins," he said at last. "Slytherin paid for the wand when it was commissioned. My family has merely been holding it in trust for its rightful master."

I blinked at him again, but didn't let my mind explore that at the moment. I needed to get out of that shop, not invite further conversation. "I see," I nodded stiffly. "Thank you, Mr. Ollivander."

I slid the wand into my wrist sheath as I left the shop, distantly enjoying how right it felt there, while my mind turned around and around the almost incomprehensible concept that my new wand had been commissioned andpaid for by Salazar Slytherin.

Slytherin.

~.~.{H.*.G}.~.~

"Stupefy!"

My magic responded to my intent more urgently than it had… maybe ever, surging up and launching itself down my arm. As it passed through that wondrous wand, it condensed from a stream into a beam and left my wand with almost physical force that sent a shiver down my spine.

The dummy that I'd been aiming at was struck center mass. A wrecking ball probably would have hit with less force. The dummy slammed into the wall behind it with an ear piercing collision, and the dummies to either side of it were hurled randomly away.

After staring for a moment, my eyes fell to my wand. I almost expected to see the tip smoking, but of course, it wasn't. The emeralds were glowing a poisonous green though.

"Were you trying to do that?" Severus' slightly breathless voice asked from a few paces behind me.

I shook my head, "That was meant to be an ordinary stunner," I admitted.

"That's impressive," he muttered quietly.

"It's bloody annoying," I corrected irritably. "If I'm trying to kill people, it's great. If I don't want anyone to die, I'm almost helpless." I glanced over my shoulder and saw him nod his concession to my argument, though he was still staring at the dummy that had been crushed by the impact with the wall, and way lying on the floor in several pieces.

"Is it the wand or your magic?" he asked curiously, looking at me again.

"Both," I admitted. "I still can't properly focus my magic. The wand is focusing what I put into it, but it's also amplifying it." That wasn't quite accurate, but it was the best I could explain it at the moment. "I still don't know how to properly control it," I grimaced. I'd really hoped that this wand that responded so strongly to me might be the answer to all my problems with my magic. I really should have known better. Since when was my life that easy?

After a moment of thought, I reached into the small bag that I kept disillusioned on my waist. It held my money, spare clothes, a tent, and everything that I wouldn't want to do without if I was, say, mysteriously transported to a different time while I was sleeping. Not that I planned on touching Fawkes' tears again unless I was dying.

I found the wand that I'd taken from that Death Eater last night. After returning my wand to my wrist sheath, I pointed the other at the target. "Stupefy!" I tried again.

I paid careful attention as my magic rose within me and shot down my arm into the wand. Rather than being condensed into a laser-like beam, the poorly focused magic seemed to fragment further. I observed as it left the wand, struggled to form itself into the spell, but didn't quite get there. It fell apart shortly after leaving the wand.

Despite the failed casting, I felt a thrill of excitement at having finally noticed that. I'd seen the same happen with my old wand, but without the comparison to a wand that actually worked, I hadn't been able to understand exactly how and why it was going wrong. Finally, I had something that I could work with. A problem that I could start to understand and try to remedy.

A ringing in my ears shattered my moment of distracted excitement and I sighed as I retrieved the journal from my shoulder bag.

Albus had been waiting for us when we'd returned from Diagon Alley, and we'd gone directly to his office, where he'd presented me with a new journal, identical to the old, and bonded it to me as he'd done the first. I'd tried to ask him more about the fallout from last night, but he'd told me only that Molly had been released from St. Mungo's this morning, and that everything else would be addressed at the impromptu Order meeting that had been scheduled for after lunch.

I opened the journal and frowned at the brief message I encountered there.

-Come to my office right away. Alone, please.-

What now? I wondered uncharitably, forcing away the quiver of fear at the thought that he might have some bad news to share. Perhaps there had been another attack against Order members? No, speculating would do nothing but rouse panic that may be entirely unfounded. After all, this was Albus. It was entirely possible that he simply wanted my opinion on an assignment he was planning for someone. If it in any way involved my knowledge of the future, he wouldn't want Severus tagging along, and most of what Albus wanted with me had to do with that knowledge.

So, irritated at being forced to stop my practice right when I felt like I was making progress, I bid a quick goodbye to Severus and made my way to Albus' office. He called me inside before I could knock, and I opened the door to find Regulus seated in one of the chairs in front of the desk. I glanced around casually to be sure that no one else was present, then firmly closed the door behind me.

"Have a seat," Albus said with a pleasant smile.

I took the chair, offering a nod to Regulus, who was looking a little green. "Is everything okay?" I asked Albus cautiously, firming my Occlumency shields to the extent of my ability.

"Mr. Black asked that you be here," Albus explained mildly.

I glanced at Reg again. He was fighting a blush now, and not looking at me. "Okay," I replied casually, as though this sort of thing happened every day.

"Wonderful," Albus smiled warmly, turning his focus back to Regulus. "Now, Mr. Black, are you ready to begin?"

Regulus shifted uncomfortably in his chair, then glanced over at me. "He wants to Obliviate me," he mumbled.

I blinked, then looked at Albus. "Why?" I asked neutrally. It really wouldn't do for either of these two to think I was taking sides just yet.

"The ritual last night drew on Voldemort's magic through Mr. Black's dark mark," Albus explained, the picture of absolute patience as he ignored Reg's flinch at the name. "He will have felt it. I expect Mr. Black to be summoned tonight. He will most likely be subjected to Legilimency. Obviously, it cannot be discovered that he willingly participated in the ritual. Voldemort will doubtless discover the Obliviation, and assume that he was somehow compelled to take part against his will. It is the sort of thing he would do."

It's the sort of thing you would do too if you ever failed to manipulate someone, I didn't voice. "That makes sense," was what I did say. I glanced at Regulus to find him watching me closely. And I realized that he hadn't asked me here to defend him, but to give a second opinion. He trusted me more than Albus.

Well, maybe that wasn't so surprising. Albus had never demonstrated that he cared anything for Slytherins, and I was one as well as Reg's recruiter. And I'd gone out of my way to offer him small shows of support. Still, regardless of how much sense it made, it also heightened the feeling of responsibility that I had toward the younger Black. He trusted me. That meant that it was even more important for me to live up to that trust.

Albus' argument did make sense. Clearly, Regulus wouldn't be able to go before Voldemort with his memories of the ritual intact. That didn't mean that I liked this situation. Not least because it was clear that he'd not mentioned anything about this necessity to Regulus prior to the ritual.

"I take it you weren't able to come to an agreement before the ritual," I ventured innocently.

Albus sighed in a convincing parody of regret. "Unfortunately, no. There was not time before the ritual."

I nodded as though it made sense that he hadn't been able to spare fifteen minutes to warn Reg that he would be rewarded for his help by having his memory tampered with and facing the agony of Voldemort's Legilimency. "I see," I murmured thoughtfully. "Well, I agree that something has to be done," I noted. "Is there any other option? An Occlumency potion, maybe?"

Albus' white brow rose, "I'm unfamiliar with that potion."

Which meant that it hadn't been invented yet. Damn. Severus had probably invented it, knowing him. I'd have to discuss the possibility with Severus later. Clearly, it wouldn't be an option viable today. "I'll look into finding that recipe for the future," I offered.

Albus nodded in response, though his eyes were practically glittering with greed to get his hands on it.

"I assume that you're making arrangements for Regulus to study Occlumency so that this won't be a problem in the future?" I said as though I would never doubt such a thing.

"Yes, of course," Albus agreed in such a way that I knew he hadn't.

I sighed. There were other options for altering memories without erasing them, but I wouldn't risk any of them for this. Without any foundation of Occlumency skill, and considering the Legilimens was Voldemort, the chance was too high that he would penetrate them. "Unfortunately, Reg, I don't think that we have much choice today."

His shoulders sagged in disappointment, but he nodded after a moment's hesitation.

I placed my hand on his wrist and gave it a light squeeze, prompting him to look at me again. "It won't always be this way," I promised. "Once you get a solid grasp on Occlumency, there will be other options. And I will look into getting you that potion, which will help to speed the process as well."

He swallowed, and nodded. At least he looked a little less defeated.

"And he will be getting his memories back after the Dark Lord has searched his mind," I said to Albus, adding just enough of a lift to the end to make it half question rather than pure demand.

"Of course," Albus twinkled beneficently.

"You'll be doing it after the Order meeting, right?" I asked, "Since he wouldn't otherwise be able to participate."

"Of course," the twinkle dimmed.

I fought the urge to grin at him. I knew I was pushing my luck by manipulating Albus as I had through this conversation, but the old man seemed oddly willing to allow it. I'd have to give some thought to why that might be.

I left the office with Regulus, who offered a mumbled, "Thanks, Hermione," before heading off on his own.

I sighed after him, wondering what more I might be able to do to make his life more bearable. I was incredibly grateful that it wasn't Severus going through this, but that didn't mean I was happy that anyone had to do it. We did need a spy though. I hated it, but for now, all I could do was shield Reg from Albus' machinations as much as possible.

Still frowning, I headed for the Great Hall. It was lunch time now. I wouldn't get any more practice before the meeting.

~.~.{S.*.S}.~.~

"Now that everyone is here, let's get started," Albus called to the room, prompting everyone who hadn't done so already to claim a seat. Regulus, I couldn't help but notice, was looking unusually pale today. Not that I blamed him. I wouldn't be very happy to find out that I was going to be Obliviated. Hermione had not been in a good mood when she'd joined me at lunch.

Sirius was sneaking frequent, concerned glances at his brother. I didn't think they were on speaking terms yet, but I suspected that Sirius wanted to be. It was almost decent of him, really, which was the last thing I'd have expected from the elder Black.

Lupin was sitting next to Black looking rather pensive. That was a fairly common expression for him, lately in particular. He was also looking exhausted, which made sense as last night was a full moon. Potter was reclined carelessly on the other side of Sirius, a Quidditch magazine open in his lap and absorbing his attention. Maybe, if I was very lucky, Dumbledore would give him a dangerous assignment and his arrogance would put him out of my misery. Then Dumbledore started speaking again, robbing me of my momentary fantasy of a world without James Potter.

"As some of you are aware, Voldemort attacked a muggle village on Thursday night."

I sat back and listened while Dumbledore explained the events since Thursday night in highly condensed and edited format. I found that I couldn't help feeling a little superior for having actually been present at most of these events he was roughly summarizing. I recalled the almost suffocating intensity of the magic that filled the clearing during that ritual – the heady high of merely being in the presence of that kind of power. And, of course, a bit smug about the fact that I was dating someone as staggeringly powerful as Hermione.

Then he moved on to a brief summary of the battle following the ritual, and my feelings sobered significantly even while the feeling of superiority grew, particularly with regard to the Marauders. Having actually taken place in a real battle, in which people had died… I couldn't help but feel like I'd officially risen above all the petty schoolboy nonsense. It was a strange feeling, one that I hadn't really comprehended until that moment. Regardless of my age, this was the first moment that I'd really felt like an adult.

It made me wonder when that moment had been for Hermione.

"Thanks to Miss Wilkins," Dumbledore was saying, her name drawing me back to his little speech, "we were able to locate Voldemort's headquarters. By the time we arrived, he had cleared it out, but we were able to learn a few things from it. The fact alone that we forced him to relocate should be considered a victory."

"Sir," Potter spoke up, "How was that thanks to Wilkins?"

Dumbledore's eye twinkled at the ponce. With a stir of unease, I couldn't help but think he'd been hoping someone would ask that question. "It seems that Voldemort had planned his ambush in order to attack me while my back was turned. Hermione was able to disrupt that plan by engaging him directly. He apparated them both back to his headquarters. Before she escaped, Hermione left behind a bloodbonded item that I was able to track."

In the silence that followed, all eyes turned on Hermione where she sat apart from everyone at the desk with the diction quill. She bore the astonished stares with a cool indifference that managed to make her look ten years older. The impression she gave was that she'd merely done her duty and would not hesitate to do as much again. Glancing around, I didn't think there was a single person in the room who wasn't impressed, even among the adults. Well, except maybe Alek and Alastor, but I knew Alek wouldn't be showing any more than he wanted to be, and Alastor had almost certainly already had the whole story from Alek. Even the others who'd been there last night probably hadn't gotten the whole story of what had happened with Hermione.

Of course, Dumbledore had actually made Hermione's actions sound a bit more impressive than they were. He'd made it sound like she'd done all of that with cool deliberation instead of as the result of desperation. I wondered why, but resolved that I'd have to wait and ask her when we were alone later.

"She what?!" Potter's strident protest cut through the silence, drawing all eyes to him. "What was Wilkins even doing there? I thought student members were just training and helping from here. Why was she there if none of the rest of us were?" he demanded, much in the way of a spoiled toddler. The prat would probably piss himself if he ended up surrounded by attacking Death Eaters as we had last night.

"Mr. Potter," Dumbledore said patiently, "Hermione is one of very few powerful enough to contribute to the ritual that we used to locate Molly."

The discrepancy between "Mr. Potter" and "Hermione" sounded quite loud to me, and I was sure I wasn't the only one noticing.

"Well… But…" Potter sputtered, his face turning a very satisfying shade of his house color. "There is no way that she's more powerful than me!" he finally complained.

"Mr. Potter, sit down!" McGonagall snapped.

The idiot dropped back into his chair like a good dog, but he sent a poisonous glare at Hermione.

Dumbledore, unfortunately, had gotten a speculative gleam in his eyes. "Perhaps it would be best if we settled this now, before it becomes a problem," he suggested thoughtfully. "Mr. Potter, Hermione, why don't you both step over here."

I watched warily despite my glee at Potter's humiliation that was guaranteed to follow. What was Dumbledore up to now, I had to wonder.

Dumbledore gestured toward the side of the room, which had opened into a lane about five or six meters long at some point when I'd not been looking. At the end of it were three practice dummies.

I fought a smirk at what I knew was coming. Hermione might have trouble with the small stuff, but I knew for a fact that the high end of her magic was downright scary.

"Mr. Potter, why don't you go first," Dumbledore suggested amiably. "Your highest power Reducto, I think."

Potter nodded, his chest puffed out self-importantly as he drew his wand and took aim. He squinted in concentration, took a deep breath, then shouted, "REDUCTO!"

The center dummy was hit right in the middle with a loud crack. The whole thing toppled backward, the top half crumbling apart from the bottom. With a smug little sniff, he sheathed his wand and turned to face Hermione with very clear doubt that she could do better.

Hermione glanced at Dumbledore as though asking if she really had to do this. When he just smiled in returned, she sighed a little and took the place Potter had just left. She drew that beautiful wand casually, and I watched as her eyes became half-lidded as they often did when she was working extra hard at controlling her magic. She took aim, and I noticed that there were three standing dummies at the end of the lane again, though the one Potter had hit was still lying down there.

"Reducto," Hermione incanted quietly.

Even halfway across the room, I could feel the faint backwash of power as it rolled through her.

And then the spell landed with a strident detonation that made me think of a muggle cannon, and everything at the end of that lane basically ceased to exist. It was significantly more devastating than the Reducto she'd used in the battle, likely due to that amazing new wand.

The room was completely silent as the dust in the lane slowly began to settle.

Hermione sheathed her wand and strode back to her seat, somehow resisting the opportunity to so much as sneer at Potter's gobsmacked expression.

"Well, I believe that is settled, Mr. Potter?" Dumbledore inquired pleasantly.

Potter nodded a little vaguely and wandered back to his chair.

"Now then," Dumbledore said brightly as he moved back to the front of the room. "Due to Voldemort's recently increased activity, I've decided that it would be for the best to increase the training sessions for the students members to three times a week. From now on, you'll be meeting after dinner on Sunday as well as Tuesday and Thursday. Is that acceptable to everyone?"

I personally thought that it sounded like a brilliant idea. After last night, I was more inclined than ever to learn every defense spell anyone was willing to teach me. Potter was still sulking and didn't respond at all. Most everyone else was nodding their agreement.

Dumbledore had just opened his mouth to speak again when Regulus suddenly hissed sharply and gripped his right hand over his left wrist.

"He's calling already?" Dumbledore asked gravely.

Regulus nodded stiffly.

Sirius, I noticed, had gone bone white and was staring at his brother with horror. Lupin was watching with concern. Potter looked like he couldn't decide if he should be more disgusted or angry at the display. Most everyone else was looking at Regulus with mistrust.

Hermione reached Regulus just as he was getting to his feet. She put her hands on his upper arms firmly and held him at her arms' length. "Is he angry?" she asked quietly, but not as though she was trying to keep it a secret.

Regulus grimaced and nodded.

Hermione's eyes closed briefly and she sighed. "There won't be any misdeeds for him to find," she encouraged.

Regulus nodded uneasily.

Hermione glanced at Dumbledore, who was waiting patiently behind her, then pulled Reg into a quick hug. "Be safe," she implored. He gave her a small, shaky smile, then allowed Dumbledore to lead him out of the room.

"He's going to be okay, right?" Sirius asked Hermione nervously.

Hermione sighed and faced the elder Black with sympathy in her eyes. "Voldemort is not a kind master, Sirius, but we're giving Reg all the help that we can. There are no guarantees, but I have faith that it will work out."

Sirius sighed heavily and leaned forward to bury his face in his hands. Lupin put a supporting hand on his shoulder.

"What the fuck makes you so special?" Potter said in a low, dangerous voice.

I shook my head in silent disgust.

"Mr. Potter!" McGonagall snapped, "Ten points from Gryffindor for language!"

Potter didn't seem to hear her as he continued to glare at Hermione.

"I've never claimed to be special, Potter," Hermione said with quiet intensity.

"Of course not!" Potter sneered. "The Slytherin Princess would never lower herself to announcing her own 'virtues'."

"Grow up, you spoiled child," Hermione growled. "You treat everything like it's a game. Well this is not a game! You want to know what you 'missed out on' last night? Nine people died! I killed seven of them!"

And she said that with a healthy dose of self-disgust and not a trace of bragging.

"Bullshit," Potter paled.

"Another ten points from Gryffindor," McGonagall said in exasperation. Again, she was ignored.

"She's not lying, young man," Flitwick spoke up disapprovingly. "She saved Minerva's life, and possibly mine as well. We were badly outnumbered."

"You want to be 'special' too, Potter?" Hermione sneered gravely, "Why don't you try acting like an adult?"

Dumbledore reentered the room alone at that moment, his small frown forming as he took in the tense atmosphere. "All right, everyone. I think we've covered the main points. If the students will please return to their dormitories?"

I waited until Potter had left the room, then gave Hermione a small nod before departing. It was abundantly clear that no one in the room was assuming Dumbledore's dismissal applied to her.

~.~.{H.*.G}.~.~

Once the last of the students – well, besides me – were out of the room, the tension level dropped dramatically. I didn't quite sigh as I resumed my seat, but I did wonder if I'd made a mistake in recruiting James. It was abundantly clear that he wasn't ready for this yet. I just hoped I could get it beaten into his skull soon, or I was going to seriously consider recommending that we just Obliviate him and kick him out of the Order until he grew up. I still believed that he had potential. I was just starting to wonder if he'd survive long enough to reach it with the attitude that he had.

I refocused my attention on the meeting as it turned to the real business of the Order – manipulating the Ministry and doing our best to protect the general population from Voldemort and the Death Eaters.

After everyone with current assignments had given their reports, Albus announced the last item on the agenda.

"The Order of the Phoenix needs a headquarters not related to Hogwarts. Something that can be accessed by any Order member at any time. It should be a location that can't be traced back to any member. Does anyone have any suggestions?"

Looks and quiet words were exchanged, but no one hastened to speak up.

"Hermione, do you have any suggestions?" Albus asked me directly.

I chose to pretend like there was nothing odd about that. I knew that Albus was wondering if I could suggest a place we'd used in the future, but Grimmauld Place wasn't available yet. "We could use my house," I offered.

"That's very kind of you," Albus frowned, "but it can't be connected to anyone in the Order."

"Severus is the only one who knows about it," I said before he could dismiss my suggestion. "And there's no paper trail connecting it to me. I renovated an abandoned building in Muggle London. It's already quite large. With a few expansion charms, it would be perfect for the Order."

Albus considered that for a moment, before offering me a chance to back out. "If you did this, the house would still belong to you – in so much as it does now – but it would be used for Order business at all times of the day and night. You'd have to expect visitors at any time, possibly for extended periods."

"I understand that, sir," I nodded. "Frankly, the Order is more important than any one of us. The location of my house is such that, with the right combination of wards, it would be virtually impossible for Voldemort to find it. I believe it would be an ideal headquarters, and I am very willing to offer it."

Albus nodded thoughtfully, but his eyes were twinkling at me like I'd just promised that Christmas would come every month this year. "Very well, Hermione. We'll take a look at it tomorrow."

UPCOMING: Potter's a prat (shocking, right?), and what's the deal with Hermione's cool new wand? Of course, if you're hoping for cut and dry answers… go read a story written by a Gryffindor. ;-)