Thicker than Water (Marauders Era) PART II

22 July, 1995 - Children

Lavinia sighed as she watched Molly practically storm back down the hall towards the kitchen, leaving her standing with the five children, all of whom were very suddenly very quiet. Lavinia couldn't help but wonder whether this was because of Molly's rage or because it had struck them that this was all very very real.

"Is it really Order business you have to discuss?" asked one of them, Ginny, Lavinia thought as she turned back to the group. Indeed, the girl was frowning at her and looking... frightened didn't feel like the right word. Perhaps something more like apprehensive because she certainly didn't look like she was going to run from this, from the Order or the war or any of it. Lavinia felt another stab in her heart. The girl was fourteen. Fourteen.

"Sort of," Lavinia hedged, trying not to have to explain any of this. Because she was reasonably certain that some of it was Order business and none of these children needed the specifics of that. And other parts of it... She sighed again and shook her head. "I suspect there will be far more Order business in this house in the near future," she admitted with a slight frown.

And there would be. There would be proper meetings. War meetings. There would be plans and discussions and information shared and peoples lives put at risk. And it would all be happening within the walls of this dingy, ancient house while these five children watched. While they fought to play a part in a war she couldn't help but think they didn't entirely understand the implications of.

Realizing she had zoned out, Lavinia shook herself slightly. "But that's neither here nor there," she said suddenly, trying to sound brisk and authoritative. "Right now you all need to get to bed."

This was met with scowls from almost all of them and Lavinia felt her shoulders fall as she realized that they were not about to get over Mrs. Weasley's refusal to let them near the serious conversations so easily.

She wanted to say something. There were half a million things she knew she could have, and maybe should have, said, but all of them sounded wrong in her head. Because these were children and she didn't want to have to explain the reality she knew they would all have to confront very soon: that being involved in this war meant putting your life at risk. Not just in theory, but in reality. That people would die for this. Their friends would die for this. Their family would die for this. And if they insisted on joining the fight, then they too would die for this.

And it didn't matter how ready they thought they were. Because they weren't. No one was. No one was ever ready to stand on the front lines. To witness the death first hand. To see faces on the other side and realize that those people had lives too. Had families and friends and people who would miss them. No one was ever ready for war. Even the bravest people Lavinia had ever known had been shaken by those first times on the battlefield. And with good reason.

But for now, Lavinia just sighed. "Stay quiet," she murmured, trying and failing to keep a rather dejected note from her voice. "The portrait really does wake up easily." And she turned and headed down the hall, hoping they all followed her. And they did, though none of them looked remotely pleased about it when Lavinia reached the second landing and turned around to check.

"Ron," she said, "This is you. And Harry if and when he comes," she added, fighting to keep her voice and face steady at the prospect. Ron nodded once, sharply, and entered the room, closing the door behind him with a snap. Lavinia raised her brows slightly, but did her best to ignore the rather pointed gesture as she turned around and opened the door to one of the many side rooms the house possessed which they'd made a makeshift bedroom. It was a bit cramped, if she was honest, but there simply wasn't much for it given how little time they'd had to clear the house of its less savory debris.

"Ginny, Hermione," she said, gesturing them forward and through the open door. To their credit, both were far less upset than Ron, and indeed, the twins, who Lavinia could feel staring daggers at her back, seemed to be and bid her a brief but polite goodnight before closing themselves in.