Harry's eyes opened slowly the next morning, and for a moment, he lay still. The morning light filtered through the grimy windows of the room he shared with Ron, casting long shadows across the floor.
He turned his head slightly, expecting to see Tonks curled up beside him as she had been when he'd drifted off the night before. Instead, he found only rumpled sheets and the faint lingering scent of her shampoo on the pillow. Harry sighed quietly, closing his eyes again.
The sound of Ron's thunderous snoring was no longer absent now, and Harry found himself stifling a sigh. He wondered if he should make the Muffalito a daily routine now. After all, he and his dormmates had to suffer that snoring every night, and the thought of making it go away for the rest of their time at Hogwarts was very tempting.
He pulled the covers up to his chin and settled back into the mattress, resolving to catch another hour or two of sleep. The events of the previous evening had been emotionally draining, and although he didn't feel tired, he would most certainly like to sleep a bit more. However, just as he began to drift off again, the sound of approaching footsteps in the corridor outside made him groan internally.
The door opened with a soft creak, and Hermione's familiar voice cut through the silence.
"Ron? Harry? Time to get up."
Harry kept his eyes closed, hoping she might think he was still asleep and leave them be for a little while longer. But Hermione, as always, was nothing if not persistent.
"Come on, you two," she said more firmly, her footsteps crossing to Ron's bed. "Mrs. Weasley wants everyone downstairs for breakfast in twenty minutes."
Ron made a grumbling sound and rolled over, pulling his pillow over his head. "Five more minutes, Hermione."
"You said that yesterday, and then you were late and she gave you that look," Hermione replied, tugging at the covers on Ron's bed.
"Mum's a bit much sometimes," Ron mumbled into his pillow, though his protest lacked conviction.
"Maybe, but she's your Mum anyway," Hermione said, successfully wrestling the covers away from him. "Now get up before she comes up here herself."
Harry finally opened his eyes and sat up, running a hand through his already disheveled hair. Ron and Hermione hadn't changed in the slightest, their interaction still the same. But when Hermione turned to face him, he could see the uncertainty in her eyes. She looked like she wasn't quite sure how to approach him.
"Morning, Harry," she said, her tone more reserved than it had been with Ron. "Sleep well?"
"Well enough," Harry replied, swinging his legs out of bed. Talking to her right now was strange and uncomfortable. He could see her, hear her, but something had changed between them. It was not… normal.
Ron, now fully awake and grumpy about it, sat up and glared at Hermione. "Honestly, woman, do you have to be so bloody cheerful in the morning? Some of us aren't too thrilled about the sunrise."
"It's half past nine, Ron," Hermione said with exasperation. "The sun has been up for hours. This is hardly what anyone would call sunrise."
"It's sunrise for me," Ron shot back, standing and stretching. "My internal clock operates on a different schedule."
"Your internal clock operates on the schedule of a hibernating badger," Hermione retorted.
Before anyone could say anything else, there was another knock on the door. This time, it was Tonks who poked her head around the doorframe, her hair in a cheerful pink ponytail.
"Morning, boys," she said with her characteristic grin. "And Hermione. Everyone decent?"
"Define decent," Ron said, pulling on a jumper. "Because if we're talking about basic human decency, I'm not sure any of us qualify until we've had some food."
Tonks laughed, stepping fully into the room. Harry felt his manhood stir slightly as their eyes met, their gazes lingering. Last night was exciting for them both, especially because Ron had been sleeping in the very same room and could've seen then if he'd opened his eyes.
"Well, decent enough for polite company, I suppose," Tonks said, casually leaning against the doorframe. "Harry, Sirius wants to have a chat. Meaning us three are going to have breakfast together. Private like."
Harry nodded, understanding immediately. After his declaration the night before, he'd expected Sirius would want to discuss more matters in private, away from the watchful eyes of the other Order members.
"Right," Harry said, reaching for his glasses on the bedside table. "I'll be with you in a few minutes."
Hermione's frown was subtle but unmistakable. Harry caught the slight downturn of her mouth and the way her eyebrows drew together just a little bit. He knew she didn't like being excluded from conversations that concerned him, and he could practically see her mind working, trying to figure out what they might discuss that she wouldn't be included in.
"Is everything alright?" she asked, her voice carefully neutral.
"Everything's fine," Harry replied, pulling on a clean shirt. "Just some things to catch up on."
It wasn't exactly a lie, but it wasn't the whole truth either. Hermione saw it for what it was, but she didn't press the issue. The restraint in itself was telling. The old Hermione would have demanded to know every detail, would have insisted on being included in any conversation that concerned him, but not anymore.
"Well then," Tonks said brightly, "I'll let you finish getting ready. Meet us in the small parlor when you're done, yeah? It's the room two doors down from the kitchen, on the left."
Ron was struggling with the buttons on his shirt. "Bloody hell, why do they make these things so small?" he muttered.
"Because normal people don't have fingers the size of sausages," Hermione said, moving to help him with the stubborn buttons.
"See you in a bit then," Harry said, and Tonks winked at him.
"Don't take too long," she said, and then she was gone, her footsteps retreating down the corridor.
"Right then," Hermione said finally, stepping away from Ron. "I suppose I'll see you downstairs."
She glanced uncertainly at Harry as she walked out, the door closed behind her with a soft click.
Ron finished with his buttons and looked over at Harry with a frown. "She's taking this whole thing harder than I thought she would," he said quietly.
Harry sighed, running his hands through his hair again. "We both are, I think. It's just... everything's different now."
"Yeah," Ron agreed, his voice subdued. "I get why you're angry with us, you know. With me and Hermione. But it's not like we wanted to keep you in the dark. Dumbledore made it clear that we weren't to tell you anything, and when Dumbledore tells you something..."
"You follow orders," Harry finished. "I know. And I'm trying to understand that, Ron, I really am. It's just hard to feel like my best mates chose someone else's orders over our friendship."
Ron winced. "When you put it like that, it sounds pretty awful."
"It was pretty awful," Harry said honestly. "Being stuck at the Dursleys', not knowing what was happening, thinking you'd both forgotten about me... it was one of the worst summers I've ever had until…"
He trailed off, not wanting to reveal Nym's place in his life now. They finished getting dressed in relative silence. Harry knew that repairing his friendship with Ron and Hermione would take time, and probably quite a few more difficult conversations. But at least now they could acknowledge that there was damage to be repaired, which felt like a step in the right direction.
As they prepared to leave the room, Ron paused at the door. "For what it's worth," he said, "I think you were brilliant last night. The way you stood up to Mum and everyone else. I don't think I could have done that."
"Thanks," he said quietly. "That means a lot."
They parted ways at the bottom of the stairs, Ron heading toward the kitchen where the sounds of breakfast preparation could be heard, and Harry making his way toward the small parlor. He turned the corner and found himself alone in the corridor with Tonks, who had apparently been waiting for him.
Before he could say a word, she had pushed him back against the wall, her body pressed against his and her mouth finding his in a kiss that was both fierce and tender. Harry's arms went around her instinctively, pulling her closer as he kissed her back with equal intensity. The taste of her, the feel of her curves pressed against him, the way she made that soft little sound in the back of her throat when he deepened the kiss… it all combined to make his head spin in the most delicious way.
When they finally broke apart, both of them breathing hard, Tonks grinned up at him with sparkling eyes.
"Good morning, Harry," she said, her voice slightly breathless. "Thought you deserved a proper greeting after waking up to an empty bed and all the snoring."
Harry grinned back, his hands dropping to spank her arse playfully. "If this is what I get for waking up alone, I might have to start doing it more often."
"Don't you dare," Tonks said, standing on her tiptoes to press another quick kiss to his lips. "I rather like waking up with you. It's just that Molly's been prowling the corridors since dawn, and I thought it best to avoid any awkward encounters."
"Probably wise," Harry agreed, making no move to step away from her. "Still, I think I should get proper good morning greetings like this every day from now on."
Tonks smirked, leaning in to nip gently at his bottom lip. "We'll see about that," she murmured against his mouth. "Depends on how good you are."
Before Harry could respond to that promising threat, she had stepped back, leaving him slightly dazed and definitely aroused. She smoothed down her hair—which had shifted from pink to a deeper rose color during their kiss—and straightened her clothes.
"By the way," she said casually, as if she hadn't just thoroughly scrambled his brain, "Sirius already thinks something's going on between us."
Harry chuckled, still trying to catch his breath. "I figured he might. I called you 'Nym' in front of him yesterday, remember? His reaction to that probably gave us away."
"Among other things," Tonks said with amusement. "You're not exactly subtle when you're looking at me, Harry. That idiot is very observant about these sorts of things."
"Great," Harry said, not particularly bothered by the prospect of Sirius knowing about them. If anything, it would be a relief not to have to hide it from him. "Well, guess we'll find out just how observant he is."
Together, they made their way to the small parlor. It was smaller and more intimate than the formal drawing room, with comfortable chairs arranged around a fireplace and a small table set for three. Sirius was already there, standing by the window with a cup of tea in his hands, but he turned as they entered.
"There you are," he said, setting down his cup and walking over to embrace Harry in the warm, fierce hug. "Sleep well?"
"Better than I have in a while," Harry replied honestly, returning the embrace.
There was something calming about Sirius's presence, something that made Harry feel settled and secure. Even though he felt calm in Nym's presence as well, it was different with Sirius.
"Good," Sirius said, releasing him and gesturing toward the table. "I thought we'd have a proper breakfast and a proper talk. No interruptions, no one hovering over us worrying about what we might say. Just the three of us."
The table was set with a surprisingly elaborate breakfast spread—eggs, bacon, sausages, toast, jam, and fresh fruit. Harry's stomach growled appreciatively as he took his seat, realizing that he was hungrier than he'd thought.
"This looks amazing," he said, reaching for the toast. "But I don't think you made all this yourself."
"No chance," Sirius laughed. "Kreacher might be a nutjob, but he can at least cook, thank Merlin. Say what you will about the miserable creature, but he can put together a decent meal when the mood strikes him."
Harry remembered what Nym had told him about Kreacher once, and it had been quite a shocking conversation. After all, he had only Dobby to draw reference from, so to hear that a house-elf could have a supremacist streak to him was shocking.
As they settled into their breakfast, the conversation picked up where it had left off the night before. But this time, without the audience of the entire Order, Sirius was more forthcoming with details, and Harry felt like he was finally getting the full picture of what they were up against.
"Right then," Sirius said, buttering a piece of toast, "let's start with what we know about Voldemort's current activities. Based on intelligence from our people in the field, he's been rebuilding his forces systematically. Not just gathering followers, but reorganizing them into something more structured than what he had during the first war."
Tonks nodded, swallowing a bite of eggs before speaking. "He's learned from his mistakes, it seems. During the first war, his organization was more... chaotic. Brutal, but chaotic. Death Eaters operated more like independent cells, which made them harder to track but also less effective as a coordinated force."
"This time, he's approaching it more like a proper military campaign," Sirius continued. "Chain of command, strategic objectives, long-term planning. It's more sophisticated than what we faced before, which makes him more dangerous."
Harry leaned forward. "What kind of strategic objectives?"
"Control of key institutions," Tonks replied. "The Ministry, the press, Hogwarts too. He's not just trying to kill his enemies this time—he's trying to take over completely. Transform wizarding Britain from the inside out."
"And he's being much more subtle about it," Sirius added with a grimace. "During the first war, he was content to let people know he was behind the attacks, the disappearances, the murders. Terror was part of his strategy. This time, he's working more from the shadows. People are disappearing, yes, but it's not always clear who's responsible. Accidents happen. People resign from important positions for personal reasons. Critics of the Ministry find themselves facing trumped-up charges."
Harry felt a chill run down his spine. "Like my hearing."
"Exactly like your hearing," Sirius confirmed. "They're using the legal system as a weapon, turning the Ministry's own bureaucracy against anyone who threatens their narrative."
"You mean to tell me Fudge is involved with Voldemort?"
"Oh, not at all. For all his faults, Fudge is not a Death Eater or a sympathizer," Sirius chuckled. "No, he's just a power-hungry fool. But it's the people he surrounds himself with. Lucius Malfoy is one of the most prominent Death Eaters, and his Undersecretary is a known supremacist."
Harry nodded. "So Voldemort is manipulating the Ministry by proxy. To get his dirty work done while keeping his return a secret."
"And that lets him build his forces in secret, getting a massive head start while the country sleeps fully unaware."
"And that brings us to our current strategy," Tonks said. "Unfortunately, it's mostly reactive at this point. We're trying to protect people who are at risk, gather intelligence on Death Eater activities, and counter their propaganda when we can. But we're always a step behind."
Harry frowned. "Why reactive? Why aren't we going on the offensive?"
"One of the biggest problems is resources," Sirus explained, filling his cup from the pot on the table. "The Order runs on donations. I've got some galleons lying around here. Lucky us, I guess. At least that rotten gold is coming to some good use. There are a few other wealthy families who don't want to be directly involved but contribute. Still, money only goes so far when you're trying to fight a shadow war."
"What about people?" Harry asked. "How many active members does the Order have?"
Sirius and Tonks exchanged a look.
"Officially? About thirty active members," Sirius said. "Unofficially, we have maybe twice that number in people who provide support, information, or resources without being full members. But even so, we're nowhere close to what Voldemort can field even with most of his Inner Circle Death Eaters rotting in Azkaban."
"And that is why Dumbledore and even Moody, for all his bluntness, are hesitant to engage directly," Tonks added. "In a straight fight, we'd lose. Our advantage lies in mobility, intelligence, and the fact that we're fighting for something people believe in rather than something they fear."
Sirius sighed with frustration. "But an even bigger reason is that Dumbledore believes that our priority should be protecting what he calls a weapon that Voldemort is after, not engaging him directly."
"The Department of Mysteries," Harry said, remembering the previous night's conversation.
"Right," Sirius confirmed. "It's something he didn't have in the previous war."
"What is this weapon, exactly?" Harry asked. "What makes it so important that protecting it is our priority right now?"
"That's... complicated. The thing is, Harry, it's not exactly a weapon in the traditional sense. It's information. A piece of information that Voldemort believes could give him a significant advantage in this war."
"What kind of information could be that valuable?" Harry asked, genuinely curious.
"A prophecy," Sirius said quietly. "A prophecy about you and Voldemort."
Harry blinked, looking around at the serious expressions on both their faces. He blinked again, and to their surprise, he let out a short laugh.
"You're having me on. A prophecy? Seriously? You're actually telling me that Voldemort is organizing his entire war effort around something that someone like Professor Trelawney might have mumbled in one of her trances?"
Sirius couldn't help but chuckle at his disbelief. "You know, I heard Hermione a few days ago, arguing with Ron about Divination. Your dismissal is a bit like her right now."
The mention of Hermione made Harry's expression tighten slightly. "Well, she's right about most things when it comes to academic subjects. And Divination is complete rubbish, everyone knows that."
Sirius's smile faded, and he shook his head slowly. "I'm afraid her opinion is wrong this time, Harry. Prophecies are real. Not the nonsense that passes for divination in most cases, tarot cards, crystal balls, tea leaves, and all other silly stuff. Genuine prophecies... they're rare, but they're very real indeed."
Harry stared at his godfather's face for a long moment, and the man looked utterly serious.
"You're not joking."
"Not about this," Sirius shook his head. "There is a prophecy about you and Voldemort, recorded in the Department of Mysteries, and Voldemort is desperate to get his hands on it."
Harry leaned back in his chair, skepticism still evident on his face. "Okay… Okay. Even if prophecies are real, why would Voldemort care so much about this one? I mean, he's already tried to kill me multiple times. What could a prophecy tell him that he doesn't already know?"
"That's the question, isn't it?" Sirius said grimly. "But ask yourself this, Harry—why do you think Voldemort attacked your family that Halloween night? Out of all the families he could have targeted, all the Order members he could have gone after, why yours specifically?"
Harry felt his expression darken as the implications of the question sank in. "You think the prophecy told him to?"
"The Order believes that the prophecy contains information that led Voldemort to target you as an infant," Sirius explained. "And if that's the case, it might also contain information about why his curse failed, why you survived when you should have died."
Harry had no answer for that. The question of why he'd survived the Killing Curse was one that had puzzled him for years, but he'd never considered that there might be a concrete, prophetic reason for it.
"The thing is," Tonks interjected, "only the subjects of a prophecy can retrieve it from the Department of Mysteries. Which means that if Voldemort wants to know what it says, he'd have to show up in person to collect it. That way…"
"That way, we can prove that he's back," Harry finished, understanding dawning on his face.
"Exactly," Sirius confirmed. "Which is why we're guarding it."
Harry sat in silence for a long moment, processing this information. The idea that his entire life might have been shaped by the words of some unknown prophet was unsettling, to say the least.
Before he could respond, however, they were interrupted by the sudden appearance of a house elf in the corner of the room. Harry started, not having heard the creature approach, and found himself face to face with the most miserable-looking elf he'd ever seen.
The elf was ancient, with skin like old leather and bulging, bloodshot eyes. His clothing was nothing more than a filthy loincloth, and he radiated hostility like heat from a fire. When he spoke, his voice was filled with venom.
"Master calls for Kreacher, and Kreacher comes," the elf said, and he made no effort to hide his resentment. "But Kreacher knows Master is no true master, blood traitor that he is. Kreacher serves because he must, but Kreacher despises—"
"That's enough," Sirius said coldly, his entire demeanor changing in an instant. "I didn't call for you, and I most definitely didn't ask for your opinions on my bloodline."
The elf turned his baleful gaze on Sirius. "Master pretends he did not call, but Kreacher heard. Always listening, always watching, Master and his blood traitors. Just like the blood traitor's mother before her, and his blood traitor godson's blood traitor father before him. Mudbloods and blood traitors, all of them, violating the noble house of Black—"
"I said that's enough!" Sirius snapped, his voice sharp as Harry, for the first time ever, glared at a house-elf for the word he called his mother. "Get out of here before I decide to do something we'll both regret."
Kreacher's eyes gleamed with malicious satisfaction, as if Sirius's anger was exactly what he'd been hoping to provoke. "Kreacher goes, yes, but Kreacher remembers. Remembers when this house was proud, when the Black family knew their place in the world. Now look what it has become—harboring blood traitors and mudbloods and—"
The elf's words were cut off abruptly as he disappeared with a loud crack, leaving behind only the echo of his hatred and the acrid smell of magic.
Harry stared at the spot where Kreacher had been, genuinely enraged and more than shocked by what he'd just witnessed. His entire experience with house elves had been shaped by Dobby, who despite his quirks had been fundamentally kind and loyal. The raw hatred and malevolence radiating from Kreacher was something entirely different.
"What the hell was that about?" Harry asked, looking between Sirius and Tonks.
Sirius's jaw was clenched tight with anger, and it took him a moment to respond. "That," he said finally, "is the Black family house elf. He's been with the family for decades, soaking up all their pure-blood supremacist poison. He despises me because I rejected everything the Blacks stood for, and he makes sure I never forget it."
"Why don't you just... free him?" Harry asked, still disturbed by the encounter.
"Because he knows too much about the Order, about this house, and about our operations," Sirius replied grimly. "As much as I hate having him here, releasing him would be too dangerous. He'd go straight to any other Death Eater who'd listen, and tell them everything he knows."
Harry nodded slowly, understanding the impossible situation Sirius found himself in.
"Right then," Tonks said briskly, clearly eager to move past the unpleasant interruption. "Where were we? Ah yes, prophecies and the importance of keeping certain information out of the wrong hands."
"Actually," Sirius said, his mood lightening as he visibly shook off the effects of his encounter with Kreacher, "I think we've had quite enough serious talk for one morning. Time to discuss more pleasant topics."
He turned to Harry with a grin that was equal parts mischievous and knowing. "Such as what's been going on between you two."
Harry felt heat rise in his cheeks.
"I have an eye for these things," Sirius continued, clearly enjoying Harry's discomfort. "The way you look at each other, especially the looks you two were giving each other last night, and also how you both act when the other person's name comes up... it's rather obvious once you know what to look for."
Tonks, meanwhile, seemed completely unbothered by the scrutiny. "Well, there's no point in denying it now, is there?" she said with a shrug.
"No, I guess there isn't."
Over the next several minutes, Harry and Tonks took turns explaining how their relationship had developed over the summer. They were careful not to go into vivid detail. Some things were private, after all. But they gave Sirius enough of the picture to understand what had happened between them.
They told him about the gradual shift from friendship to something more during their time at the Dursleys', about the comfort they'd found in each other during those long, frustrating weeks of isolation. They explained how their connection had deepened during the little tutelage Harry had received from her and how they'd come to rely on each other for emotional support in ways that had surprised them both.
Throughout their explanation, Sirius listened with an expression of growing amusement and approval. He nodded in the right places, asked clarifying questions that showed he was taking them seriously, and generally gave the impression that he was genuinely pleased by what he was hearing.
When they finished, Sirius leaned back in his chair with a satisfied grin.
"Well," he said finally, "congrats, Harry, on managing to nail an older woman. That's no small accomplishment. You've made both me and Prongs proud today."
"Oi!" Tonks protested, swatting him on the arm as Sirius wiped off a mock tear. "You're my uncle, you know. Shouldn't you be threatening him with bodily harm or something?"
Sirius laughed, rubbing his arm where she'd hit him. "I'm just saying what I feel. And what I feel is impressed that my godson managed to do what I could never! Merlin, you got any idea how much I tried to get it on with Bones? She never gave me a chance."
"Boss lady!?" Tonks asked in shock, making Sirius chuckle.
"The very same," he replied and turned back to Harry, his grin widening. "Seriously though, good on you for getting involved with an older woman. Shows character."
"You're impossible," Tonks said, shaking her head with a rueful smile.
"Impossibly supportive," Sirius corrected. "Look, in times like these, when everything is uncertain and dangerous, people need to find comfort and pleasure where they can. If you two have found that in each other, then you have my complete support."
"Appreciate that," Harry said dryly.
"I'm happy for you. Both of you."
Tonks smiled, reaching over to squeeze Harry's hand. "I'm fine that you know," she said to Sirius. "I wanted to keep it private, but you're fine. But no one else, at least for now. Especially when it comes to the other Order members."
"Any particular reason?" Sirius asked.
Tonks sighed, her grip on Harry's hand tightening slightly. "I've spent quite a bit of time around Molly Weasley over the past few weeks, and what I've seen doesn't exactly thrill me. She's got very traditional ideas about relationships, about age differences, about what's appropriate for someone Harry's age. After seeing how she treated him last night, trying to mother him and make decisions for him... well, let's just say I don't think she'd be very understanding about this."
Sirius frowned. "Molly doesn't have any say in Harry's personal life. She's not his guardian, she's not his family—"
"No, she's not," Tonks agreed. "But that doesn't mean she won't try to make it her business anyway. And right now, our focus needs to be on the war, on Order business, not on defending our relationship choices to people who have no right to an opinion."
Harry nodded. "She's right. There's no need to create unnecessary drama when we can avoid it. What we have is between us, and it's not really anyone else's business what happens behind closed doors."
"Exactly," Tonks said with a teasing grin. "Especially since we take care to use specialized charms to keep things quiet. What goes on in the bedroom stays in the bedroom, after all."
Harry felt his cheeks warm, but he couldn't resist teasing her back. "Good thing those charms exist, otherwise given how much noise you make, you would've woken up the entire house last night."
"Harry!" Tonks exclaimed with a laugh, smacking his chest playfully.
"Alright, alright!" Sirius protested, holding a hand up. "Keep your dirty talk and all that teasing to yourselves, would you? Some of us are tragically deprived and don't need to hear about your... activities."
"And here I thought you'd want to know how it feels to have his big, big, BIG—"
The look on Sirius' face did it, and both Harry and Tonks dissolved into laughter at that. Sirius shook his head and joined in.
"Alright," Harry nodded, still grinning. "We'll try to keep the private details private."
"Much appreciated," Sirius said dryly. "I have to say, it's good to see you both happy. In times like these, happiness is precious."
The conversation continued for a while longer as they finished the already slow breakfast, keeping the topic light and joking around. Harry found himself marveling at how natural this felt, sitting here with Sirius and Tonks, no secrets between them, and no need to pretend or hide parts of himself.
As they finished their breakfast, Sirius reached out to clasp Harry's shoulder. "You know, Harry, I'm proud of you. Not just for standing up for yourself last night, even if that was long overdue. I'm proud of the man you're becoming. Your parents would be too."
Harry felt his throat tighten with emotion. "Thanks, Sirius. That... that means everything to me."
"It's the truth," Sirius said simply. "You've got your father's courage and your mother's heart. But more than that, you've got your own strength, your own sense of what's right. Don't let anyone—not Dumbledore, not the Ministry, not even well-meaning friends—convince you to ignore that inner voice."
Harry nodded, feeling a sense of resolve settling over him. The conversation had given him more than just information about the war. It had given him perspective, and perhaps most importantly, it had reminded him that he wasn't alone in this fight.
"Right then," Tonks said, standing and stretching. "Much as I've enjoyed this little family breakfast, I should probably go greet Kingsley before he starts wondering where I've disappeared to."
"Good thinking," Sirius agreed. "And Harry, you should probably check in with Ron and Hermione at some point. I know things are complicated between you three right now, but they're still your friends."
Harry sighed. "Yeah, I know. It's just... it's hard to know how to act around them now."
"Give it time," Sirius advised. "Real friendship can survive disagreements, even serious ones. But it takes work from all sides to rebuild that trust."
They made their way back toward the main part of the house, where the sounds of the Order's daily activities were beginning to pick up. Harry could hear voices from the kitchen, the rustle of papers in the library, and the creak of floorboards as people moved about their business.
"Harry," Sirius said, "remember what we talked about. You have the right to be involved in this war and to make your own choices about how you fight it. Don't let anyone convince you otherwise."
"I won't," Harry told him. "I've already made my position clear, and I don't plan to back down."
"Good," Sirius said with satisfaction. "Now go on then. Face whatever comes next with that Gryffindor courage of yours."
Harry nodded as Sirius walked ahead, and he felt a hand slip into his. Tonks came to stand in front of him, her eyes filled with warmth and understanding.
"Whatever happens," she said quietly, "you don't have to face it alone."
Harry squeezed her hand gently before looking over her shoulder. Seeing the coast clear, he cupped her cheek and gently pressed his lips against hers. Tonks let out a soft moan of contentment as she deepened the kiss, her arms coming up to wrap around his neck as she pressed herself flush against him.
Sirius poked his head outside the door, and a small smile emerged on his face when he spotted them. He straightened and make his way over to the couch, joining Remus who was in a conversation with Arthur and Kingsley.
Outside in the corridor, Harry and Tonks kissed passionately, as if they could not get enough of each other. "I know," Harry whispered against her lips once he pulled back. "And I'm grateful for that."
Tonks smiled, kissing him softly once again before she pulled away with a large grin.
"Now that you're here, you better put this summer's knowledge to good use. The training area is in the basement. It's not much, but it's more than enough."
Harry nodded and watched as she turned around and walked away, giving him a wink over her shoulder as she put purposeful sway to her hips. Harry chuckled, shaking his head.
"Tease."
To be continued…
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