A/N: Hey all, how are we? Uni has kept me extremely busy as of late (as I'm sure those of you who follow me on tumblr are aware) and due to that I haven't had much time to write. Hopefully this chapter will make up for my absence and fingers crossed I'll be able to update soon! My final exams for this semester are in the middle of June, so the proverbial light is there-not long, now! Thank you kindly everyone for all your lovely reviews last chapter and please keep them coming for this one too! Reviews really do make my day. The poll is still ongoing, so if you haven't voted yet, please do! Haha, even with 100+ votes the results are really quite tight! One more thing: 200,000+ hits! You guys amaze me! My God! Thank you all so much! :)

Twenty-Three Years Young

The door behind the bookcase in the main library opened to a large conservatory. From the dim light that filtered through the stained glass windows, Hermione could see an array of old musical instruments both muggle and magical set up on stands along the far wall and a beautiful grand piano stood proud under a window to the right, rainbow patterns of light from the window dancing across its dusty surface. A few rows of seating rested in front of the piano, and there was an old wet bar along the left hand wall complete with comfortable looking stools. Everything was covered in a thick film of dust. From the look of things this room had been forgotten a long, long time ago.

When she stepped through the doorway the stunning chandelier in the middle of the room ignited, casting a yellowish-red glow throughout the room. The ancient-looking sconces that lined the walls lit up as well, as did the candelabra that sat atop the ebony piano. All of the various instruments suddenly rose from their stands and began playing a tune and waves of sound washed around the room.

It was a haunting melody like Hermione had never heard before; a slow and mournful tune that sent shivers down her spine. It was beautiful but it was sad, so very sad, and tears streamed down her cheeks. She slumped to the floor as the music continued to play; listening to the notes that sang of abandonment, sorrow and grief. It burdened her, weighed her down. It was as if the music room itself was speaking to her, singing its misery for her alone to hear.

Hermione's father had told her once that music had a soul, that every note strung together sang a message that so gifted the world. When the song finally ended Hermione rose on shaky legs and wandered to the grand piano, trailing her fingers lightly across the dust-blackened keys. Her fingers returned black when she raised them and frowning, with a flick of her wand she banished the dust away. No instrument deserved to be so dirty. Taking a deep, shuddering breath she sat at the piano with as much finality as she could muster, splayed her hands out across the ebony and ivory keys and her fingers flew.

She started with Chopin, of course-her father's favourite as well as her own, the piece she'd play whenever someone needed to be impressed. Hermione had many memories of her youth before Hogwarts where she would sit at the piano in the living room beside her Dad and listen to him play. He was an amazing musician; he could've gone places if he'd wanted. But music was Dan Granger's little secret, something he shared only with his wife Emma and daughter Hermione. His music was precious, special, and whenever her father played Hermione would lose herself in the music, letting herself be taken away to another world. Her Dad had a real talent when it came to the instrument, and like his wild brown hair Hermione had inherited this gift too.

Her touch on the keys was gentle and light, the melody rapid and challenging-her right hand blurred up and down the keyboard with such ease that to others it would've seemed almost effortless. With a tremendous scale, the melody softened suddenly, to something soft, dolce, largo.

The song now was an Hermione Jean original; something she had written in the tent one night long after Harry had gone to bed. Things were cold and hopeless then and the melody had sprung up on her out of nowhere, so out of place given what life was like at that snippet in time. Ron was gone, Harry was lost within himself, the locket, the locket, the locket and Ron was gone and Hermione didn't know what to do anymore.

The song she had written but hadn't given a title was such a beautiful piece in Hermione head; so soft and hopeful-so jovial-again, so very out of place given the world she was in. And Hermione did something she rarely ever did that night after the final note was scrawled down; she prayed to whatever higher power there was that she would live long enough to play this song on a piano as she was at that moment instead of reading the notes scrawled on parchment; she prayed that she would one day be allowed to play this uplifting melody when things were looking brighter.

The song without a name soon came to a close and Hermione switched to Chopin again, and she was so into the music that she didn't realise that she was no longer alone until a trumpet joined her, its bullfrog tone contrasting with the high clear notes of the piano. She jerked in surprise at the new sound and the notes jarred loudly sending the room into silence.

"So I see you've found the music room," Charlus Potter stated with a sad smile after he lowered the golden trumpet from his lips and banished it from sight. "I haven't been in here in about...fifty years?" The old man nodded, quite surprised in himself. "...Has it truly been that long?" He asked rhetorically, frowning. He cleared his throat, all smiles again. "You have quite the talent, my dear."

Hermione ducked her head in embarrassment, cheeks burning at both the embarrassment of being caught in a room she had a feeling she wasn't supposed to know about and of the praise. "I-I'm sorry for coming in here Mr. Potter-I wasn't going to come in here but the piano was so inviting, so..."

Mr. Potter batted a hand. "Not to worry my dear, I don't mind at all. The piano likes you. It was always rather temperamental with me, actually."

"...Temperamental?" Hermione blinked in surprise. 'Musical instruments were temperamental?'

Mr. Potter chuckled. "Hermione, you forget you are in an ancient wizarding house. Practically everything here is magical-and like a wand these instruments only allow certain people to use them." The old man fell silent and looked as if he were lost in a memory of times long gone by. "The last person who had won over the piano you were just playing was my great-grandfather. I would sit beside him in this room every night before I went to bed to listen to him play." He swallowed thickly, his smile melancholy. "…That was well over a hundred years ago, now."

Hermione stared down at the keys her fingers were still resting on in awe. "...I'm honoured."

"Well all of the instruments in this Manor know musical talent when they sense it, Hermione. It's just a shame that I haven't come in here to play in so long." Mr. Potter mused softly, frowning. "I'm quite angered with myself. I don't doubt the room is happy that I've stayed away."

"Surely not," Hermione replied softly before blinking in surprise when there was a sudden burst of angry sound, preventing Hermione from adding more.

Mr. Potter chuckled loudly to Hermione's added surprise, the old man wiping his tearing eyes with his robes. "I promise that I won't stay away for so long again! I will play each of you if you wish it!"

The melodious note that flowed after Mr. Potter's statement had Hermione staring yet again in awe of the room. She knew she shouldn't really be so surprised at the instruments answering Mr. Potter but even still. Magic still found ways to amaze her every day.

"You know," murmured Hermione quietly as she began to play the piano again, her fingers as light and airy as the notes she played. "Have you ever heard James sing? ...It's beautiful."

Mr Potter blinked. "I have not. He has talent, you say?"

"Oh yes. He's amazing. They all sing, actually. He, Sirius, Remus and Peter. They serenaded the Great Hall for the Welcoming Feast and for Lily Evans on her birthday. They're really quite good!" Hermione gushed, remembering many occasions where the four boys would randomly burst into song with a wide smile.

Mr. Potter chuckled. "Is that so? I must ask them to sing for me, then." He smiled warmly. "Perhaps this evening? I've been told that Peter and Remus will be joining us for dinner."

"Yes, Sirius mentioned something similar this morning at breakfast."

Mr. Potter smirked coyly. "Did he now? Tell me, Hermione, how is Sirius treating you?"

Hermione flushed darkly in embarrassment. It was bad enough when Mrs Potter had confronted her on the first day she arrived home for the holidays about her relationship status, and now to hear it from Mr. Potter, a man she'd come to know as a father figure as well?

"It's going well, Sir."

The nonchalant way that Mr. Potter spoke his next words had Hermione gaping. "Will I be receiving marriage requests anytime soon?"

"P-proposals?" She demanded in a voice much higher than it was normally, her cheeks flushed and her eyes wild at the insinuation. "Who said anything about marriage proposals? We're too young!"

"Says the nineteen, almost twenty year old woman." Mr. Potter replied with a wry grin before he moved to pick up the violin to his right, raising the instrument to his chin. "I married right out of Hogwarts, you know." He added as he began to play a warm little ditty, eyeing Hermione in an attempt to call for a duet and she complied with a smile. "And not one day has gone by that I regret doing so. If anything, I sometimes wish we'd been married sooner."

The tenderness in Mr. Potter's voice had Hermione fighting back tears. What she wouldn't give to have a marriage like Mr. and Mrs. Potters'?

"Yes, but wasn't that in the late 19th century?" She voiced after a moment in amusement, laughing. "Things are very different in this day and age!"

"Hmm, you will find that we do it a little differently, Hermione. Wizards tend to marry young."

Hermione smiled, not believing a word. "I think Sirius and I will be a bit different, if we were even to be married. …He doesn't seem to be the type."

Mr. Potter paused in his playing, peering at Hermione over his spectacles. "Hmm, I wouldn't be so sure, my dear. Sirius may reject his family's values but he still knows who he is."

"...What are you trying to say, Mr. Potter?" Hermione asked quietly, her fingers hovering over the keys.

The old man smiled at Hermione, his dark eyes twinkling. "One day my dear you will know. Just remember what I have said today, alright?" Hermione, still confused nodded quickly and Mr. Potter's smile widened. "Now, I have a request. Have you ever heard of the muggle pianist, Liszt?"

Hermione blinked once before smiling. "Of course! He's one of the greatest pianists of all time!"

"Excellent! More importantly however-can you play his music?"

Hermione grinned at the challenge in the older man's voice. "You're asking a silly question, Mr. Potter." She replied, leaning to rest her fingertips on the keys in front of her.

"Le Musique?"

Hermione began to play.

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"Where are you going?"

"Out."

"Can I come too?"

"Afraid not."

"Why's that?"

"I can't really tell you."

"Why not?"

"Dumbledore's orders."

"…Sounds serious."

"It is."

"All the more reason for me to go with you."

"I'll be fine, really."

"Is it about Bellatrix?"

A pause.

"Just because we haven't discussed it in a while doesn't mean I've forgotten what she did to you, Hermione."

"…I'll be safe."

"Can you really promise that?"

"Mr. and Mrs. Potter and Professor Dumbledore will be with me. I can assure you wholeheartedly that I'll be fine, Sirius."

"I still want you to promise me."

"I promise, Sirius."

"Will you be back soon, then?"

"Before you know it. A kiss goodbye?"

Sirius grinned and Hermione smiled.

"Come 'ere."

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Hermione supposed she should've known better than to not expect a wand to the face as soon as she entered the nondescript building said to house the Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix that evening.

Upon entering the building she registered a once familiar voice roaring "Expulso!", and a forcefield of sorts flying in her direction from the other side of the room. Without thinking she drew her own wand and deflected the oncoming curse by sending it into a nearby chair that promptly exploded into smithereens; splinters of wood sent flying. Hermione's heart hammered loudly in her chest and her eyes were wide in surprise as she attempted to recover her wits.

"Was that even necessary? Why not an Expelliarmus?" She hissed at the man who had shot the spell, her wand pointed in his direction.

Alastor Moody glared at Hermione, his lips a firm line. He looked different from what Hermione remembered; less scarred, certainly and it appeared as if he still had both legs. There was no chunk missing from his nose, and his hair instead of being the grizzled grey that Hermione had known was a dark brown that matched his eye. The feature that made Moody famous however was present, the electric blue eye rolled into the back of his head as she stared him down; not trained on Hermione herself but still probably witnessing her every move. She was morbidly glad that there was some trace of the Moody she had known in the man; it would've been rather disconcerting otherwise. The currently active Auror took a step closer to her, his wand still out.

"Alastor!" shouted a furious Mrs. Potter, quickly moving to stand in front of Hermione with an agility Hermione wouldn't have managed had she been Mrs. Potter's age, her own wand drawn. Mr. Potter to Hermione's left had also produced his wand, and while he was not as openly aggressive as his wife he too did not look pleased. Several others who had heard the commotion from wherever they were in the building burst into the hallway, witnessing the scene in front of them with surprised expressions. Alastor Moody didn't answer but kept watching Hermione with a furrowed brow.

"Charlus!" the Auror suddenly barked, his wand still on Hermione. "The name of the drink we shared after the last meeting?"

"We didn't have time to drink," Mr. Potter replied calmly. "You were called off to another Death Eater raid before the end so we didn't have time for a top up at all."

Alastor nodded sharply before looking to Mrs. Potter. "Your patronus?"

Mrs. Potter with a flick of her wand produced her patronus, a beautifully shimmering fox that raised its head defiantly in Moody's direction before disappearing into mist. "Your question answered?" The elderly woman asked shortly, still angry.

Moody stared at Hermione with narrowed eyes, before growling: "How can we prove you're the proper Potter heiress?"

"I think I can help you with that, Alastor," Mr. Potter murmured softly before turning to Hermione. "Hermione, what room did we spend last Wednesday afternoon in?"

"Your music room, Sir." Hermione smiled. "You and I had a duet with a piano and a violin, though you started out with a trumpet."

Mr. Potter beamed at Hermione. "She's the right one, Alastor. Not that I would imagine her being anybody else."

"Why is she here?"

"She is here upon my request," came the voice of Albus Dumbledore as he entered the corridor, smiling warmly in Hermione's direction and dressed in resplendent blue robes.

"I am glad you are here, Miss Potter."

Hermione nodded in Dumbledore's direction with a small smile. "I'm glad to be here, Sir."

"Now hold on a second!" shouted a man Hermione recognised at once as Ted Tonks, staring from Dumbledore to Hermione in open surprise. Hermione herself was surprised to see the fair haired father of her friend Nymphadora Tonks-Lupin-she hadn't known that he was a member of the first Order. "She's still a Hogwarts student! What's she doing here, Albus?"

The headmaster waved an absentminded hand, unconcerned. "I do believe that it would be best that we discuss this sitting down. Come, Charlus, Dorea, Hermione."

Without another word Hermione followed the Potters and Dumbledore into a huge dining room down the end of the hall where a large number of people were sitting and chatting amongst themselves, quietening instantly at Dumbledore's entrance but talking loudly again at the sight of Hermione.

"Come now everyone, it isn't as if you've never seen a teenaged girl before," Dumbledore stated with a laugh as he pulled out a seat for Hermione and Mrs. Potter with a wave of his hand before sitting at the head seat himself. "This is Hermione Potter as I'm sure you're all aware if you read the Prophet. As well as being one of Hogwarts' finest she's also our latest member for the Order."

Shouts of surprise, shock and disapproval erupted from the twenty-odd members of the Order that sat at the long table, though all instantly silenced themselves again when Dumbledore cleared his throat. The Supreme Mugwump really knew how to silence a crowd.

"If anybody deserves to join the Order," the headmaster continued calmly, still smiling, "it would be Hermione Potter. If it is her age that is a problem, I will kindly remind you that while she is technically a student she is of age and it is her decision that she wishes to be here. Though one would not gather by looking, she has had much experience in fighting Lord Voldemort and his Death Eaters and I do believe that her experience will be vital to our cause. If you all still feel the need to complain however then I must argue that it is not just your fight. Everybody must do what they can to oppose Voldemort, and Miss Potter's position in Hogwarts will be instrumental in discovering new potential Order members and searching out potential Death Eaters. I may be headmaster but even I do not see everything. She will see what I do not."

"Well we wouldn't know about that," chimed the deep voices of two young men who sat at the other end of the table, their voices dripping in amusement.

Hermione stared down the table to look at the men who had spoken in unison in open curiosity, there were not many people who had the ability to do that.

"You used to always find out what we were up to when we were planning something, right Gab?" laughed the redhead on the left, nodding at the man who sat to his right.

"Too right, Fid!" answered the other redhead who was quite obviously the first speaker's twin; and something seemed to click in Hermione's mind. "Albie you used to always know when we were up to something!"

"Always sidling along from wherever you were and spoiling everything!"

"Never telling us when Gonnie was around the corner!"

"Chuckling in that merry way of yours as we were punished, Albie!"

"Your eyes twinkling like Christmas lights as Gonnie doled it out if our punishment amused you, Sir!"

"Dreadful!"

"Appalling!"

"Egregious!"

"Ohh, I like that one, brother mine! How about this one? Heinous!"

The twin on the right roared with laughter. "Merlin! It rhymes with-!"

"That's enough, boys!" barked Minevra McGonagall to the amusement of the rest of the Order members, the twin redheads mouths' snapping shut. "One would think you two were still thirteen with those attitudes, not twenty-three!"

"Aww Gonnie, we may be old of body,"

"But we're still young at heart!"

Before Professor McGonagall could protest further Dumbledore's laughter stopped her. "Calm down, Minevra. You know as well as I that the boys enjoy their fun." He looked over to the grinning men. "I must be honest however and say that you two were not exactly subtle, Messrs Prewett."

Hermione's eyes widened in surprise at the confirmation of her suspicions, and looking over at the twins who did look to be in their mid-twenties it was quite obvious really who their identities were.

'Fabian and Gideon Prewett. Mrs. Weasley's brothers…'

Exclamations of disbelief were echoed from the infamous Prewett twins before the two erupted into laughter. "Say what you will, Albie but we all know better! Those eyes of yours see through walls!"

"Enough of that now, boys." Dumbledore stated rather cheerfully before sobering. All smiles in the room quickly turned serious. "On a less entertaining note, what news do we have of Voldemort's movements?"

"They say he's is on the move." A considerably calmer Ted Tonks stated bluntly. "There have been reports of muggles seeing him around the German countryside. He's making his way back to England now or so our German associates say."

"Any word as to what in the name of Merlin he's doing in Germany, Ted?" A dreadlocked man who looked eerily similar to Lee Jordan asked, leaning forward in his seat. "Does anybody know?"

"There's word of there being a powerful vampire coven out that way." Moody answered darkly, frowning. "He's recruiting, possibly. That's the only guess we can come up with."

"What of the werewolves?" Hermione inquired after the brief silence, speaking properly for the first time and looking at the group of people expectantly. "Do we know for certain if Voldemort has recruited them yet?"

Dedalus Diggle, who suddenly looked at Hermione with more respect after hearing her state Voldemort's name nodded sombrely. "While the Prophet hasn't reported it, there's been a recent increase in werewolf attacks in wizarding villages-quite a few people have been bitten."

Hermione winced at the news and hung her head.

'Those poor people...'

"But yes, it's not surprising really that the Dark Lord's rallying all of the dark creatures together for his cause-the more followers he gains the more attacks he can launch. A simple deduction."

"And what can we do about that?" asked a blond haired woman who looked related to Marlene, frowning deeply. "It's not as if we can offer these dark creatures sanctuary if they join our cause."

"I don't believe we'll find the vampires much of a problem," said Amos Diggory, another surprising addition in Hermione's mind to the Order, running a tired hand through his dark hair. "Vampires are usually neutral in wizarding affairs. They know better than to join in a fight amongst our kind. We would wipe them out."

Dumbledore nodded. "Very true, Amos. However I doubt that Voldemort will leave them alone for much longer."

"I wouldn't put it past him either," Hermione murmured quietly, the full attention of the Order members on her again. "Lull them in with false declarations and as soon as they've either completed their purpose or fail him in whatever way he'll dispose of them. It's just Lord Voldemort's style."

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The meeting continued on a similar pattern for the next hour and a half; the members discussing patrolling patterns, further recruitments of new members, following known Death Eater movements, response tactics and improvements in anticipation of future attacks and such. As it turned out, a large number of members had been unable to attend the meeting that evening due to performing their Order duties from across Wizarding Europe but quite a few approached Hermione afterward for pleasantries and introductions before they left in all directions two-by-two to avoid drawing attention to the building.

Hermione couldn't deny that it was rather awkward shaking the hands of the parents of children she had grown up with at Hogwarts-she could see in them the many faces of people she had known and at times it was painful. This was especially so when she officially met the Prewett twins.

She had heard stories of Fabian and Gideon Prewett a long time ago in 1995 while staying at Grimmauld Place. She had been with Sirius, Remus, Harry and the Weasley twins (everybody else who was at the house at the time was elsewhere) when the topic of old Order members had come up in conversation, and with nostalgic looks laced with sadness both Sirius and Remus had described Fred and George's deceased uncles as brilliant men who anybody would want to aspire to.

"Fabian and Gideon Prewett?" the nostalgic smile made Sirius suddenly look so much younger, and that haunted look Hermione so often associated with him diminished for a moment. She watched with curious eyes as Sirius and Remus both grinned mischievously at the other. "Oh Messrs Weasley, we know much about Fabian and Gideon Prewett."

Remus leant forward on the table, smirking widely as if to tell a grand tale. "They were brilliant men."

"Top men, more like." butted in Sirius with an admiring look, raising his shaggy head to the ceiling for a moment before glancing at a smiling Remus again.

"Two of the bravest men we've ever met, right Pads?" asked Remus, now sad. Sirius nodded sharply but said nothing. Words didn't really appear needed. "It was an awful day when we found out they died."

"One of the darkest." Sirius had found his voice again but that haunted look had returned too. "But they went down fighting," He continued after a brief pause, his voice was gravelly but there was a sudden fire in his eyes. "Took five Death Eaters out with them before they were taken down-a huge blow to Voldemort at the time. …But the reward wasn't worth the sacrifice, not by any means."

"A little known fact?" Remus said after a moment, a wry grin tugging at his lips at his attempt to turn the topic into something brighter. "The Prewett twins taught us everything we knew about pranking before they graduated Hogwarts in our first year." There was a nostalgic look in the werewolf's eyes, and a true smile lit up his scarred face at the joy he'd seen on the faces of Fred and George Weasley.

"They were pranksters too, Lupin?"

"Were they any good?"

Sirius and Remus looked at the Weasley twins for a moment before laughing. "Were they good, Moony?" asked Sirius, still laughing before winking at the Weasley twins. "Do you two even need to ask?"

A still laughing Remus nodded. "They were brilliant, boys. Top blokes, top pranksters. Before they graduated they asked us to 'keep Gonnie on her toes, 'coz Weasley and Prewett children will be pranking the hallowed halls sometime soon'." Remus looked to Sirius, grinning. "Reckon we did a good job, Paddy?"

Sirius' bark-like laugh warmed the kitchen more than the fire dancing in the grate. "Don't be modest. Nobody but us could've done it better! …Except maybe you two," He added, acknowledging the beaming Weasley Twins who looked both terribly sad and yet over the moon to hear about their murdered uncles, both of whom their mother had rarely mentioned much. "You two are so very much like them, you know."

"Sirius is right," nodded Remus. "I'm sure they'd be so proud of you both."

The Prewett twins stood tall in front of her, their fiery red hair clashing garishly with their acid green robes and reminding Hermione even more of her twins, the Weasley twins who had yet to even be born.

"Hermione Potter!" Called the twin on the right with a flourishing bow and echoing an greeting Hermione had seen directed at Harry many years ago…or was it many years from now? "How splendid to meet you, dear girl!" He reached out for Hermione's hand and kissed it dramatically, winking playfully and looking every bit as handsome as his unborn nephews.

"Simply marvellous!" said the other, shoving his twin out of the way and seizing her other hand. "Truly!"

"Cor blimey corking!"

Hermione stared at the twins holding each of her hands in turn and she couldn't help the giggle that escaped her lips. "I would say the same to you but I don't know your names," She replied with a laugh, still smiling.

The twins both looked at each other before adopting exaggerated shocked expressions. "Forgive us, Miss Potter!" cried one.

"We didn't realise that we hadn't introduced ourselves properly!" shrilled the other.

"How unbearably rude of us!" the first one wailed.

"I'm quite mortified with our utterly repulsive actions!" the second continued before they shouted one after the other.

"Chagrined!"

"Abashed!"

"Discomfited!"

Watching these two to Hermione was like watching Fred and George; it truly was. Pangs of grief burned holes in her throat.

"Disgusted!"

"…Would that word even suit the situation?" The twin on the left coughed, looking away briefly. "In any case, darling lass with the lion hair, I'm Fideon Prewett, the older and better-looking twin," he continued with a smile before jerking his head at his brother. "And that git's Gabian, my lesser half."

"Piss off you specky git!" snarked the man dubbed Gabian before flashing Hermione a charming grin. "Ignore the ignoramus of a twin of mine, Hermione, he overcompensates. He could only wish he were as good-looking as me!"

"Now you're dreaming!"

"Enough, enough!" Hermione huffed, looking at the twins who had begun tussling at her feet, "How old are you both again?"

"Twenty-three years young, Hermione!" yelled Fideon while clipping his brother on the nose.

"And we'd rather you forget it-argh!" cried Gabian after receiving another slap to the cheek.

"Your maturity astounds me, truly." Hermione flicked her wand and the twins were separated forcefully, much to their amusement.

"Well done, Miss Potter," called Minevra McGonagall from the other side of the room to Hermione's added surprise, and she flushed darkly at the Professor's praise.

"As exciting as it is to watch the two of you battle over frivolities," Hermione said sternly, resting her hands on her hips, "I'd rather get your proper names first."

The twin on the left chuckled. "Hah, and you're sure we're not really Fideon and Gabian?"

"I wasn't born yesterday," 'Or for the next few years, even.' Hermione added in her head with an amused smirk.

The twins looked at each other, grinned and nodded once. Both rose to their feet, approached Hermione and stuck out their hands. "Fabian and Gideon Prewett. Welcome to the Order of the Phoenix. We have t-shirts, our big sister's excellent cooking and Albus Dumbledore. It's great to have you join the fight."