George and Fred worked tirelessly on the shop premises to get it prepared for the grand opening. It hadn't been in bad shape when they had officially signed the papers and taken possession of the place, but it was no where near what their vision dictated it would look like in the end.

They kept the whole thing under wraps.

Not a soul outside of Mum and Dad knew what was under the great white barrier they placed over the whole building, like a sheet, to keep nosy people out – it was magically enhanced of course, to keep everyone out for certain.

They received owl upon owl, starting from the time they were trying to get ready for bed that first night after leaving, and they still continued to trickle in weeks later. The students of Hogwarts were essentially ready to canonize them and make them the holy saints of mischief at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. They had a back log of orders, a veritable pile of order forms waiting for them to begin production again, just as soon as they got the shop finished and stocked.

The money Harry had given them after the Triwizard Tournament had run out long ago, but luckily their wise investing and profits from the Skiving Snackboxes had given them a healthy cushion on which to restart from the ground up.

"We need to start buying the essentials and getting production going again," George was looking at a sheaf of parchment intently.

"I'm aware," Fred chirruped, surveying the effect his most recent magical transformation had on the lower level.

Silence passed between them as they continued with their own tasks.

"I wish Hermione was here to give us a hand," Fred commented quietly.

"Do you think we have enough in the budget to hire help right away?" George asked, pretending his gut hadn't tightened at the mention of her name.

"Do you think we can stop ignoring how you're miserable even though were getting exactly what we've always wanted?" Fred countered lightly, his eyebrows now raised.

"No." George went back to his calculations stubbornly and a moment later set everything down again. "I think we have enough in the budget. We out to advertise and interview for help."

"Agreed."

The subject was dropped.

Though Fred never pressed – which was odd and frankly surprising – the one mention of Hermione every once in a while was enough to have him in knots.

She was still back in that castle, under the supervision of Delores Umbridge, along with their little brother and sister, and Harry and Lee and every other innocent person she could ever hope to pray upon.

He knew he couldn't owl Hermione; not only wouldn't any correspondence be likely to reach her, but by association she would undoubtedly suffer. As if he needed to give Umbridge any more reason to target Hermione. She was already best friends with Harry Potter; she didn't need help putting yet another bullseye on her back.

She was probably too busy studying for O.W.L.s to be concerned with thoughts of him anyway.

"I'm going to go post an add in the Prophet, I think," he commented later that afternoon before making his way out the front door and lifting the cover, shielding the place from public view. His wand remained loosely gripped, the warmth of it nestled familiarly in the hollow of this palm. He had a feeling –

Which turned out to be correct. There, across Diagon Alley as usual these days, sat a Death Eater. Today it was Corban Yaxley.

"All right, Yax?" George asked as he passed by, disgust roiling up at the sight of the man.

"Fuck off," he commented back without lifting his eyes from his paper to the twin.

Voldemort had obviously got wind of their actions and, as predicted, hadn't been able to make sense of them. But as he assumed that anything done by any known member of the Order and by extension their loved ones was a secret move he had to counter, he had ordered the twins shop to be put on 24-hour surveillance.

Fred and George had figured it out in almost no time and no neither side my any effort to conceal the fact that they knew what was going on.

They kept the shop under tight wraps and protections and the Death Eaters continued to insist upon sitting in the café across from them hoping for a glimpse of anything they might be able to report back to the Big Bad himself.

Stalemate, as he would call it.

He was really looking forward to the looks on their faces when the Grand Opening revealed that it was a joke shop all along, and had literally nothing to do with the Order of the Phoenix at all.

In the meantime, they were happy to provide any distraction that might split the opposing side's concentration and give the Order an edge. It was, however, disconcerting to be in such close proximity to a number of Death Eaters on a daily basis.

When Mum had found out, she had completely flipped and insisted that the Order put them under protection which they ultimately refused. They accepted help with the protection charms and any advice the more experienced members had to offer about keeping themselves safe in Diagon Alley under the watchful eye of such malicious people but they maintained their stance that nothing was going to stop them opening their shop, not even bloody Voldemort himself.

"Verity Spencer, what an unexpected surprise," Fred extended his hand to take the one of the blonde girl in front of them.

"A delightful shock," George nodded earnestly.

"A veritable wonder, I'm sure," she responded. "You are aware of the Death Eaters spying on you under the guise of them just really adoring the ice cream shop across the way, yeah?" she motioned vaguely behind her to Dolohov who was making no effort to blend in, as usual.

"Quite, yes," Fred nodded solemnly.

"Though we're certainly pleased you managed to spot that as well," George remarked happily.

"They're unfortunately part of the day-to-day around here, until they realize what's actually under the sheet…" Fred continued in explanation.

"What is under here? You didn't say what you needed help for in the ad…" Verity wondered aloud.

"Come on in," George held the barrier back for a moment and Verity slipped under his arm without hesitation.

She had been in Gryffindor, a year above the twins. She was entirely familiar with their antics and she had still shown up for the interview. All a good sign, in his books.

Even though they knew her, it was still essential to know whether or not they could trust her, and while Fred showed her around the shop and explained what they were looking for, George got tea ready, quietly slipping some veritaserum into her mug. He, of course, felt guilty about this, but it was necessary. They needed someone trustworthy enough that they might well be in the Order with them; they couldn't risk the chance that Verity even sympathized with Voldemort's cause. It must be done.

"Here we are," George announced, setting the tea and mugs down. Fred and Verity took the cue and joined him on stools at the front desk.

"So what exactly would you need me to do?" she asked immediately, adding sugar to her mug and stirring slowly.

"Well," Fred started, following after her actions, "we're looking for someone to be another set of hands around here, who can help us order ingredients, possibly pick them up from distributors, who can learn the business and hold down the fort quite well once we open."

"Being able to rally a crowd is probably a good skill," George mentioned, watching her carefully. "Keeping one's head under pressure – its likely to be a mad house, you see."

Verity nodded, sipping her tea and looking around the empty shop once more. The twins let the silence settle between the three of them.

"Well, I think I can do that," she nodded again. "And I'm sure you've give me veritaserum, so if you had any questions, you should probably ask."

They remained quiet, a bit taken off guard.

"Well, if I was you two, that's what I'd have done. That's all," she elaborated, seemingly unconcerned. She even took another large gulp of tea while holding eye contact.

Fred started laughing.

"I think you'll be a great fit here, Verity," George commented.

"We did put veritaserum in that," he motioned to her mug as she set it down, "but as you said, it's for a good reason."

"So? What do you need to know?" she cut straight to the heart of the matter.

"We need to know if you're affiliated with Voldemort or the Death Eaters in any way, if you're trustworthy to have around the business…"

"No affiliation. Don't agree with their views. I'm a half-blood, my mother is a muggle-born. The whole concept of blood purity is outrageous considering she's one of the most talented witches I've ever met," she stated.

She hadn't heard from him.

In the weeks that followed, Hermione tried her very hardest not to think about Fred or George – mainly George – but it didn't seem to get any easier as time passed. There was no lasting tug in her chest at his absence, not like before Christmas when she had felt the distinct lack of his presence nearby. All was quiet and silent, if you counted a regular year at Hogwarts 'quiet and silent'.

O.W.L.s were approaching quickly and she would be damned if she let a boy cloud her thoughts and disrupt her studying schedule. Occasionally she happened upon the fleeting thought that her dedication to studying every day and hardly leaving a moment of free time to have thoughts not related to schoolwork and exams was merely a coping mechanism for dealing with –

But she quickly dismissed the idea, and threw herself back into her work again.

Her name was Hermione Granger and she was going to score the highest number of O.W.L.s of any student to ever pass through the Entrance Hall.

Ginny tried time and time again to get her to talk about it, about him, but she couldn't. Harry was still having nightmares, Voldemort and the Death Eaters were out there growing stronger by the day, and she was more and more convinced that she would have to take some very drastic measures sooner rather than later in order to keep her parents safe from the war.

A distressing thought.

On top of all that, Umbridge was even more determined to sack Hagrid, who had recently revealed the existence of Grawp, Hagrid's half-brother who had he brought back with him fro his mission over the summer. The giant was currently living inside the Black Forest and the knowledge of that had very nearly brought her to heart palpitations; if Umbridge found out, Hagrid was sure to be gone, though it didn't even look like Hagrid would make it to the end of the year at the rate the pink witch was going. If Hagrid got carted off before the end of term, who was going to look after Grawp? Them.

They were already under such strict surveillance. How would they ever manage to sneak out of the castle and into the woods unseen and unnoticed on a regular basis? Surely they had built up enough experience over the yeas to make a few successful trips but –

She hardly wanted to tempt fate at this point.

As well as those worries, she was sure that Harry was having nightmares still. Ron confirmed it one day as she was needling him at breakfast, and upon finding out, Hermione asked Harry what was going on. As usual, Harry gave the impression of blurring the truth when he assured her he was practicing Occlumency on his own every day since Snape had refused to teach him anymore.

Revision started in classes as professors did what they could to help their students prepare for the Ministry-regulated Exams. Hermione, of course, had been revising for O.W.L.s all year, going over every note she had taken from first year on.

She silently admitted that this seemed hardly necessary but nonetheless she made sure she had prepared herself to the very best of her ability. By the time the professors had started the reviewing in the second to last week of term, Hermione had caught everything up to current. She spent the revision time going over a carefully curated list for each subject of topics that would most likely show up on exam sections both written and practical.

"How many hours do you think you're doing a day?" Ernie Macmillan asked the trio before their second Herbology class into revisions.

"I dunno, a few…" Ron was uninterested in being interrogated, his eyes bleary in the morning light. He had been un studying late into the night like every other fifth and seventh year she knew.

"More of less than eight?" Ernie pushed. His eyes too were ringed with circles and red, bloodshot.

"Less, I s'pose," replied Ron, taken aback when he actually set his eyes on the Hufflepuff.

"I'm doing eight. Eight or nine. I'm getting an hour in before breakfast every…" he prattled on.

Harry was nodding along pretending to listen, and Hermione had the sneaking suspicion he hadn't realized that his eyes were closed the whole time they had been standing in front of the Greenhouse waiting for Professor Sprout.

She tuned Ernie out and began a mental list of all vine-type plants they had covered, in chronological order from first to fifth year. Counting them on her fingers as she did, she double checked it against the study sheet she had made the night before when she hadn't been able to sleep, mind preoccupied with worrying about George, out in the real world.

"I still think it's wrong that you're here," Molly huffed as she slammed around the kitchen of Grimmauld Place after an Order meeting.

"We know you do, mum, but we'll have to agree to disagree," Fred remarked, his voice flat.

They were exhausted of this conversation – lecture really -about how they were –

"Still too young," she carried on. "You're hardly out of school – early, I'll remind you, incomplete educations - "

George rolled his eyes and returned to the dining room to see who was around to chat.

"- And then we'll upgrade their security wards," Kingsley was saying.

"Who's available to go with them after they arrive at the platform?" Lupin asked, reached for a parchment nearby. "Looks like I am – though it's close to the full moon, probably not a great idea, I wouldn't want to scare them," he chuckled.

"Scare who?" George rejoined them.

"The Grangers," Kingsley replied, his voice rumbling with a chuckle.

"Oh," he responded dumbly, the shock of her last name creeping over his skin and making him extremely uncomfortable.

"We want to update and refresh their wards, just as a precaution," Lupin continued, scanning down the list. "Tonks might be able to -"

"I can do it," he spit out, heart hammering.

They hadn't really discussed when they would likely be seeing each other next and the thought of her teary eyes in a semi-darkness made the knife in his gut turn and rotate painfully.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, how much trouble could that be?" he sighed.

"Speaking of trouble, how's the shop and the help?" Kings inquired.

"Both great, haven't had any trouble. Death Eaters out front as usual but it doesn't even faze Verity. She practices with one of us just about every day, she's a tough little sprite," George commented, laughing.

"She reminds me of Gin, real scrappy when it gets down to it," Fred shook his head and rubbed his forearm where George knew the blonde girl had managed to scorch him good the day before.

They had made sure Verity felt completely comfortable working for them considering that there was always the possibility that something could happen. The Death Eaters might decide one day to try and get in, or use her to get it, or any number of things, and they weren't willing to put someone in that position without them knowing the risks and being prepared should that not scare them off. As a precaution, they had all trained together, somewhat like the D.A., making sure each was as nimble as could be in case they were forced to defend themselves.

So far, Verity had managed to leave them most lasting wounds on them, something that was both a pain in the ass to deal with in regards to scar cream application and a blessing because she able to hold her own quite well.

He hoped…

He hoped Hermione was still practicing, was still keeping Harry and Ron in line. He hoped they would make it to the end of the year without creating any more hassle for themselves but on the other hand he also hoped that they were making life a living hell for Umbridge.

"Granger, Hermione."

She was shaking by the time her name was called for their first practical exam on Monday afternoon. The Charms theory exam had been that morning and she was positive she scored quite well. She had answered every single question and been reviewing her work and adding to her answer of the short-form question on Cheering Charms when time had run out.

"Professor Clifford is free, Miss Granger," Professor Flitwick motioned toward a slender greying woman on the left.

"Let's get started, my dear," she announced. "If you would please…"

The woman took her through several demonstrations, making scratchy little marks on the parchment she had at hand.

"You have lovely wandwork, Miss Granger. Very fluid," she commented absently as she made a few last notations. "Is there anything else you would like to add? Is there a Charm you're particularly fond of?" she suggested.

"Oh!" Hermione didn't think she would get any opportunity to pick her own charm to demonstrate. "I hadn't thought that was – uhm, sorry -"

"Whatever comes to mind, dear."

Hermione blundered about her memory, trying to snatch an idea up quickly. She raised her wand.

"Expecto patronum!" she cast with determination.

The silver mist flowed from the end of her wand, producing a much smaller animal than she had expected. Her sea otter was nowhere to found and instead –

There was a lithe little fox trotting around her heels that paused before hopping up on a nearby desk and perching there expectantly.

"Oh, well done!" the Professor exclaimed. "Very well done indeed, Miss Granger. I should expect you would do well at anything you decided to do after Hogwarts if Charms is involved, certainly."

A/N: Thanks for all your lovely reviews that continue to come in for this fic. I think I'll be writing the end over the next week or two and then posting the last few chapter much closer together. I'd like to have this marked as complete before Halloween.

I can't thank you enough for sticking around with me.

Leave a review!

xoxo