Hello lovelies, so sorry for the delay, life went nuts. Anywho, just thought y'all should know, I have Grey Magic all plotted out to the ending, so I'm gonna get that done in November. Thats my goal, anyway. Also, I made a Facebook page so you can see all my fics, as well as some I've collaborated on, and any news I will post there as well. The page is Mahawna, and the picture is the same as my pic I used on here. Thanks lovelies! and beta love to MissandMarauder as usual!

Pansy could see the muscle in Granger's jaw tick, indicating how tightly she was clenching it. Even though they had never even been on decent speaking terms, Pansy had still paid attention to the bushy-haired witch. How else was she supposed to come up with ammunition to use against her and her little friends? In all those years, Pansy only ever remembered seeing that small movement a handful of times. The first time she noticed it, Potter had just received a racing broom and been given a position on the Quidditch team, courtesy of a dozen broken school rules. The second time that she could recall was during their O.W.L.s, right before Granger had a bit of a breakdown because some fourth year Hufflepuffs were being too loud in the corner of the library where she had been trying to study. She had been escorted to the hospital wing for a Calming Draught as she continued ranting about common decency and basic etiquette while in the shared space. The last time it made an appearance, Granger had ended up leading Umbridge out to the Forbidden Forest and leaving her with the centaurs. .None of those moments had ended well for those she felt had earned her ire. Pansy couldn't wait to see what form of retribution Hermione's wrath would rain down on Black's perfect, little world.

She watched as Sirius straightened to his full height, trying to placate the tiny witch. "I'm perfectly aware of just how capable you are, Princess -"

Granger cut him off as she held up her hand. "Sirius, we need to get one thing straight right now. I am not, nor will I ever be, your 'princess.' Anybodys princess, for that matter. I am not helpless. Parkinson did not force me to do anything. In fact, she saved my life. She had been helping the resistance up to the point where she found me huddled in that alleyway, bleeding to death. So I would appreciate it if you would use that intelligence, which I know you have a considerable amount of - even though you try to hide it - to try and filter some of the things coming out of your mouth before you find something truly disgusting coming out." She picked up her wand from its place on her bedside table and idly twirled it between her fingers. She may have been small, but Granger really was a terrifying witch. Pansy had to thank Circe the bushy-haired witch hadn't been a Death Eater.

The other man, Moony, standing beside Granger was starting to change colour as he tried, unsuccessfully, to hold back his laughter. Judging by Black's self assured airs, it wasn't very often any member of the female persuasion wasn't flattered by his attentions, and his friend was taking a great deal of pleasure from the dumbstruck look on his face. She supposed Black probably didn't deal with his advances being rejected very well.

Granger turned her attention to the man laughing beside her and a smile spread across her face. "You alright there, Remus?"

Remus. That name rung a very familiar bell. Where did she know that name…? Pansy took a closer look at the laughing man, and for the first time noticed the scars running across his otherwise rather adorable face. She could feel the blood drain out of her face when her swirling thoughts finally clicked together. She recognized those scars now, and the sandy hair. It was the lack of moustache that was throwing her off, and the laughing. She couldn't ever recall seeing her former Professor show any emotion other than politely amused. She did, however, painfully recall how unkind she had been to the man, commenting on his battered wardrobe, his obvious exhaustion, and of course, finally, that he was a werewolf.

Pansy felt ill. Though she knew the conversation had continued on around her, she suddenly found no joy in listening to Granger berate Black for being a chauvinistic idiot. Though she had been bored out of her mind not so long ago, Pansy wanted nothing more than to return to her room and hide. She was just so tired of being haunted by the ghosts of her past, or future, whatever it was now.

Without so much as a parting word, Pansy turned and left the room, moving past a thoroughly chastised Black, walking down the hall as quickly as she could without raising any alarm, before she entered the room that had become hers, closing the door softly behind her. Heaving a sigh, Pansy shuffled over to her bed, allowing gravity to pull her down in a graceless heap. She pulled one of the two pillows down from the head of the bed, curling around it as she let her tears fall, keeping as quiet as she could.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Hermione quickly fell silent as Parkinson walked out, giving no indication as to what made her suddenly leave when she had been the one to barge into the bedroom in all her indignant glory. Remus cleared his throat, caught just as off guard as everyone else in the room, as he shuffled his feet.

"So we are just letting her wander around the house now, however she pleases?" Sirius had apparently recovered his righteous anger during the shocked silence following Parkinson's exit.

A red-haired man standing behind Sirius, who Hermione could only assume was a Prewett, let out a frustrated huff. "How many times do I have to make it clear to you, Black? She isn't a prisoner. She has just as much right to walk the halls here as you do. In fact, she may have even more rights than you soon if you don't get your head on right. This may be headquarters, but it's still mine and Fabian's house."

The dark look on Sirius' face grew thunderous. "Fine, if you want to get cosy with a bloody Death Eater, that's on your heads. I don't need to be here for this shit. Floo me when she tries murdering you lot in your sleep." With those words, he stormed from the room.

The rest of the occupants in the room remained rooted where they stood. Nobody was quite sure what to do or say after that. The atmosphere in the room had changed so drastically, nobody wanted to be the first to break the silence. Just like the Weasley twins, though, the Prewetts seemed unable to remain in silence for long. Hermione placed a bet with herself on which one would crack first based on the amount of fidgeting happening.

"Well, at least they keep things interesting. Never a dull moment with those two around."

Hermione mentally gave herself a pat on the back when the twin standing closest to her spoke. After spending so much time around Weasleys, she knew the family's body language better than she ever cared to admit.

The twin who had spoken continued, "She's really not so bad as she'd like everyone to believe." He paused before continuing, as if his next statement was more of an afterthought. "He's not as much of an idiot as he'd like everyone to believe either. Just has a very large and imposing chip on his shoulder."

Hermione smiled, remembering how Molly used to do the exact same thing. She somehow always tried to see the best in everyone. Apparently, it was a family trait.

Shaking her head to rid herself of those bittersweet memories, she stepped forward, offering the twin her hand in greeting. A small voice in the back of her mind, that sounded suspiciously like her mother, reminded her it was rude not to introduce oneself.

"We haven't been introduced. Hermione Granger."

The twin shook her hand with a smile. "Gideon Prewett. This less handsome devil behind me is my little brother, Fabian." Fabian rolled his eyes so hard Hermione wondered if he had given himself a headache, but he refrained from commenting, silently offering her his hand in greeting as well.

The awkward silence filled the room once again and Hermione had to consciously restrain herself from fidgeting. It seemed none of the Gryffindors were comfortable with these silences.

"Why don't I give you a bit of a tour?" The first twin, Gideon, offered, gesturing back out the door. Hermione agreed eagerly. After being on the run for so long, lying about for any length of time left her feeling uneasy. She needed the movement to feel like she wasn't a sitting duck, even if it was just walking from one room to the next.

Everyone exited the room, following behind the Prewett twins. Hermione only listened to the narrative with half an ear while she subconsciously catalogued everything. Doors, windows, the people moving around her, everything was filed away for later use should the need for a quick escape ever arise. Bringing her focus back to the current conversation, she realized they had entered the kitchen. There were more Order members here, seated around the scrubbed wooden table. If she had to pick one word to describe the room, it would be homey. It was brightly lit, a huge window taking up most of one wall with a cushioned seat - perfect for curling up with a mug of hot chocolate and a good book. The cheery yellow walls were accented by splashes of red and blue. The cupboards and counters were the same dark, thick wood as the table. Definitely homey.

She allowed herself to be steered towards the table and was introduced to the women sitting there, Dorcas Meadows and Marlene McKinnon, both whom Hermione remembered had died long before her induction into the Order.

"How are you feeling, Hermione?" The woman on the right, Dorcas, asked.

"As well as can be expected, I suppose." Hermione hated making a fuss. It always made her uncomfortable, and she was never exactly sure what was supposed to be socially acceptable to say in response.

Remus, who seemed to sense her discomfort, answered her unasked question. "Dorcas is the Order's healer. Well, trained healer, we have a few members who fancy themselves as being just as capable in a pinch." He gave her a wink and she was sure she knew exactly who that would be.

Dorcas and Marlene laughed, obviously catching his hint as well. There must be some interesting stories behind the gesture. As the laughter died down, conversation flowed easily. Hermione listened more than participated, but it was still nice - a reminder that all hope was not lost.

Listening to the conversations happening around her, Hermione didn't notice the passage of time until she found a sandwich being placed in front of her. Looking up, she found one of the Prewetts. She still wasn't sure how to tell them apart yet but she was determined to find a way. There had been a trick with Fred and George; she was sure these two were no different.

"Healer's order." He grinned at her, seeing she was about to protest, but knowing she couldn't when said healer was sitting across from her, watching the exchange. Instead of kicking up a fuss, Hermione took a massive bite, causing her cheeks to bulge. She looked back up at the twin and raised an eyebrow at him, asking if he was happy now that she had taken a bite. He barked a laugh, patted her head the way you would a well behaved dog, and exited the kitchen, still shaking his head.

Upon finishing her sandwich, Hermione realized she was absolutely exhausted. It had been an exciting day and she was still healing from massive blood loss. She excused herself from the conversation, waving off all offers to walk her back to her room. She was tired, not an invalid. After placing her plate in the sink, she headed back upstairs. Having mapped the route out in her mind on the way down, she had no problem finding her way back.

As she stepped onto the landing of the floor her room was located on, she noticed immediately the figure sitting on the floor. Cautiously walking forward, she noticed it was one of the twins. He was sitting against the wall beside one of the doors, legs stretched out in front of him. Staring into space, he didn't seem to be paying much attention to anything in particular. He turned his head towards her as she drew closer, his eyes losing the glassy, unfocused look. When he seemed to finally realize who it was, he smiled at her in greeting as she stopped and leaned her back against the opposite wall.

"When she's ready, she'll come out and talk about it," he said in answer to the unspoken question. There was no need to clarify who "she" was.

She quirked a brow at him. "You seem awfully sure about that for someone who just met her."

He gave a lazy shrug in response. "Being part of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, I know a lot of people just like her. Closed off and outwardly cold. The trick is to wait them out. If they know you aren't going anywhere, they'll come to you when they are ready. Besides, she could use all the friends she can get in this place."

Hermione nodded in agreement. He wasn't wrong in his assessment of those she had once thought cold and calculating.

"Well, then it seems like she's in good hands here..." She let the end of her sentence trail off expectantly as she waited for him to supply his name.

"He grinned broadly at that. "Gideon, love."

"Right, Gideon." Hermione took quick stock of his face, taking in every detail. There was a small scar in his left eyebrow, just at the end so it was barely visible, but there none the less, and she would bet Fabian didn't. "Well, I'll leave you to it, goodnight."

"G'night, Granger," he replied as he waved her off. She pushed herself back upright before continuing on to her room a few doors down. Closing the door softly behind her, Hermione allowed herself to fall bonelessly onto the bed, pulling the covers up around herself so only the top half of her head was visible before she drifted off into an easy sleep.