Painted Wings
As I brushed out my hair the next morning, marvelling at the change that Malfoy – Draco Malfoy – had been able to wring out of it, the drifting of music came through my bathroom wall. Rosemary was playing music again. I listened closely. It wasn't the Beatles, surprisingly enough; it was a song from the soundtrack of Anastasia, a Muggle film that had come out when I was much younger. I smiled to myself as I remembered how I'd twirled around my room, singing to that song. The music strengthened, just a bit, and I whispered the words along with Anastasia for a stanza.
Then I smiled and slipped into a plaid grey skirt, a white blouse un-tucked around it, all the buttons except the top two done up, and the bit of a white camisole showing underneath. Around my neck was the necklace that my father had given me long ago, when I'd been accepted to Hogwarts; it had a small silver pendant on the long chain, a delicate snowflake in an intricate pattern that I'd loved to look at when I was younger. I slipped on my black cloak over that and performed a small spell with my wand to take the dust off. I hadn't dressed as a witch in so very long. Briefly, I looked at myself in the mirror; the change was incredible. I looked, amazingly, happier.
The music had swelled to a crescendo, and I sang along this time. Just as the song trailed off to a finish, a familiar voice filtered into the bathroom.
"What on Earth, Granger?" I heard Malfoy's voice say, and looked up to see him looking at me through the mirror, the shock already fading from his grey eyes to see me dressed as a witch again.
"Yes, Malfoy?" I answered coolly, doing my hair up so that it was half back, but my fingers fumbled with the catch. "Don't stand there and be useless!" I said in exasperation. "Come here and help me!"
In one fluid motion, he was behind me, snapping the clip in place, and then stepping back. "Ready?"
I nodded, forcing a swallow past the lump in my throat. With a crack, we both Disapparated, to appear outside the Headquarters that I'd known since I was fifteen. Five years, I realized suddenly, and then #12 Grimmauld Place appeared as I thought of it, and Draco Malfoy and I were walking through the door together. I almost expected Sirius to come dashing out to shout at his Pureblood mother to shut up; I half-expected to see Ron smiling on the stairs, ready to greet me and argue about something else; I nearly anticipated Harry coming in behind me, furious but pleased; I tried not to look forward to seeing half the people I thought of, because of course, we'd suffered casualties in the Second War.
The one person I did see was Ron, coming down the stairs – not his gangly, fifteen-year-old self, but a solid bulk of man, twenty years old, haggard and worn but very much alive. He saw me, and his face split into a grin, and then I was running until the foot of the stairs and the middle Weasley came to meet me; then I was in his embrace, laughing softly into his shoulder as he hugged me. Finally, he let me go. "Oh, bloody hell, Hermione, it's good to see you," he said in relief, smiling at me.
"You too, Ron," I said, stepping back from him. He glanced over my shoulder and nodded, surprisingly civilly, to Malfoy.
"Malfoy."
Malfoy jerked his chin up slightly and brought it down just as quickly; it was a gesture that I well remembered from him. "Weasley."
"Mum's been waiting forever for you two to show up," Ron told me as we began the walk to the kitchens. To my disapproval, the house-elf heads were still on the walls. "She barely slept a wink last night. The entire Order's back together, except…well, you know. Luna and Neville are here, too, and Ginny. Fred and George as well; even Bill and Charlie have managed to make it."
"How can we still use this as Headquarters?" I asked warily.
"Well, Harry didn't exactly have time to write a will," Ron said slowly, "so it passed down to the next Pureblood in the family."
"Malfoy?" I turned to look at him, but he just shrugged and glanced away.
"Luckily he's on our side," Ron mumbled, so that Malfoy wouldn't hear, and I had to smile; then Ron was pushing open the door to the kitchen, and all the chattering quieted a bit.
"Hermione!" a number of voices chorused, and suddenly I was being embraced by the entire Weasley family, Ginny, Fred, George, Bill, Charlie, Mr. and Mrs., too. When they moved aside, Nymphdora Tonks Lupin embraced me, too; she'd quieted down since the war, and her hair was a light, pretty brown, draping around her heart-shaped face, and her clothing had become a bit more sensible as well. She smiled at me and then pulled the man behind her forward; I received a shock. Remus Lupin had greyed a great deal since I'd first met him in my third year of school, and something told me that the full moon wasn't that far off. When he leaned down to hug me, I whispered in his ear, "You don't need to be here, Professor; it's almost full moon."
He smiled at me, a smile that changed his face, made him look ten years younger, and I knew how Tonks had fallen in love with him. "It's the reunitation of the Order, I couldn't miss it," he said, and then added, "And it's not Professor anymore; you're twenty, call me Remus." He then moved off so that Mad-Eye could shake my hand, as well as Shacklebolt and several other of the Order whom had been active in the last War. The last person to step forward was Severus Snape.
For that brief moment, I was face-to-face, eye-to-eye, with the man who had murdered Professor Dumbledore, and I couldn't tear my gaze away from the blackness of his eyes, the haughty pride in his features. "Professor," I said softly, keeping my anger in check.
"Miss Granger," he returned, and then turned to Malfoy to shake his former pupil's hand. "How are you, Draco?"
"Well enough," Malfoy returned, but the two didn't get time to speak after that. The meeting with the reunited Order began, and once again, we were at war.