Mirror Mirror On the Wall...

Hermione gazed, awestruck, at the enormous castle before her. It seemed to on forever in either direction, not including the huge expanse of grass peeking out from behind. "And this is all yours?"

Fred and George nodded. "We had to spruce up the castle a bit," Fred explained.

"Wasn't anything more than a ruin, really," added George.

"And we turned the marshland out back into a Quidditch-quality field," finished Fred, but before Hermione could ask why a Quidditch field had to have good grass, the twins were ushering her inside, both of them carrying one of her bags. Fred rested a guiding hand on her shoulder.

"It's excellent to have you visiting," George said with a smile as they climbed a stair case, lined with smiling portraits of the twins' parents, Ron, Charlie, and Ginny. There were also some shots of Bill and his wife Fleur (Hermione shook her head, remembering Ron's reactions to the quarter Veela), and a scowling one of Percy.

"Don't know why we keep him up there, really. Just seems like he goes with the set, as unfortunate as it is. It's like silverware--there's always that one fork that you aren't quite sure what it's for," Fred mused, referring to the picture of Percy, who turned up his freckled nose at this comment.

"It's going to be great, what with you here for a while, staying over,"

"Not to mention having a look at our accounts," interjected Fred, his brown furrowing only slightly

"We think Ron might be coming next week, sometime, but he's not sure if he can get away from the Order. I've heard things haven't been looking so good lately." George shook his head darkly, but continued. "Lee, you know, Jordan, might be coming down for a weekend this summer--you know he and Angelina are married?"

"And Harry, well, the less said about him, the better," remarked Fred shiftily.

Hermione's stomach flip-flopped at the mention of Harry. He and Draco were abroad on a mission so secret that only they and Dumbledore knew the details. Hermione didn't want anything to happen to Harry, as he was her best friend, but she worried even more about Draco, because these days, Draco was her happiness. She fingered the ring on her left hand fourth finger.

"But it'll just be us for at least one week," Fred said brightly.

"Mind you, it'll be lovely just to be off work, even without anyone," Hermione sighed. "Fudge is going insane, relies completely on my department for anything remotely Muggle Related."

"Don't understand why they don't just get Dumbledore for minister," George deliberated. He shook his head, as if telling Cornelius Fudge that his ideas were absolute claptrap.

"He'll never do it--he loves Hogwarts too much," Hermione said with a regretful groan.

"Here's your room!" George remarked brightly, motioning to a large oak door, with a small gold H emblazoned on it. "That's just for you, obviously. No trouble. We don't use the room, anyways," he insisted as Hermione made to comment on it. Fred opened the door chivalrously, and made a droll bow as Hermione entered, wide eyed. Inside was a bed large enough for three, hung with thick red velvet curtains, as well as a large armoire and a huge plush carpet. She turned to the twins.

"It's wonderful! It's even nicer than Hogwarts, and that's saying something!" she exclaimed. Turning to Fred, she gave him a quick hug, and then repeated the process with George. "I can't believe you can afford this!"

"Oh, it came with the castle," insisted George, waving her comment away with a mock-bashful hand. However, there was a glint in his eye that suggested to Hermione that perhaps the twins had been to Order member Mundugus Fletcher for their furniture. "Glad you like it. If you need anything at all, don't hesitate to ask."

"We're just there, at the end of the corridor--my room is on the left hand side, and George's is on the right. The kitchen is at the bottom of the stairs, and then to your right, in case you get puckish. I'm afraid we aren't great cooks, but we've got a few recipes under our belts," the twins beamed, and Hermione got the feeling that they had learned said recipes for their guests.

She closed the door behind her. With a wave of her wand, her clothing unpacked itself, and hung itself up in the armoire. She surveyed her home for the next month. Not bad, not bad at all. The bed, she found by sitting on it, was as comfortable as it was large, and she smiled when she saw the large bookcase on the wall opposite. Also, next to the bookcase, was a full-length mirror, edged in brass.

She'd grown up since Hogwarts, that couldn't be denied, she noticed as she stood up before the glass. Taller and slimmer, she carried herself almost regally, possibly thanks to the lack of heavy books. Her hair, while still frizzy, had sleekened as it grew longer, and her eyes were the same piercing blue they had always been. She smiled at herself. In the last five years since she graduated, she'd grown up from the awkward, bookwormish girl into an attractive witch, engaged to Draco Malfoy, and with a good job at the Ministry of Magic. Draco had been her first real relationship, but they were getting married on Halloween, and she couldn't have been happier.

They spent the evening pleasantly. The warm evening air seeped through the open windows as Fred and George served a simple meal on mismatched plates.

"You'd think that, being wealthy joke-store owners, you could afford matching plates," Hermione chided. The twins hung their head in ersatz shame.

"We try, Hermione, but you're so harsh!" George moaned insincerely. "We were only trying to appease you!" Hermione tried to keep a straight face, but a smile formed at the corners of her mouth, and grew into a full-blown grin.

"You can't know how wonderful it is to be off work. Fudge works us like dogs, and I get home at midnight, and Draco is either out working for the Order or asleep already, so--"

"You aren't getting much," Fred supplied.

"To put it crudely. I've seen my parents twice since my graduation, what with work, and everything else." Her smile had faded, and she felt sharp prickling along the edges of her eyes. "I'm really sorry. I'm ruining everything. It's so wonderful of you guys to let me stay this month, it really is. I couldn't stay with my parents, because they're on holiday, and I hated to stay at home because Draco wasn't there, and your house is as safe as any. I just wanted to get away for a while." She felt the tears starting to run down her nose, and she turned away, wiping her eyes on her napkin. Fred stood and wrapped an arm around her, and George gazed concernedly across the breadsticks as she hiccoughed wetly.

"There's treacle tart for dessert...," he mentioned feebly, and Hermione giggled morosely.

"I think I'm too tired for dessert," Hermione rose from her chair, and seeing the fallen look on George's face, she added "even for treacle tart. I'm going to bed."

She left the room, and climbed the stairs, her way lit by flickering torches. That was foolish, she thought, but it felt good. Nothing to be ashamed of. She did feel overworked, she did worry about Draco, and she was glad to be here.

In her room, Hermione changed into her nightdress, and settled into her bed, pulling the thin blankets up to her chin. The sheets felt warmed, and as she nodded off, she found herself wondering if it was the balmy summer air, or whether Fred and George had a house elf hidden in their dungeons.