Grimmauld Place was loud in the way only the Order could be—footsteps, low voices, tension sitting heavy in the air. She leaned against the kitchen counter, long wavy brown hair falling over her shoulder, fingers tapping softly against the wood while she listened. A habit. One she never noticed herself doing. Her green eyes flicked up when the door opened. Potter froze first. Then the Weasleys. Granger recovered fastest, eyes sharp with curiosity. “So,” she said calmly, straightening, elegant