Unofficial Portkey Archive

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. But I did recently sell something to someone named Hermione.

A/N: I'm back! Finally! YAY! I'm sorry it took so long. Real life... holiday rush working in sales... blah, blah, blah. Come on, get to the chapter! Well, here you go. I've promised you twice that we'll get to the end of the summer "this time," and twice we don't get there. Honestly, sometimes this story takes on a life of its own, taking me where it wants to go, rather than where I had planned.

I was able to get through about half of the backlog of unanswered reviews tonight. I hope to finish them all this weekend. Your reviews are very important to me, and I try to answer each and every one.

That said, I am not at all unhappy with where this went. A reviewer recently commented that it's like they're already a couple and they just don't know it yet. That's EXACTLY the point. I will admit that I... erm, got some "dust" in my eyes... as I wrote a certain part of this. I hope you like it.

As for YET AGAIN not getting to the end of the summer THIS time, well..... Oh, I know! How about this? Depending on how you want to look at it, you can expect 2 to 4 MORE chapters before Christmas. Yeah! Really! And yes I know that's less than two weeks away. You'll understand what I mean by the variable number once the chapters are posted.

I am overflowing with thanks to my beta MapleMountain, who I am happy to say that I finally got to talk to for the first time "in person" this week! Hurray for cellphone free long distance! Too bad my battery died in the middle of the conversation. I'll save that for next time when I give you the long and short of Chapter 33.

And so with that, I give you Chapter 32, seventy more "book" pages. Say hello to my cat again... similarities to Book 6 are entirely intentional, as are the differences... and beware getting "dust" in you eyes.

Chapter 32. Four Down, Four to Go.

"Well?" she asked. "For the love of Merlin, Remus. We're both adults. I'm sure we can share a bed together and keep our passions under control," she said in a joking voice.

"All right. But if you hog the blanket or start snoring in the night, I'm kicking you out of bed," Remus said as he finally entered the room, closing the door behind him.

"Remus." Giggle.

"Mm hmm?"

"Remus." Sigh.

"Hmm?"

"Remus!" Groan. "I have to go!" Tonks complained as Remus reluctantly detached his lips from the nape of her neck. She shivered significantly when he gently blew against the little spot a few inches below her hairline that had become wet from his kisses.

Things had definitely changed for them during the night.

At some point in the night, Remus and Tonks both had somehow worked their separate ways towards the center of the bed, despite both starting on the outside edge. They woke up sometime around six in the morning to find themselves in an entangled knot of arms and legs.

As they looked into each others' eyes, neither could deny it anymore. Their first real kiss was short and simple, a little peck on the lips. It was small enough to silently ask permission to continue, but urgent enough to carry the promise of what lay beyond if they agreed.

And agree they did. Once they were both sure (it didn't take very long), the floodgates were thrown open.

They spent the next fifteen minutes joined at the mouth, exploring this new territory eagerly. When they both felt that eagerness begin to manifest itself physically, they finally decide to stop for the moment. Only one day after his transformation, fifteen minutes was very fast for Remus. It usually took two to three days before he was fully functional.

Once back at work, Tonks was able to keep her exuberance to herself... mostly. Her hair did spontaneously change color twice when a particularly entertaining memory (or new fantasy) surfaced, but she was able to successfully explain it away as Metamorphmagus "conditioning," something she fortunately was known to do while sitting at her desk working on paperwork.

Before leaving for an important lunch appointment, Kingsley had encouraged her to get in a good lunch since they would be meeting later that afternoon to brief for their big mission. Regardless of what she ate, there was only one place she wanted to be for lunch... with Remus.

She Apparated back to Grimmauld, just in time to find him hobbling around the kitchen with a cane, looking for something to eat.

"Did I wear you out this morning?" Tonks teased from the doorway. It hadn't been anything more than snogging (and maybe a wandering hand... or four), but it had been very enthusiastic.

"If this morning was any indication, I fear for my health," Remus joked back as he turned back to look at her.

"Well, we'll just have to make sure we put that werewolf stamina to good use then, won't we?" she quickly retorted with a grin. Both then immediately flushed at the implications of that statement. Neither could say it was inaccurate.

"Yes, well, all in good time," Remus finally said.

"All in good time," Tonks agreed. They'd obviously crossed the line beyond friendship this morning, but they didn't want it to mean they had to rush in and cross certain other lines. Oh, they'd be sharing a bed again tonight (at least they both individually hoped so), but they wouldn't be doing anything more than sleeping.

Well, maybe some snogging. And a wandering hand... or four.

"Any lunch plans?" Tonks asked as Remus rummaged through the cupboards. Since the house was again being used by the Order of the Phoenix, the kitchen was well stocked. And yet, the cabinets were full of food but nothing looked particularly appetizing at the moment.

Present company excluded, Remus could not help but think as he cast a quick back in Tonks' direction.

"Nah, just looking about to see if anything jumps out at me," he replied as he put back the box of biscuits favored by Professor McGonagall. "Unfortunately in a house like this, that tends to happen every once in a while," he said, chuckling.

"Well, how about you give up The Great Biscuit Hunt and join me?" Tonks asked.

Remus closed the cupboard door and turned around. "Sounds brilliant! What's on the menu?"

Tonks pulled the bag from behind her back. "Shepherd's pie," she replied. "It was one of today's two lunch specials in the cafeteria. The other one appeared to be some sort of mystery meat with mystery sauce. So I figured this would be safer."

Remus made a show of smelling the air, then looked confused. "I sealed the bag," Tonks explained playfully. "I didn't want to ruin the surprise."

"Oh, Nymph, my dear, you read my mind before I even knew what I wanted. Shepherd's pie sounds perfect." Remus noticed Tonks staring at him with a contemplative look on her face; she was obviously trying to decide something.

"What?"

"'Nymph,'" she repeated. "You called me Nymph."

"Uh... did I? Must've slipped out. Sorry. I know how much you-"

"I hate Nymphadora," she clarified, "but Nymph..." She continued to scrutinize him as she pondered the sobriquet. Remus was understandably nervous. Everyone knew how she felt about her first name.

Finally, a smile began to tug at the corners of her mouth. "If you say it... and only in private... and you don't add any extraneous vowels at the end... I think I like it."

"Well, my dear Nymph-no-extra-vowels, let's enjoy our lunch and then see if we can find a way to keep ourselves entertained until you have to go back to work," he said with a truly wolfish grin.

* * *

Remus and Tonks lay cuddled together on the davenport in the drawing room of Grimmauld Place, enjoying the silence after delicious lunch and an even more delicious snog session.

"Remus?"

"Mm hmm?"

"I should be heading back soon."

"Unh uhh," he replied, expressing his displeasure at that idea. He kissed the back of her neck again, about the only part of her he could reach with her lying in his arms.

Tonks actually laughed. "Didn't we go through this this morning?"

"Mm hmm. And we'll go through this every time you leave for work without me." Tonks leaned forward out of his arms and turned over so that she was now lying on top of him, but facing him. It was a decidedly tantalizing arrangement. She looked into his eyes.

"I should be going with you," Remus said solemnly.

"Yes, you should," Tonks agreed. "But not today. You're no good to me, to us, if I have to worry about you tripping over your cane. I trip enough for the both of us," she joked.

Remus smiled. He knew that despite her naturally clumsy nature when off duty, she somehow always managed to turn it off when she put on her Auror robes. There simply was no way she could have been an Auror if she was constantly knocking things over when tracking down a suspect.

"You could call in sick," he longingly, though not seriously, suggested. He would never actually suggest something like that... especially not considering what was on the line this time.

"Oh... as much as I would love to, I don't think You-Know-Who would take kindly to me not being there when we capture or kill him."

"What time was it?"

"His deadline was four o'clock," Tonks reminded him. Because of the unfortunate coincidence of the recent full moon, all of his information had been coming from her. The information and the mission was classified, but he'd been left out of the loop simply by being absent, not by design. As an Order member, he would have known anyway.

Remus nodded then quickly stole another kiss. "What about Harry? Where's he going to be during all of this? Does he even know?"

"As far as I know, no, Harry doesn't know. At Wednesday night's Order meeting, which you couldn't be bothered to attend," Tonks teased, "Dumbledore made it clear he didn't want Harry to know about it ahead of time. Since by all indications this threat has nothing to do with Harry and is merely You-Know-Who trying to flex his muscles, he didn't want to interrupt his summer any more than necessary."

Remus nodded in agreement. He didn't like withholding information from Harry, especially considering how poorly last year went. However, from what he understood of the situation, there really wasn't much the son of one of his best friends could do, besides worry. And that wasn't something anyone needed... worrying unnecessarily.

"For some reason I thought we'd have to convince her, but Molly was actually the first person to agree that Harry shouldn't be bothered with this," Tonks explained. "As for where he'll be, again, as far as I know, he'll be out at the Burrow.

"Dumbledore said he would 'drop by' for a friendly visit round about four, so with him, Arthur, and Molly there, it should be pretty well supervised," she continued. "With the entire Auror and MLE divisions scattered out across the country, the Order will, unofficially of course, be keeping an eye on things in places like the Ministry building and St. Mungo's."

Tonks let out an unexpected laugh. "You'll never guess who's watching Diagon Alley."

"Fred and George," Remus guessed. Tonks stared at him in surprise.

"Molly was livid when she found out about that," she recalled. "But they want to join the Order. Dumbledore won't let them, yet, but he did agree to let them 'be helpful' today by keeping an eye out. Molly relented-kind of like how an angry lioness relents when its jaws are forced open-when Arthur reminded her that they were of age and could do what they wanted, and when Dumbledore explained they were given explicit instructions to do nothing more than keep an eye out."

Remus laughed. "Knowing those two and their bottomless bag of tricks, I strongly suspect Diagon Alley will be the most secure place in all of Britain this afternoon."

With a natural pause in the conversation, both Remus and Tonks took a moment to glance at the clock: it was ten minutes before two o'clock. The two then turned back to each other again.

"I really do need to get going," Tonks said earnestly. "Kingsley said we would be meeting at two." Remus nodded reluctantly and let go of her, allowing her to stand up. They held hands until they reached the staircase, as it was too narrow to comfortably allow two adults to walk side-by-side.

Once in the entrance hall at the bottom of the stairs, they cast a quick glance at Ron's silenced curtain, behind which Mrs. Black's portrait hung. Still not a peep had been heard from her since it went up. Every person who had seen it had gone to Hogwarts (or been there, like Fleur), so they were all familiar with the four-poster beds, and the curtains on them.

Honestly, it brought back memories of the same thing for all of them.

"I can't believe I didn't think of that," Tonks admitted, embarrassed.

"Me either," Remus admitted sheepishly, and then they turned back to each other. Remus looked into Tonks' eyes.

"Promise me you'll come back safe tonight," he begged. Tonks was tempted to make some joke about dying before breaking that promise, but she felt now was not the time for something like that.

"I promise." It didn't need to be said, but it was true: she would die before breaking that promise.

There was, however, something else that needed to be said. There still was a few minutes left before she had to leave.

"With the Weasleys gone, were you... planning on staying here from now on?" Tonks asked nervously. Outwardly there was no visible sign that Remus's heart rate had just doubled.

"Oh... well... I... um... really hadn't thought about it," he lied. He'd thought about it several times in fact, after Harry (of all people) mentioned it at Ginny's birthday party.

"Well, almost all of my stuff is still over at your flat," he continued cautiously, "so I suppose, if it's all right with you, that I might stay at your place for at least one more night. And then after that I can figure things out."

"Yeah, at least one more night," Tonks said, pursing her lips together tightly to keep from betraying her hopefulness at the thought. Remus didn't think he put any unnecessary emphasis on the words 'at least,' but he had made sure to intentionally say them. So for her to repeat them back, he took it as a good sign.

Right as Tonks was about to Apparate back to the Ministry, Remus stepped forward, took her face in his hands, and gave her a long, slow, gentle kiss.

"I'll see you tonight," he said to her.

"Yes, you will," she said with a smile, and then popped away.

* * *

Friday started out pretty poorly for Harry. He'd tossed and turned most of the night, not getting much sleep. The brief conversation he'd had with Hermione the night previous through the mirror really gnawed at him. He could tell she was in pain. He wanted nothing more than to simply go to her side and be there for her, just as she had been for him.

Harry thought back to the past few weeks at Hermione's house. He remembered some of the things she'd offered early on they could do if he wanted to: sit around and share good memories of Sirius, even talking to some sort of family loss specialist. They hadn't done any of that.

They really hadn't needed to.

The topic of Sirius hadn't come up much since he left Privet Drive, aside from the day of the will reading. And that was okay. Getting that one last letter from Sirius turned out to be probably the best closure Harry could possibly have hoped for under the circumstances. It gave him something (the letter) he could take with him and look back on in the future if he ever needed to.

What Hermione had done, along with her parents of course, was to simply be there for him. Sometimes it was more important to simply know that someone was there for you, than it was to actually need to use them.

And he wanted to be able to do the same for her. So, while Ron went to "drain the tank," Harry pulled out the mirror, hoping to be able to talk to her again. After looking into the mirror and seeing his own reflection, he called out her name to the mirror.

He watched his own image stare impatiently at the piece of charmed glass. After a few moments, he called her name once more.

There was nothing.

She must have been away from the mirror. Hearing the flush of the toilet down the hall, Harry quickly put the mirror away again and got up to grab some clothes. He felt he would need a nice hot shower to really get this day started. From day one there, he made absolutely sure to carry his clothes in front of him. That was the one downside to being in a house with so many people: there always seemed to be someone up and about, especially in the early morning when he was "up and about."

While he waited for Ron to return, Harry made a quick stop by Hedwig and Metis's cage to greet them good morning. For the second time, Harry found his sour mood being swept away by what he saw. There were now three eggs in the cage.

He quickly threw his clean clothes onto his unmade bed, nearly hitting Crookshanks in the process (who'd taken to sleeping at the end of Harry's bed in Hermione's absence). He raced over and dug through his trunk, looking for one of the books Luna had sent over.

Since the information contained in the two books was pretty much the same (except for the "debate" about when the mating season was), Harry and Hermione had each taken one so they could look things up should they need to while they were apart.

After searching for a few moments, Harry finally found what he was looking for. It said that a Snowy owl's clutch size varied depending on the size of the local lemming population, the usual source of food in the wild. His eyes widened in shock when he read that though the average was three to five eggs, it could be as high as twelve!

Harry felt a little overwhelmed by that possibility. Twelve more owls? He wondered... how did the squirrel population at King George's Park compare to lemmings out in the wild? His eyes went wide again. The Burrow was overflowing with gnomes, and those things were huge compared to squirrels and lemmings!

Well, he'd find out in one to two days, and again every one to two days thereafter, until new eggs stopped arriving.

At the same time though... no matter how scary he thought a dozen owlets might be, Harry couldn't help but smile as he looked in on the two sleeping birds.

When he went down for breakfast, Harry was surprised to see that Arthur hadn't gone in to work today. Arthur explained it was for family reasons. It turned out that, unbeknownst to everyone else, Percy had been getting rather desperate in his search for a new job. Evidently, public sentiment at the moment was such that being Fudge's Junior Assistant was enough to close most doors without even a second glance.

While Arthur and Molly were in no rush to have Percy out of the house, they were adamant about him finding a new job. It was crucial to him getting back on his feet. Arthur said that he'd decided that the two of them would go out together and "hit the pavement" today (he managed to get this expression correct).

They'd then be back home before four o'clock, and then the entire family, minus Fred and George who couldn't leave early work today, could all enjoy a lovely afternoon together.

Molly made a small feast for breakfast (as usual), one that everyone enjoyed immensely. While the Britain's magical population was orders smaller than the non-magical, it was still large enough to require some form of efficient distribution system... in other words, a wizarding equivalent of the modern Muggle megamarts.

Because certain mechanized industries greatly outperformed anything wizards could output (a sheer necessity due to the immensely larger Muggle population), certain food staples were purchased from Muggle suppliers in bulk and then repackaged and distributed for wizarding consumption.

So, for all intents and purposes, the milk that wizards drank was exactly same as what the Muggles did. That didn't stop Arthur however from insisting that he drink the milk that came in a plastic jug with the Sainsbury's label on it, rather than that which Molly bought at the local market in the glass bottle.

Molly and Harry shared an amused head shake as Arthur finished off (with pleasure) the last of the semi-skimmed.

* * *

It was about 3:45 when the six people touched back down into the Burrow's back yard. Harry had finally finished the last of his homework about an hour after lunch and wanted to celebrate with a game of Quidditch. Ron, who still hadn't started his, was all too eager to join in that celebration. Teams were a little different this time: Harry, Ron, and Percy on one team, and Ginny, Charlie, and Neville on the other. Bill and Fleur were back at work at Gringotts.

Arthur and Percy had returned from their job hunt early today, around three o'clock. Upon his arrival, Percy looked as dejected as he had every day, returning still unemployed. To the untrained eye, Arthur appeared just as disappointed. But to Molly, who knew him like the back of her hand and was all too familiar with him trying to hide things from her (Muggle-related), there was something else on his face. There was a secret smile buried beneath that frown, one she knew she'd have to wait to have explained.

As he drank his pumpkin juice, Harry could not help but glance at Neville. As far as he knew, nothing had happened between him and Ginny. However, the more time he spent over here, the more confident he began to look. The Quidditch games alone were proof of that.

To be brutally honest, Neville wasn't all that great at Quidditch. Some people just weren't cut out to be Seekers or Keepers... or Chasers... or Beaters. Neville wasn't destined to be any of those.

But no one cared.

None of the Weasleys seemed to mind that Neville missed the Bludger as often as he hit it. Harry didn't care that despite the fact he had a very nice and perfectly capable Cleansweep 10, Neville was the slowest one out there.

But most importantly, no one laughed harder than Neville did when on one of the few times he even was even able to catch the Quaffle, he got turned the wrong way around and threw it through one of his own team's goals, scoring against his own team.

Everyone was simply enjoying themselves in a friendly game of Quidditch.

"Who's that?" Charlie asked as he glanced towards the drive. Everyone turned to look. The hair and beard were a dead giveaway.

"Headmaster!" Harry called out in warm greeting as the older wizard approached them.

"Harry, my boy," he returned in a friendly way. "Assorted Weasleys," he continued with a jovial lightness, "and Mr. Longbottom and Miss Delacour, nice to see you all today."

"So, what brings you here this fine day?" Harry asked.

Dumbledore cast a glance at Arthur so brief that no one noticed (besides the eldest Weasley, of course), before turning to Harry with a genuine smile.

"My feet, Harry. I felt like visiting today, and as it just happens to be Fawkes' burning day, I decided to Floo into town and walk here. Quite invigorating actually, a nice brisk walk. It gets the blood flowing again."

Dumbledore then noticed the half-dozen brooms stacked up against the table. "Then again, so does a friendly game of Quidditch. Harry," he then turned and addressed, "might I have a word?" As he and the headmaster moved off to the side, everyone else began to head inside.

"So, how are things, Harry?" Dumbledore asked once the immediate vicinity wasn't quite so crowded. "Anything from Tom recently? Are you enjoying being back at the Burrow?"

"No, nothing from Voldemort," Harry replied happily. "And yeah, it's nice being back here. Nice, but different. I suppose I was a little surprised at how hard it's been getting settled back in. I keep expecting to be woken up by my, erm, Dan's radio alarm clock and hear the quiet roar, I guess you could say roar, of the nearby street traffic. You get used to it, actually, you know?" Harry grinned.

"Now I get woken up by the not-so-quiet roar of Ron's snoring and one of the assorted Weasleys banging on the hallway bathroom door, yelling for whoever's in there to hurry up. You can actually get used to that too," Harry added with a chuckle. "It's great being back here, it's just different, you know?" he repeated himself without realizing it.

"I guess I just got a little more used to Hermione's house than I expected I would," he finished, his voice on a slightly quieter note.

Dumbledore studied Harry for a brief moment before smiling. "Variety is the flavor of life, Harry. It can be beneficial, in more ways than you might believe, to look at the world through a different set of eyes. It truly was her idea, but I hope your time at Miss Granger's house has been, if you'll forgive me, a learning experience. I trust it has given you a new outlook on some things."

Harry and Dumbledore then both shared a (introspective) knowing grin. Neither knew the exact same words were going through each others' minds. One thing in particular.

"So, Professor. I take it you didn't come all this way to talk about housing arrangements. Is there something I can do for you?"

"Yes, Harry, actually there is." Harry smiled in a friendly sort of way, encouraging the headmaster to continue. "I was wondering if you might like to accompany me on a little Hogwarts business."

Harry was suddenly reminded of Hagrid saying that repeatedly when they went to retrieve the Philosopher's Stone back in his first year. While he doubted they would be turning base metals into gold, simply the fact that the headmaster had invited him was reason enough to get excited.

After informing Arthur and Molly of their short excursion (Ron decided to pass when Harry invited him but Dumbledore assured them it was strictly school business), Harry and Dumbledore walked into the other room. In the corner of this room was the Weasleys' grandfather clock, one that told not time, but where all of the Weasleys were.

"As I'm sure you would understand," Dumbledore began to explain, "after the incident with the Prophet reporter, certain basic security measures were put into places around a few key residences, specifically the Grangers', the Weasleys', the Longbottoms', and the Lovegoods'. One of those, of course, being anti-Apparation wards.

"Unlike at Miss Granger's house, since here we do have witches and wizards constantly popping in and out, the wards here have been modified. One needs only be recorded as approved, and then he or she would then be allowed to Apparate in and out freely.

"Please, Harry, touch the side of the clock. There, on that panel," Dumbledore pointed out. Harry glanced at the clock for a brief moment. All of the hands were pointed at "Home," except for the ones representing Fred, George, and Bill, all of which were at "Work."

Harry touched where the headmaster had indicated, and felt the wood become strangely warm for a moment. After removing his hand, the headmaster did the same.

"What was that, sir?"

"We were just recorded. The wards will now let us Apparate in and out."

Harry blinked a couple times, his mind racing with what this might mean. A moment later, he found out he was right.

"You have not, of course, passed your Apparition Test," Dumbledore said as he led them outside and a few feet away from any nearby objects.

"No," Harry replied. "I thought you had to be seventeen?"

"You do," Dumbledore confirmed. "So you will need to hold on to my arm very tightly." Harry's eyes widened in excitement. Although he had what he felt were about a million questions to ask about Apparation, he was just a little too excited to actually get the words out, so he simply gripped the proffered forearm.

Harry felt Dumbledore's arm twist away from him and redoubled his grip. The next thing he knew, everything went black. He was being pressed very hard from all directions... he could not breathe; there were iron bands tightening around his chest... his eyeballs were being forced back into his head... his eardrums were being pushed deeper into his skull and then-

He gulped great lungfuls of stale, foggy, afternoon air and opened his streaming eyes. He felt as though he had just been forced through a very tight rubber tube. It was a few seconds before he realized that the Burrow had vanished. He and Dumbledore were now standing in what appeared to be a quaint village square, in the center of which stood an old war memorial and a few benches. His comprehension catching up with his senses, Harry realized that he had just Apparated for the first time in his life.

"Are you all right?" Dumbledore asked, looking down at him solicitously. "The sensation does take some getting used to."

"I'm fine," Harry answered, rubbing his ears, which felt as though they had left Ron's house rather reluctantly. "But I think I might prefer brooms..."

Dumbledore smiled and straightened his robes which had shifted slightly while 'in transit.' "This way."

They set off at a brisk pace, past a bustling inn and a few houses. According to a clock on a nearby church, it was just short of four o'clock.

"Harry, I must ask a favor of you. Our timing today is not entirely coincidental, and I would like you inform me if you feel anything from your scar. Do not dwell on it, but do not attempt to ignore it either."

"Why, sir? Is Voldemort planning something?"

Dumbledore sighed, barely audibly, as though he'd preferred this topic not arise, even though he'd obviously been the one to bring it up. "Yes, Harry. Voldemort is planning something." He said nothing for a few moments; he appeared as if he was trying to decide how best to say it. Harry allowed him those few moments.

"As you know," he started, then could not help but chuckle lightly, "you better than most, Tom's efforts as of late have not come to fruition. It is my suspicion that, with a new Minister, he is eager to confront her. Partly to see 'what kind of stuff' she's made of, and also simply in attempt to put himself in a better position.

"He has threatened that unless she concedes to his demands, that he would do something that would surely result in the deaths of many, many Muggles."

Just then, the church clock began to play its top-of-the-hour chime, while Harry stopped in his tracks.

"WHAT?!" he shouted then immediately lowered his voice, having attracted a curious stare from the one of the village residents. "When is all of this supposed to happen?"

Dumbledore held his reply for a few seconds to allow the clock to ring out the four, individual chimes that indicated the hour.

"Four o'clock, Harry."

"Now?" Harry whispered, afraid to let anyone hear. Dumbledore continued to lead the way.

"His deadline was four o'clock, Harry. There is no way to know exactly when he might try to make some move, but I suspect it would be not long thereafter."

"Where, sir? What's he planning? How come I didn't hear about this before?" Harry asked in rapid succession.

"As for your first two questions, Tom has threatened to destroy the Brockdale Bridge if the Ministry does not submit to his demands."

"He told you where he plans to attack?" Harry asked incredulously.

"Indeed," the headmaster confirmed with a bit of what sounded like amused surprise in his voice, as if even he was surprised that Voldemort named the target in advance.

"And that has actually made it even more difficult for the Ministry to respond, as now they have to treat it both as if it were his real target, and as if it were merely a decoy." While Harry attempted to process what exactly that meant, Dumbledore continued on.

"As for your third question, I had felt, perhaps wrongly," he conceded, "that since this potential attack appeared to have no direct link to you, it might have been better to leave you out of the loop so that you might enjoy your time with the Weasleys without worrying about an attack that might or might not happen."

Dumbledore stopped walking for a moment to look directly at Harry. "Now, I fully admit that I have, in the past, been known to place your happiness above keeping you completely informed. If I have done so again, then I sincerely apologize. I once said that it was an old man's mistake. Permit me to use that explanation, not defense, once again.

"When one gets to be my age, one tends to find it harder and harder to keep from falling into the same old routine despite, or rather perhaps because of what I felt was in your best interest."

Harry stood for several moments and considered the headmaster's words. While he had once again withheld information from him in favor of keeping him happy, Harry knew that this was not the same as withholding the prophecy or the nature of his connection with Voldemort.

"Sir, I appreciate your honesty, even if it is a bit late," Harry finished pointedly, though he didn't intend to be rude. "He knows part of the prophecy, so he knows that sooner or later, it will come down to him and me, in the end. I would therefore submit that everything Voldemort does has some link to me, one way or another."

Dumbledore merely nodded silently, the way one often does when reminded of something they shouldn't have forgotten.

"That said, and with that in mind," Harry continued, "if you will trust me with the information I NEED to know when I need to know it, then I will trust you to decide what information is 'need to know.'"

Harry smiled slightly and continued. "You are right in that I can't be kept informed of each and every single step Voldemort takes. I think my head would explode with that amount of information, or I'd worry myself to death if I heard every single plot and plan and rumor out there.

"Perhaps if you weren't sure if you should tell me, then maybe you could tell me and then explain why you considered not. That way, I could know if it turned out that it was important, but I could also understand why it might not be important, in the hopes that it keeps me from tearing my hair out."

Dumbledore smiled what could be described as a great sign of relief. "Thank you, Harry. I will do exactly that. Forgive me if I am out of line, but I must confess that this summer has shown quite possibly the greatest amount of growth I have ever seen from you.

"You have been forced to grow up faster than any person should, and I think that this summer you have demonstrated that you will be able to handle it better than any of us could have possibly hoped. It's a crude analogy, but it's as if something has 'clicked into place,' and everything that you have been forced to endure over the years you could now handle with much more confidence than ever before.

"I suspect some of that has been from saying goodbye to your godfather, as well as... other things too. Regardless, whatever happens in the coming days, months, and years, I trust that you will be able to handle it.

"Remember though that no one is invincible, and no one can do everything by himself. Do not forget that there are people here who love you, and would do anything to help you. Trust in your friends, Harry."

"Thank you, sir. I will," Harry promised. With that, the two of them resumed their walk through town. A few minutes later, they turned a corner, passing a telephone box and a bus shelter. Harry looked sideways at Dumbledore again.

"Professor?"

"Harry?"

"Er - where exactly are we?"

"This, Harry, is the charming village of Budleigh Babberton."

"Isn't that in Devon too?" Harry asked. He thought about it a little more, trying to remember his geography. "That's not that far from here, is it? From Ron's house, I mean."

"Correct, Harry. About ten miles by owl."

"And what are we doing here?" Harry finally asked the question he'd been eager to ask (before the mention of Voldemort, that is).

"Ah yes, of course, I haven't told you," said Dumbledore. "Well, I have lost count of the number of times I have said this in recent years, but we are, once again, one member of staff short. We are here to persuade an old colleague of mine to come out of retirement and return to Hogwarts.

"Actually, we are here to re-convince him," he clarified with a grin that could be heard. "I had persuaded him to return at the end of July. However with the attack on Azkaban, he has, shall we say, developed cold feet."

"How can I help with that, sir?"

"Oh, I think we'll find a use for you," Dumbledore replied vaguely. "Left here, Harry."

They proceeded up a steep, narrow street lined with houses. The odd chill that had lain over Broomhill Road and the Burrow for two weeks persisted here too, though it didn't seem so ominous when juxtaposed against a quaint neighborhood thoroughfare.

It was just now only four o'clock so most people hadn't returned home from work yet. But still, there were enough people out and about to see that it was life as usual. The wizarding population now knew that the dementors were responsible for the fog, and yet the general population was still going about their day-to-day lives.

In the past two weeks, people had begun to learn how to live their lives with the threat of random dementor attacks. They were, of course, bolstered by the knowledge that Voldemort's attack had failed. If even You-Know-Who's plans could be thwarted in part by dementors, and if dementors could be banished with a Patronus, then perhaps it was possible to prevail against You-Know-Who.

It was the type of transitive reasoning that usually didn't stand up to careful scrutiny (since a Patronus was N.E.W.T. level and the average witch and wizard didn't progress beyond the O.W.L. level), but it was still very comforting to the general population.

And sometimes it was more important for a person, or a population, to have confidence about what it might be able to do that to know what it was only able to do. After all, both wizarding and Muggle histories were replete with examples of the underdog triumphing over a tactically superior opponent.

Perhaps ignorance is bliss, Harry wondered. Because while the average person was taking the dementors in stride, when in groups, people could still be easily panicked. He suspected that if they all knew that there might be an attack happening right now, the mood would be drastically different, even if it was happening some two hundred miles away.

Thinking of dementors and the possible attack, Harry cast a look over his shoulder and allowed his hand to rest upon his jeans pocket for a moment, just long enough to feel confident that his wand was within easy reach.

"Professor, why couldn't we just Apparate directly into your old colleague's house?" Harry asked as they turned left onto a smaller street.

"Because it would be quite as rude as kicking down the front door," Dumbledore explained. "Courtesy dictates that we offer fellow wizards the opportunity of denying us entry. In any case, most Wizarding dwellings are magically protected from unwanted Apparators. At Hogwarts, for instance -"

"- you can't Apparate anywhere inside the buildings or grounds," Harry finished quickly. "Hermione told me."

Dumbledore turned his head to glance at him for only a split second, but it was more than long enough to make Harry feel self-conscious and look away. The older wizard smiled briefly, unseen. "And she is quite right. We turn left again."

Eager to change the subject, Harry allowed his mind to drift to Madam Bones. It was no secret that the headmaster and Fudge hadn't exactly seen eye-to-eye in the last few years. Harry therefore was naturally curious about what Dumbledore thought about Madam Bones. Her first month had been busy enough that surely the headmaster had to have formed some sort of opinion about her.

Sure, Harry knew how he felt about the new Minister and her performance thus far. But for some reason, he felt the need to have his opinion validated. It simply wasn't enough that he felt she had been doing a pretty good job. He needed to know that other people felt the same too... the headmaster especially.

"Sir, if you don't mind my asking, I was wondering... the new Minister, Madam Bones... is she... Do you think she's good?"

"An interesting question," Dumbledore replied. "She is able, certainly. A more decisive and forceful personality than Cornelius."

"Yes, but I meant -"

"I know what you meant. Amelia is a woman of action and, having fought Dark wizards for most of her working life, does not under-estimate Lord Voldemort. While it is certainly not a requirement of being Minister," he continued with a chuckle, "she does, on occasion, ask for... my perspective on certain issues.

"She does not, however, accept my suggestions blindly, nor does she reject them out of hand. We do not always agree. However, on such occasions, she has adequately explained her thoughts such that I understand her reasoning even if I do not agree entirely. And vice versa as well. For that very reason, I have yet to leave the room feeling as though I've been, as you might say, bashing my head against the wall."

Dumbledore turned to glance at Harry again. "Why do you ask, Harry?"

Harry was going to say there was no reason for wondering, however upon seeing the knowing smile on the headmaster's face, he decided to just say it. "Oh, I was just hoping I wasn't the only one who thought she was loads better than Fudge."

Dumbledore nodded and then turned back to look up the street. "This is the place, Harry, just here..."

They were nearing a small, neat stone house set in its own garden. They turned off the street, opened the gate, and started to walk up the carefully tended front path. Once there, Dumbledore knocked on the front door.

A few moments later, the door opened. Partially.

"My dear Horace," Dumbledore greeted grandly.

"I'm not changing my mind," the wizard called Horace replied. Dumbledore was standing directly in front of the door while Harry was off on the same side the door was partially open. Since the man had to be looking out at an angle, Harry could not see him, nor could he see Harry.

"Might I come in to rest for a few minutes then?" Dumbledore asked. "It was a very long walk here."

"If you'd like," the other wizard replied. "I'm still not changing my mind. Come in."

The front door opened fully now and Harry could hear the home owner walking down the narrow hallway. He could still not see the man as he was the last one in. As they entered a sitting room, he could finally get a good look at his surroundings.

The room was opulently decorated; it was clear the owner enjoyed the finer things in life. It was stuffy and cluttered, yet nobody could say it was uncomfortable; there were soft chairs and footstools, drinks and books, boxes of chocolates and plump cushions.

If Harry had not known who lived there, he would have guessed at a rich, fussy old lady. A majestic grandfather clock stood against one wall while a piano sat in a corner, turned so that the player would be facing the room and an audience... if there ever was one.

Finally, Harry's eyes landed on the reason they were here this afternoon: an old colleague of Dumbledore's. Sitting comfortably in a very plush sofa was an enormously fat, bald, old man. He was holding his lower belly-in a way that a more jolly-looking man might resemble Father Christmas-as if he was quite proud of a lavish life style. Or perhaps with his stomach in the way, he had nowhere else to rest his hands.

The light from the overhead chandelier cast a warm glow on his shiny pate, his prominent pale-gooseberry eyes, his enormous, silver, walrus-like mustache, and the highly polished buttons on the maroon velvet jacket he was wearing. Though he was sitting, Harry suspected the top of this man's head would barely reach Dumbledore's chin.

The other wizard was about to say something to the headmaster when his gaze fell upon Harry.

"Oho," he said, his large round eyes flying to Harry's forehead and the lightning-shaped scar it bore. "Oho!"

"This," Dumbledore began, moving forward to make the introduction, "is Harry Potter. Harry, this is an old friend and colleague of mine, Horace Slughorn."

Slughorn turned on Dumbledore, his expression shrewd. "So that's how you thought you'd persuade me, is it? Well, the answer's no, Albus."

He then folded his arms across his chest and turned his face away resolutely with the air of a man trying to resist temptation.

"I suppose we can have a drink, at least?" Dumbledore asked. "For old time's sake?"

Slughorn hesitated.

"All right then, one drink," he said ungraciously. "The answer is still no."

Dumbledore smiled at Harry and directed him toward another chair which stood right beside the inviting fire and a brightly glowing oil lamp. Harry took the seat with the distinct impression that Dumbledore, for some reason, wanted to keep him as visible as possible. Certainly when Slughorn, who had been busy with decanters and glasses, turned to face the room again, his eyes fell immediately upon Harry.

* * *

After Harry left with the headmaster, Ron and Ginny looked around for a moment, trying to decide what to do.

Since there was just over two weeks left before school started, Ron opted to avoid his homework some more and talk his father into a game of chess. While not the greatest player, Arthur was keen to get a closer look at Harry's chess set. After all, Ron had practically been drooling over it since Harry arrived, fortunately not literally... although not by much.

Since there was just over two weeks left before school started, Ginny decided now was as good a time as any to start her own homework. It was her O.W.L. year after all. Listening last year to Hermione fret about her workload, and Ron whine about his, she pledged she would do what she could to try to stay on top of it this year.

Of course, listening to Hermione fret every year about her homework, and Ron whine, Ginny pretty much made the same pledge every year after her first year. She usually lasted until about the time Quidditch started.

The upside this time however was that she had a "study buddy." Yesterday, Neville had treated a particularly nasty blight on some of her mother's ornamentals ("Ordinary baking soda!" Molly marveled, "who would have known?"). Ginny innocently made an honest observation about how he was so much better at Herbology than she was.

Stammering the entire time, Neville "casually" mentioned that if she ever had any problems with her Herbology homework, he would be happy to help her out. Of course, Ginny did what any fifth-year O.W.L. student would when presented with free homework help: she promised herself she would take full advantage of his offer.

The trick, though, was to make sure she didn't take advantage of him. If she knew boys as well as she thought she did (if Michael and Dean were representative of the male population), she was pretty certain Neville wouldn't mind if she took advantage of him.

Well... she chuckled to herself, I'm sure THAT'S true too. Let me rephrase that.

Ginny was pretty certain Neville wouldn't mind if she over-extended his offer of homework help... especially if she gave no indication that she wasn't interested in him (i.e. she strung him along). That of course was assuming that she wasn't interested in him.

And THAT was something she just wasn't sure of yet.

So what it meant was that she would have to be careful about how she took advantage... redeemed... his offer of homework help. Fortunately, since a lot of Herbology was hands-on, the amount of written work she had to do was quite manageable.

All she had to do over the holiday was write an essay and create a chart describing the kingdom, phylum, class, order, family, genus, and species of the fifty most important "plants" studied in Herbology. In the chart, she was also to list the three most important magical uses of each of the fifty items. Since she had absolutely no idea how to start that, she decided to work on her essay instead, two feet on the magical uses of non-magical plants.

Thinking about it, Ginny was pretty certain she could get at least a six-inch outline, or maybe even a one-foot first draft done by tonight. Then, she could invite Neville back over after dinner to have him look it over to make sure she was on the right track.

When she saw that Neville was getting ready to return home (he couldn't think of a good excuse for staying), she quickly went over to him and asked if he'd started his homework yet. He confirmed he was mostly done, so she asked if he would Floo over after dinner to look her essay over.

Of course, Neville agreed all too quickly. She smiled brightly and put her hand on his lower arm just above his wrist.

"Thanks, Neville. You're such a great friend," she said honestly, but also calculatingly. Ginny smiled inwardly when his face lit up at her touch, but fell slightly at the word 'friend.'

About a half hour later, Harry returned with the headmaster. The two shared a few brief words out in the yard, then Dumbledore Apparated away. Ron came running down the stairs when Ginny called upstairs that he had returned.

"So, what's been going on?" he asked eagerly.

"Nothing really," Harry replied. "It was just school business."

"Come off it!" Ron objected. "You've been off with Dumbledore! It had to be important for him to go in person."

"This from the person who was excited to know what it was all about... until you found out what it was all about," Harry reminded him.

Ron grinned. "Yeah, well, it was school business, after all. Couldn't get too excited about that, now could I? I'm not Hermione, after all."

"That much is certain," Harry said with a laugh; Ginny giggled.

"So... GIVE!"

"It wasn't that exciting," Harry told them. "He just wanted me to help him persuade this old teacher to come out of retirement. His name's Horace Slughorn."

"Oh," Ron replied, looking disappointed. "Was hoping it'd be a little more exciting than that. But I suppose it was what I expected."

"You were?" Harry asked, amused.

"Yeah... yeah, now Umbridge has left, obviously we need a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, don't we? So, er, what's he like?"

"Well, he looks a bit like a walrus, and he used to be Head of Slytherin."

"Did he seem like he'll be a good teacher?" Ginny asked.

"Dunno," Harry replied. "He can't be worse than Umbridge though, can he?"

"I know someone who's worse than Umbridge," Ginny whispered conspiratorially with a devilish grin. Harry fought the urge to smile. He knew who she meant. "The way she talks to me, you'd think I was about three!"

"Can't you lay off her for five seconds?" Ron said annoyed.

"Oh, that's right, defend her," Ginny teased. "We all know you can't get enough of her."

Harry refused to insert himself into the middle of this. On the one hand, Harry could understand the source of friction between the three females in the house. Ginny was used to being the only "girl" in the house, and Fleur was used to having everyone adore her.

As for Molly and Fleur... well, Molly certainly did not dislike Fleur, but she wasn't exactly adjusting to the idea of another adult female in the house. Especially one was sharing her baby boy's bedroom... despite whatever Veela tradition demanded they not do before marriage. Perhaps it was the flowing blonde's occasional decorating suggestions or the recommendation of certain menu ideas. And perhaps it was Veela tradition too... for while it prohibited some things, it encouraged others.

And then on the other hand, Harry did seem it a bit silly that the females weren't getting along swimmingly. After all, he, along with every other male in the house (even Percy), seemed to get along with Fleur brilliantly.

Ginny suddenly started making a coughing sound. "Phlegm! Phlegm!"

* * *

Around seven o'clock, the fireplace roared to life and out tumbled Neville with his Herbology books.

"She's in the other room, dear," Molly greeted him warmly. "I'm so grateful you've offered to help my little girl with her schoolwork. It is her O.W.L. year and I do so hope to see an 'O' or two... this time.

"And thank you again for all of your help with my garden. I was so heartbroken to see it in such a sad state when we returned," Molly gushed. "I just hope I'm not taking up your time, you being over here so much lately."

"It really was no problem, Mrs. Weasley," Neville assured her. "Ginny said you needed some help, so I figured it was the least I could do. I really do enjoy getting my hands dirty, if you catch my meaning."

Molly just smiled. She'd once heard Ginny use the Floo to ask him to come over, so she knew that Ginny was volunteering his services before telling him. She didn't want her daughter abusing their friendship, but at the same time, she didn't want to interfere if there was something else going on.

From what she'd heard of him, Molly thought quite highly of the Longbottoms' son. Yes, he was a bit shy, but that wasn't necessarily a bad thing. She'd noticed her daughter had taken a bit of an interest in him recently-what exactly that interest was, she didn't know-but it was the first time (as far as Molly knew) Ginny had shown any sort of interest in any boy other than Harry.

As much as Ron disapproved of Michael and Dean, he wasn't brave (stupid) enough to incur his sister's wrath by actually telling their mother about them. Neither were Fred and George.

Molly had always been rather keen on the idea of her only daughter becoming involved with Harry. It would be the perfect excuse, after all, for her to be able to keep a closer eye on him, if he were around more often. And she meant that in a good, mother-caring-for-her-young sort of way.

But as nice, as convenient, as that would have been, Molly did notice that Harry never really seemed to take much interest in her daughter... in the "boy meets girl" sort of way. No, Harry just always seemed a little too busy fighting basilisks and being chased by dragons and fighting You-Know-Who to take much notice in anyone.

Yes, he and Hermione and her youngest son seemed inseparable. With that thought, she was reminded of her reaction to those articles a couple years ago. She'd been rather worried Ginny's reaction to Harry and Hermione dating. She'd assumed that there was nothing going on between them, considering her daughter's rather dreamy, hopeful thoughts.

Rita Skeeter's article said otherwise. And she had been okay with it, since it wasn't her business. Until, that is, that next article came out that said Hermione had been toying with his affections with another boy, and a fellow Triwizard champion at that! Molly had been so furious with Hermione when she first read about it, and disappointed in Harry for choosing an unfaithful girl like Hermione over her own daughter.

And THEN, of course, she learned that none of it was true in the first place. She felt so guilty about jumping to conclusions about the two of them that she promised herself she'd try to stay out of Harry's love life. After all, until Harry himself made some kind of announcement, there would always be rumors, speculation, and gossip. Molly felt the least she owed him was to not jump to any conclusions again.

So, even after all that, she could not help but keep an eye on Harry, in regards to how he reacted around her daughter. She could still be hopeful. What she had seen this summer was the same as what she had seen ever since she learned of her daughter's crush on him. As far as she could tell, there was no interest on Harry's part. She wondered if treating him like a son had caused him to see Ginny as a sister.

Whatever the case, it seemed clear that Ginny would not be bringing Harry home to her any time soon. She was, however, bringing Neville home. And on a fairly regular basis too. Even if nothing ever did happen, Molly did like Neville, and she felt it was a good thing to have such nice boys as him and Harry as friends.

As long as they were around, Ginny would always be comparing any potential boyfriend to them, even if only subconsciously. And that, Molly felt, was a very good thing. Ginny hadn't said anything yet, so Molly wasn't going to either. She would just try to make Neville feel welcome here.

"Yes, well, thank you again. And enough of this 'Mrs. Weasley' business. You've been over here enough lately that it's all right if you call me Molly."

"Erm, all right," Neville said hesitantly. Molly knew it might take a while for him to actually say it (Harry still had a hard time saying it), but she wanted to let him know it was okay if he did so.

"Now, Arthur, Bill, Fleur, Charlie, and Percy are visiting Fred and George, and Harry and Ron are outside practicing Keeping, so you two should be undisturbed for a while. Now, you go make sure my last child doesn't fail herself out of Hogwarts," she shooed him into the other room with a smile.

Always the mother, and a Weasley mother at that, Molly knew where every mirror and shiny surface was in the kitchen. With them, she could pretty much see every part of the other room. It was a very handy, and very discreet, way of keeping an eye on her children... especially Fred and George, while she was working in the kitchen. From here, she could keep an eye on the two of them without getting in their way.

* * *

Ginny sat on one end of the sofa with her knees tucked under her, watching as Neville on the other end read her essay. She'd managed to get a first rough draft of about eight inches done so far. She knew there was plenty more she could add to make it the necessary two feet, but she wanted to make sure she wasn't doing it wrong.

Ginny felt she was at a crossroads. She was absolutely certain Neville fancied her. She'd been doing things and saying things this past week, trying to figure him out. The way his face would soar or fall with her words, they way he'd flush at even the slightest touch, she knew he liked her.

The question was: did she fancy him? She just didn't know. Oh, she liked him, that was a fact. He'd become a good friend surprisingly quickly. And she loved how she felt knowing that he, that someone, liked her. It made her feel important, special. Again, in a family of seven, being able to stand out clearly from everyone else-even if only to one person-was incredibly important. Though she was the youngest and the only girl, it was still sometimes just was too easy to simply blend into the mass of red hair.

So, again, did she fancy Neville?

She knew that in the story books, people fell in love at first sight. That had certainly been the case with Harry... or rather it had been love the first time she heard his story. But she also knew that most people didn't fall in love at first sight. Rather they grew to love each other over time.

She hadn't fallen in love at first sight. It wasn't even lust at first sight or crush at first sight. But, she had become good friends with Neville, and she could envision spending more time with him in the future. Whether that would be as just friends, or as something more, only time would tell.

She realized though that she did at least want to try to find out. Maybe she didn't fancy Neville. Maybe she did. She would have to take it to the next level to find out. And unlike whatever Dean might have meant, she knew what the "next level" was. They'd have to try to be more than just friends.

She also knew she would have to make the first move. But she was okay with that. She knew that she was not the type to simply sit back and let a relationship happen. She wanted to feel in control. To employ a euphemism, she wanted to be on top. She knew that also had an entirely different connotation, but that was a completely different subject to worry about... much, much later.

Perhaps that was why things with Dean worked out the way they did. Ginny realized quickly that he too liked to take the lead. But unlike her, well, he wasn't comfortable with not always being on top. This by itself was not a bad thing, for he never did anything mean or rude. She simply realized that in the long run, he was... incompatible.

Ginny wanted to be on top; she wanted to be in control. She was willing to share that control however... that they both be equals and share, if he (whoever he was) wanted to be. But at this moment, today, here and now, she knew she would have to be the aggressor.

With that in mind, Ginny slowly scooted a little closer to Neville as he read, hoping he wouldn't notice. Neville set down the piece of parchment and was surprised to find that she was now sitting directly next to him, looking at him intensely. It seemed like just a few seconds ago there was an entire seat cushion separating them. Now there were only a few inches.

Neville could not help but be entranced by her fiery red hair. Oh, how he wanted to reach out and-

"So, what do you think, Neville?" Ginny asked in a voice that he thought was impossibly soft.

"Erm, well, yeah, heh heh heh," he laughed in nervousness, "I think you've got a good start. Just expand your introduction and conclusions a little... make sure they relate to each other. Add a few more examples. Oh, and you've completely forgotten about... about... um.... fungi," he fumbled, getting flustered at how close she was to him.

"Just make sure to include... um... those, and I think you're just brilliant, um, well, heh heh heh, I mean you'll be fine." Neville then turned bright red. Ginny only nodded.

She looked at him again, taking a moment to make absolutely sure she wanted to do this. As his color returned to normal and he desperately tried to look around the room at anything but her, she knew she did.

Ginny also knew that now was the perfect time. There were just over two weeks left before school started. She'd heard of summertime romances. She felt that would be the perfect thing to try here. She wasn't entirely sure if this would work, so what she really wanted to do is to try this while they were away from school.

They could have two weeks to see if there was anything there. If there wasn't, then they could go back to being friends and wipe the slate clean, as it were, just in time for school to start. And if things did work out, well, then... so much the better. There seemed to be plenty of snogging spots at Hogwarts.

Ginny reached out to take back her first draft. She made sure to grab it in a way such that she brushed her fingers against his. She saw as his eyes widened and he stopped breathing for a few seconds.

"I was wondering about the chart we have to make," Ginny continued, still sitting so painfully close to him. She knew he was uncomfortable, and yet at the same time she knew he wouldn't do anything to make her move away.

"Uh huh?" Neville squeaked in a high-pitch voice.

"I don't really understand what Professor Sprout wants in the chart. Do you think you could show me how to set it up? I'd fill it in, of course, but if you could just show me how to arrange it, I think it would make much more sense."

"Erm, yeah. Yeah, I can do that." He quickly turned away from her to grab a new sheet of parchment. As he turned, Ginny noticed the slightest amount of perspiration forming in the upper most corner of his forehead. She was surprised; what she really having that much of an effect on him? If so, she felt that was a good sign. She smiled.

"Well, uh, as you know, there are, uh, five kingdoms," he said, trying to focus on the homework, and shifting uncomfortably in his seat. "Animalia, Plantae, Fungi, Protista, and Monera. The, um, the, um, only two you'll need to worry about on the chart are Plantae and Fungi, but I think it's a good idea to show the other three kingdoms on the chart. You know, just to let Professor Sprout know that you know what they are. You'd just leave them blank, of course."

Unable to avoid looking at her any longer, at least without appearing obvious that he was trying to avoid looking at her, Neville turned back. He was unnerved to find she was still sitting just as close as she had been before.

"You make, erm, the two main columns wide enough to write in, and just add the last three on the side real small, just so she knows you know about them. Then you just go down, making rows for each and... Um, Ginny?" Neville finished in a squeaky voice. He was finding it extremely hard to concentrate with her so close to him at the moment.

"Yes, Neville?" she asked. If he didn't know any better, he'd swear her voice was rather coy. Unfortunately, he couldn't think of anything to say at that exact moment. His mind was rather blank. Fortunately, she broke the silence by speaking. It certainly wasn't something he expected to hear.

"Neville? Do you think I'm pretty?" she asked. There was nothing coy about her voice now. Nothing vain, either. Her voice was so soft, so honest, so vulnerable. That might have been why Neville was able to actually answer. His mouth still wasn't working, but even he was surprised when his head managed to nod.

She immediately began to smile. Seeing her smile, Neville finally found his tongue again. "Erm, well, yeah," he said with an embarrassed laugh, "yeah, I think you're really pretty."

Ginny's insides soared at this. Believe it or not, but no one had ever told her she was pretty before. By "no one," she of course meant boys. She'd heard words thrown around in passing before, but they really didn't mean much to her. Michael had said she was cute... but puppies and puffskeins were cute too, so since he never elaborated on that, it didn't really mean anything to her.

Dean had said she was hot, but that didn't mean much of anything either... at least not in a way she wanted to have to deal with right now. Words like 'hot' and 'cute' and 'gorgeous' and even 'ssssmokin'' (that came from a Muggle-born Ravenclaw; she assumed it was related to 'hot') didn't mean anything to her. Those words... they just felt empty somehow, hollow. All she ever wanted was to feel important, to be special to someone. She wanted to feel pretty.

And now she did.

"Thank you," Ginny said and actually blushed a little herself. She leaned just a little bit closer. Neville's look of panic began to turn into a shy smile, as though he was happy that he had made her happy. "Do you like me, Neville?"

It would be an understatement to say that Ginny was surprised when Neville smiled the biggest smile she had ever seen on him. She had to admit, he could be rather cute himself when he smiled. And she certainly didn't mean cute like a puppy or puffskein.

He seemed to have lost his voice again, but he was able to manage a rather enthusiastic nod.

"Good," was all Ginny said. She then smiled what she hoped was an encouraging smile, something that would let him know it was okay.

She showed him what was okay by leaning forward those last few inches and gently pressing her lips to his. She brought her hands up to gently hold the sides of his face to let him know she didn't want him to pull away.

It took a moment, but she finally felt him relax and tilt his head slightly to make it easier to return the kiss. Ginny felt as though her breath had been taken away; this was very nice, actually.

She'd snogged Michael and Dean a couple times last year, but it was nothing like this. Then, they were just quick little pecks goodbye between classes, awkward attempts at affection shown while walking in Hogsmeade or back from a Quidditch match.

In short, they felt quick and rushed... almost meaningless in their haste. But this... this felt different. She felt like there was no rush to snog Neville, that she could take her time and enjoy it. She knew she couldn't take her time just right now though, because her mother was still in the kitchen and could walk in at any minute. She finally broke the kiss after a few more seconds. All in all, it had only been about ten seconds, but it had felt a whole lot longer than that.

And that, Ginny felt, was a very good thing.

* * *

Molly managed a silent sigh of happiness as she watched her only daughter, her baby girl, pull away from Neville. She'd been watching them through their reflection on the glass of one of the portraits on the wall.

As any parent could attest, it was possible to be too quiet, so when the voices died down, she would sneak a glance every minute or so, just to make sure everything was okay. The first time, it was nothing to be concerned about... Neville was just reading Ginny's essay. Then they started talking again, so Molly busied herself again. But then their voices lowered again in that way that immediately drew a parent's attention.

She looked back to find Ginny sitting unnaturally close to Neville... unnatural as in it couldn't have been accidental or a coincidence. When Ginny finally leaned forward and kissed him, Molly fought the urge to rush in there and break them apart.

After all, what chance would Ginny have to find a nice boy if her loving, caring, protective mum swooped in to pull them apart? Molly suppressed a chuckle. Oh, she was so glad all of the boys were out of the house at the moment. And besides, she knew they both knew she was still in the kitchen. They wouldn't let themselves get carried away.

And if they did, well, Molly was watching. All she had to do was drop a spoon or something and that would get their attention.

When she saw them separate a few seconds later, Molly quickly retreated to the other side of the kitchen. The last thing she wanted her daughter to think was that she was spying on her. Molly didn't consider her observation spying. No, she was merely... chaperoning them... without their knowledge.

* * *

As Ginny pulled back away from Neville, several things happened rather quickly. While entirely an accident, this would serve to address one of Neville's greatest fears about being around Ginny so much... especially now that if they were going to snog... especially if future snogs were even half as good as this one.

Because Ginny had earlier been trying to scoot forward closer to Neville without him noticing, the easiest way she could do that was for her to be sitting on her knees and legs. That way, she could "walk" forward on slightly on her knees, rather than having to get up and sit down repeatedly as she made her way sideways.

What this ended up meaning what then when she finally stopped right next to Neville, her knees were perched on the very edge of the seat cushion. To lean forward to kiss him, she "stood up" on her knees.

And so when she went to lean back after breaking the kiss, when she shifted her weight backwards, her left knee slipped forward into the space between the cushions. This caused her to fall forward slightly. On instinct, she put her hand out to stop herself. Her hand ended up landing in his lap.

Fortunately for Neville, she did not hurt or injure him. Unfortunately for him, Ginny found out that he had become very excited at the idea of snogging her. Her eyes widened in surprise and Neville became more embarrassed than she could remember seeing.

Interestingly enough, and perhaps it was because she just snogged him silly, but she thought he also looked rather cute when embarrassed, just like when he smiled brightly.

"I'm so sorry, Ginny," Neville started to apologize.

Ginny quickly removed the offending hand and then placed both of them on the sides of his face again. She wanted him to know that he hadn't somehow hurt her hand, that she wasn't mad at him, and that she wasn't afraid of him.

"It's okay, Neville," she assured him. More than okay, she added to herself, feeling rather flattered. She immediately shut that line of thinking down, however. Neville might not have been Michael or Dean and she didn't feel awkward about that this time, but that was still something she didn't want to have to deal with for quite a while yet.

Still holding onto his face, and with more stable footing now, she leaned forward one more time and gave him a soft, gentle kiss. She then pulled back and repeated, "It's okay." Finally she nodded, answering his question of "Are you sure?" before he even asked it.

Neville had been deathly afraid of embarrassing himself exactly like this, so for it to happen within the first five minutes, well, he figured it would be over before it even got started. However, when Ginny didn't slap him or run away screaming, he felt such a weight removed that, without even thinking, he did something he imagined would take months to do, if ever.

When she let go of his face, he took her face in his hands, he leaned forward, and he kissed her. Even he was surprised about being so forward. For the first time though, he wasn't afraid. When they separated from their third snog of the day, Neville looked into her eyes.

"Thank you for not slapping me or running away screaming," he said, and then the two of them shared a laugh together.

With their laughter came the sound of Molly dropping a spoon in the kitchen. The two teens turned to look towards the kitchen. Neville put a hand up to his mouth and began laughing into it. Only now did he remember that Molly had been there the entire time. She could have walked in on them at any moment.

Ginny reached out and took both of his hands in hers. She gave them a gentle squeeze and then let go.

"Homework can wait. Let's go outside and fly around a bit with Ron and Harry."

Neville smiled and nodded in agreement. After they stood up, Ginny took his hand again and held it as they walked into the kitchen. Neville had wanted to do this, but was uncertain as to whether he should. It was, he felt, one thing for him to take the initiative and kiss her when they were alone. It was another thing entirely to be so bold as to make a public declaration by holding hands like this, without asking her first.

"Hey, Mum," Ginny said causally as she walked into the kitchen. Molly turned around and looked at the pair of them. Her eyes briefly glanced down at their joined hands. She said nothing, but her smile was just a tiny bit bigger when she looked back up. Ginny did not miss that fact.

"Had enough homework for today?" Molly asked cheerfully.

"Yeah," Ginny said slowly as though that question, or rather its answer, had extra meaning for her. "Yeah, as he talked, I realized what I needed to do, and so now we can work on it from here on out."

Molly just nodded in understanding. She then turned to Neville. "Well, just know that you are welcome to come over here anytime you would like to work on your homework. The living room is at your disposal whenever you two would like."

The living room, where I can chaperone the two of you, Molly added to herself. Considering how busy the Burrow normally was, she knew it would be rare when if Ginny and Neville ever had a moment alone together. She'd let them get away with a snog or two, but she wanted them somewhere where she could keep an eye on them. She remembered all too well what she and Arthur could get up to in only a few minutes alone. It was a good thing the caretaker caught them only that one time.

Only a fellow Weasley could notice the barely perceptible emphasis Molly placed on the words "living room." Ginny knew the hand holding was a sure giveaway, but this was just her mum letting her know that she knew about the two of them, and that she was "encouraging" them to stay out of trouble.

Besides, Ginny thought to herself, we were able to sneak in a few snogs this time. If the boys aren't around, I'm sure we can manage a few more. She then squeezed Neville's hand encouragingly.

"Thanks, Mrs. Weasley. I'll keep that in mind," he replied. "Homework is so much better when you're with someone." He then squeezed Ginny's hand back. Neville was shocked at how easy, how natural this seemed. He'd never had a girlfriend before, and he had always imagined he would be agonizing over every decision. Would the girl let him hold her hand? How would he know when it was the right time to kiss her?

"We're going outside to fly around with Ron and Harry for a while," Ginny said.

"Okay," Molly replied. "Neville, dear, we all just ate dinner a while ago, so I was planning on making a little something for dessert. Would you like to join us as well?"

The very first thing to pop into his mind was, No thanks, Mrs. Weasley. I already had dessert. And no, his grandmother hadn't given him anything sweet after dinner. Neville fought back a laugh. He didn't know where any of this was coming from, and quite honestly he didn't care. If being with Ginny made him feel like this, then he could spend every day of the rest of his life with her and live a very happy life.

Whoa! That thought sobered Neville up real quick, and brought him back to the here and now. "Thanks, Mrs. Weasley. I'd love to."

"All right. Ginny, dear, tell Ronald and Harry that it'll be ready in fifteen to twenty minutes."

"'Kay, Mum," Ginny replied, then she and Neville headed out the door. As she watched the two of them walk out into the back yard hand-in-hand, Molly sighed another happy sigh and then turned back to her cupboards to find something that she could make to use up the very last of the Grangers' food.

Arthur and Ron had managed to eat almost all of it by now, but Molly had had the forethought to hide one item when Harry explained it to her. She was entirely familiar with whipped cream, but this Tip Top Squirty Cream took her completely by surprise.

It was this funny little metal can. Harry would push the little thing on it, and, well, out squirted whipped cream. Instant whipped cream! In a can! "It's amazing what Muggles can come up with," Molly admitted at the time. Of course Harry pointed out that technically it was "whipped topping."

After seeing it, Molly immediately hid it in the very back of their ice box, beneath several large heads of broccoli... a sure way to keep it hidden from her children. It wasn't so much that she worried about them eating it (for it had "two-thirds less fat than single cream"). Rather, she had an ominous vision of Ronald, or Arthur, placing the tip in his mouth and pushing that little thing until the whipped topping filled his mouth and came gushing back out.

Or worse, Fred and George stopping by unexpectedly and, upon seeing a can that squirted whipped topping, becoming "inspired."

Harry had said the can was about half empty so there was probably enough for dessert for everyone. She could use the last of it up and be rid of it. Fred had once joked a few years ago that Ron's tombstone would read, "Death by Dessert." If that were the case, she jokingly thought that no one would believe it was from drowning.

* * *

Ginny and Neville walked out into the backyard just as Harry and Ron were touching down. She noticed when both of their eyes were immediately drawn down to her and Neville's still linked hands. She felt Neville try to let go of her hand; she grasped it more firmly.

"Mum's making something for dessert, Ronald," she emphasized, trying to draw his attention back up. It didn't work. Harry, on the other hand, had looked back up and was now just grinning at the two of them like he couldn't be happier. Their looks of embarrassment at his buoyant reaction was all the confirmation Harry needed.

"Thanks, Ginny," Harry replied. "Is it ready now?"

"She said it would be fifteen to twenty minutes," Neville answered, as he had felt bolstered by Harry's reaction. His, he had been most worried about, even more so than any of her brothers'. "We were just coming out to go flying with you two, but if you're done now..."

"Oh, no," Harry replied quickly. "I could go back up for another twenty minutes easy! Ron?" he asked. Ron was still staring dumbly at their hands. It would be unfair to say that he was scowling. What he was doing, lost in his own world, was trying to decide what he thought about this.

"Ron!" Harry called more forcefully as he smacked the side of his arm.

"Ow! What?!" Ron demanded, snapping out of it. Harry, Ginny, and Neville snickered.

"Well?"

"Well what?"

"Broom. Flying. Up in the air. Twenty more minutes? Dessert? Yum yums?" Harry was fighting to not burst out laughing.

"Huh? Oh! Yeah! Yeah, I suppose I could do with a bit more practice," Ron finally replied, shaking his head and turning around to head back out to the field. As they headed out, Harry came up and walked behind Neville and Ginny, putting his arms around them and setting his hands on their shoulders.

When Ron took off into the air, Harry pulled back on their shoulders slightly to stop them for a moment. He leaned forward and put his head between theirs.

"I think the two of you really ought to snog in front of Ron or something," he whispered deviously as he gave Neville a small, congratulatory pat on the back. The two of them managed to get embarrassed again. Ginny recovered first.

"Aw, but we wouldn't want to kill my poor, dear Ronniekins, now would we?" she asked sweetly.

"Nah, you're right. I don't think Luna would ever forgive us," Harry said as he mounted his Firebolt and took off into the sky.

* * *

Saturday's morning Daily Prophet was understandably late. Plenty to report today. Molly was nearest the window when the delivery owl flew in, so she got the paper first. Harry noticed her stricken reaction upon looking at it. She quietly waved for Arthur to come over.

Harry watched the two of them carefully as they looked at the paper. They looked at it only briefly. Considering what the headmaster had said yesterday, based on their reactions, Harry suspected that they too had known something of the attack in advance.

Of course, that only made sense since they were in the Order.

So that's why he insisted on being home by four o'clock, Harry suspected of Arthur.

Ron, on the other hand, clearly knew nothing of the attack, for when he saw the headline he nearly choked on the three pieces of bacon in his mouth.

When he saw the headline, Harry finally understood the look of relief rather than panic (but an absence of anything more positive) on Molly's face. The attack hadn't gone well for the Aurors, but it had definitely been worse for Voldemort.

"Bloody hell, mate!" Ron exclaimed after reading the article more closely. "You-Know-Who himself was there! Only three people survived: two wizards and a Muggle. Says here the Muggle said You-Know-Who was injured before Apparating away. Wonder why there was a Muggle there. And how does he know about Apparating?"

"Dunno," Harry answered. "Wrong place, wrong time, I suppose. He probably just saw Voldemort disappear." Ron twitched. "How many Aurors were there?"

"Fourteen, looks like it," Ron replied, "the twelve that died plus the two that didn't. And four Muggles all together. Harry, look!" Ron exclaimed as he pointed at something. "It says they took the Muggle to St. Mungo's. He must've been hurt really bad."

"Do they know who was out there? Any names?" Harry asked solemnly.

"No names," Ron replied grimly.

"Tonks called by Floo early this morning," Arthur interjected. "She was one of the two that survived." The entire table went silent for a few moments, realizing that one of their friends had been out there.

"She just called to let us know she would be okay. They wouldn't let her say anything else though, as it's still under investigation."

"How come there were only fourteen Aurors out there?" Bill asked. "I mean, thirty-six Death Eaters plus You-Know-Who himself... that's a major attack! The whole Ministry should have been out there!"

"They were," Arthur said. "The entire Auror and MLE divisions were out scattered across the country. He could've attacked anywhere, so they couldn't put everyone all in one place."

"They knew in advance he was going to attack?" Ginny asked.

"You knew?" Ron asked, annoyed. Arthur nodded to both of them. "How come you didn't tell us?!"

"It was Order business, Ronald," Molly replied defensively. "As long as you're not of age, I won't have you putting yourself in the middle of it!"

"The Order?" Ron said as if just remembering about them. He whispered as if someone might hear. "Was the Order out there?"

"No," Arthur replied. "With the entire Ministry out in the field, Albus volunteered the Order to keep an eye on things behind the lines, as it were."

Ron looked more closely at the newspaper again. "What're all of those blinking things in the photograph?"

Harry took it and looked more closely, moving his glasses around to try to sharpen the already small and fuzzy moving image. When he realized what they were, he knew this really had been a major incident, despite whatever cover-up there was bound to be. He handed the paper back to Ron.

"They're police cars."

"Let me see that!" Arthur spoke quickly as he practically ripped the newspaper out of Ron's hands. He went over to a drawer to find a magnifying glass, hoping to get a better look at the "please-men."

"You lot'll never guess who was watching over Diagon Alley!" Fred spoke up triumphantly. He and George had popped in for breakfast before opening their shop. Harry noticed Molly glaring daggers at her twinned sons.

"You two?" Harry asked in amazement. Considering their looks of pride combined with Molly's comment about being of age, he suspected Molly had recently lost an argument along those lines.

He'd been silent since asking about who was present. He really didn't want to volunteer the fact that he too knew at least something about the attack in advance. The headmaster had been right. With the entire Ministry out preparing for the attack, with Apparation wards around the Burrow, with two Order members present, there was little point in worrying everyone unnecessarily.

Harry noticed Ginny stare expectantly at her brothers as well. If there had been a tremendous commotion here that evening following the attack, then maybe whatever had happened with Neville wouldn't have. It was definitely a good thing they hadn't known.

"Yep, us two!" George confirmed. "We got wind of an Or-"

"You were eavesdropping on your father and me!" Molly admonished.

Fred and George had the decency to appear guilty. Appear guilty.

"We couldn't get into the meeting though," Fred added quickly as if their inability to attend uninvited made up for snooping, "so we cornered Dumbledore afterwards and told him we wanted to join the Order."

Harry, Ron, and Ginny all looked at Fred and George stunned, with newfound respect.

"He said we could join later and that we were to guard Diagon Alley."

"Cor blimey!" Ron breathed in amazement.

"Albus said he wasn't ready to let you join the Order yet, and that you were only to keep an eye on things. 'Observe only!'" Molly repeated Dumbledore's words, though with more emphasis that he had used.

Fred and George both shrugged their shoulders simultaneously. "Same difference," they both replied with a smirk.

"Now, young men!" Molly began, gathering momentum. "As for you two listening in..."

"Now, now, dear," Arthur interrupted. "They just got lucky this time. If they want to listen in, they do so at their own risk. One day they might just get a real ear-full. Isn't that right, Mollywobbles?" he asked with a heavy voice. He then puckered his lips as though kissing her across the room.

Though slightly embarrassed at the use of her pet name, Molly immediately strode over and planted on Arthur a searing kiss that proved even after all these years they were still madly in love with each other.

When they came up, the kitchen was a great deal less crowded as all of the Weasley children (and Harry) had run screaming out of the room, Fred and George in the lead. Well, maybe not screaming. But they did run.

The only ones left in the room were Molly, Arthur, and Fleur.

Fleur began to chuckle. "I told you zat would work," she said as she sat down to resume her breakfast. Molly smiled back at her soon-to-be daughter-in-law for one of the few times that summer.

* * *

Later that afternoon, the mood about the Burrow picked up dramatically when Tonks called again to say that she had been released from St. Mungo's. Harry was in the kitchen when she called.

"You're sure you're all right?" Harry insisted.

"Merlin, Harry! You're as bad as Remus!" Tonks' head in the fireplace replied.

"Remus, huh?" Harry asked shrewdly. Even through the green flames she appeared embarrassed... or guilty.

"I'm fine, Harry," Tonks replied, changing the subject back. "My arm's still a little sore, but I'll be all right, thanks to the healers at St. Mungo's."

"What about the other two?" Harry inquired. "The Prophet said there were two wizards and a Muggle that survived. Are they okay? And why did they take a Muggle to St. Mungo's?"

"Harry, I can't talk about any of that just yet," Tonks apologized. "But I can tell you that everyone will be all right. The other witch is staying there with the Muggle until they figure out what to do with him."

"So, are they going to have to Obliviate him?" Harry asked automatically.

"Harry," Tonks warned. "Try not to worry about it. How is Hermione? Have you heard anything from her?"

Harry quickly looked around; he was the only one in the kitchen at that moment. "She's not doing well. This has really hit her hard. I'm going to try to talk to her again tonight." He looked to the stairway again. "Someone's coming. Did you want to talk to Molly or Arthur?"

"No, that's all right, Harry. Just wanted to call to say they released me. I'll stop by a little later once I finish all my paperwork."

"Oh, Merlin! Paperwork on a Saturday?" Harry jokingly complained.

"Such is the life of an Auror, Harry," Tonks reminded him. "Talk to you lot later," she said. Just as she was about to close the connection, Harry finally noticed it: Tonks' hair was different. It was now purple and shoulder-length (he liked it). He also noticed that the change seemed to coincide with her now being able to become embarrassed with mention of Remus. Harry smirked.

"Hey, Tonks."

"Yeah?"

"Nice hair," he said teasingly, but also managing to be sincere.

Tonks noticed the smirk; she knew there was only one way to respond.

"Thanks. Remus likes it too," she said, waggling her eyebrows before her head disappeared; the fireplace went dead again.

"Who was that?" Ron asked as he strode into the kitchen looking for his hour-after-lunch snack.

"Tonks. She said she'd been released."

"That'll make Mum happy," Ron observed with relief as he found some biscuits buried in the very back of one of the cupboards. He turned back to notice the big, open, empty kitchen table.

"Wanna play Exploding Snap?" Ron asked eagerly. Even he had had enough chess for one day.

"Sure."

Midway through their game, Crookshanks came trotting into the kitchen.

"Hey, there's the sneaky little devil!" Ron greeted enthusiastically. He'd been rather impressed with the way Hermione's cat and owl had been working together to catch gnomes.

Crookshanks thoroughly ignored Ron and rubbed up against Harry's leg.

Meow?

Harry looked down. "What is it, boy?"

Meow.

"Are you hungry?"

Crookshanks rubbed up against Harry's leg again and started purring.

"But you've already eaten this morning," Harry said apologetically. "Hermione said you get dry food in the morning and canned food in the evening. And that's it."

Mew.

"Oh, go on, Harry," Ron implored. "Everyone deserves a snack once in a while." Crookshanks immediately ran over to one of the kitchen counters and looked up at something. Harry looked to see what the ginger cat was looking at.

Directly above him was the small jar in which Molly poured the bacon drippings after breakfast. She frequently saved them in order to fry potatoes and the like in later on. It certainly might not have been the healthiest thing in the world, but, Merlin, it tasted good!

Ron suddenly got what he must have thought was a good idea. He stood up, went over, and picked Crookshanks up. He then set him on the kitchen counter and removed the lid from the jar.

Crookshanks raced over to the jar and reached his paw in, digging it into the now-cool bacon fat. He would then pull it out and lick it clean. He started doing it again and again. Ron began laughing.

"Ugh, Ron... that's gross! That can't be good for him," Harry said, having a vague recollection of Hermione mentioning that too much buttered popcorn made him sick.

"No, no, Harry, don't you see? This is brilliant! Besides being hilarious to all hell, this is the perfect chance for me to make that cat of hers like me. I have all this time to show him what I nice guy I am without Hermione here saying what a git I am."

"You are a git," Harry teased.

"Yeah," Ron joked, "but Crookshanks doesn't know that."

At the sound of his name, Crookshanks looked up at Harry and Ron mid-paw lick.

"Oh, I'm sure he does know it, Ron," Harry jibed.

* * *

Okay, so Ron hadn't had enough chess for one day. He and Harry were in their room a few hours later, playing another game.

"So, I noticed you haven't said much yet," Harry noted.

"About?" Ron asked as he debated about moving his King-side Rook.

"About your sister and Neville," Harry reminded him. Ron knocked his Rook over just as he was about to pick it up.

"Yeah," Ron said slowly, "well, I figured the best way to keep my foot out of my mouth was to keep it closed."

"That might work," Harry joked. "But seriously, you're not mad or anything, are you?"

"No, not really. I mean, she's my baby sister, Harry. I don't think I'll ever be overjoyed to see her with some bloke. But..." he said slowly as if pondering something, "as far as blokes go, I suppose Neville's all right. If it can't be you, I suppose it could be him."

"Thanks, Ron," Harry said sarcastically. "Seeing as it won't be me, that's high praise for Neville."

"No, no, that's not what I meant, Harry," Ron defended. "All I meant was that I would trust you with Ginny, and... well... I... suppose I trust Neville too."

A short while later as their game was nearing the end, Crookshanks came in. Instead of jumping up onto Harry's bed though, he went and jumped up in Ron's bed this time. Ron saw this and a look of triumph came over his face.

"Oh... ho, ho, ho!" he chortled. "Lookie here! I told you I could win him over!"

"Bribed him is more like it," Harry observed with a smile. Harry wouldn't realize it until it was too late, but something about Crookshanks was off. Instead of his tail high in the air like usual, it was hanging limply. It was almost as if he was scared or hurting. And instead of his head up looking around, it too was down low as if he didn't want to be so far from the ground.

"Well, I'll take what I can get," Ron observed wisely. "All it took was half a jar of bacon fat."

"You did throw the rest of it away, didn't you?" Harry asked. No matter what he felt about Hermione's cat, or how bacon-fried things tasted, he didn't fancy eating anything if Crookshanks' paws had been digging around in it.

"Of course I did," Ron immediately replied. "There was no way I was going to eat..." Ron trailed off as he looked curiously at the cat.

"What is he doing?" he asked. Harry looked over to see Crookshanks standing on all fours with his head down low. He appeared to be coughing... or gagging.

"Dunno," Harry replied. Right as Harry began to speak, Ron's eyes widened in panic. He started to get up to run over to his bed. "Looks like he's about to..."

HWARF!

Harry and Ron just froze and stared at Crookshanks, who looked much happier, and much more comfortable now.

"About to vomit up all of that bacon grease you fed him," Harry finished his sentence, now that he knew what the cat was about to do.

Ron came over and sat down on his bed, looking as though he'd just lost the most important battle of his life. Harry came over and cleaned up the mess with a wave of his wand.

"I give up, Crookshanks," Ron sighed. "You win." Crookshanks came over and nuzzled up against the red one, butting his head against his hand, letting him know he wanted to be petted.

"See, Ron? You just have to let him know who's boss. He is," Harry said.

* * *

It was just short of midnight that Saturday night. Ron was already snoring away and Harry was just about ready to fall asleep. He'd told Dumbledore that it was possible to get used to Ron's snoring. And it was... it just took twenty or thirty minutes.

"Harry?"

It was Hermione's voice, in a whisper so soft he wouldn't have heard it if he'd been asleep. But he wasn't asleep, and he had heard it. Harry shot up out of bed and reached over to the desk drawer where the mirror was.

"Harry?" came Hermione's voice once again. Though she was whispering, Harry thought he could hear some desperation in it. Finally Harry found the mirror. He looked into it; he couldn't see anything. The room was dark. He couldn't see much of anything. Idiot!

"Hermione! Hermione, I'm here!" Harry whispered in a panic, hoping she'd hear him. "I'm going downstairs where I can put on a light or something." He grabbed his wand and his dressing robe and ran downstairs. Once in the living room, he lit the lamp nearest the sofa and grabbed a blanket off the back of one of the other chairs before sitting down.

It was chilly this time of night and he planned on sitting there for as long as Hermione needed, so he wanted to get relatively comfortable. Settled in, Harry took one look at the mirror. There was no need to even ask.

"I'm so sorry, Hermione," Harry said simply. He was shocked at how devastated he felt for her and her family's loss.

"It's all right, Harry," Hermione replied. "No, really, it is. It's over now. He's at peace now," she choked out. She'd obviously cried herself dry by now.

"He woke up this morning. He'd been in such pain this whole time. He woke up this morning and he said he felt fine. He also remembered all of us." Hermione smiled brightly. "The doctors said that his body was shutting down. The parts that hurt were shutting down, so the pain went away and he felt better. They also said that when near death, the brain sometimes floods itself with endorphins, making it feel better. They don't know if that was that, or maybe it was part of his brain shutting down, but whatever had caused his memory block was gone too."

Harry could see Hermione's eyes begin to tear up. "We had him back. We knew it might only be for a few minutes, but we had him back. He'd been an empty shell of himself ever since he first woke up. No one cared that his time was almost up. We all knew it, even he did, but no one cared. We had him back for that little bit."

Harry could feel his own eyes begin to tear up, partly in sadness at her loss, but also in happiness for her, since she seemed so happy to have her grandfather back, even if only for a few minutes.

"When he woke up, he just looked around the room at all of us and then smiled. He said that he felt like he'd just woken up from a bad dream. He remembered not remembering us, and he said he was sorry for that, and that he was so happy that we'd all been so patient with him.

"Every time he woke up before, he'd forgotten who we all were from the last time. But he at least knew that he'd forgotten, so he tried to take it in stride. Looking back on it now, it was hard on us, him not remembering. But at the same time, it was a unique experience. It was like he got to meet a long-lost family he knew nothing about, over and over again.

"As bad as it was to know that he didn't know who we were, seeing how happy he was to meet us for the first time, again and again... it more than made up for it."

Harry couldn't say anything. He didn't want to. He wanted to let her talk as much as she wanted to for as long as she wanted to. He would just sit there and listen. He felt one of his own tears roll down the side of his face.

"Once he looked around the room and saw all of us there, he just put on this big smile. He said he was so happy to see us, that it was like he'd woken up from a bad dream," she repeated herself, unaware. "Still with a smile, he said he was pretty sure this was the list time he'd wake up again, so there were things he wanted to say..."

Hermione looked away for a moment, blinking repeatedly, trying to hold back the tears.

"It's okay," Harry whispered, letting her know she didn't need to hide. Hermione turned back and let the tears fall unhidden.

"He said he thought this was the last time he'd wake up again, so he wanted to talk to us one last time... that there were things he wanted to say before he... before he went to sleep again.

"He said he wanted to talk to us separately, so we all left the room while he talked to Gramma for a while. All we could do was sit around the hospital waiting room and stare at each other and wait. There were newspapers and magazines there, but none of us could read anything.

"She came out about ten minutes later. She was crying, but looked so happy. No. Not happy. She was at peace, I guess you could say. I assume they'd said what needed to be said, and left it at that. My aunt and uncle and their family went in next. They were only in there for about five minutes before they came back out. The two little ones were crying... but my aunt and uncle, and their oldest son and daughter, who were both old enough to understand what was happening, they all looked sad but happy too.

"Then we went in. Mum went in and sat down on his right side and held his hand while Dad and I were on his left. He reached over and grabbed Dad's hand and asked him to make sure he took care of his baby girl, Mum. He then squeezed both of their hands, I could see him do that, and he told them to make sure they took care of his granddaughter."

Hermione managed another tear-filled smile. "He said that since he wasn't going to be around anymore, he wanted them to make sure they spoiled me rotten like any good grandparent should. Gran-da always did his best to spoil me. I didn't get to see him much because they were in France, but every time he saw me, he always made sure to buy me at least three books."

Hermione accidentally snorted as she tried to hold back a sniffle. Both she and Harry shared a small laugh at that. A huge smile then came across her face.

"Harry, I told him. We told him about me, that I'm a witch." Harry's attention perked up. "You know what he did? He started crying. He'd been the strong one, the brave one the entire time, and now he started crying. He let go of Mum and Dad's hands and took both of mine in his. Oh, they were so cold, Harry," Hermione said suddenly, distracted by that memory. "He took my hands and gave me a big smile and told me that he always knew there was magic in this world. He said now he knew it for real."

Hermione smiled again. "He asked me to turn Dad into a toad for him, as warning in case he didn't buy me as many books as I wanted." Hermione began to laugh again. "I told him I couldn't do that, but that I would do something else. I conjured up some of those bluebell flames and put them in a nearby, empty water glass for him.

"We were up on the third floor. Gramma had closed the curtain on the door window for some privacy, so no one could see that." A mischievous look then appeared on Hermione's face. "I then pointed my wand at Dad and levitated him around the room for a bit. He and Mum got a real laugh out of that. Dad didn't seem to like it so much though while he was still in the air. But once he was on the ground, he started laughing too."

Hermione looked up a bit for a few moments, as though she was staring off in into space at some point just above the mirror in her hands. "A few minutes later, we were still sitting around talking when he stopped and closed his eyes for just a moment. He blinked a couple of times as if surprised by something."

Hermione's lip began to tremble slightly. "He said, and I'll never forget this, 'Em, would you be a dear and go fetch my wife and my other daughter, please? Just them? Quickly please.' He then looked at me and Dad. We started to leave but he shouted 'NO!' quickly. He begged that we stay with him. It was just for a moment, but he looked so scared then, for the first time. I think he was terrified of being alone just then, even for just an instant.

"Mum and the others came back a few seconds later. Mum and my aunt sat on one side of the bed while Gramma sat on the other. Dad and I went and stood out of the way in the corner. He just looked at the three of them. He told them he loved them and that he was so happy to have been blessed with a wonderful wife, two beautiful children, and five magical grandchildren. He smiled at me as he said that.

"Gramma leaned over and kissed him and told him she loved him. It..." Hermione cleared her throat a couple times, "it started getting hard for him to talk. He looked to be fighting for every second. He looked over at my aunt and told her to tell everyone else that he loved them too. He looked at each of us in the room, said, 'I love you all,' and then..."

Hermione's face began to contort as she fought to remain in control. "He said 'I love you all,' then he put his head back down on the pillow, smiled at all of us... And then he... closed his eyes and went to sleep."

She finally stopped, closed her eyes, and let the tears fall freely. Only now that she had stopped did Harry realize that he had been crying along with her for the last couple minutes. He allowed her all the time she needed. It was good though, for it allowed him time to recompose himself.

"You know how in the movies and on television, people always seem to have just enough time to say what they need to? Now I know why. After watching him, I could see he was fighting for those last few seconds. Once he had said what he needed to... he simply let go. He just closed his eyes and went to sleep."

Hermione looked down for a few minutes to clear the tears away. When she looked up at Harry again, she saw that he had been crying too. She'd been looking at him the entire time as she told her story, but really hadn't seen him. "Oh, Harry. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to..."

"No, no, it's all right, Hermione. Really it is," he said as he wiped his eyes. "I figured the least I could do was cry along with you."

Hermione smiled for a moment then began to twitch her nose. She reached out of view for a tissue, turned her head away and blew her nose rather noisily. "You didn't see that," she said when she turned back. Harry just smiled and shook his head.

As much as he had been enjoying talking with her... or rather listening and crying with her, Harry did begin to wonder about something.

"Erm, Hermione? Where are Dan and Emma?"

"They're asleep right now. The whole family, all of us, spent all afternoon and evening together. Mum and Dad were so tired after such a long day that they just dropped off as soon as we got back to the motel room. I couldn't sleep though. I tried to read for a while, but even Hogwarts, A History didn't interest me. Git!" Hermione teased as she saw the exaggerated look of shock on Harry's face.

"I just couldn't stand the silence. I couldn't go and wake Mum and Dad up, not after today, and I didn't want to be alone." Hermione suddenly sat up much straighter. "Oh, Harry! I hope I didn't wake you up. I knew you were an hour behind us, but I didn't even stop to think if you were still awake or not."

"It's okay. I was in bed but hadn't been able to fall asleep yet."

"Let me guess. Ron was snoring?" Harry laughed. "Don't forget, I had to sleep with his sister at Grimmauld last year," she reminded him.

After a few moments of awkward silence where neither knew what to say, Hermione finally started again.

"So, tell me. Have I missed anything exciting?"

Harry was surprised at her question, then realized that she'd probably been in a Muggle hospital and motel the entire time.

"You don't know?" he asked, keeping his voice neutral, just to be sure. Hermione shook her head. Even through a broken mirror and with puffy eyes, Harry thought she still looked radiant as she smiled.

Harry then progressed to tell her about everything she had missed in the last few days: Voldemort's attack, meeting (who they assumed to be) their new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, Neville and Ginny, Crookshanks vomiting on Ron's bed and the two of them subsequently burying the hatchet, Crookshanks and Metis hunting gnomes... oh yeah, and the third egg.

Since it was now his turn to talk at length, Harry's voice quickly got gravelly. Soon into his story, he got up to get a drink of water. It was nearly one o'clock before he finished recounting everything that he felt worth sharing.

After another few moments of silence, Hermione looked at Harry carefully. "You're not tired anymore, are you?" she asked.

"No," Harry replied with chuckle. "I feel like I could sit here and talk with you all night."

"Me too," Hermione admitted. "You don't mind, do you?" she asked shyly. "I'm still not tired yet, and I'd rather not be alone."

"No, I'd love to," Harry replied. "But... I will need to take my leave of you for a minute." On a relatively empty stomach, all of that water had seemed to go through him rather quickly.

"Okay."

Harry climbed up out of the little blanket-cocoon he'd built himself and started to head upstairs. Since he'd been holding the mirror in his hands the entire time (whereas Hermione had set hers on a chair while she sat on the floor and leaned against her bed), Harry didn't even realize he was still carrying it.

"Um, Harry?" Hermione asked after about five steps. The way he was holding the mirror at his side, all she could see was a sideways view of the Weasley's house that swung with his arm as he walked.

Harry stopped and brought the mirror up, looking into it. "Yeah?"

"You're... not taking me to the bathroom with you, are you?" she asked, looking rather embarrassed.

Harry just looked up the stairs to where he was headed, and started to laugh, covering his mouth with his hand to muffle the noise.

"Yes, yes I was," he admitted sheepishly. He immediately turned around and went back to the sofa, setting the mirror down on it. "Let's try that again," he said dramatically.

Harry returned a minute or so later, just in time to see Hermione sit back down on the floor next to the bed. "Oh, hang on," she interrupted before he could start. She disappeared for a moment, then returned with a folded up blanket. "Found this in the closet."

Once they were both cuddled up in their blankets, hundreds of miles apart, they simply started talking. Harry and Hermione spent the next hour and a half talking about everything and nothing.

Harry talked about his favorite Quidditch moves while Hermione listened attentively. Hermione talked about her favorite books while Harry listened attentively. These were things they both really already knew about each other. They just wanted to talk.

Talk quickly turned to things they could both discuss and actually talk with each other, rather than one talking to the other. The first thing, of all things, to come up was S.P.E.W. Hermione admitted that it hadn't been working out at all like she had hoped it would. Rather it had been, in her mind, a complete failure.

No one took her seriously ("except you" she added hastily), but worst of all, the house-elves themselves didn't take her seriously. Actually, it was more like they'd taken to shunning her; they were all afraid of her giving them clothes.

"Well, maybe we're just going about it the wrong way," Harry observed. He'd made sure to say 'we' to let her know he supported her. He might have thought her initial approach as a little heavy-handed (essentially forcing clothes on the elves by hiding them where they might accidentally pick them up), and he wasn't exactly eager to have the elves mad at him too, but he did support her one hundred per cent. He (now) was happy she seemed so passionate about it from the beginning, even if he was certain it was doomed from the start.

"Remember Kreacher? Remember what Ron said about Winky? It sounds almost as if house-elves will die without a house to serve. They are house-elves, after all."

"But what about Dobby? Didn't you free him in second year? And we didn't see him again until fourth year. Where was he all that time?" Hermione asked.

"I don't know," Harry replied. He tried to think back... he had a vague recollection that Dobby had been hired right about the same time Winky had. That would have made it around the time of the Quidditch World Cup. Harry thought back again. Ron had only said that Dobby told them house-elves died when their "house" did, or soon thereafter rather.

It didn't mean they couldn't be without a house to serve, if they were set free. But still, even Hagrid, who loved all creatures magical and non-magical, had said that house-elves needed to serve a family. It might not kill them, but it could devastate them if they were all "set free" suddenly. The entire Hogwarts house-elf population's reaction to Dobby was a hint at that.

Maybe they couldn't be set free. But that didn't mean they had to be treated like Dobby had been by the Malfoys.

And then Harry realized how to explain it. And it was already in the name too!

"Well, no offense intended, but Dobby isn't a good example of how most house-elves behave. Actually, what I was thinking is this. What does the 'W' in S.P.E.W. stand for?"

"Welfare," Hermione answered instantly.

"Welfare, right. Not 'freedom.' Maybe the better place to start is to promote elvish welfare, not advocate for the complete upheaval of wizarding and elvish societies. I know you want to take over the world someday, Hermione," Harry joked, "but even you need to start small sometimes.

"I'm sure ninety-five per cent of the families out there who own house-elves wouldn't object to you promoting the humane treatment of elves. Once everyone was happy with treating their elves nicely, then you could work on wages and holidays and the like.

"Remember, everything we've seen of house-elves, Dobby included, shows that they want to serve wizards. Which is better? Aiming for the stars and knowing you'll never even leave the ground because the stars run away from you?

"Or is it better to aim for merely the moon and knowing that you could actually get there. And then once you're there, setting your sights on Mars, and Jupiter... and Europa, which is covered in mice." Harry smirked and Hermione laughed.

"I would never try to talk you out of your dreams, Hermione. All I'm suggesting is that maybe you try a different route to get there. It might take a long time to get there, but eventually is always faster than never. And you can actually do some real good along the way."

Hermione closed her eyes and sat there silently for a few moments. "You're right, Harry. I guess I'd been thinking of the saying to aim for the stars so that if you miss you can still hit the moon." Hermione looked at him shrewdly. "Which I suppose is why you used that analogy."

Harry just grinned and cocked his head slightly as if to say that was exactly what he was doing.

"But as important as it is to 'aim high,' I suppose that out in the real world it IS possible to set your sights TOO high. It's obvious I wasn't getting anywhere as I had been going before. I know! It's like trying to pole vault instead of doing the high jump. In the high jump, even if you miss the bar, you've still moved forward," she explained, moving her hand in graceful arc from Harry's left to right.

"But in the pole vault, if you don't make it up high enough, you fall back to where you started." She then raised her arm with her elbow as pivot, and then let it fall back down. "Does that make sense?" she asked. He smiled and nodded his head, even though it didn't really. "Right," she said slowly, knowing otherwise. "Anyway, it's back to the basics, Harry. It's time for the S. to P. E. W."

Hermione looked at Harry expectantly. "No?" she asked when he didn't laugh. He shook his head. "Well, it was funnier in my mind."

Eager to move on from her failed attempts at analogies and humor, Hermione quickly changed the subject to a different topic, one that had been triggered by something she'd just said.

"Speaking of high expectations, Harry," Hermione began grandly, "have you given much thought to being a prefect yet?"

Harry sat up a little more attentively. "Actually, I'd been wondering about it off and on ever since Professor McGonagall gave me the badge. But she didn't tell me anything about it."

"She didn't tell you?"

"Well, she said she expected you would tell me all about it."

"Me?" Hermione asked, surprised.

"Yeah. She seems to be under the impression that I actually listen to you."

"Perish the thought," Hermione quickly replied. "So, what do you want to know?"

Harry just smiled. "I don't know. How about you just tell me everything that you think is important for me to know about being prefect?"

Nearly half an hour later, Harry decided he should've been a little more specific about what he wanted to know. Not only did she cover their main duties (that took about five minutes), but she also started to delve into a number of famous, and infamous, incidents involving prefects over the years. She said it was important to know all of this to put everything into historical context: the position, the rules, everything.

Only the fact that Hermione too needed to get up finally to get some water did Harry get a chance to interrupt. Personally, he really didn't think it all that necessary to know the entire story behind why prefects weren't told the other houses' passwords but rather given badges that simply unlocked the doors. But still, he just didn't have the heart to stop her. She simply looked too happy telling him all about it.

When Hermione returned to her blanket with her disposable, plastic cup full of water, Harry waited for her to take a drink (and hence, stop talking) before asking her about the only two things she didn't explain.

"So, can prefects take points away?" Harry asked seriously. He still wasn't entirely clear on that.

"No, Harry, prefects can not take points."

"But, Malfoy last year..."

"Was one of Umbridge's goose-stepping morons," she said in a strangely familiar Scottish brogue, "in her Inquisitorial Squad. She pretty much gave them free reign over the school."

"Well, yeah, that's what I thought. But when Malfoy took the points last year, I remembered when Percy did too in second year. Remember, when he caught us outside Myrtle's bathroom?"

"Percy was just bluffing. You might find it hard to believe, but that was the first time anyone had ever done that. Centuries of prefects knowing that they couldn't take points, and Percy was the first to try to trick students into thinking he could take points. There was, after all, no rule against it."

Harry thought about it. He remembered how much Percy loved being prefect and Head Boy. "Yeah, I can believe it."

"Anything else?" Hermione asked.

"Erm, yeah, actually there was one other thing. You said we were allowed to use the prefect's bathroom. I was just wondering... how does that work? I mean, there are only..." Harry had to count for a second, "twenty-four of us, but surely there has to be times when two people by chance want to use it at the same time.

"The bath is huge! It's like a swimming pool, and I don't remember anything like dressing rooms. Do they just expect us to wander about naked while someone else is in there?" he asked, looking mortified. "Or make us stand outside the locked door and wait for the other person to finish?"

"No, of course not, Harry. It's actually pretty sim... Hang on," she stopped suddenly. "How do you know about the bath?" The look she gave him was rather scrutinizing.

"Oh! Well... Cedric showed it to me in fourth year," Harry replied quickly, carelessly.

Hermione's eyebrow arched quickly and an amused smirk appeared. "Really? And just what, Harry Potter, were you doing in the prefect's bath with Cedric, hmm?"

"What?! No! Get your mind out of the gutter, Granger!" Harry said, mock-offended. "No, Cedric didn't take me into the bathroom. He just told me about it. That's where I figured out the egg from the tournament. After I warned him about the dragons, he said I could use the bath to figure out the egg and not be disturbed."

"Oh, darn," Hermione teased, feigning disappointment. "Actually though, that is a good question. It really depends on how shy you are." She continued quickly when she saw Harry's eyes widen.

"You can either use the bolt on the door, locking it behind you, and not let anyone else in. Or, you can re-lock the door with the password. If you do that, it will activate the privacy charms. If another prefect wants to use the bath too, they have to announce themselves, and the person inside has to give them permission to enter.

"If they don't, the door stays locked and the other person has to just come back later. If they do give permission, the privacy charms activate. Curtains appear and divide the bathroom in half.

"The bathroom IS designed for multiple occupancy, so most people do share it. There ARE only twenty-four of us. Share and share alike. If you don't share with others, then they probably won't share with you. You just might find yourself standing outside the locked door, waiting for the other person to finish.

"Have you ever been in there with someone else?" Harry asked. Hermione could hear in his tone of voice that he might've been a little uncomfortable with the idea, and was wondering if she was too.

"A couple times. There were a couple occasions when the Head Girl and I happened to arrive about the same time. And the seventh-year Hufflepuff prefect. She liked to soak after Quidditch matches, so I'd have to go in when she was already there."

"Ever been in there with Ron?" Harry asked, amused.

Hermione however did not take his amusement the same way, as she gave him a look that made him glad for the first time there was several hundred miles between them.

"No! NO!" Harry quickly defended. "I wasn't implying anything! I was just thinking about how I would feel if I had to share the bath with Ron if we were both prefects. Or Malfoy, for that matter."

Hermione seemed to calm down considerably. "No... no, I never had to deal with that. Come to think of it, I seem to remember Ron mentioning once that he preferred to be in there really late at night, just to make sure he could be there by himself." She shrugged her shoulders.

"I was in there with Ernie once. I'd just gotten in when he knocked on the door. You know Ernie," she said, implying something good. "I figured we were both mature enough handle it. I'll never do THAT again!" Hermione exclaimed, shaking her head.

Harry immediately began to feel a fire burning inside of him. Ernie was SO dead! "No, Harry! Ernie didn't do anything. It's just... well, the privacy curtain... it's a visual and physical barrier. But you CAN talk to the other person.

"The point of the prefect's bath, at least the way I see it, is to be a special treat for prefects. It's a chance to get away from everyone and everything. It's a chance to go to this enormous, gorgeous bathtub, fill it with all sorts of bubble baths, and just sit there and relax while you soak all of it away.

"Well, like I said, you know Ernie," she said again, now implying something bad. "He spent the ENTIRE time while I was in there talking to me about all of his ideas on how to more efficiently allocate sixth-year prefect duties based on O.W.L. scores, picking different rounds rotations to better coincide with the average time the students of a house went to dinner...

"Oh, Harry, he just went on and on! Honestly, after spending half the night clearing out broom cupboards and tracking down roaming Slytherins, when I'm neck-deep in bubble bath, the LAST thing I want to talk about is prefect duties."

Harry didn't say much of anything after that. The thought of her neck-deep in bubble bath was just a little too distracting. Fortunately he was spared by a sudden, deep yawn from Hermione. "Oh, wow!" she exclaimed at her sudden tiredness. He looked back to see her glance off to the side of the room.

"Oh my God, Harry. It's after four o'clock in the morning! I didn't even realize the time. I knew you were an hour behind me, but it just got away from me." She rubbed her face as her weariness quickly began sinking in. "I can't believe it's been three hours. It felt like five minutes!"

"Yeah, I know what you mean," Harry admitted. "But hey, at least it's only three o'clock here." He grinned broadly.

"Don't be smart, Harry," Hermione quipped, smiling and yawning at the same time. "That's my job." She started stirring, beginning to unwrap herself from her blanket.

"Harry? The funeral is going to be the day after tomorrow, no, tomorrow." She stopped for a moment to rub her eyes wearily. "I'm still stuck on Saturday. It's going to be Monday. We're going to spend tomorrow with Gramma and help her around the house. Mum wants to spend some time with her sister, so Tuesday we're going to go out to their house.

"It'll be nice, I suppose. I haven't seen my cousins in years. With everything that's been going on these last few days, we really haven't had much of a chance to spend any time together... besides sitting around in waiting rooms.

"Mum wants to make the most of it while we're here. With me being away from home so much these last five years, we haven't had a proper vacation since I was ten."

"That's good," Harry forced himself to say, even though he really DID mean it. A small, selfish part of himself had just been hoping that they would come back now that... now that the waiting was over. But even he knew it. Now was the time they needed to be there the most. Now it was time for life to go on again.

Harry knew he would have her back again on September 1, at the latest. But for their families, it could easily be years.

"You should spend some time with your family. Get to know your aunt and uncle better. Get to know your cousins. How old are they, anyway?"

Hermione had to stop and think for a moment. "The youngest is... twelve? And the oldest? Merlin, I think she's nineteen."

"Reason enough to get to know them better, if you can't remember how old they are," Harry pointed out. "Just think how much you've changed since you were ten."

Hermione rolled her head and looked up at the ceiling as if totally overwhelmed by that thought. "Oh, Harry, don't say things like that. I can't even imagine my life anymore before I met y... you and Ron. I was going to say before I started Hogwarts, but that's not exactly right. It's really 'before the troll' and 'after the troll,' because those first few months of first year before we were friends, it was a lot like my old school, except with magic."

Harry wasn't exactly sure what she meant by that, but wasn't sure if he should push it or not. He suddenly heard a loud, sharp noise, one that caused Hermione to jump and look over her shoulder. She grinned as she continued to look for about ten seconds.

"Dad. He doesn't normally snore, but just snort-snored really, really loudly, and I think Mum heard him in her sleep because she started mumbling while she was still asleep for him to be quiet." Hermione let another deep yawn escape.

"I should probably be getting to bed now. It's going to be another long day tomorrow," Hermione said as she pulled the blanket off of her finally. Right about the time Harry thought she would say goodnight, she suddenly leaned forward close to the mirror.

"Harry? I remember what I said the other night. I just wanted to tell you now that I'm so thankful you talked me into coming here. I don't know how I would have felt if I'd learned about Gran-da by owl or even phone. Just... seeing him one last time... getting to say goodbye to him... letting him say goodbye to me..." Hermione's eyes began to water slightly. "Seeing how happy he was to remember us when he woke up this morning... I'm just glad I was here for all of that. I... I don't know if I can ever repay you for that."

"Just do one thing for me, Hermione."

"Anything."

"Enjoy yourself," Harry said simply. "Spend time with your family, and enjoy it as best as you can, given the circumstances. Oh, and... maybe you could take some nice pictures of you and your family. Maybe do a little sightseeing. I've never been to France. It might be nice to see a little of the local color."

He grinned wickedly. "Though I suppose they frown upon taking a camera to those nude beaches of theirs."

Hermione shot him a mock glare. "Harry James Potter, you are the worst!" she jokingly scolded him. "But, now that you mention it, I'll do you one better. I'll bring the mirror with me." Harry's eyes went wide like saucers. "To my aunt's house!" she said exasperatedly. "They live out in country and have beautiful lands around it. You know the expression 'Wish you were here'? If I can find some time, I'll slip out for a walk and I'll show you what it's like here."

"I'd like that," Harry said wistfully. There might be hundreds of miles between them, but he was pretty sure he could actually imagine what it might be like to go for a long walk in the beautiful countryside with her.

"Thanks again, Harry, for listening."

"You're welcome. And thanks for assuring me I don't have to share the prefect's bathroom with Malfoy."

"Glad to be of service. Good night, Harry."

"Good night, Hermione."

Here is another wonderful manip done by Evernight. This scene is from Chapter 26. Yes, that really is the entrance to King George's Park. My business associate friend visited London recently, and I was able to get a few souvenir photographs. Gee, imagine that... it's foggy!

http://gallery.portkey.org/galleryView.php?viewDetails=1194