Unofficial Portkey Archive

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. And that's the truth. Pbbbbttttt.

A/N: I want to start by apologizing once again. Last time I implied I would update in a few days. And I honestly, truly thought I would. And then I got to my vacation retreat and found that while I could download all the porn and bomb-making instructions I wanted to, as soon as I expressed interest in plugging my flash drive in to upload a file to the Internet, suddenly that wasn't okay. I guess they don't distinguish between viruses, bad YouTube videos, and Portkey stories. Fine, they just lost out on my $3 per 15 minutes.

And then I'm afraid to say that as soon as I got back, I immediately found myself back in the same place that led to my earlier two-month delay. Except this time I had two weeks of work to catch up on. Sigh. I love my computer and technology, but for the last few months, there are days I can't even stand to look at it. Double and triple sigh.

And to top it all off, my cat, which I've had since I was twelve years old and who has been my inspiration for Crookshanks' antics, may have to be put to sleep within the next few days... old age, not bad food.

ANYWAY, the only reason I'm telling you all this is to let you know that it's YOU that brings me back to my keyboard. All of you, who leave me wonderful reviews, and even those who occasionally point out when I might have slipped up on something. Korval, who occasionally shoots me an email, giving me a friendly kick in my backside to hurry up. Evernight, who makes such wonderful creations to illustrate my story. And of course, MapleMountain, who edits my story and makes it readable, and tells me all about his mortgage, reminding me that life does go on despite all that may go wrong at home or at work. THANK YOU, ALL!!!

Now, about the chapter itself. First, some people didn't quite understand my interpretation of Augusta Longbottom, so Neville will explain a little better, drawing from what little we know of her in canon, as he attempts to smooth things over with Ginny.

Second, my description of Ottery St. Catchpole will vary somewhat from canon. We know SO little about the town from canon, and anyone who has read THIS story can tell you that I like being detailed, painting a full picture. As I set "my feet" firmly upon the ground in Devon, I knew that some things just felt "off," if the town really was as it was so sparsely described... almost as if someone just invented it on the fly without any real thought about how things might work. The Weasleys practically live in a Muggle town but don't understand Muggle money? And can anyone see Luna Lovegood or Amos Diggory walking around amongst the Muggles? So I made a few modifications that addressed my concerns but also, I felt, retained the "spirit" of the locale.

And finally for anyone who doesn't like long chapters, I must warn you, this update is HUGE. Umm... by word count, 40,000+, it is more than HALF the length of Philosopher's Stone. So it is split up into 34 & 35, primarily because the Portkey's upload processor usually hangs when I upload anything more than about 40 pages... and this is a LOT more than 40 pages. And because I need to rewrite a small scene in the last half. So if that's too much to take in all at once, just read it in pieces, stopping at one of the convenient breaks scattered throughout.

I promise, promise, PROMISE Chapter 35 will be up within 48 hours. Thanks for hanging in there!!

Chapter 34. Summer Sunset.

Saturday, 24 August, 1996.

"I don't want you seeing her EVER AGAIN! I'll not have you living a life of sin in my house!" Ginny felt as the words stabbed her through the heart. Whatever Neville's reply was, she did not hear it as she burst into the house and ran to the fireplace. It was only with an incredible amount of will power that she was able to clearly pronounce her destination that led her back home.

It was with tears streaming down her face that Ginny Weasley tumbled out of the fireplace in her kitchen and into the arms of...

Ron, who had just happened to be walking by the fireplace on his way to look for a little between-snacks snack, caught his sister with surprising grace. Any objection he might have had at being forced to touch his sister died instantly when he felt her grab him and start sobbing.

"What is it?" he asked with rarely seen tenderness. He might have been Ron, but Ginny was still a Weasley.

"Neville..." she choked out.

Ron wrapped his arms around his baby sister even more protectively. "I'll kill him..." he growled.

"No!" Ginny sobbed. "Not Neville. His grandmother. He and I were... she said... she said..." Ginny let out a few more sobs. "He said he didn't want me to hear that... they were yelling at each other."

"It's okay now. It's okay now," Ron whispered soothingly as he led her into the other room to sit down on the sofa. Ginny refused to let go of him however, so he was forced to continue to hold her as they sat down.

After a few minutes, Ginny quieted down a little. Fortunately Harry and Arthur returned a few minutes later, having come back in from the shed where Harry had been giving Arthur a very basic overview of how his newest acquisition worked: a rusty old lawnmower.

Harry made sure to tell him where not to put his hands.

Four times.

It had been a brief lesson however as they had to make sure they finished up, the mower re-hidden, and the two of them back in the house before Molly returned from the market. Harry and Arthur's conversation stopped mid-syllable when they saw Ron comforting his sister.

Ron quickly waved Harry over. While not eager to be in this position, Ron wasn't going to leave her alone. But now that someone else-anyone else-was there, he could trade places. After carefully extracting himself, Ron threw Harry beneath the emotional train wreck that was his sister. He then led a murderous-looking Arthur back into the kitchen.

Ron had just opened his mouth to start to tell what little he knew when the fireplace flared to life. Upon seeing a certain young man's head in the flames, he held up a hand to his father, pausing the yet-unstarted explanation. Ron stomped over to the fireplace.

"What in the bloody hell happened, Neville?" he hissed, trying to keep his voice from carrying into Ginny.

"I don't know," Neville replied very apologetically. "My gran... she walked in while Ginny and I..." he trailed off when he saw who was standing just behind Ron. "Oh, hello Mr. Weasley."

"Neville," Arthur greeted guardedly.

"I had taken Ginny into my greenhouse to show her my plants. My gran came in a little bit later and started screaming at her."

"Why did she start screaming, Neville? Were the two of you doing anything?" Arthur asked.

Undoubtedly on his hands and knees back at his house, Neville's head withdrew slightly as he sat back for a second to consider his answer. "Nothing that didn't happen at her birthday party." Because of the flames, his blush was an interesting shade of green.

"I don't think she was herself," Neville explained. "We could smell her sherry on her breath. I don't know why she was drinking. She knew Ginny was coming over today."

"Are you all right?" Arthur asked.

"Fine as ever," Neville replied noncommittally. "Gran locked herself in her room, wailing about what a disappointment her life has been. And then two minutes later I could hear her snoring in there. I'm sure she'll be fine. How's Ginny?"

"Bad, mate," Ron said grimly. "She even hugged me!"

Neville sighed. "Well, suffice it to say, but I don't think she should be coming over to my house again any time soon. And I probably shouldn't..."

Neville's face withdrew a little as he sat back again for a few moments. A steely resolve appeared on his face. "You know what? I don't care! Mr. Weasley, is it all right if I come over?"

"Now?" Arthur asked, surprised and uncertain; Neville nodded. Arthur looked towards the living room uncertainly. Neville knew the layout of the Weasleys' house well enough by now that he could tell that he was looking towards the living room (or the staircase in there).

"If she's not feeling well, I'll leave her be, Mr. Weasley," Neville promised. "But I just need to see her for a second, just to make sure she's all right."

"Okay, then," Arthur agreed finally. Neville stepped out of the fireplace a few moments later and immediately turned for the living room (or the staircase in there).

"Ginny..." Neville couldn't help but call out as soon as he saw her crumpled up on the sofa, holding onto Harry looking as if she was afraid to let go. Harry appeared quite glad at Neville's arrival for he quickly waved him over.

At the sound of his voice, Ginny immediately jumped up out of Harry's arms and ran over to Neville.

"Oh, Neville..." she sobbed. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to get you into trouble."

"Shhh..." Neville tried to soothe her as he led her back to the sofa. "Shhh, it's okay now." As he passed by, Harry gave him an encouraging pat on the shoulder.

"But what about your grandmother? Won't she...?" Ginny started.

"Don't you worry about her. You're more important right now," he said as the two of them sat down on the sofa. As soon as Neville found a position that looked remotely comfortable, Ginny immediately crawled up into his lap and snuggled up next to him. She then took his arms and wrapped them around her protectively.

Neville got the idea.

"Are you going to get in trouble for being over here?" she asked quietly as she leaned back against him and closed her eyes, trying to calm herself down a little.

"I don't care," he replied without a moment's hesitation.

"Neville? Thanks for inviting me over. And thanks for coming back over here." With her back to his chest, Ginny grabbed hold of one of his arms and lifted it towards her. She then kissed the palm of his hand, about the only part of him she could reach like this.

Though it was the middle of the afternoon, the confrontation with Neville's grandmother had been emotionally draining, so Ginny was asleep within minutes. Right about that time, Molly returned from the store.

Ron, who always seemed to have a sixth sense about when his mother arrived with food, went to help her (or rather the groceries she was carrying) in the door, telling her to be quiet at the same time. Assuring her he would explain later, he led her into the living room. There she found her only daughter, sleeping peacefully in Neville's arms, upon which she appeared to have a tight grip.

Neville too might have appeared asleep if it wasn't for the fact that he opened his eyes and looked at everyone after a minute. He must have felt the presence of the four people standing on the edge of the room, silently watching him. Arthur quickly gestured for him to stay where he was, then turned around and quietly shepherded everyone else out of the room.

After a brief synopsis of what they knew, Molly went about making plans for dinner. There would be one extra plate at the table if she had her way.

And really, did anyone think she wouldn't?

Oh, and actually, she made plans for plus three, rather than just one. It was the weekend so Fred and George were bound to pop in looking for a free meal.

* * *

Neville spent much of Saturday night lying in his bed trying to figure out what exactly the hell had set off his grandmother. Remembering how she had found them (he grinned), he thought back to all the years he'd lived with her.

It was no secret that Augusta Longbottom constantly criticized her grandson. He knew that he didn't live up to her expectations as compared to his father. He also knew she somehow felt let down by her own son, Frank, when he ended up in St. Mungo's.

He also knew his grandmother thought even less of his mother.

Augusta never said anything outright about her feelings about Frank and Alice. However, having lived with her for more than a decade, it was something Neville could pick up on.

Oh, she loved to advertise the fact to anyone who would listen that his father and mother had been tortured standing up to You-Know-Who's followers. That was countered however, in Neville's opinion, by her less-than-enthusiastic attitude about regularly visiting them at St. Mungo's.

If she was so proud of them, why did he have to insist they go visit them an entire once or twice a year? Why did she act as if it was such a chore to go visit them? Despite their condition, Neville cherished every second he spent with them. Why did his gran have to pretend that she wanted to be there. He knew the smile was put on.

About the only form of "interaction" Neville had with his parents was his mother constantly giving him empty bubblegum wrappers. Why did his gran constantly try to take that away from him, to dismiss it by telling him to throw them in the bin?

After staring at his darkened ceiling for nearly an hour, Neville finally came up with a guess about what had happened. It was surprisingly accurate... because he knew his grandmother. He just didn't know it was that accurate.

Despite what she might say to strangers, Neville knew his grandmother was disappointed with his father. He didn't know her personal reasons, but he also knew that his mother was in large part responsible for that disappointment. Again, she never said it, but year-in, year-out, it was something Neville could just feel.

He also knew that despite her feelings about his parents, or perhaps because of them, it was very important to her that he carry on the family honor (maybe even in her mind restore it). That of course would explain her constant criticism of him to be more than he was.

So, considering his gran's need for him to amount to something in life to carry on the family honor, Neville guessed that whatever else his grandmother might think or say about him, she knew he was her last chance to do that, to make something of the Longbottom name.

Now, if he was his gran's last chance... if his mother was somehow responsible for his father not amounting to anything (because he was now bedridden)... Neville supposed that when his grandmother walked in on him and Ginny snogging, maybe somehow she transferred some of her animosity for Alice onto Ginny. Considering she was most thoroughly drunk, unfortunately it finally exploded out.

Neville also knew that the intoxication also played a large part in all this. But why was she drunk? She almost never drank at home. "All this time I've been worried about you becoming a nancy boy," he remembered her scathing. She was constantly after him to meet a girl, any girl. And she was always suspicious about him spending so much time with a family filled with young men....

* * *

The following morning, Neville gingerly asked his grandmother about the day before. Having been totally zonked, she honestly didn't remember what had happened. On the one hand he was concerned as this meant a repeat performance was possible.

And yet on the other he was relieved, as it suggested that Ginny night not be greeted with such ferocity if the circumstances were altered. He would do everything he could to talk Ginny up, to make sure his gran liked her before they ever met... for a second time... if there was a second time.

He certainly wouldn't let her walk in on the two of them snogging. And just to be totally certain, the very first thing he would do was make it absolutely, positively clear that Ginny was a girl.

Neville had been serious. He didn't care what his grandmother thought. He would rather see Ginny in secret and let his grandmother continue to worry about him being a "nancy boy" if there was any chance of another display as what had happened the day before.

He knew where to start.

"Gran, is it okay if I go over to Ginny's today?"

Augusta looked at her grandson, genuinely (and pleasantly) surprised. This was of course because until now, he had always been going over to visit "a friend," in a family filled with young men....

* * *

Finally, it was Tuesday, the 27th of August. In France, the Grangers were packing up all of their belongings. The only bad thing about having small suitcases that magically held all of their clothing was that they were forced to pack and unpack everything. They really hadn't thought too far ahead when they were preparing to leave originally.

Living out of their suitcases in the motel was one thing, but once they got to Aunt Bonnie's house, they all had to unpack everything and "put their luggage away," out of sight. Hiding magical luggage (though completely unplanned for) was a lot easier than explaining it.

It was as she retrieved her suitcase, and with not a small amount of annoyance, that Hermione realized they could have saved themselves a lot of "cover-up" effort if they'd simply enlarged their luggage to make it big enough to hold everything without looking suspicious. Oh well, at least this time they wouldn't have fun choreographing the loading of their rental car, to obfuscate the lack of bulky baggage.

As she packed up her clothing, Hermione was tempted to call Harry and let him know they were leaving today. She hadn't used the mirror since Ginny's talk. With all the hustle and bustle involved in their departure however, she knew it wasn't worth the risk. Besides, she could just use the Floo once they got home.

The Granger and Lewis families said their goodbyes early that afternoon. Based on the scheduled timetables, the only train that would get into London at a reasonable hour departed Paris at noon. Considering it was a seven to eight hour drive from Bordeaux to Paris, they would need to leave around 3AM Wednesday morning and drive all night to make it on time. Since neither Dan nor Emma was keen to do that, they decided to leave that Tuesday afternoon, drive to Paris, then stay the night in a motel.

By noon the next day, the Grangers were on the train back to London. Some three hours after departing Paris, they arrived back at Waterloo Station... around two o'clock.

Hermione still enjoyed saying that to herself. Time zones were, she felt, the closest anyone could get to traveling through time... without a Time Turner, of course. And considering she'd made a very expensive call using the motel's telephone (damned "guest rates"), Remus and Tonks were there, standing on the platform, waiting for them.

Evidently Tonks thought it would be extremely amusing if she, in her Muggle chauffeur uniform, were to be holding a placard reading "GRANGER."

Dan, Emma, and Hermione all took it in stride though: they made Tonks carry their luggage.

About halfway back on the approximately seven mile drive from Waterloo Station to Broomhill Road, Remus asked the Grangers if they would terribly mind a bit of a detour before they returned home.

Originally eager to get settled back into their own home, now that they'd actually set foot on English soil again, they no longer felt the urgency they had before. After a series of silent looks between the three of them, Dan said it was okay, that they were in no rush to get home. After all, going home did mean unpacking.

And besides, after two eight-hour drives in eight days, Dan didn't really care where he went anymore, as long as he didn't have to do the driving. On the inside, Dan shook his head and laughed at himself. The first time, Emma wasn't really in any condition to drive, so he drove the entire way. And on the return trip, wanting to be the nice guy, he had volunteered again.

Right about hour seven he decided he shouldn't have so quickly waived off Emma's offer to drive, to make up for the first one.

Some ten minutes after leaving Waterloo and having not made a single stop yet, Emma leaned forward in her seat and looked out the window to see where they were.

Honestly, how could anyone drive through the greater London area without stopping, even once for traffic? Especially in the area near Waterloo, a part of the city surrounded by such busy tourist destinations such as Westminster Abbey, Palace of Westminster with its famous Clock Tower (a.k.a. Big Ben), and the nearby MI6 building.

Okay, so maybe the Secret Intelligence Service building wasn't exactly a tourist-friendly destination, but that didn't stop people from driving by to look, especially now that they had moved into their surprisingly high profile, new headquarters only last year.

When Emma looked out the window, she was shocked to see countryside. A passing road sign informed her that they were on the M3 heading west. They had to be at least thirty miles outside of the city by now.

Emma lowered the black privacy glass and turned around in her seat, sticking her head through the divider. "Where are we going?" she asked Tonks and Remus.

"Just a little detour first," Tonks replied mysteriously.

"Where?"

"It's a surprise," Remus added.

Looking forward through the front windscreen, Emma saw all three lanes of the carriageway blocked by queued up traffic. She was about to object to Remus and Tonks' answers when she realized that they weren't slowing down.

She didn't know how it was possible (well, okay, maybe she did), but the closer they got to the stopped traffic, the wider the space between the lanes of cars seemed to be. It almost looked as if the vehicles were moving out of their way. His wife suddenly silent, Dan also turned around to look out the front.

Within a minute or two, they'd made it through the several miles of stopped cars and watched with interest as several dozen motorists and police tried to herd the ten or so cattle back into the broken down carrier. Back onto clear carriageway, Dan and Emma turned back around again.

"Huh..." Dan said, not in the form of a question, expressing his amazement. After witnessing that, their questions about their destination seemed unimportant.

Not quite as easily impressed by such... magic tricks, Hermione still wondered where they were going. When she finally looked out the window a few minutes later, she saw that they were just now passing Basingstoke, which by her recollection was roughly forty-five miles from her house.

Where were they going? They certainly weren't heading out to the local cinema or grocery. What else could it be? There wasn't anything out this direction where they could possibly be going.

Well, actually... there was one place that was in this direction. It was quite a bit further away, but it was in this direction. But they weren't going there, were they?

Having successfully avoided answering Dan and Emma's questions about their destination, Remus sat back in his seat more comfortably. All was going well.

* * * Earlier this morning * * *

Remus Lupin was a big enough man to admit when he was wrong. He, and Tonks, had been wrong in his deductions about why Harry had been spending so much time at Hermione's house. How was he supposed to know he was living there? There was a Fidelius in place, for Merlin's sake.

But... his original error still didn't entirely dismiss his feeling that there was something more going on. He might not be a teenager any more, but he was absolutely certain the two of them had been flirting with each other during the movie a few weeks earlier. Oh, Harry denied it to be certain, but...

No, wait. Correct that. Harry didn't deny it. He simply avoided answering the question. Remus grinned when he realized that. And he remembered quite clearly how Harry got embarrassed when that suggestion was made.

And so Remus began to wonder about the son of one of his best friends. Was there something more going on between him and the young Miss Granger? After Hermione had left him a voicemail early this morning, Remus and Tonks popped on out to the Burrow to let everyone know that the Grangers were due to arrive in today.

Since it was just after eight o'clock (still rather early for teenagers), they arrived there and found only Molly and Charlie up, getting ready to start (a second) breakfast for the late risers. Everyone else was either still asleep or had already gone to work.

After Remus passed along the itinerary, Molly expressed how glad she was that "the poor dear" would finally be back home. Call it an Auror's gut instinct, but Tonks thought Molly's choice of words odd (Molly could get emotionally invested in just about anything, but this suggested more knowledge than she or Remus had relayed). Simply to satisfy her curiosity, she casually asked the Weasley mother what she knew of Hermione's family's loss.

So Molly told Remus and Tonks everything she knew about what had happened. Of course, all of this information had come from Harry by means of the mirrors. Caught by surprise, Remus immediately seized upon Molly's mention of the mirrors.

A very large grin appeared upon his face as he tuned her out, considering the development. Harry had given Hermione one of the mirrors. Remus found this highly intriguing, and therefore slightly funny.

In the letter Sirius left for Remus at the will reading, Padfoot had asked Moony to find his own mirror and give it Harry, thereby completing the pair and hopefully providing for another generation of mischief. (Obviously Sirius wouldn't have known back in February that Remus had already given Harry the mirror at his birthday party.) In the letter, Sirius mentioned that he explained to Harry about how they worked, and how he and James had used them.

What Sirius didn't tell Harry (because it hadn't seemed important at the time) was that not only had James and Sirius used the mirrors in detention, but once James and Lily started dating, the two of them started using the mirrors to talk to each other when they were apart, such as on holiday.

Sirius took great pleasure in making James grovel on his knees in order to give up the mirror. He made James tell him how much he "loooooved" Lily, to complete the bribe. Sirius was quite annoyed (and yet, at the same time a little impressed) when James did so without hesitation.

And so now Harry has given Hermione the mirror, Remus mused, and the two of them have been talking with each other these last two weeks.

Remus felt Tonks kick him lightly under the table. He'd zoned out in recollection there for a few moments. Fortunately Molly had returned to the stove to resume the breakfast that was certain to rouse the last three sets of lazy bones: Ginny, Harry, and of course, Ron.

A brilliant idea suddenly stuck Remus... at least, he thought so. He quickly cast a glance at Tonks and waved his hand, indicating he would explain later. Remus then asked Molly what he wanted of her, of course leaving out much of his reasoning for it. Even without an explanation why, Molly had agreed to Remus's idea immediately. She and Charlie also agreed to not say anything, thereby keeping it a surprise. Remus couldn't wait to see what happened.

* * *

Hermione's suspicions were confirmed when looking out the window she saw the sign welcoming them to Devon County. A small grin on her face, she shook her head in amazement. Even she hadn't thought about this. Rather, she had been looking forward to using the Floo to call over to the Burrow to let... um, everyone know they were back.

But this was going to be so much better! Deep down, some part of her hoped that maybe Harry had somehow been involved in planning this. Whatever happened, she just had to remember: watch for Harry's reaction.

Dan too noticed that they had entered Devon. Actually, in his backwards-facing seat, he just happened to see the sign reading "Leaving Devon" on the opposite side of the carriageway.

"Devon?" he asked in surprise to no one in particular. He looked down at his wristwatch. Turning around, he lowered the privacy glass and again stuck his head through the divider.

Finally someone mentioned it. "We've gone from Waterloo Station to Devon County in about forty-five minutes. How far is that?" he asked rhetorically.

"About one hundred fifty miles," Tonks answered anyway, having checked the car's milometer (which incidentally was one of about a dozen different gauges, only five of which were factory original that actually pertained to the motorized operation of the vehicle).

"That's like two hundred miles per hour," Dan said, amazed. "And as far as I could see of the traffic, never once did you exceed the national speed limit." A big grin appeared on his face. "Can I hire you two to be our drivers from now on?"

Tonks turned her head briefly and glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. She too grinned. "Return to your seat, Mr. Granger." Remus stifled a laugh.

* * *

A few minutes later, they arrived at their destination. Sort of.

"Welcome to the charming little town of Ottery St. Mary," Tonks announced as they started driving down one of the local drives. Looking out the windows, the Grangers could see a few of the town residents casting curious glances at the old-fashioned limousine paying them a visit.

"Ottery St. Mary?" Dan asked. "Isn't that where you said the Weasleys lived?" As Hermione hadn't mentioned where exactly the Burrow was since before fourth year, this name sounded close enough to what he thought he remembered hearing.

"No, it wasn't 'Mary,'" Emma corrected as she closed her eyes to try to remember what she'd heard. "It was Ottery St. ..."

"Catchpole," Hermione finished.

"I would have said that," Emma said quietly; Hermione smiled. "Aside from you mentioning it, I don't think I've ever heard of Ottery St. Catchpole."

"Right that you wouldn't," Remus confirmed. "Just like how Muggles have never heard of Diagon Alley. In simplest explanation, Ottery St. Catchpole is a magical neighborhood of Ottery St. Mary. Exactly the same as Diagon Alley in the middle of London, an entire magical community, hidden from Muggle eyes."

"It isn't Unplottable," Tonks added, "Muggle mapmakers just don't know it exists."

"How do you get in?" Hermione asked, curious. She'd never been here this way; the Knight Bus always seemed to simply arrive at its destination.

"Same way you get into any other hidden magical locale: through the barrier," Tonks replied.

"Oh, okay," Hermione replied, satisfied, sitting back in her seat. She immediately envisioned parking somewhere and walking through some brick wall or window, just like at Diagon Alley, Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, or St. Mungo's.

A minute or two later, the car turned onto another street. With the privacy glass still down, Hermione was looking out the front windscreen, but not really seeing. Her mind wandering amongst raven-colored hair and emerald eyes, she was only vaguely aware that this street terminated in a T-junction a few hundred yards down. A small park bordered the "top" of the intersection.

About one hundred fifty feet from the intersection, Hermione snapped out of her reverie as the sight in front of her finally registered in her brain. The car wasn't slowing down.

"Tonks?" Hermione asked. Tonks didn't respond, neither did Remus. One hundred feet. With the silence, Dan and Emma turned around and looked out the front window.

"Tonks?!" all three of them asked simultaneously, more urgently this time. They still hadn't slowed down and now were only about fifty feet from the intersection, and park. A small park bordered by large, ancient looking boulders that would most certainly be... unpleasant to crash into. Evidently they were there as much for decoration as to keep vehicles from careening into the park. A park filled with small children and their parents.

A park named Catchpole Park. The small sign went unnoticed by any of the Grangers, as they were slightly more concerned about the impending collision. Also unnoticed was the fact that none of the park occupants seemed perturbed by the large, black automobile evidently bearing down upon them.

Now about twenty feet from the biggest of the rocks, they could see clearly all of the children... a little blonde girl... a red-haired boy... and many others. They were so close that they could even see that at the back of the park, behind the impenetrable-looking hedgerow, was a row of older cottages... simply another part of town. Still showing no indication of reducing speed, all three Grangers screamed out.

"TONKS!!!" They all closed their eyes and braced themselves to hit the curb, and then the rocks.

None of the Muggles living in Ottery St. Mary knew where the name of Catchpole Park came from. Once or twice a decade, a town or county historian might try to track down the history of the title. All of their research however always seemed to lead to a dead end. It was simply as if the park didn't want to give up its secrets.

However, since the town's origins went back to at least the Eleventh Century (records were a bit sketchy beyond that), that was plenty of time for there to be catchpoles around (sheriff officers who arrested debtors). These medieval tax collectors often used catchpoles (wooden poles with nooses on the end) to publicly lead their prisoners around, hence the officers' loving nickname.

With no evidence of any other explanation, that seemed as reasonable source for the park name as anything else. After all, where else could the name come from?

When the violent crash didn't occur, when the sounds of screaming children being run down didn't assault their ears, the three Grangers opened their eyes cautiously. They found themselves driving down a quaint, cobblestone town road in what must have been the small village behind the park.

"What?" Tonks replied belated to their screams, sounding irritated even though the look on her face suggested she found this extremely amusing. "Welcome to Ottery St. Catchpole."

"That's not funny!" Hermione objected as she looked ahead. Even from here, she could see the hill behind which she knew the Burrow lay. Driving at a much more leisurely pace (because Dan and Emma wanted to look at everything), it would take another five minutes to arrive at their destination.

As they drove through the magical community (that consisted of about two streets), the car again earned a few curious looks from the local residents. This time however, it was not because it was an old fashioned limousine, but because the residents recognized it as a Ministry vehicle. Hermione even recognized a girl from Ravenclaw futilely trying to peer in through the tinted windows (Miss Fawcett, was it?) as they slowly drove by.

Only moments away from the Burrow, when Hermione finally recognized this particular stretch of road from her Knight Bus journeys, she suddenly felt a little guilty for what she was about to say. But she felt she needed to.

"Just remember, the Burrow is an old house that has been added onto many times for a large family. And prior to this month, the Weasleys had very little money."

Dan and Emma looked at Hermione in surprise, while Tonks and Remus couldn't help but listen. "Hermione Jane Granger! Are you suggesting that your mother and I would look down upon them because they don't live in a fancy house, or have a lot of money?"

"No, of course not," she replied, truly apologetic. "It's just that... well, when you see the house for the very first time, sometimes people might get the wrong first impression if they didn't know the Weasleys. All I'm saying is, be mindful of your very first reaction upon seeing it, even though you know better. Especially if they're all outside waiting for us.

"It definitely won't look like we're in the middle of Wandsworth," she explained. "Just remember the house is held together more by magic and love than it is by hired carpentry."

Dan and Emma trusted that their daughter meant well, so they simply took her suggestion without further debate.

When they finally arrived at the Burrow, Dan and Emma were glad the Weasleys were not waiting there for them. Still sitting in the car, looking through the now open windows, the looks on their two faces was of surprise. There was nothing disparaging intended about their momentary looks of disbelief.

It literally was surprise; they had never seen anything like it, and it was nothing like they might have imagined, despite Hermione's descriptions over the years. They could not help it: they were simply accustomed to seeing normal looking Muggle houses (admittedly upper middle class). But after the half-second or so of surprise wore off, Dan and Emma decided that they loved the building.

The world was full of houses, but this was a home if ever they saw one.

As Remus opened the door for them, Dan and Emma cast quick nods of appreciation at Hermione for her "reminder."

"I'll get your things," Remus told them. "Go on ahead."

"They know we're here, right?" Hermione asked, thinking the lack of a greeting party a bit dodgy.

"Of course," Remus quickly replied. Well... Molly and Charlie knew.

* * *

Right about the time the Grangers were approaching Ottery St. Mary, Molly cast a quick glance at the clock on the wall... the other one... the real one that actually showed time. It was almost four o'clock; Ronald was supposed to have been back nearly a half hour ago. Hermione and her parents would be here any time now. She glanced at the other clock in the room, the famous Weasley grandfather clock.

Ron's hand was currently pointed at "Work." Actually, it wasn't pointed at "Work," but rather more like what appeared to be one minute before "Work." Ron, of course, didn't have a job. But since Fred and George were at work, and since Ron was at their shop, the clock put his hand near theirs.

His hand wasn't pointed at "Shopping," since unbeknownst to his brothers, Ron had no intention of buying anything. The clock always knew.

"Thank you for helping me, dear," Molly said to Harry. "I've been meaning to rearrange this cabinet for quite a while. It's amazing how Ronald seemed to disappear over to Fred and George's right as I was getting ready to ask him," she said in a motherly-lecturing-but-still-lighthearted sort of way.

"Yeah, Ron has some amazing timing sometimes," Harry agreed with a smile. Just then, he heard a soft giggle come from the other room, and then a shushing sound.

Molly heard it faster.

Holding Harry back so he wouldn't try to go into the other room, Molly started checking her reflective surfaces. Again she found Neville and Ginny all cuddled up on the sofa, doing a light bit of snogging. It didn't appear to be anything too serious, but just to be safe... One, two, three, and... four. Yes, all four hands were safely visible.

She turned back to Harry with a smile on her face. "Nothing to worry about, dear," she whispered with a wink as she returned to her cluttered cabinet. Having watched her, Harry too used the reflection to see what was going on.

Oh.... he thought to himself with a smirk as he returned to help Molly. A few minutes later as they were in the middle of emptying the cabinet, another giggle could be heard. Harry saw as Molly, smiling, rolled her eyes.

"Ginny!" Molly called into the other room with a light, friendly voice. Perhaps because he had been listening for something, Harry could have sworn he heard the sofa creak just a tiny bit as he imagined the two of them jumping apart.

"Yeah, Mum?" Ginny called back, her voice a bit shaky... or breathless.

"Will Neville be staying over for dinner tonight?" A few whispers came from the other room.

"Is it all right with you?" Ginny called back.

"Have him check with his grandmother," Molly replied, "and if it's all right with her, then it's fine with me. The more, the merrier tonight, I say."

Harry thought this a bit odd, since one really didn't seem like all that much more tonight. But it didn't seem that strange... at least, not enough to actually ask about it.

"Okay, he'll check a little later then," Ginny replied. Molly turned back to her cabinet when she heard the sofa creak again. She paused for a moment.

"Ginny? Are you and Neville doing anything in there?" she asked. Oh, that sentence could be construed in so many several different ways. Harry was very impressed; Molly's voice was so straightforward, it sounded completely oblivious, even though the two of them knew otherwise.

"Um, no, nothing important," Ginny quickly replied. "Just reading since we already finished our homework."

Molly and Harry shared a knowing look. "Why don't you come in here and help me for a bit then? That way, we can finish that much sooner, and Neville can check with his grandmother about dinner."

Several moments of silence were followed by a disappointed "Okay." When the two of them walked into the kitchen, Ginny went over to help her mother while Neville headed for the fireplace. Harry could not help but notice that his normally perfectly groomed hair was slightly mussed up a bit.

While Molly was taking some rarely-used pots and pans out to the tumbledown garage (that once used to house a flying car), Harry caught sight of Neville standing frozen with his hand reached out, about to grab the Floo powder. He followed the unmoving boy's line of sight.

Neville, it turned out, was rather busy admiring Ginny's... assets. She was on her hands and knees on the floor and had partially crawled into the bottom most cabinet. Her back end was out and up in the air as she tried to reach all the way into the back.

Curious... now that Harry was certain Ginny wasn't his sister, now that he knew she and Neville were a couple... now that he knew he fancied Hermione... now he realized and could admit that Ginny was quite attractive.

But, there was a fine line between looking and leering, so Harry turned to look back at Neville. After a few moments, Neville finally looked away... and right at Harry who was looking at him with a raised eyebrow.

"Reading?" Harry mouthed silently, a devilish grin on his face. Neville Longbottom flushed bright red immediately then made a hasty departure.

"Watch your head while you're in there, dear," Molly said, having returned from the garage.

THUD!

"Ow!" Ginny complained.

With Harry and Ginny's help, about ten minutes later the cabinet project was done. Most of the items simply got put back (albeit in a more organized manner this time), and some were moved out into the garage, hardly ever used anymore. There was only one leftover item, something Molly didn't recognize. She suspected it was something Arthur had "procured."

Harry confirmed that theory when she showed it to him. He recognized it as a Muggle cooking accouterment. He said it was "one of those round, collapsible metal steamer insert basket things" that got put inside pots to steam vegetables and the like.

Molly left it on the table for Arthur to "deal with" when he got home.

Harry, Ginny, and Molly were sitting down at the table enjoying a nice little post-chore treat when there was a knock at the door. Not noticing it before, Harry now thought this odd too. Normally the door was simply left open what with everyone coming and going constantly; charms kept out the insects and weather.

"Be a dear and get that, would you please, Harry?" Molly asked, smiling. Harry glanced at Ginny, who simply shrugged her shoulders; she didn't know who it was either. As he got up, Harry noticed Molly looking at the door expectantly, almost as if she knew who was there.

Harry went and opened the door.

The next thing anyone knew, there were two rather loud groans of satisfaction as the two individuals in the doorway were suddenly trapped by two fierce hugs.

The two teens each had plans to try to gauge the other's reactions to seeing the other again for the first time in what both felt like was forever. Harry felt as though he'd ruined his plan by being unable to resist and launching himself upon Hermione. He "knew" she was simply trapped in his hug. Not surprisingly, Hermione felt the same thing about him.

And of course, they were both right... and wrong: they'd both thrown themselves at the other at the same time.

Though still walking up from the car, Remus could see the fifteen-day reunion. He smiled in vindication... and happiness. Not since James and Lily returning from holiday had he seen a meeting like that. Well, actually, really... greetings like that between random people on the street could be seen in public on occasion. But it had been a very long time since he'd seen one that meant anything to him personally.

Not including of course his and Tonks' greeting after she'd been released from St. Mungo's. When she got back home, the two of them greeted each other very enthusiastically.

In what felt to be too soon, Harry and Hermione's little "friendly greeting" had to be interrupted.

"Beep, beep," Dan said, mimicking a car horn. "Come on you two, move it. You make a better door than doorway." He and Emma didn't even try to hide the grins on their faces.

The two eagerly broke apart (because the room was full of people watching them), and moved out of the doorway back into the kitchen. Turning back, they found Ginny standing and waiting for the two of them. She was looking at them expectantly and appeared slightly disgruntled.

"What, don't I get a hug like that?" she asked Hermione, sounding excluded. Standing right next to Hermione, and feeling like a million Galleons because of it, Harry grinned broadly and stepped forward before Hermione could respond.

"Oh, how rude of me," he responded dramatically, throwing his arms wide. "Come here and give me a big hug!"

Ginny swatted Harry's arms away as she reached over for Hermione. "Oh, get out of the way, you big bloomin' git," she teased. She too greeted Hermione enthusiastically, though certainly not the same way Harry had. While still in their hug, Ginny started whispering in Hermione's ear.

Harry didn't try to listen, but with eight people in the kitchen, five of them adults, things were a bit cramped. He couldn't help but hear as a few words drifted his way... "Thanks [...] Neville [...] helped."

Harry was pretty sure he knew what they were talking about.

He was sooo wrong.

* * *

Just short of five o'clock, everyone was sitting around the living room relaxing and talking, allowing the elder Weasleys and Grangers a chance to get to know each other better. Once their charges had been delivered safely, Remus and Tonks had to return back to work for the rest of the afternoon. They would be back tomorrow however to return Harry and the Grangers to Wandsworth.

For convenience, Tonks had briefly considered leaving the Ministry car at the Burrow overnight and Apparating back to London. Upon seeing Arthur eyeing the vehicle with more than a passing interest however, she wisely decided against it.

It wasn't that she didn't trust Arthur... well... okay, she didn't trust Arthur, at least not when it came to Muggle automobiles. (She'd heard all about the Anglia from Molly.) Since Tonks had been required to sign for the car when she went to pick the Grangers up from the train station, she wasn't at all eager to explain why it was returned with parts missing, or with random charms or parts added (such as Muggle collapsible metal steamer insert baskets).

Yes, it would simply be better, and safer (for everyone-Arthur included) if Tonks and Remus simply took the car back with them. On their drive back to London, Remus finally explained the reasoning for this "little detour."

Tonks had witnessed the happy greeting in the Weasleys' doorway. A little surprised by the enthusiasm displayed, she had turned to Remus. Her question was stopped in its tracks when she saw the look of satisfaction upon his face at the sight before him.

Having become better acquainted with how the former Marauder's mind worked, seeing the exuberance, Tonks too began to suspect what Remus did. He confirmed it on the drive back to the Ministry.

Back at the Burrow, while everyone chatted, Molly heard as the grandfather clock made its little chime to indicate the hands were moving. Ron's hand had now moved from next to "Work" to "Traveling." And in a moment, it would be pointed at "Home."

And indeed a moment later, everyone could hear as the fireplace ejected the youngest Weasley male. Giving everyone a polite smile, Molly stopped the conversation and turned her head towards the kitchen.

"Ronald Weasley! Where HAVE you been?!" she called shrilly. Harry grinned. Oh yes, he'd heard that before.

"Fred and George's, Mum," Ron called back exasperated, still in the kitchen. "Can you fix something for me? I tried Reparo but it went wrong a bit, so I didn't want to ruin the trousers too." Everyone could hear him rummaging about in the kitchen.

"Don't get into anything, Ronald. I don't want you spoiling your appetite before dinner," Molly threatened. Everyone in the room, Dan and Emma included, snickered at that thought. As if that was possible.

"Fred and George tried one of their new Wheezes on me, and it turned me into a... well, I don't know what it turned me into. But the tail I grew blew out the back of my trousers." The scavenging now ceased and his voice started getting louder as he came into the room.

When he came into the room, everyone saw two things. First, Ron was wearing a set of the twins' magenta work robes. Second, he was holding a pair of his (thankfully clean) underwear briefs up in front of him as he walked, still inspecting the damage on the backside.

"I can't believe it. That tail just tore right through..." Ron complained as he poked a finger through the hole to illustrate. Still holding the briefs up in front of him, he really couldn't see much of the room. He could see off to the side however.

"Oh, hello Mr. Granger," Ron greeted absently, then addressed his mother again.

"So I was hoping you could..." He stopped talking abruptly and slowly lowered the garment. He was a bit shocked to realize that practically everyone was sitting there, looking at him. He was then horrified to realize that they were also looking at him holding his briefs, with his finger sticking through the failed repair job, wagging around like a small...

The worst part about it was that what it looked like... well, it was rather misleading, Ron felt.

He quickly stuffed his underwear in a pocket on the inside of the magenta robes. As the fabric rustled and the front opened briefly, everyone was immensely glad that he was at least still wearing his trousers.

"Oh, hello everyone," Ron said meekly. "I'll... uh... be back in a minute." He then ran upstairs and into his room. As he left, if he had in fact blown out the back of his trousers, everyone was also very glad he was wearing full-length robes from the twins' shop.

* * *

It could have been the battle of the century. Two indomitable opponents of their realms were set to square off over a colossal conflict of culinary control. Worlds would have collided.

But instead, sensing her opponent's intentions, Molly Weasley agreed to let Emma Granger make dinner that night. But it was not an all-out victory, for a compromise had to be made: Molly would make breakfast.

It might have seemed silly for it to be such a big deal, but surprisingly it was not. In one corner was Molly Weasley, a truly gracious and welcoming hostess, and mother to all. And in the other corner was Emma Granger, who was beyond words in appreciation to the Weasleys for taking Harry in.

And interestingly enough, the final "demand" Molly made before the armistice was signed (okay, no it really wasn't that bad) was one that Emma was going to insist upon anyway. Harry would be drafted for kitchen duty too.

The thing though was while Molly had suggested it jokingly, Emma had done so for an entirely different reason. It was in no way a slight against the Weasleys, but she wanted to make sure Harry felt like he was a part of the family... the Granger family.

There never really was any question as to what they would make. A series of shared looks between the four-not a single word spoken-and they'd all agreed. Sure, there were lots of variations on the recipe... lots of similar dishes... but Emma's exact recipe was her own devising, so it truly was a Granger family specialty.

And besides, it had been nearly a month since they'd had it last... back on Harry's birthday. All three Grangers felt it was exactly what they needed to get readjusted back from what the French called cuisine.

It was quickly learned that dinner at the Burrow tonight would be very crowded... much more so than originally planned. Trying to establish and prove their independence and maturity, three or four nights a week Fred and George would not come home for dinner. Molly made sure to invite them tonight.

It should be noted that for the twins, "maturity" meant the ability for them and their business to survive without parental assistance. It had nothing to do with their sense of humor.

Bill, Fleur, and Charlie would be home, of course. Having had to play chauffeur for the Grangers, Arthur decided to invite Tonks and Remus over as well. Molly had already invited Neville. And quite at the last minute, Percy, unaware of an overflowing house, called by Floo from the Clearwaters' shop in Diagon Alley to ask if he could bring Penelope home for dinner again.

Yes, all together, there would be eighteen for dinner tonight. Emma had never before cooked for so many. But she hoped that if she could get the four Grangers (and yes, she meant that on purpose) set up in some sort of assembly line structure, preparing dinner for eighteen shouldn't be too much harder than preparing it for four, as long as there was space to cook it all.

Molly assured Emma that her pots and pans would help them out too.

But, before dinner could be started someone would have to go shopping, since the Burrow's cupboards certainly were not stocked for eighteen. Emma asked Molly to accompany her on a nice little walk into town to pick up provisions.

While the two matriarchs were out, there were enough people still at the Burrow to have a fun little five-on-five game of Quidditch. Actually, it could have been six-on-six, but neither Remus nor Tonks had brooms of their own. But the two of them didn't mind as they went and joined Hermione, Dan, Fleur, and Arthur as spectators. Everyone (except Percy) was quite surprised to find that Penelope was a pretty good Chaser.

* * *

The walk into town was short, but Emma and Molly made good use of the time: they spent it talking about Harry. For lack of a better term, the two of them compared notes (in a loving sort of way), and caught each other up to date with the goings on at both houses. Emma did, however, leave out one certain detail.

Though that had been omitted from discussion, it was impossible to avoid talking about what role Hermione had played in everything that had happened this summer. It first started simply as Emma explained exactly how Harry had come to stay with them. It then unavoidably evolved into Molly recounting what Hermione had done for Harry over the years... what she knew of it, at least.

None of this of course was any surprise to Emma considering she invariably got a full synopsis of Harry and his adventures the first week after Hermione returned home every year... even before she fancied him. It was interesting however to hear it retold from the point of view of a third party, albeit mostly second hand via what Molly learned from Ron.

What all of this meant for Molly was that she began to look at Hermione in a slightly new light now. Regardless of what she might have said, thought, felt, or wanted, there was still a part of her that had hoped that Harry and her daughter...

Well, things were different now. Now that Ginny had seemed to find someone quite nice (in Molly's opinion), the Weasley mother bear was now more interested in finding someone nice for Harry. No offense to Ron, but Harry came before her son in this matter. Molly simply knew that her son had seemed to become quite infatuated with the young Lovegood girl. The fact that he was writing letters to her, on actual parchment with an actual quill proved that much at least.

And besides, even if he wasn't, she wasn't entirely eager to actively insert herself into Ron's romantic interests. Doing so would be the ultimate exercise in futility. She knew first hand how fickle and picky her son could be. His only saving grace, she jokingly felt, was that with a few exceptions, he would eat just about anything.

So, with Molly's thoughts now on "finding Harry a nice girl," and she herself saying what a nice girl Hermione was, it didn't take very long for her to connect the two.

As the two of them neared the Ottery St. Mary side of the magical neighborhood, Molly sprung into action. She tried to be subtle.

"Your daughter isn't involved with anyone, is she?"

Molly Weasley was never known for being subtle.

The sudden nature of the interrogative caused Emma to pause for a second. This would have to be delicately handled.

"She's not," Emma replied politely. She knew that Hermione had suspected Ron's feelings for her. "I don't think it would work out, Molly," Emma said apologetically.

"What, why not?" the other woman asked, disappointed.

"There're just too many differences between them, I think," Emma explained as she interlocked her arm with Molly's. The two of them resumed walking. "And she's just too stubborn to be able to be in a relationship with someone when they fight as much as the two of them do."

"But..." Molly tried to object. As far as she knew, Harry and Hermione hardly ever argued. At least, nowhere near as much she did with Ron. When Ron came home after every school year, he invariable made some comment about finally being able to enjoy some peace and quiet... away from Hermione's nagging, her shrill voice, and their constant bickering.

Molly knew that when he said it, he didn't mean it viciously. But still, he did say it, so there had to be some truth to it.

"I know he's a wonderful friend to Hermione, but sometimes people are better remaining just friends," Emma said as she passed the last house; they stopped. "Ronald is a very good friend."

"Ronald?" Molly asked, surprised. "I wasn't asking for him."

Emma paused again. Well then, whom does she mean? It couldn't be Ginny, could it? Emma wondered (she didn't know about Neville). She's the only other one of them who knows Hermione well enough for there to be some... 'interest.' Emma didn't have any problem with it if Ginny fancied Hermione; she just knew her daughter's heart belonged to another.

Also, it could be quite embarrassing to suggest it aloud if she was wrong.

"Whom are we talking about?" Emma asked slowly.

"Harry, of course," Molly replied, sounding a bit befuddled. "We've been talking about the two of them for the last ten minutes."

"OH! Harry! Of course, Harry!" Emma exclaimed, feeling like the idiot. It had never even entered her mind that Molly might ask for Harry. Emma had simply assumed that Molly would only ever be that concerned for her own flesh and blood.

"I promised myself I wouldn't get involved in his love life anymore. But with the two of us talking about the two of them, it just suddenly occurred to me..." Molly trailed off, giving Emma what she hoped was an encouraging smile.

"Oh, Molly my dear, I am waaaay ahead of you on that one!" Emma exclaimed with a giggle.

"Really?" Molly asked, all at once surprised, impressed, and pleased.

"Definitely," Emma confirmed. "Maybe I'm being selfish, but a mother couldn't hope for her daughter to bring home a nicer boy than our young Mr. Potter."

"I understand that fully," Molly agreed. "There was a time when I too shared that dream."

"And now?"

"And now I am happy to say that my daughter seems to have found someone who may very well give Harry a run for his money, in that regard. Neville's such a sweet young man, and a miracle in my garden too!" Molly laughed. Emma nodded pleasantly without comment. Neville's name was familiar but her daughter had said little about him over the years, so she didn't know what to say.

"What about your daughter?" Molly asked. "Do you think there's any interest there on her part?"

"The real trick," Emma cleverly changed the direction of the conversation, "would be in getting the two of them to admit their feelings to each other, if there were any. Hermione has always been very guarded about opening up to other people. I know Harry is too, and I know she is very protective of him, especially about people meddling in his private life."

Emma said this with the briefest of glances towards Molly. It may have been subtle, but it was impossibly to miss.

"Yes, I learned that lesson the hard way," Molly admitted, looking down.

"I know," Emma said non-judgmentally, patting Molly's hand sympathetically. If Hermione had forgiven Mrs. Weasley for her earlier transgression, then she wouldn't hold it against her either.

"About all we can do is give them every opportunity to figure it out for themselves. If they're meant to be together, then they will be," Emma said with complete confidence. "Again, the real trick will be in keeping them from suspecting our involvement. For their sakes, you can't say a word about this to anyone... not to your husband, and especially not to your children.

"Can you imagine what it would be like if you found out from your best girlfriend that your mum was trying to set you up with some boy?" Emma asked.

"Well, I suppose it would depend on the boy," Molly replied with a wink.

Emma sighed with a smile. "That's true," she replied as she remembered back to a few high school crushes. But she knew it wouldn't have mattered anyway once Dan came along.

"But with these two..." Emma said, returning to the subjects of the conversation.

"No need to say anything else," Molly acknowledged. With that conversation seemingly at an end, Molly finally took a look around to see where she was. They were right in front of a line of large rocks.

A line of large rocks that corresponded to a line of large rocks seen in front of Catchpole Park in Ottery St. Mary. There was no park on this side of the stones, nor was there a Muggle village visible beyond (evidently the magical residents were content to not have a reminder of their non-magical neighbors). Having been through the barrier to Diagon Alley about a half-dozen times now, Emma was getting used to such things.

"Where are we going?" Molly asked hesitantly.

"Shopping for dinner," Emma replied. "There was a small store I saw in town on our drive in."

"Oh, well..." Molly said, sounding a little uneasy. "I just assumed we'd visit the one back in town," she replied, turning her head to glance towards what she considered 'town.' Emma could feel her pulling back on her arm slightly as she slowed.

"Is something the matter?" Emma asked, concerned.

"No, not exactly," Molly replied. "I just feel a little out of place... there... lost."

"All the more reason to explore it, right?" Emma said encouragingly. "Just think about it: a whole other world just on the other side of those stones. You're lucky; at least you know and can go back and forth as you please. The rest of us know nothing about this side."

Though she harbored no antagonistic feelings towards Muggles, Molly was glad they didn't know about her world. In all of her years living at the Burrow, Molly had ventured into Ottery St. Mary a grand total of five times.

All told, she'd spent nearly an entire hour in the Muggle town during those five visits. Fifteen of those minutes alone were spent on her most recent visit.

* * * Two Years Ago * * *

Molly wandered around the small Muggle village, hoping that she didn't look as lost as she felt, as she tried to figure out what to do with the letter she'd written to Harry's relatives, inviting him to the Quidditch World Cup.

Nearly ready to give up and leave the letter sitting in one of those "fellytone" booths Arthur always went on about (the Muggle postman would know to pick it up there, right?), Molly sat down on a nearby bench and rested for a moment, trying to calm the panic that had begun to rise in her.

Just as she was about to stand up and just go back home, she noticed a small red-haired boy walk out the front door of the building next to her. She could see he was carrying what appeared to be a letter. As he walked by, the boy suddenly stopped and looked at her.

"Hewwo!" he said with a big grin.

It would be unfair to say that Molly was afraid of Muggles. But she certainly wasn't comfortable around them. But this child certainly did have a disarming affect upon her. He couldn't have been more than five or six years old.

"Hello," Molly replied, genuinely smiling. "What do you have there?"

"A wetter for Mummy!" the boy said, giggling.

"And where does that go?" Molly asked sweetly.

"In da BOX!" he replied excitedly.

Molly wondered how the boy's mother could let her son wander all over town by himself. She'd certainly been across half of it, looking for this blasted post box. Oh, how she now wished she'd simply let Arthur put it in the post at work like he'd originally volunteered. After watching him practically salivate as he told her about his journey to buy Muggle postage, she decided that a second outing would be too distracting for him.

"And where IS the box?" Molly asked, making it sound (in a non-threatening sort of way) like a very important question. The truth was that for her, it was a very important question.

"DERE!" the boy shouted with glee, pointing at the red hexagonal box directly in front of her on the side of the curb. He then ran over to it and dropped the letter into the slot. He turned back to Molly and then squealed and started laughing, clapping his hands and looking quite proud of his accomplishment as if they were playing a game and he won.

Molly showed him her letter, the one addressed to the Dursleys, the one that was completely covered with stamps, except for one square inch for the address.

"Is this enough stamps?" she asked, as she really didn't know.

The small boy nodded his head emphatically. "UH HUH!" he confirmed. Not that it really mattered, but unbeknownst to Molly, the boy had answered for himself, not for Royal Mail; he didn't know if the postage was sufficient for delivery. But yes, there were plenty enough stamps as far as he was concerned.

The little red-haired boy then ran back to the front door of his house. Before entering, he turned back to Molly and waved ecstatically.

"BYE!" he shouted, laughing, and went back inside the house. Molly waved back and then noticed the boy's mother standing by a window, watching. Molly waved to her too, and the mother waved back, smiling. With her son back in the house, the woman disappeared from the window.

Molly then turned her head and looked back at the red post box in front of her. This was the third one she'd walked by in her search. She never even gave them a second look. She simply assumed it was one of those things that Arthur had told her about... those things the fire brigades would attach hoses to in order to put out fires.

It was red, right? It had a slot in it where the water could come out, right? Okay, so she didn't actually look at it very closely. With Ottery St. Mary being an old and small village, the post boxes had not been upgraded in a very long time. The embossed words identifying it for post had long since been worn down by weather and hands, and covered by too many layers of paint. She honestly didn't know what it was, and didn't want to be seen by the Muggles staring at it... as if she didn't know what it was.

But, now she did know what it was. So she quickly dropped the letter in the slot, exactly as the little boy had. She then walked back towards Catchpole Park at a brisk pace, eager to get back where things made sense.

* * *

Molly felt Emma pull on her arm a little. With no other real choice, she allowed herself to lead towards the stones. When they reached the edge, Molly glanced down at the small wizarding sign that immediately preceded the barrier.

With apprehension (and fascination for Emma), Molly watched as it welcomed them to Ottery St. Mary, informed them the current population was 7871, with thirty-seven more currently "on the way," and advised them of the local time and weather conditions. As if they were any different on that side of the barrier than they were on this side....

"Come on, let's go," Emma said as she led Molly between the two largest rocks that were in the very center of the cobblestone street they had driven in on. Actually, the two of them could have even walked through the rocks themselves, as long as they were still on the road. Oh well, it was a good guess.

* * *

Nearly half an hour later, Emma and Molly returned to Catchpole Park, their arms laden with bags of groceries. Ottery St. Mary was a small enough town that residents were accustomed to seeing people walk home with their shopping.

Because of the size of the community, the market here was very small by modern Muggle megamart standards. The only real difference Molly could see (compared to what she was used to), besides the obviously greater range of products, was that the shelves didn't restock themselves by magic.

What did appear like magic to her was how Emma paid for the purchases. The two of them had had that quiet little discussion while they were walking down the sidewalk, before they reached the store. The main reason Molly ended up letting Emma pay was because all she had with her were Sickles and Galleons.

Molly was quite used to handing coins over to a proprietor in exchange for her purchases. The fact that Emma could swipe a small plastic card (something called a Barclaycard) through a small plastic box... well, THAT was beyond belief!

Ottery St. Mary might have been a small village in Devon County, but it was still 1996. Electronic transactions were a must, especially for those smaller shops not eager to accept out-of-town cheques.

With Emma still in the lead, the two matrons approached the line of boulders along the park. By chance there was no one in the park at that moment, but it wouldn't have mattered anyway. Like with the Ministry vehicle, no one would have noticed them disappearing. Finally feeling like she was getting the hang of this magical barrier thing, Emma located the same two rocks she'd emerged from (there was child's chalk drawing on one of them), and confidently strode between.

And found herself walking on the grass lawn of Catchpole Park.

Emma stopped, turned around, and looked down at her feet, confirming there indeed was grass beneath her rather than a cobblestone road.

Though she wasn't laughing at her, Molly did find Emma's confused and startled appearance humorous.

"I'm sorry, dear," Molly chuckled. "It didn't even occur to me until you tried to get through. You can't get through by yourself. Even if a Muggle knows about the barrier, they can't get through on their own. You have to follow me through."

"Oh... yeah..." Emma said in short, abrupt words as if she was completely expecting such a result. "I knew that."

Molly smiled then started walking forward, literally walking through the boulder. Emma, right on her heels, was able to follow with no problem. Upon their return to the Burrow, the Quidditch game was only a few minutes away from ending. Despite having heard all about it, Emma was quite literally mesmerized by the sight of people flying around on brooms, so Arthur took in the groceries she was carrying to allow her to finish watching the game.

* * *

Despite Molly's assurances, Emma refused to allow the kitchen knives to chop for themselves. She did however allow the pots and pans and utensils to do the cooking and stirring themselves. Honestly, chopping potatoes for eighteen wasn't that hard. Cooking and mashing potatoes for eighteen was.

Much of the rest of the dinner preparations went the same: the actual preparations were done by hand, and then the stove and pans did the actual cooking on their own... under Emma's watchful eye, of course.

And Dan's too. Once the actual food assembly was done and cooking in progress, the eldest Granger stood careful watch over his coveted mashed potatoes.

* * *

By now, all eighteen people who were expected to be present were. As dinner assembly progressed, all but five had been banished from the kitchen with orders to go outside and work up an appetite, chasing gnomes or playing another game of Quidditch... anything to stay out of their hair. (Ron earned a swift elbow in his ribs from Ginny when, after Dan's hair comment, he looked at Hermione and started to open his mouth.)

It came as no surprise to Molly that Emma had been able to organize the rest of her family, plus Harry, into an extremely efficient machine of food preparation and production. Even more impressive to Molly was that the four of them managed amazingly (in her opinion) without the use of magic, aside from the aforementioned pots that stirred themselves.

But more than anything was the tremendous gratitude and respect Molly felt for all of the Grangers, at their ability to draw Harry into them. He was acting as if he was a member of the family, in every sense. Harry always loved staying with the Weasleys at the Burrow, Molly knew. But the way he acted wasn't exactly the same. He was loved and welcomed, and he knew that he was, but he always seemed to act a little more like a treasured guest than an actual family member.

THERE! Molly practically shouted out in her mind as she just witnessed something that exactly proved her point. Molly rarely ever asked anything of Harry when he visited, aside from eating third and fourth helpings of everything. But what she did occasionally ask, Harry always agreed and did without any hesitation.

But just now, Emma had asked Harry and Hermione to get out all of the plates, glasses, and silverware set the table for eighteen. Instead of immediately agreeing, both of them started whining and complaining about being forced to do that. They were both joking of course, but nonetheless, Harry actually complained about it... like all children tend to do.

He never complained to Molly about anything... not even jokingly. It might have seemed strange that she felt the whining a good sign, but until now she never really noticed it. Seeing Harry "complain" with such ease and light heartedness made her realize how natural it seemed. His eagerness to do anything asked of him at the Burrow was more like a guest in someone else's home. But complaining about chores, even jokingly... in a strange way, that was what family was.

Molly was especially interested in watching how Harry and Hermione interacted together as they worked on their particular culinary tasks. For lack of a better description, Molly was very proud of Emma, of how she had divided up the dishes such that there was a clear separation between what she and Dan were doing, and what the two teens were doing. It was less like four people making one large dinner, as it was two pairs making separate entrées.

* * *

With dinner finally ready, Neville came in to levitate some tables out into the back yard. There were simply too many people present to eat indoors. With a new wand that had picked him-rather than one that had picked his father-along with the obvious confidence he'd gained thanks to numerous snogging sessions (he'd stopped counting after twenty) and even an semi-innocent tickle fight or two (Neville was very ticklish and had to concede defeat when he nearly wet his pants from laughing so hard), he was able to manage the task unassisted quite admirably.

Unable to sit idly by any longer, Tonks volunteered Remus to help her set the table, taking that job away from the previously "condemned." All told, by the time everyone was seated, everyone had helped in some way. Everyone, that is, except anyone named Weasley.

Each person had his or her own reasons, but they all wanted to try to find some way of expressing at least some small token of gratitude for what one or more of this family had done for them, or meant to them... even if it was as simple as Fleur conjuring up several gorgeous vases of flowers to decorate the table.

Honestly, it didn't seem like much at first, but once the blonde Veela was done, everyone had to admit that it really did add a special touch to the atmosphere.

And with the amount of garlic Dan put in the potatoes, atmosphere would soon be very important... in more ways than one.

A quick look around the table before the command to "Tuck in!" had been given, and there was definitely a special feeling about the evening. Everyone could feel it, but it was hard to say exactly what it was. Penelope, of all people, finally was able to explain it.

"With everyone here like this, this reminds me a bit of Christmas Dinner with my family."

* * *

All in all, the Grangers' dinner was received with great appreciation. In fact, 'feeding frenzy' was the best description of the scene. The only hitch came early on when Ron initially balked at the notion of potatoes with the skins mashed into them. After a death glare from Molly, he decided he really did like them... once he actually tried them.

Dan had to reserve judgment on whether or not to be insulted when Ron decided that as brilliant as they were, the mashed potatoes needed one tiny, finishing detail. He went back into the kitchen and returned a few moments later with a small plate of four rashers of bacon leftover from breakfast (there was always bacon around). He crumbled up two of them and mixed the pieces into the potatoes.

After thinking about it for a few seconds, Dan decided he was not at all insulted by Ron's actions; he realized that it actually probably tasted pretty good. So he made a big show of stealing the remaining two strips from Ron's plate to do the same.

Slightly embarrassed, Emma put her face in her hand and shook her head slightly. "Boys!" she muttered.

* * *

After dinner, Fred and George were the first to leave. George was heard muttering something about invoices-and Fred, receipts-to review; Molly beamed behind their backs. Everyone else settled in for a quiet evening.

As the dishes washed themselves, Emma and Molly relaxed listening to the Wizarding Wireless Network. Depending on the situation, Emma actually found hand-washing dishes relaxing. But she did have to admit that listening to Celestina Warbeck and watching dishes wash themselves was a whole lot more relaxing.

While the women were enjoying their scrub-free songs, Arthur cajoled Dan into "looking at something" in the garage. Harry smirked upon seeing an amused Dan roll his eyes when they returned to the house. He trusted that Dan too assured Mr. Weasley that adding a flying charm to the lawnmower pretty much defeated the purpose of the device.

As soon as the dishes were done and Molly and Emma came in from the kitchen, Ron (unable to resist the temptation) begged Emma for a game of chess... on Harry's board, of course.

Because of the moving nature of the pieces, a much larger proportion of wizards considered chess a spectator sport than did their Muggle counterparts. Despite the irresistible sound of the shattering pieces however, everyone else soon tired of watching the slow pace of this particular game. Ron knew what he could expect from this opponent this time, so he took great care (and many minutes) making each move. Emma did as well.

As the game began to drag on, Remus came over to Harry to invite him on a small walk. While there were several topics of which the werewolf wanted to discuss, unfortunately business triumphed over pleasure. Badgering the young man about Miss Granger would have been quite fun.

"How are you, Harry?" Remus asked.

"Brilliant!" he replied.

"It may seem early to start discussing this with you just yet," Lupin began, to which he noticed the teen look slightly panicked, "but as there is no guarantee I will see much of you during the school year, I merely want to mention it now so it isn't quite the shock next summer."

"Okay," Harry replied hesitantly.

"Before your parents died, they set aside a small fund for you to draw upon during your schooling. When you turn seventeen, you will gain access to the rest of it," Remus explained.

Harry paused for a moment. "Rest of it? Small fund? You mean there's more?"

"There is," Lupin confirmed. "What's in your vault is yours... what your parents set aside to help support you in the event something happened to them. The remainder of the Potter estate has been safely tucked away in the innermost depths of Gringotts.

"If James did as your grandfather insisted-despite his schoolboy reputation, he was quite the responsible father, so I suspect he did-then I imagine that money has been sitting there undisturbed all these years, collecting interest handsomely."

"Okay..." Harry eloquently articulated again. He recalled back to the reading of Sirius's will; the Black Estate was just under one and a half million Galleons.

"Not that I suppose it really matters, but how much are we talking? One million? Two?"

Remus didn't reply immediately. "Five million?" Harry asked.

"More like ten," the werewolf replied gently.

Harry nearly tripped over his own two feet as they walked. "Ten million Galleons?" he gasped.

Again, Remus hesitated. "Well, that's what it was when we were still in school. I remember hearing your father throwing that number around a few times... all the ways he would spend it, and all that. But then of course, you came along and his priorities changed overnight.

"Then, it was all about the future," Remus reminisced, "about what he could do to make it grow, to ensure a secure foundation not only for him and Lily, but you as well. If it was invested, it could have easily doubled by now."

If Harry had trouble walking before, he did so doubly now. "Twenty million Galleons?" he squeaked. Remus stopped him and the two of them just stood there in the middle of a field for a few moments, looking at each other.

"All right," Harry finally replied. "Now... if you would, remind me again why we're talking about this now?"

"I didn't know how often I would be able to see you during the upcoming school year, and I just didn't want it to be quite such a shock when you found out on your birthday next year."

Harry let out a rolling laugh. "Well, it's quite the shock now!" he replied in good humor.

"You don't need to do anything about it now. Just keep it in the back of your mind that you'll be coming into some money on your next birthday. You'll need to come up with some sort of financial plan on how to manage it when it becomes yours. But again, until then, there's nothing you need to do now. Okay?"

"Okay," Harry replied for the third time, though this time a little more confidently.

"Any questions?" Remus then asked.

"Actually, yes. Only moderately related..." Harry replied. "In with the stuff Sirius left to me, there was a box... it had stuff in there... for me... from Mum and Dad." Remus's curiosity was piqued.

"There were some pictures... embarrassing baby pictures..." Harry blushed; Remus grinned. "There were also a couple of letters." Remus's grin faded.

"I was wondering about the letters," Harry said softly.

"Do you know, are there more? There were only two letters, one each from Mum and Dad, and I was wondering... hoping... that maybe there were more. I mean, they wouldn't have just left me only one each, would they?"

"I don't know anything about any letters. If there are more..." Remus said gently, shaking his head. "Something you need to understand, Harry... As soon as your mum and dad found out they were pregnant, it changed their lives completely.

"When they were first married, all they could think about was the now. They were in love, married, and all they wanted to do was to spend each and every moment living in the now, enjoying every second of every day together.

"And then Lily got pregnant. Suddenly everything was about the future. They didn't stop enjoying their lives, but they were focused on you, on bringing you into the world. They had all these great plans to have you in their lives... because they felt there would always be time.

"When you're twenty-something years old and you starting thinking about what life will be like in ten years because you have a loving spouse, a nice little house, and the most perfect child on the way, you simply assume that you will be there.

"And then a Dark Lord comes along and ruins all of those plans. People think they have all the time in the world... until they realize that they don't. And by then it's too late, and then it seems like there isn't enough time to do even half of the things they wanted or needed to.

"If James and Lily only left you one letter each, then I imagine that was all the time they had to do so," Remus said sadly. "Things did happen rather quickly at the very end there.

"Live your life, Harry. Enjoy the time you have, because none of us, none of us, have any guarantees. What is it?" Remus asked upon seeing Harry smiling.

"Live my life," Harry repeated. "That's what Sirius told me."

"Well... I guess he was good for something besides tormenting Severus," Remus chuckled. The two of them then started heading back for the house.

"There was one other thing I was hoping you might know about," Harry added as they began to walk.

"Anything."

"The box those letters were in... it was my mum's jewelry box."

"Thank Merlin!" Remus sighed. "I knew the house had been vandalized by people looking for mementos after the fall of Voldemort. I simply assumed it was amongst the lost."

"Professor Dumbledore found it. He kept it safe until he was able to have it put into Sirius's vault." Harry paused for a moment. "Why'd he give it to Sirius? Why not to you or me?"

"Probably because Dumbledore knows that if Gringotts wishes to do business with the Ministry, they are forced to comply with certain restrictions against so-called 'half-breeds,' including a restriction against holding a vault.

"And as for yourself," Lupin continued, "in the strictest legal sense, Dumbledore's possession of your mother's jewelry box was not exactly legal. Considering the nature of that box, it must come into your possession through strictly formal, i.e. legal, means. Inheriting it from your godfather would accomplish that."

"Funny you should mention that," Harry chuckled. "I wanted to ask you about that too... the box itself. When I first saw it, it was completely sealed and had my parents' initials engraved on it. But then later, it was open and had my initials on it."

"Really?" Remus asked, extremely interested. "Tell me, were you alone when you opened the box?"

Harry suddenly became very fascinated by the ants carrying away a dead insect on the ground. "Does that make a difference in how the box works?" he asked vaguely.

"Well... it might," Remus replied, also vaguely. "As I recall, and I do so very well considering I gave it to your mother as a wedding gift, it is called the True Love Jewelry box. It displays the initials of its owner. When that person gets married, it displays the initials of the happy couple."

"And being sealed?" Harry asked.

"Well, the intent is for it to be a family heirloom," Remus explained, "something handed down from one generation to the next. When it's passed along, it seals itself, not to be opened until the proper moment."

"That moment being?" Harry asked with an inordinate amount of trepidation.

"Why, when you're in the presence of your one true love, of course... hence the name," Remus explained, smiling. He knew full well with whom Harry had left the conference room that morning.

"Now, it was a few years ago that I bought it so I might be mistaken, but I thought it could only be opened by a female as it was a woman's jewelry box. You did say you were alone when you opened it, right?" Lupin asked, only barely able to restrain himself.

Harry, of course, did not answer.

"Oh well," Remus said exaggeratedly. "I suppose there's an exception in the charm should it be given to a son. I suppose it just popped right open as soon as you touched it."

Though Harry was still looking away, Remus could see the tiny twitch in his facial expression that confirmed that was in fact not the case.

Not that it really mattered to either of them, but technically the engraving and sealing charms were separate (because as a werewolf, Remus was hard-pressed to afford a fancier, all-in-one version). The ownership/engraving charm was activated because the box was unsealed.

The box was unsealed because a female (it could have been any female) touched it in the presence of its owner. And said owner was someone who just happened to be very special to said arbitrary female. Yeah, it was pretty convoluted, and maybe even a little inaccurate in its intended function for its owner, but such was the glitch in not being able to buy the fanciest version. (No insult to Remus; it was still a very nice box.)

But none of that really mattered as Remus was under the impression Harry had touched the jewelry box. And Harry was digesting the thought that Hermione could be his one true love (since it was his box that was touched). He wasn't scared away by the possibility; rather he was just a little overwhelmed. And maybe just a little bit plain scared.

"If that's all," Remus resumed, "I had better be off. Tonks and I will be back tomorrow around lunchtime so that we're not gone so long this time. Okay?"

Harry finally looked back up at Remus again. "Okay," he replied. With that, Lupin then Apparated away. Harry returned to the house to watch the last of the chess game.

* * *

Some hour and a half after the game started, Emma finally won once again. Though he would have preferred to win of course, never had Ron enjoyed losing so much.

With the end of the game, everyone agreed that it was time to get ready for bed. Neville finally returned home; with everyone pointedly staring at him and Ginny, he left with only a quick peck on the lips goodbye.

"What?" Ginny asked, sounding exasperated, but the pink tint indicated more amusement than annoyance.

Nothing was said, but more than a few curious stares were passed amongst the teenagers when it was realized that Penny wasn't leaving tonight.

Earlier in the evening, Harry had noticed Percy in the kitchen talking with his parents in hushed tones. Though he couldn't hear anything, he had seen it end with Percy nod several times. It looked like he was agreeing to one or more "somethings." Now that Penny was staying, Harry thought he had a pretty good idea what they'd been talking about.

This time, he was right.

And Percy and Penny did abide by Arthur and Molly's stipulations for staying the night. Then again, Percy Weasley and Penelope Clearwater and "following rules" went together like peas in a pod.

At first, it seemed scary that Percy and Penny had started sleeping together so quickly (yes, just sleeping) after getting back together. But really, prior to their breakup, they had been dating for nearly four years. That-and their pledge of "appropriate behavior"-was what helped convince Arthur and Molly to allow yet another "cohabitation" under their roof.

Even if it was only for one night. For now.

* * *

Before it got too late, Hermione and Ginny went into Ron and Harry's room to see what they were doing. In other words, they wanted to bug them. What they found certainly was not what either of them expected. (But one of them was very pleased.)

As they walked in, they found Harry lying on his bed reading his birthday gift from Dumbledore, Advanced Defense, and Ron at his desk scribbling furiously, surrounded by books and sheets of parchment.

Much earlier in the summer, Harry had jokingly thought that Ron would put off starting his homework until the 25th of August. He had been wrong: Ron had waited until the 28th. It seems that with Hermione's arrival, he finally decided that he finally ought to start it.

Both before and after making his sixth year class selections, all together Harry had spent about two weeks working on his homework assignments... granted, at a leisurely pace. A sizable portion of that time was spent on repetition. Each one of his essays had gone through at least two drafts, with Hermione editing and commenting on each, before he "finished" them. And many of his chapters he had read twice. He had to since Hermione was quizzing him on occasion.

Harry supposed that if he'd done them to his usual "read or write it once and be done with it" standard, he could have been done with it all in about eight or nine days, instead of the two weeks. Looking over at best friend writing frantically, he wondered if what he could have done comfortably in nine days, Ron could do feverishly in four. They would all find out the following Monday when classes started.

Harry did feel a little sympathy for the plight of his friend, but at the same time, it had been Ron who chose to wait until the very last few days. Evidently he had forgotten that the holiday homework assignments preceding their N.E.W.T. years were double that from their O.W.L. year.

There was little Harry could do to help him. Ron hadn't even bothered to ask to copy his homework. There simply wasn't enough time to read it all, and then try to figure out how to rewrite it so that it wasn't obvious he copied.

Harry looked up from his book to see the two girls standing in the doorway, obviously surprised at their activities. He was about to say something when Ginny put her index finder up to her lips, asking him to be quiet. She waited until Ron re-inked his quill, then paused and leaned over to check one of the four books scattered open in front of him.

"RON!"

Ginny's youngest older brother jumped, letting his freshly dipped quill fly out of his hand. A few drops of ink splattered up when the quill landed on its tip and bounced back up.

"Ha ha, very funny!" Ron complained as he wiped the ink off his face.

"What are you to doing?" Ginny asked innocently.

"We were enjoying some female-free peace and quiet," her brother replied sarcastically.

Hermione took one look around the room. The room was a mess. There were candy bar wrappers, crumpled up crisps bags, and empty Coke cans (the last of his supply) on every horizontal surface on Ron's side of the room. His clothes were everywhere.

"And is this the end result of 'female-free'? I can't believe your mum lets you live like this," Hermione complained.

"What? It's not Saturday yet! I only have to clean once a week," Ron defended.

All of this, in less than a week? Hermione wrinkled her nose in disapproval. And Ginny, well, it didn't faze her as she was quite used to it by now. It was like trying to stand against the tide.

"You see, Hermione," Ron explained, "in the absence of pretty birds to impress, blokes revert to our natural state."

"And what about Ginny?" Hermione asked. Ron looked at her incredulously, as if she'd just suggested he take a Muggle Studies class.

"Ginny's not a girl. She's my sister."

Hermione wisely kept her comment to herself, and then turned towards Harry's half of the room. His was a little better. He was living out of his trunk, evidently having decided to forego actually hanging his clothes up. At least he didn't have candy wrappers and dirty clothes all strewn about the room. He did, however, have a small pile of socks on the floor next to his bed.

It appeared as if every night, he climbed into bed and removed his socks, dropping them on the floor in exactly the same spot. There appeared to be enough there for one pair per day since last Saturday.

Well, at least he's changing his clothes everyday, and everything else is in the hamper, Hermione decided. She felt compelled to drag her shoe through the small pile, as if to emphasize that there was more than merely one or two.

"I'm sure the future Mrs. Potter would be so proud, Harry," she teased. Actually, she wasn't actually sure what that meant. What it really was, was the verbal follow-up to her non-verbal thought. Fortunately it also could have been interpreted as a standalone sarcastic comment.

But that didn't really matter, as Harry already knew what to say.

"Don't worry. If Mrs. Potter were around, I wouldn't have been quite the slob Ron is," he joked. Neither of them forgot how clean he had kept his room at the Grangers'.

"Fully a bloke, and proud of it!" Ron said, smiling broadly before returning to two inches of essay he'd managed to get started by now.

* * *

Once the two of them were in their nightclothes and ready for bed, Ginny felt it was time to fill Hermione in on all of the latest gossip. That of course consisted almost entirely of Neville. She told her all about what had happened with his grandmother during their first meeting, and how things had gone on their second.

Yesterday, actually, Neville had finally invited Ginny back over to his house again. With Gran thoroughly sober this time, and not walking in on the two of them making out, introductions went much better this time. Ginny also got the impression that Neville had been telling his grandmother all about her. She barely knew Augusta at all, but the elderly woman certainly seemed to know a lot about her.

Ginny's obvious giddiness started getting the better of her for she somehow found herself talking about all the places the she and Neville had snogged so far.

"Okay, okay!" Hermione teased/complained. "I get it! Is there anywhere in or around your house that the two of you haven't been snogging?"

It was a rhetorical question, but Ginny knew the answer anyway. "Mum and Dad's room, Bill, Charlie, and Percy's rooms, the bathroom... and the attic," she added with a slight grimace. The ghoul up there more than likely was apt to dampen the mood.

Hermione was about to laugh at the detailed list when she realized something. "Ron's room?"

Ginny said nothing but grinned evilly. The two girls shared a good laugh over that. When the laughter finally subsided, Ginny's expression became serious for a moment.

"I've already said it twice, but I really wanted to properly thank you for what we talked about last week," she said sincerely. "Things might have happened differently if it wasn't for what you said."

"I take it then that you haven't... rushed in to anything?"

"No," Ginny confirmed, "at least... not if you exclude some alone time." She blushed.

"I still think Mum was wrong for what she said, but at least now I won't automatically do something just to spite her." As she started thinking again about the invaluable advice one of her best friends had given her, it was Ginny's turn to realize something. She started giggling and laughing at the timing of Hermione's arrival.

"What?" the older witch asked, smiling at the redhead's laughter.

"So, there's still time left," Ginny said after looking at the clock. "Are you going to shag Harry tonight?" she asked in a fit of giggles. There was nothing at all suggestive in her voice; it was completely and entirely a joke.

That didn't help Hermione much, however.

After starting out pale white, she must have gone through a half-dozen or so variations of red as she squeaked and spluttered.

"What?!" was the first intelligible thing Hermione was able to utter. Ginny just laughed at the fit she was in.

"Remember when we spoke through the mirrors? You said you were going to wait for the right moment, whether it was your wedding night or next Thursday night."

Hermione nodded uncertainly. It was exactly the same thing she'd said to her mother weeks ago. Ginny just waggled her eyebrows suggestively.

"Well, in case you didn't notice, tonight IS next Thursday night!" Ginny said, giggling again.

Whatever color she had been before, it was now obvious Hermione was blushing. She chuckled nervously.

"Oh, honestly, Ginny! I didn't mean..."

The redhead just laughed even louder. "I know. But it was worth it to see the look on your face."

Hermione decided to try to turn this around. "Well, what makes you think it would be Harry, hmm?"

"Dad's married. Bill's engaged. Charlie, well, he hasn't said anything, but I'm not entirely sure he would be... interested. Percy's in bed with Penny right now." Both girls made faces. "Fred and George are chasing Angelina and Alicia. And I overheard Ron practicing what he was going to say when Luna got back. That just leaves Harry," Ginny finished with a self-satisfied smirk.

Hermione had to scrutinize her best female friend closely for a few seconds. When she decided that the younger girl wasn't insinuating anything (or reading her mind), she was able to breathe a small sigh of relief and join her friend in laughing at the coincidental timing of her arrival. She got an extra laugh remembering that the last time she had said that, the 'next Thursday' had been Harry's birthday.

That would have been quite the present. It certainly had been in her dreams that night. It definitely explained why she woke up so early that following morning, the day of their trip to hear Sirius's will. She had said she was lying there, nice and warm under her covers. It was certainly better than saying she was basking in the afterglow of a lovely dream.

* * *

The following morning dawned and the dwellers of the Burrow were all awakened early for a small breakfast feast. With a still-larger-than-normal breakfast to plan, another shopping run was required. Because they had visited the Muggle store yesterday instead of the wizarding one, unfortunately their purchases had been limited by what they could comfortably carry in ordinary paper bags.

Always fascinated by even the mundane differences between the Muggle and magical worlds, Emma was quite intrigued by the small market. Small, that is, until they actually walked inside. Though Hermione had mentioned it many times, and she had even seen it in her own car, Emma was always unprepared for something being bigger on the inside than on the outside.

Aside from some of the obvious things like baskets of fruit levitating by themselves mid-aisle, or shelves that replenished themselves when something was taken, or magical-only items like cauldron cakes and Every Flavor Beans, the most noticeable difference was the drastically simpler offerings.

A Muggle megamart, for instance, might have an entire refrigerator case dedicated to dozens and dozens of cheeses, each in nearly every form imaginable: block, sliced, shredded, cubed, crumbled, and even aerosol-canned....

But here, there were simply bulk wheels or blocks of all types... Cheddar, Stilton, Lancashire, relative new-comer Stinking Bishop, and of course the Wallace and Gromit favorite, Wensleydale.

If a wizard wanted their cheese cut, they had to do it themselves.

Similarly, a megamart might have butter, lightly salted butter, unsalted, garlic, herbed, spreadable, whipped, whipped with yogurt... all in bricks, sticks, tubs, and even pre-packaged single servings. There were also at least as many more butter-flavored spreads such as margarines. Here, there was... butter.

Actually, like all dairy products, butter too was procured from Muggle dairies. For the need of efficiency, the wizarding middlemen simply restricted their transactions to the plain variety. And besides, wizards might have been perfectly comfortable with potions made of eye of newt and toe of frog, but things like partially hydrogenated vegetable oil were probably just a little more than they were willing to brave.

Since it had been decided the night before that Harry and the Grangers would leave around midday to coincide with Remus and Tonks' lunch break, they were all up early so they could say their goodbyes before those who had to left for work.

* * *

It was nearly eleven o'clock and everyone was simply sitting around, enjoying the last of their time together. It was a lazy morning, and everyone had pretty much settled upon watching Crookshanks chase the gnomes. Right now, he was just playing.

Within a few minutes, Metis could be seen swoop by in front of them, on his way from the window on the other side of the house to his favorite tree.

"Oh yeah! Here we go!" Ron said excitedly.

A few seconds after Metis was up in the tree, a single, clear hoot carried throughout the Burrow. Crookshanks immediately stopped his pursuit and returned back to the spectators; he jumped up into Hermione's lap.

"Lunch time?" Hermione asked warily. On one hand, she wasn't exactly thrilled to witness Metis catch a gnome and take it off for dispatching. And then on the other, she was curious to see how, according to Harry, her cat and owl coordinated their activities.

Purring, Crookshanks nuzzled his head against Hermione's hand. He then jumped down and started stalking towards the taller grass, ready to begin.

And it would be easy too. For when Metis hooted, not only had Crookshanks responded, but so too did all of the gnomes. They all stormed up out of their gnomeholes to have a look around, to see what had made the noise.

No one ever said gnomes were especially bright.

And with that, Crookshanks was off. Instead of dropping back down into their holes, the gnomes, as always, took off running away from the feline, scattering in all directions like pins before the ball in a ten-pin bowling game.

Once confident they weren't being chased, the remaining gnomes liked to stop and watch as the others were pursued. Watch, as one in particular was separated off from the rest of them. Watch, as it was flushed towards a large tree. One particular tree.

Back by the house, all anyone could see was a white streak as Metis swooped down. A small cloud of dust was kicked up, and it was all over. As the owl took flight carrying his prize, attentions were returned to the remaining gnomes that had watched the entire scene.

Laughter could be heard coming from them as they returned to their dwellings. They found it extremely funny that they hadn't been caught. None of them seemed to care or notice that each and every day there was one less of them. Yes, all of those remaining found it quite funny.

No one ever said gnomes were especially bright.

* * *

Harry and the Grangers found it quite amusing how disappointed Metis and Hedwig appeared to be upon having their cage loaded into the Ministry vehicle. When Fawkes initially transported them to the Burrow, both owls appeared quite impressed with the red and gold creature. The way they ducked their heads and lowered themselves, they almost appeared shy in front of the phoenix. When Dumbledore made brief introductions between the three, the white birds even appeared to lean forward slightly, as if in bow.

This time, they got the floor of the car, between the two limousine bench seats.

"Let's go home, Crookshanks," Hermione told her familiar as Dan finished loading Harry's trunk into the boot, and then climbed into the car as well.

Harry actually let out a groan as Molly squeezed the air out of his lungs.

It was strange. It wasn't as if they all weren't going to see each other a few days later at King's Cross. Harry had left the Burrow for school several times. But still, this time, his "moving out" seemed just a little more significant to everyone for some reason, Molly especially. The difference, everyone knew, was that this time, he was leaving the Weasleys' for somewhere where he was welcome... but wasn't Hogwarts. But what difference could that possibly make?

Molly knew, when her Granger counterpart hugged her goodbye. "I promise to take good care of him," Emma whispered.

* * *

Much of the drive back to Wandsworth had been filled with talk of Quidditch. Listening to Ron describe the game (rather well, actually) nearly a month earlier when he and Ginny spent the night, neither Dan nor Emma had seemed particularly impressed with the sport. However, after watching a game firsthand last night, both of them had decided they loved it. Perhaps it was because they weren't already biased towards a particular sport or team (like Dean Thomas was, for example).

Or perhaps it was because Harry played it, and they enjoyed watching him play and enjoy it.

Despite the chills that went through them at seeing some of his more harrowing maneuvers, it was easy to see how this could be the most popular game in the wizarding world. They were especially impressed to learn that the moves they witnessed were actually "tame" by normal standards.

Although Ottery St. Mary was separate from Ottery St. Catchpole, Muggles could see the village behind their houses and through the fences. They simply never had any desire to look any closer. Anytime anyone wondered about their "ordinary" neighbors "on the next street over," he or she would always remember something more urgent that they needed to do, or had forgotten about.

No one ever felt an urgent need to try to visit that next street over... because they knew it was the next street over. How different could it be... what could be so special about it, if it was simply the next street over? That, combined with the magical deterrent of always remembering something more urgent, had helped keep Ottery St. Catchpole hidden for centuries.

So, although magic helped keep the Muggles from getting too curious about the next street over, it might not guarantee it should those Muggles just happen to see something as amazing as people flying on broomsticks. And so wizarding children were always taught not to go too high so as to attract unwanted attention.

* * *

Soon, traffic began to increase as the Ministry vehicle approached the increasingly urban area. Harry was pleasantly surprised to realize that he recognized exactly where he was. A few quick turns to get to the appropriate local streets, and despite the still-lingering mist, he finally saw it.

They were back!