Unofficial Portkey Archive

Author's Note

I'm not too late since it's still Thursday where I am! *grins* I usually upload chapters early in the morning, but I slept in this morning - got home late last night after seeing "Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix" - and then had to leave early this morning to see it again! So, a little later than I'd planned, but still on Thursday, here is Chapter Three…

SORCERERS' NOOK

By JanieB

CHAPTER THREE

In which we meet up with Dean Thomas and he in turn not only meets up with some old friends, he moves in with them…and Harry finds himself feeling somewhat out of sorts, the reasons for which seem to elude him…

`Well, Mr Thomas, there is no doubt we can do business on the strength of these.'

Dean Thomas felt relief sweep through him as he gathered up the scattered examples of his art work and put them back in his folder.

Five minutes later, he walked out of the front door of the old, but magically preserved building that housed the Daily Prophet and stopped at the top of the short, wide flight of stairs that led down to the pavement.

`I've actually done it, I've got myself a real job as an artist!' he told a wiry, black cat sitting on the stone railing, soaking up the sun. The cat gave him an uninterested glance and with a faint flick of its tail, closed its eyes once more. As he nimbly ran down the stairs, Dean pulled a card from a pocket inside his robes and studied it. `Now I just need me a place to live.'

*

`Ambling Row?' The wizened old man peered at Dean through his thick lenses. Dean nodded and the old man continued, `Just keep heading towards the post office' - he obligingly pointed to the ancient looking building about twenty yards further down the street - `and past that is Grimley's - the grocer's, y'know - and it's that corner where you turn right, and you're in Ambling Row.'

Dean beamed at the elderly gentlemen, thanking him before he strode off towards the corner. As he reached the post office, he noticed it had a highly polished brass plaque beside the bright red front door with the words "Harminster Leigh Post Office" engraved in Old English type. On the footpath outside the post office was something Dean hadn't seen for a while - an old-style, traditional red telephone box. He smiled fondly at it as he passed it, recalling the same sort of phone box down the street from his childhood home. Next he came to Grimley's, and there on the corner was an ornate street sign bearing the legend, "Ambling Row". Dean felt his heart rate begin to climb as he turned right into the old, narrow street that was quite straight before curving to the left further down past what appeared to be an old and rambling - perhaps neglected - garden on the left-hand side.

Close to the corner where Dean stood were old stone cottages on each side of the street, looking very quaint in their garden settings. As he walked along firstly past number three on his right, "Mill Cottage" and then number five, "Ambling Rose Cottage", he could see the sedately imposing block of flats known as "Sorcerers' Nook" through the two old white willow trees which flanked the front path from the black, wrought iron gate and which took up virtually the entire front garden. "The Nook", as it was affectionately known by its tenants and locals, was built beside a small stream and he could see the graceful weeping willows that followed the path of the stream into the woods beyond.

As Dean neared the black gate, the end of the road came into view where it curved away to his left, ending at an old stile leading into a prettily unkempt field. On reaching the gate, he stopped, taking in the two tall stone pillars which supported it and noted the brass letterboxes numbered 1 to 4 and one with "Landlady" engraved on it set into the stone pillar on the left under a large, brass number "7". Wondering whether they were just for show for the local Muggles, he reached through the gate and lifted the latch, looking up at the mellow, stone façade of the building, its high bay windows rising symmetrically on each side for three stories, reflecting the few rays of mid-morning sun that trickled through the softly murmuring leaves of the two old willows. In between the bay windows on the first and second floors were round, stained glass windows, although he couldn't quite make out what was depicted in them in the wavering shadows.

Above the glossy, black-painted door, carved into the stone, he could see the name, "Sorcerers' Nook"; also carved into the stone on each side of the name were two oval cameos, one of a man and the other of a woman. Dean smiled as he thought of the witches and wizards of long ago who had dared named this old building, then pushed at the gate which swung open smoothly and noiselessly. He closed it behind him and walked along the stone-paved path and up the three curved, shallow steps to the front doors. Through the bay window on his left, he caught a glimpse of what looked like an old reception desk, reminiscent of a hotel. As he reached out to grasp the ornate brass doorhandle, he heard a woman's voice say, `Oh, look dear, a rather smashing sort! Reminds me of someone - now who is it?'

`Bit on the young side for you, don't you think sweetheart? And you're right, he does look a little familiar,' replied a male voice.

Dean looked around but could see no one.

`Who's there?' he asked.

`Never mind, handsome, just go on in,' cooed the female voice.

Dean snatched his hand back as the door opened by itself. With a quick glance around, he shrugged and then stepped inside, dodging the door as it closed behind him. Well, I don't suppose it's called Sorcerers' Nook for nothing, he mused.

Glancing down, his eyes were drawn to the deep green carpet runner that ran along the length of the hall from the front door where he stood, towards the back where it was too dim to make out many details; he could hear faint music coming from somewhere down the hall. His eyes then wandered over the small sitting area on his right, which held armchairs clustered around a fire place on the wall opposite the front window, before moving to the right hand corner beside the fireplace - where stood a dark wooden perch on which sat a barn owl , its' head tucked under its wing. Above the fireplace hung a painting of an elderly couple, both sitting in rocking chairs, their chins resting on their chests as they slept peacefully.

He crossed to the well-polished old reception desk to his left, picking up and gently ringing the small brass bell sitting on top; he turned to look down the hall once more, this time taking in the stairs on the right-hand side of the hall that rose to a landing, then turned and rose to the first floor. There was a door on the left side of the hall, across from the bottom of the staircase, standing just ajar. Within seconds of ringing the bell, the music stopped and he heard a rustling sound followed by the tapping of shoes on the polished wooden floor. An elderly witch appeared, her deep purple robes complimented by a pointed silver hat perched on her short, white, curly hair. Her lined face framed bright blue eyes that held an innate curiosity. She smiled inquiringly at Dean as she approached and he found he couldn't help but smile back.

`Morning,' he said, `my name's Dean Thomas. I'm looking for a flat to let, and some friends of mine told me you have a vacancy here.'

`Perhaps we do,' said the sprightly landlady. `Come with me,' she invited, ushering him behind the desk and through a door into the office adjoining the reception area. The room was lined with bookshelves and lit by a large candelabra hanging from the centre of the patterned ceiling, filled with dozens of flickering candles as well as the filtered light through a pair of French doors set amongst the bookshelves.

Automatically taking the seat in front of the desk as the elderly witch sat opposite, Dean gazed out the doors, entranced by the inviting sight that lay just beyond a low, neat hedge of softly swaying willows on the bank of a small stream, which sparkled here and there where sunlight touched it. Virtually opposite the doors he could see where the hedge had been trained over a trellis to create an arched entrance to the banks of the stream.

`Magical, isn't it?' the old witch murmured softly before saying more briskly, `My name's Esmerelda Solly, by the way, young man. Would y'mind telling me which friends you're speaking of?'

Turning his attention back to the witch he hoped would shortly be his landlady, Dean explained that his friend Seamus Finnigan had passed on a message from another former schoolmate, Ron Weasley, about the vacancy. As they chatted, it came out that Dean had spent his years at Hogwarts in the same dormitory as Seamus and Ron, as well as Neville Longbottom, another of Esmerelda's tenants - and, of course, Harry. Once Esmerelda knew this, it was a done deal and she handed Dean the key to Flat 2 - `Up the stairs to the first floor, the door on your right looking towards the back,' she explained, almost beside herself with excitement at what she said would be like a little reunion for the former schoolmates. `You would know my other tenants, Miss Granger and Miss Weasley, too, I daresay,' Esmerelda added as she dipped her quill in the inkpot and wrote out a receipt for Dean's rent for the remainder of that month, after which it was, `due the first of each month, dear,' she explained.

Dean nodded, wondering at the strange feeling he experienced, brought on by the mention of Ginny Weasley; he hadn't seen her since he'd left Hogwarts.

Esmerelda gave him "the tour" as she called it, showing him the laundry down the hall on the right past the stairs and pointing out the small garden out the back before taking him up to his flat. Dean asked her about the voices he'd heard at the front door and wondered why Esmerelda gave him such a sharp glance.

`That'd be Emrys and Verity, I dare say,' she'd replied.

`Who?' asked Dean.

`The Leighs, the old couple in the painting downstairs. They actually built Sorcerers' Nook back in the eighteen hundreds sometime; I'm not good with dates and such.'

`What, they haunt the place or something?' he asked, puzzled; he'd never heard of someone dying and then staying on as a ghost and a portrait.

Esmerelda shrugged. `I'm not sure what it is they do. They don't really talk to anyone much that I know. I've tried many times but I gave up years ago. Wonder why they spoke to you?'

Dean realised this was why she'd looked at him the way she had when he'd mentioned the voices.

`They didn't really say anything much, but they did open the front door for me.'

Esmerelda's eyebrows shot up. `First time I've ever heard of them doing that,' she'd said. Then before leaving him to explore the flat on his own, she quickly explained that he would now be able to Floo in and out of The Nook via the fireplace in the downstairs sitting room. `The fireplaces in the flats aren't allowed to be connected to the Floo Network for security and privacy reasons, you know. However, Mr Potter has somehow managed to have that rule overturned when it comes to the two flats on the top floor, although he tells me they're only connected to each other and not the main Network.' Dean smiled at the contrast between Esmerelda's disapproving visage and the twinkle in her eye that said she couldn't help but be proud of her recalcitrant tenant. She continued, `And you can use Frewin, our house owl, if you need him, dear. He'll go just about anywhere for a Doogle's Deluxe Owl Treat.' Dean thanked her, and as soon as she'd closed the door behind her, he jumped, punching the air; happiness and excitement coursing through him at the wonderful turn his life had taken that day.

First a brilliant new job, he thought, and now this! He rejoiced as he walked around the flat, realising as he went from room to room that there was undoubtedly magic involved, because each of the four flats on the two upper floors were, he knew from Esmerelda, all the same size and it was impossible for this building as seen from the outside to hold them.

Each flat consisted of two bedrooms, one overlooking the street at the front and the other the woods at the rear. The front door opened into a hallway with the bedroom doors at each end as well as the bathroom, which was next to the back bedroom; the front bedroom had its own, small, ensuite bathroom. Walking straight ahead from the front door and through a pointed wooden archway which led to the kitchen - situated towards the back - to his left - and overlooking the long living/dining room, there was a fireplace on the side wall flanked by two large windows.

After inspecting every room, Dean went downstairs to Floo home for his things, asking Esmerelda if she'd mind mentioning to the others as they arrived home that he'd moved in and that they were all welcome to visit him that evening after dinner, around eight o'clock. He suspected - correctly - that it hadn't really been necessary for him to ask Esmerelda to pass on the news…

*

That evening, Hermione Flooed home into the front sitting room of The Nook to find Esmerelda needlessly plumping the pillows on the armchairs.

`Evening, Esmerelda,' said Hermione a little warily as she stepped out onto the hearth, brushing herself down and wondering what tale she'd be regaled with this evening.

`Evening dear, nice day?' Esmerelda's stock greeting for her tenants when they returned home from work.

`Yes, thanks,' said Hermione automatically, `You?' She could tell from the way Esmerelda was now bouncing from foot to foot that she was bursting with some snippet of news.

`Well, a little excitement today, dear - a new tenant! He's in Flat 2 - full house, now!'

Hermione managed to contain the laughter bubbling up inside her - Esmerelda was always so transparent, bless her!

`Anyone I know?' she asked, walking to the bottom of the stairs, turning and waiting for a reply.

Esmerelda nodded vigorously. `Dean Thomas!' she exclaimed as though unable to hold the words in any longer.

`Dean? Well, what do you know! I haven't seen him since we all left Hogwarts!'

`He's asked me to tell each of you to come by later for a bit of a housewarming - 'bout eight, he said.'

`Thanks, Esmerelda, I'll do that.' Hermione turned and took the stairs as quickly as she could and still remain ladylike, determined to escape her landlady's verbal clutches. As she reached the first floor, she turned and noticed that the door of Flat 2 was open. With a quick glance down the stairs to make sure Esmerelda wasn't following her, she moved along beside the balustrade to the open doorway, knocking as she peered in.

`Come in!'

`Is that you Dean? It's Hermione Granger,' called out Hermione as she crossed the hall into the living area, which now held a rather battered looking lounge suite and what looked like an old trunk covered with a cloth for a coffee table. Dean bobbed up from behind the kitchen bench, startling Hermione.

`Sorry!' said Dean, grinning as he made his way round to Hermione, his hand extended. `I was just mopping up some water I spilt.'

Hermione laughed as she grasped his hand, `No need to be sorry! I just heard you're our newest fellow tenant.'

Dean nodded. `Thanks to Seamus and Ron - they told me about this flat.' With a rather sheepish look, he continued, `I'd ask you to sit down and have a cuppa, but -'

Hermione waved away his apology. `It's perfectly all right,' she said, `you keep going - I just arrived home from work, anyway - Esmerelda's mentioned your "housewarming", so we'll see you at eight.'

`Oh good - I hope everyone comes. I've already run into Ginny,' said Dean as he walked her to the door.

`Ginny? She's home early, then. And I'm sure everyone will come,' promised Hermione, `well, except for Ron - he's away at the moment.'

`Away? Ginny didn't say anything.'

Hermione gave him a small smile. `Quidditch. He's actually with Seamus and Colin Creevey - I'll tell you about it later.'

Dean nodded. `I'm looking forward to hearing everyone's news,' he said, `see you later then!'

As she reached her own door, on the floor directly above Dean's, Hermione paused with her hand hovering above the door handle, thinking about what she'd said to Dean.

When I tell Dean about Ron being away, I won't say anything about our…problem, assuming he knows we were a couple, she thought to herself. Actually, I can't say anything to anyone else yet, not before I speak with Ron. I'll have to talk to Ginny, too, and Harry, make sure they don't let anything slip.

Just then the door opened, making her cry out in surprise.

`Hermione, I'm sorry! I heard you coming up the stairs, I didn't mean to frighten you,' said Ginny, taking Hermione's outstretched hand and pulling. `Come on in - you're not going to believe who I've seen this afternoon!'

As Hermione followed Ginny into the living room, reclaiming her hand to pull off her light cloak, she couldn't keep a certain amused smugness out of her voice as she said, `Dean Thomas maybe?'

Ginny's hands went to her hips as she rolled her eyes. `Trust you to know, Hermione!'

Hermione laughed. `As if Esmerelda is going to let one of us get upstairs without telling us about Dean!'

Ginny laughed too. `So true! It was wonderful to see him again - he's invited us all over after dinner, but I suppose you know that too.'

Hermione nodded, turning to head up the hall towards her bedroom at the front, `I'll just go and get changed. Kettle on?' she said over her shoulder.

`Yes,' said Ginny, `tea's coming right up!'

A short while later as the two friends sat up at the kitchen bench sipping tea, Hermione asked Ginny how it was she'd come to be home from work early, wondering why Ginny seemed to tense on hearing the question.

`It's a bit of a story, Hermione. I'll save it till we have more time, shall I? We should really be getting on with dinner so we have plenty of time to clean up and then get ready for Dean's little reunion party.'

Hermione happily accepted Ginny's explanation, feeling excited herself at the thought of going to Dean's party, however "little" it was going to be.

Just as the girls were sitting down to eat, a knock at the door was followed by Harry's rather flustered entrance, his robes swirling around him as he quickly closed the door behind him. Standing with his back to the door and panting slightly with exertion, his abstracted green gaze met two pairs of amused brown eyes.

`Hello Ginny, Hermione -' Harry took a deep breath, pushing himself upright before turning to rest his ear against the door, bringing a finger to his lips to prevent either of the girls speaking as he listened intently. Apparently satisfied with what he could hear - or perhaps, not hear - he walked to the table where the girls were sitting, dropping on kiss on the top of each of their heads before pulling out a chair and sitting down between them.

`What on earth was that all about?' asked Ginny with amused exasperation.

`Big, bad Esmerelda scare little Harry again, hmm?' teased Hermione, laughing.

`Very funny, Hermione,' said Harry sourly, although he grinned at her.

`Would you like some dinner?' asked Ginny, trying not to laugh.

`Yes, please,' said Harry, eyeing their plates hungrily. `Smells delicious! But you stay there and eat or your's'll get cold - I can help myself,' he finished, rising hurriedly and putting a gently restraining hand on Ginny's shoulder.

Walking around the bench into the kitchen, Harry took down a plate and a glass off the shelf then helped himself to a large piece of still steaming lasagne from the dish atop a heavy wooden board on the bench, before pulling out the cutlery drawer to scoop up a knife and fork. Sitting down once more, he took a large helping from the salad bowl on the table then picked up the bottle of red wine on the table and poured himself a glass. Lifting his glass, he grinned happily at his two companions.

`Here's to a successful getaway,' he said smugly.

Chuckling merrily, Ginny and Hermione lifted their glasses to Harry's and echoed his toast.

`The only trouble is,' said Ginny after a few mouthfuls, `Esmerelda actually had some real news tonight.'

Harry raised his eyebrows inquiringly.

`She now has a "full house", as she put it,' said Hermione, `meaning a new tenant for Flat 2.'

`Who happens to have invited us all to a small housewarming party after dinner,' finished Ginny.

`Someone we know?' asked Harry.

Ginny and Hermione both nodded, neither volunteering anything further.

Harry's knife and fork made a soft chink as he put them down and looked from Ginny to Hermione and back again.

`So put me out of my misery - who is it?'

`Perhaps you should ask Esmerelda,' offered Hermione, deftly spearing a piece of cucumber on her fork. `What do you think, Ginny?'

`A wise suggestion in my opinion,' replied Ginny, taking a sip of her wine.

Harry groaned. `Come on!' he pleaded. `You know Esmerelda drives me crazy - have pity!'

`Wait and see, it'll be a surprise,' said Hermione smugly before taking a delicate bite of her cucumber.

Harry sighed in resignation; he knew he'd get no further information and decided it was better for his digestion to simply eat his meal in peace…

*

While Ginny, Harry and Hermione were eating their dinner, in the flat below Dean was frantically waving his wand to send the contents of the last box flying to their appropriate places. With a final flick, he sent the empty box skating across the floor to join the stack beside the fireplace. Glancing hurriedly at the old mantel clock above the fireplace, he heaved a sigh of relief. He had another half an hour - plenty of time to have a quick shower before everyone arrived.

Half an hour later, as the clock on the mantel called out, `eight o'clock!' in a high, piping voice, Dean heard a firm knock on the door. Leaving the platters of food he was arranging at the kitchen bench, he quickly wiped his hands on a tea towel and almost jogged to the door, pulling it open with an expectant smile.

`Dean!'

`Neville!'

The two men clasped hands, both wearing huge grins. `Come in, come in!' exclaimed Dean, releasing Neville's hand and lifting his arm, he placed it across Neville's shoulders, urging him inside.

`How are you?' they said together, making them both laugh.

`You go first,' said Dean, `come and sit down and I'll get you a drink,' he continued, pointing to one of six mismatched stools at the L-shaped kitchen bench. `What would you like? A Butterbeer? Ogden's?'

`Ogden's and Gillywater if you've got it, thanks,' said Neville, settling his tall, lean frame on a black painted wooden stool.

`Coming right up,' said Dean.

`Sounds like the rest of them are on the way,' commented Neville, hearing a door open and close in the distance as muted voices drifted through Dean's front door, which he'd left open after Neville's arrival.

Placing a drink in front of Neville, Dean headed back towards the door to greet his other guests; he could just make out their words over the sound of their footsteps on the wooden stairs.

`I still think you should tell me before we get there,' said a deep, male voice which Dean knew had to be Harry's.

This comment produced a tinkling laugh, although he couldn't tell whether it was from Ginny or Hermione.

`We keep telling you, just wait and see,' said a voice he recognised as Hermione's from their earlier encounter.

Dean crossed his arms and leant on the side of the archway, smiling as he waited for his three guests to appear through the doorway ahead of him. Hermione was first and gave him a hug in greeting during which, over her shoulder, he saw Harry standing behind Ginny, his face a picture of surprise. As it had earlier that afternoon, Dean's heart began to beat much faster than usual at the sight of Ginny and although he felt somewhat awkward as she hugged him, she didn't seem to notice anything and then Harry was grasping his hand, lifting his other hand to Dean's shoulder and squeezing it.

`Dean! You! Those two teasing women wouldn't tell me who'd moved in, said it would be a surprise,' he finished in explanation.

`A nice one, I hope!' laughed Dean as he stood back, waving Harry inside.

`Absolutely! It's great to see you again - we missed you at the Hogwarts' Christmas dinner,' said Harry as he walked in past Dean.

Ginny, Hermione and Neville had all greeted each other and Hermione had taken the stool on Neville's right, Ginny the one on his left. Harry moved forward to stand behind Ginny while Dean went back into the kitchen to organise drinks for them. Once that was done, Dean took the stool on the end next to Ginny and nearest the kitchen; he raised his glass, smiling.

`Here's to Hogwarts, Gryffindor and catching up!' he said.

`Hear, hear!' everyone echoed happily.

`By the way, Dean, you missed a great night last Christmas,' said Neville.

`The dinner at Hogwarts? Yeah, I know. It was my sister's engagement party that night, though, and there was no way Mum would let me miss that!'

Dean had placed platters of finger food on the bench and despite having just had dinner, temptation got the better of Harry. He moved to the end of the long side of the bench and sat at the end beside Hermione. He reached out and picked up what looked like some sort of savoury tart and as he bit into it and chewed appreciatively, his gaze went to the other end of the polished wooden bench where Ginny and Dean were sitting at right angles to everyone else; Ginny was chatting animatedly and Dean was nodding and smiling, occasionally laughing, appearing quite entranced by Ginny. Harry then glanced at Hermione, beside him, and noticed she was listening intently to something Neville was telling her.

Harry watched Hermione as he ate, wondering at her resilience in the face of the sadness he was sure lay beneath her smiling countenance. At dinner earlier, she'd asked him and Ginny not to say anything about her and Ron other than discussing his whereabouts. Ginny and Harry had agreed immediately, assuring her they wouldn't have done so without speaking to her first. Hermione had told them she'd been sure of that, but needed to say it nonetheless, which they understood.

Licking his fingers, Harry lifted his gaze to Neville's face as he listened to something Hermione was saying. On seeing the expression on his old school friend's face he felt a peculiar sensation streak through him. I know that look! Mother of Merlin, Neville fancies Hermione! What the hell? When did that happen? He can't do that! Harry looked away, reflexively picking up another of the little tarts to cover his sudden discomfort; he ate it without tasting it, his mind awhirl. What am I thinking? Of course he can! Besides, once it's out that it's over between Ron and Hermione… any bloke could ask her out. An even stronger and distinctly unpleasant sensation surged through him at this thought. What the hell is wrong with me? Hermione's already pointed out I've got a hankering for things to stay the same and I understand that, but…

But you never considered anyone else besides Ron being with Hermione, did you? asked a distant voice in his head. And Hermione's grown into a bit of a looker, hasn't she? And now she's free -

Enough! Harry said to himself firmly. This is ridiculous! I mean when I think about it, isn't it better if she falls for someone like Neville than some complete stranger?

Definitely. Neville. Or perhaps even Dean, put in that other voice.

Harry's eyes immediately swivelled to Dean who was still deep in conversation with Ginny.

Or perhaps Dean, he said to himself. That'd be all right, I suppose. I don't know that either Neville or Dean is really quite what Hermione needs, though. Not that I suppose it's my place to mind who Hermione goes out with - it's Hermione's life, after all. And she's told me often enough she doesn't need "saving" or protecting anymore. And I'm sure she's perfectly capable of picking the right bloke. Well, besides Ron that is…

Harry decided at that point that enough was enough - he was going to put all these intrusive and unsettling thoughts out of his head and enjoy the evening. So saying, he picked up his glass and walked round into the kitchen.

`I'll just help myself if that's all right,' he said to Dean with a grin as he walked past.

`Go right ahead,' said Dean hospitably.

Once he'd poured himself another glass of Ogden's, Harry decided to stay on the kitchen side of the bench. He chose to ignore the fact that he was doing so in order to keep an eye on Neville - and Dean, who seemed to be paying rather a lot of attention to Ginny…

One thing about being this side of the bench, thought Harry, I get easy access to the food. A situation he took good advantage of, finally drawing a dry remark from Hermione that he really should try and leave something for everyone else.

`Don't worry,' Dean assured them, `there's plenty more! My mum's the best cook and she gave me a whole stack of stuff for tonight - you know what mum's are like,' he said, addressing this last remark to Ginny, who laughed and nodded in fervent agreement. Hermione alone noted the glance that passed unbidden between Harry and Neville. They don't know what mum's are like, she thought, feeling a tendril of sadness for them drift through her.

`Harry,' said Hermione in her old, authoritative manner, `come and sit down here,' she told him, patting the stool beside her, `I think we need to bring Dean up-to-date with everything since we saw him last and he can fill us in on what he's been up to.'

`That sounds like another of your brilliant ideas, Hermione,' said Neville and Harry found a rather surly remark springing to mind: Sucking up like that is not the way to impress a witch, Neville, especially this one... Harry couldn't prevent a feeling of smug superiority from stealing through him; he'd known things like that about Hermione since he was eleven years old. Then he wondered uncomfortably why he was thinking such things in the first place and decided that perhaps the Ogden's was affecting his thoughts…

Dean knocked smartly on the wooden bench as Harry sat down once more.

`I'm calling this reunion to order,' he said, grinning. `First on the agenda?'

`You go first,' Ginny told Dean before turning to look along the bench at Neville, Hermione and Harry. `Remember what a good drawer Dean was at school? He's actually got a job as an artist!'

Harry made himself smile as he said, `So, Dean, tell us what you've been up to!' It sounds as though Ginny's already heard it all, he thought sourly. Just as he was about to pick up another piece of Mrs Thomas's excellent chocolate caramel slice, he pulled his hand back, thinking that maybe it was too much food making him feel so out of sorts.

`Well, after Hogwarts - and after You-Know-Who -'

`Vol-de-mort!' chorused everyone.

Dean rolled his eyes. `All right, all right! Voldemort!' Everyone except Harry cheered; it was the done thing since Voldemort's demise for the wizarding world to thumb their nose at the self-styled "Dark Lord" and ridicule the whole "you must say You-Know-Who not Voldemort" thing.

`By the way, thanks for that, Harry,' said Dean with a wink, making everyone laugh again. Harry groaned, shaking his head in apparent disgust, although he didn't really mind this sort of fooling around with friends.

`Well, post-Hogwarts and Voldemort, I was living at home. I tried working for a Muggle agency that had a number of artists on their books who did work for advertising agencies - but working with drawings and pictures that, well, didn't move, was pretty boring. I stuck it out for a while but then I left and moved into my own place in London. I tried to get work with The Daily Prophet and the other wizarding publications, but it's pretty hard, especially when you're young and inexperienced. I've been doing all sorts of odd jobs to keep my head above water for a couple of years, then last week I saw an advertisement in the Prophet for a full time junior graphic artist. I went to an interview yesterday and got the job on the spot!'

`Congratulations, Dean!' cried Hermione, clapping; Ginny joined her, Harry and Neville's congratulations a little more subdued.

`Right, Neville, you're next!' said Dean and everyone's attention turned to Neville.

Neville straightened in his seat as he glanced around at everyone, his usual shy and rather self-deprecating smile in place.

`Come on, Neville,' said Hermione encouragingly, `I know we all know what you've been up to, but Dean doesn't.'

Neville smiled gratefully at Hermione for her encouragement, clearing his throat as he turned to Dean.

`After Hogwarts, I wasn't really sure what I wanted to do. My Gran nagged me a bit, of course, she's very practical is my Gran. Then, after about six months, I was at the hospital - visiting Mum and Dad, you know - and I was talking to one of the Healers, and she told me, well, erm…'

Hermione patted Neville gently on the arm. `What our modest friend is trying to say,' she said, smiling at Neville, `is that his interest in Herbology as well as his knowledge of it was well known to everyone that works on his parents' ward, and one of the Healers spoke to the head of Medical Herbology about him.' Hermione nodded at Neville to indicate he should continue.

`Thanks, Hermione,' he said with another grateful smile; he definitely wasn't one to blow his own trumpet. `Leo Greanley, the head Herbologist, actually sent me an owl asking me to come and see him. He was very nice and gave me a sort of test which I didn't do too badly at -'

`He actually knocked Greanley's socks off - he got every single answer right!' put in Ginny, grinning mischievously at Neville who looked quite embarrassed by her words. He gave a small, uncomfortable shrug before continuing.

`After that, he offered me a job in research, which I was only too happy to take. My Gran was over the moon, but not as much as I was. Anyway, I'd been there just over a year when Hermione owled me about a vacant flat here at the Nook and the rest, as they say, is history.'

`Your Gran didn't mind you moving out?' asked Dean.

Neville actually rolled his eyes, causing everyone to laugh. `She said she didn't, but you wouldn't believe how much she fussed when it came to me actually leaving!'

`But he does see her every week,' said Hermione approvingly.

`Excellent work, Neville! Now, Ginny's already told me about her job in the advertising office of Witch Weekly,' Dean said, `so your turn Hermione.'

Harry hardly heard as Hermione explained about her work in the Magical Research Department; he'd sat and listened to Dean's story with interest, then felt a strange, vague annoyance at what he saw as Hermione's mollycoddling of Neville and was now feeling completely out of sorts at the fact that Ginny had already told Dean about her work. What on earth is wrong with me tonight? he wondered. Ginny and Dean had been close at Hogwarts - a little too close for my liking as I recall - but that was years ago and there's no reason why she shouldn't be talking to him now. And Hermione's always looked out for Neville. Harry frowned. And now I know Neville fancies her - he probably doesn't see it as mollycoddling, probably loves it. Harry put his elbow on the bench and rested his chin in his hand. Maybe it's this whole Ron and Hermione thing that's gotten under my skin. Things were so easy the way they were or rather, the way they had been, with the four of us. Must be what's making me feel like this.

`Harry?'

Harry blinked as a hand was waved in front of his face.

`Off with the pixies!' he heard Dean say, followed by Ginny's laughter.

The hand disappeared and he saw Hermione's questioning look as she repeated, `Harry?'

`Sorry,' he mumbled, `I was miles away.'

`Your scintillating storytelling, Hermione!' laughed Ginny, everyone else except Harry joining in a second later.

Harry gave Hermione an apologetic look.

`It's all right, Harry,' she smiled, `I forgive you. This time.'

`Oh, thanks,' said Harry sardonically, then made himself join in the laughter.

`Your turn now, Harry,' said Dean, `and Hermione, feel free to yawn your head off!'

Harry caught Hermione's eye and she winked at him, making him smile.

`Not much to tell, really,' he said, eliciting groans from everyone.

`Oh, you mean besides the whole Horcrux-destroying and Voldemort-vanquishing episodes? You don't need to go there, anyway, since I already know all about that,' said Dean with a grin.

Harry shrugged off his customary discomfort at the mention of his well-known achievements, something he could only do with his close friends, and replied jokingly, `Yeah, besides all that,' waving his hand dismissively.

`Actually, I know what you do,' said Dean, flashing a grin. `Seamus has told me - you work with the Ministry's Aurors, training them.'

`Well, training those in their first year, but with the more experienced Aurors, it's more like advising them. I picked up a bit of stuff during the "whole Horcrux-destroying and Voldemort-vanquishing episodes". I do research into the Dark Arts too - there's as much to learn about that still as there is about normal magic.'

`Well, that leaves Ron - but I know what he does, too.' He turned to Hermione. `You said he's away with Seamus and Colin Creevey?'

Hermione explained what Ron, Seamus and Colin were doing, and Harry wondered if anyone else noticed the tinge of sadness in Hermione's eyes as she spoke; he was also relieved Dean didn't ask about Hermione and Ron's relationship, which he must have heard about from Seamus. Harry wasn't to know that Ginny had warned Dean earlier against asking too much about Ron for now, without going into details as to why.

`Sounds as though we've all ended up with jobs that seem to suit us really well,' said Dean.

`And living in a really great place,' said Neville, `with really great friends.'

`I'll drink to that,' said Dean, lifting his glass. Everyone joined in the impromptu toast.

Then Hermione stood up, her hand over her mouth, covering a yawn. `I've had a wonderful time, Dean, thank you, but I'm going to have to go, I'm afraid - I need to get to bed,' she said.

`Me too,' said Neville, standing up beside her. The unaccustomed irritability that seemed to have been his companion all night once more took hold of Harry as he watched Neville put a hand on Hermione's back in what, to Harry, appeared to be a possessive manner, telling her, `I'll walk you up.'

What? She can't walk up two flights of stairs on her own? he thought acidly, once again feeling inexplicably annoyed with Neville.

Ginny slid off her stool too, then, and Harry quickly rose to his feet. `I think we should all go,' she said. `We all have work tomorrow.'

`Don't worry about walking me up, Neville - I'll go with Harry and Ginny - thanks anyway.' Hermione smiled at Neville as she spoke and as he listened, Harry also smiled.

Dean followed them all to the door, thanking them for coming and they thanked him in return as they all agreed they should get together again soon.

*

`So, Ginny, what's going on at work? Why were you home early yesterday?' asked Hermione the next morning as they sat eating breakfast.

Ginny sighed as she finished buttering her toast. She looked up at Hermione, who was surprised to see sadness in her friend's eyes.

`I just had to get out of the place yesterday, so I left a little early. It's my boss,' she said, referring to Ida Wordsmith, the editor of Witch Weekly. `She's retiring. She announced it yesterday morning.'

Hermione frowned in puzzlement. `But what's wrong with that? It thought you and she got on really well.'

`Oh, we do!' cried Ginny. `She's been brilliant - I've learnt so much from her! It's her successor that's the problem.'

`I see, and who would that be?' asked Hermione, sure she already knew the answer.

`Oscar Blakely.'

`I was afraid of that,' murmured Hermione, knowing too well how often Ginny and Blakely clashed.

Ginny pushed her plate away, toast uneaten, and picked up her cup of tea, taking a sip.

`Ida wants me to stay -'

`Of course she does!' interjected Hermione.

`- but I don't think I could face having Blakely as my boss. Ida knows we don't see eye to eye, but of course neither of us has ever let on how bad it is. You're the only one who knows about that.'

Hermione was aware of this and had often encouraged Ginny to talk to Harry about it, but she firmly refused, saying she was sure it would only cause more problems if Harry knew. Hermione had assured her that Harry would stick up for her and Ginny had replied that that's exactly what she was afraid of and that she didn't need to have Harry turning up at work defending her. Hermione didn't believe Harry would go quite that far, but she'd never been able to convince Ginny otherwise.

`Do you know what you're going to do?' asked Hermione, her concern for her friend evident in her eyes.

Ginny shook her head. `I'm not sure. I guess I'll stick it out for now - see how it goes. Maybe Blakely will mellow a little now that he's the boss.'

`Let's hope so!' said Hermione fervently.

*

Hermione arrived home that evening to an empty flat, with the exception of Crookshanks. Since Ginny usually arrived home shortly after her, when she hadn't arrived by the time Hermione had finished putting together a chicken Caesar salad for dinner, she assumed Ginny was with Harry. After eating her light meal, Hermione curled up on the lounge with a cup of tea and her book, Crookshanks sleeping contentedly in his usual spot. Shortly after eight o'clock, Pigwidgeon flew out of the chimney, twittering with excitement as he made his way to his perch. Hermione smiled at the small owl as she stood up and made her way over to him, having noticed he had a scroll tied to his leg. Crookshanks stretched languidly, giving the little owl one disdainful glance before curling up and going back to sleep.

`Good work, little one,' Hermione said, as she stroked the small owl's head lightly after removing the scroll. She looked down at her name, scrawled on the outside, and felt a strange sensation in her stomach as she recognised Ron's writing. She put the unopened scroll on the table and went into the kitchen to pour herself a glass of wine from the bottle they'd opened the previous night. Then she sat down at the table, staring at the scroll as she sipped the wine, feeling unsettled for some reason she couldn't - or perhaps, wouldn't - fathom.

Why on earth has Ron written to me? she wondered. He never normally writes, he usually Floos me at work.

`Only one way to find out,' she said to Crookshanks, who was sitting on the lounge watching his mistress as she unrolled the letter, her eyes moving intently back and forth across the parchment.

`Hermione?'

Harry had knocked, certain Hermione was home. When he'd received no answer, he'd tried the handle - when it opened he knew someone was home, and he'd put his head around the door.

`Hermione!' he repeated. Then he saw her, sitting at the kitchen table. He walked in and closed the door behind him before walking over to her.

`Hermione, are you all right?' he asked, her unnatural stillness telling him something was amiss.

Hermione looked up at him, her eyes clouded with that unfocused look which you see when someone's thoughts are far away.

Harry sat down next to her, taking the wine glass from her with his left hand and moving it away, his right hand coming to rest on her shoulder.

`Bad news?' he asked gently, indicating the parchment with a small inclination of his head.

Hermione gave him a half smile as she shook her head. `No, not bad news. Just - news…'

Giving her head a small shake, Hermione gave Harry a more normal smile. `Sorry, I was miles away.'

`I noticed,' grinned Harry, removing his hand. `You didn't even hear me knock!'

`It's a letter from Ron -'

`Letter? From Ron?' Harry couldn't have sounded more astonished.

Hermione chuckled. `I know, surprising, isn't it? He doesn't say a lot really, just that they're all having a marvellous time.'

`That's it?'

Hermione turned and looked down at the parchment again, her expression serious once more.

`Mostly. They're still in Falmouth, with the Falcons. And Luna's joined them.'

`Luna? Lovegood? Joined them? What d'you mean?'

Hermione's voice sounded distinctly tense as she replied, `Apparently her father's bidding against Wizarding World, trying to get them to sell their stories to The Quibbler instead. He's sent Luna to negotiate.'

`Oh.'

Hermione laughed, although it wasn't a happy sound. `Ironic, isn't it? I really don't care - but I'm just wondering what's going to happen. I mean, it's just so weird for Ron to write and I can't help but feel that it's because of Luna. It's as though he wants me to know that she's with them because - well, I'm not sure why, and I'm sure it's all unconscious on his part - and, well…' Hermione faltered, unable to find the rights words to express thoughts that were all over the place.

Harry leant forward and rested his arms on the table, his green eyes full of concern as he looked at Hermione, waiting until she lifted her eyes to his before he spoke.

`Hermione, whatever else Ron lacks, he's not going to run off with Luna when he thinks you two are still, well, together. However much he may unconsciously like Luna.'

Hermione gave another of those unhappy laughs, although there was dark amusement in her eyes. `Harry, you can always be trusted to say just the right thing!'

`Are you taking the mickey, Hermione?'

Hermione reached over and patted Harry's arm. `No, of course not. The thing is, what you said is absolutely right. The thing is -' Hermione repeated as she reached over and picked up the glass of wine and took a sip, then sighing before continuing, `- the thing is, I wonder whether I shouldn't tell him how I feel now. What if he and Luna -'

`Rubbish!' interrupted Harry. `After all this time, you deserve a proper, face-to-face discussion with Ron to clear the air before either of you goes haring off.'

`Haring off?' queried Hermione with an arched eyebrow and half smile.

`Well, you know, going out with someone else. Like Neville.' As those last two words left his mouth, Harry decided he was a total idiot with no control over his tongue and closed his eyes, dropping his head and groaning.

`Harry -'

`Don't say it! I know. I'm an idiot.'

`Harry -'

`Hermione, please! I'm displaying a perfect example of foot and mouth disease here!'

`Harry, I have no idea what you're talking about!' said Hermione, raising her voice, determined to get a word in.

Harry looked up to see Hermione's very exasperated and confused countenance looking back at him.

`Why on earth did you bring Neville into this?'

`Neville? Did I say Neville?' replied Harry, sounding desperate, a slightly ridiculous expression on his face.

Hermione took a deep breath as she rolled her eyes.

`Harry, what did you mean by that crack about me going out with Neville? What on earth are you talking about?'

Harry sat back, rubbing the heel of his palms into his eyes. Then he dropped his hands to his thighs and looked across at Hermione with what he hoped was sincerity in his expression.

`Nothing.'

Hermione simply sat back, crossed her arms and glared at him. That's when Harry knew he wouldn't escape without some sort of explanation.

`His name just, erm, popped into my head.' Yeah, right. As if she's going to believe that…

Hermione continued to sit and glare and Harry slumped in his seat. He knew when he was defeated.

Watching her cautiously, he said hesitantly, `So, uh, I take it you don't know that, uh, Neville, well, fancies you?'

`What?'

The expression on Hermione's face made Harry wish he was brave enough to laugh.

`Hermione, last night at Dean's I was sitting right where I could see Neville looking at you, and the way he was looking at you all night - well, I recognise that look. I know that look. I'm a man. He fancies you. And I was thinking that once he knows you and Ron are no longer a going concern he may even ask you out. Well, if he can work up the courage, that is. I know it's not the kind of thing you need to know, but it sorta slipped out. I'm sorry.'

Hermione looked shocked beyond belief. `Are you serious?' she demanded. `Are you sure? I can't believe it!'

`Is it so awful?' asked Harry, finding himself strangely hoping that she'd say "yes", which he thought was a bit peculiar.

To his dismay, she frowned thoughtfully instead…

`To be truthful, I don't know,' she said softly. `I have truly never thought of Neville like that - I mean, you know, romantically. How… unexpected.' Hermione appeared lost for words.

Harry wondered briefly why this comment left him feeling distinctly peeved before he remembered that, as Hermione had pointed out, he had a serious hankering for things to "stay the same" - that he wanted the status quo to be maintained, namely their old foursome of Harry and Ginny and Hermione and Ron…

Harry swallowed with difficulty. If it turns out Hermione wants Neville, she should have him, he told himself. She deserves to be happy. Even if it is with Neville. Besides, what's wrong with Neville? Nothing! Who said anything was wrong with Neville? For crying out loud, Potter, get your head under control! Then, irrationally, It's all your fault, Ron!

`Did you really not notice?' asked Harry in an effort to distract himself from the unsettling thoughts crashing about in his head.

Hermione shook her head. `I really didn't. And I think it might be best for me to just ignore that for now, Harry. I have enough on my plate, as it is. By the way, where's Ginny? Isn't she with you?'

`No, that's why I came over, to see her. She's not here?'

Hermione shook her head again. `No, I thought she was with you.'

Just then, they heard the door open and as they both looked up, Ginny swept into the room, still with her summer travelling cloak on that she wore to and from work.

`There you are!' they cried simultaneously.

Ginny walked past them to the kitchen bench and put her handbag down, taking off her cloak as she said with an apologetic smile, `Sorry I'm late, but I worked late and when I arrived home I went for a walk down by the stream.'

`Long walk,' said Harry sardonically as he rose and walked over to hug Ginny.

Ginny smiled up at him. `I'm dying for a cuppa.'

`You sit down,' Harry told her, relinquishing his hold on her, `and I'll make it. I wouldn't mind one either. You, Hermione?'

`Yes, please. Ginny, what about some dinner?'

Ginny joined Hermione at the table. `I might get something a little later; I'm not really hungry right now. What's that?' she asked, indicating Ron's letter.

`A letter, from Ron,' replied Hermione.

`Can you believe it?' asked Harry as he spooned tea into the pot.

`Seriously?' asked Ginny, amazed, looking from Hermione to Harry and back again.

Hermione nodded. `Things are going great - he says they're having a terrific time. They're still in Falmouth. And Luna's joined them; her father sent her to negotiate with them - he wants to buy their stories for The Quibbler.'

Ginny stared at Hermione. `I'm not sure which is worse - the double dealing over the stories or the fact that Luna's with them.'

`Or which is weirder,' put in Harry. `I wouldn't've thought those stories'd be the usual Quibbler fare. And I just can't put Luna in the position of a negotiator.'

Hermione shrugged. `Honestly, Luna being there doesn't worry me. I said to Harry it may be that they're -'

`And I said rubbish!' Harry broke in. `I said she and Ron should have a face-to-face talk. What do you think, Ginny?'

`I agree,' said Ginny firmly. `Why don't you owl him back,' she said to Hermione, `and ask him when he can come home for a day or two? I think it's important you talk.'

Hermione sighed. `I know you're right. But it's just…'

`Hard. I know,' said Ginny sympathetically. `Oh, lovely, thanks Harry,' she finished as Harry placed the teapot on the table while the three cups and saucers and the milk and sugar which had been bobbing along beside him settled themselves onto the table.

Hermione poured them all some tea, saying, `Actually, I was going to say it's just easier to leave things as they are. But you're both right, so I'll do that. I'll write to Ron tomorrow and ask him to come home as soon as he can. The sooner we deal with this, the better.'

`Good, that's settled,' said Harry who then turned to Ginny. `So, why'd you go for a walk? Something wrong?' he asked her.

Ginny glanced at Hermione who suspected that the "something wrong" was Ginny's work situation. The look she gave Ginny made it clear she thought it was time she said something to Harry. When Ginny said, `I just wanted to clear some cobwebs,' Hermione felt like kicking her friend under the table.

`And I ran into Dean down there.'

Harry and Hermione exchanged surprised looks.

`You didn't mention that before,' said Hermione, regaining her wits first.

Ginny shrugged. `It's no big thing. We just chatted about work.'

Hermione couldn't prevent the look of censure she shot at Ginny - for some reason she had a very strong feeling Ginny had discussed her problems at work with Dean and she didn't understand why. Harry saw the look and turned to Ginny.

`What's going on? What about work?' he asked her.

Ginny shot Hermione a pleading look, to no avail - Hermione remained silent, deciding it was high time Ginny spoke to Harry about this matter.

Ginny sighed. `You know,' she told Hermione softly, `it's not really very different from you wanting to let things go with Ron, because it's easier.'

Harry looked back and forth between them, frowning. `What are you two going on about it?' he demanded.

`Perhaps,' said Hermione to Ginny, `but I am dealing with it now, aren't I? On the advice of my friends. Very good advice, I might add.'

Ginny sighed again then gave her friend a small smile. `All right, you win. Now is probably a good time to talk to him.'

`I hope by "him" you mean me,' said Harry, sounding thoroughly exasperated.

Ginny nodded as she stood up and held out her hand to him. `Come on, Harry, let's go for a walk. There's something I want to tell you.'

TO BE CONTINUED…

See you next Thursday with the Third Interlude and Chapter Four!

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