A/N: So… less fluff here and more actual plot development, hehe. Must be a welcome change by now.
Plenty of humour in this one, too!
Enjoy!
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The sunshine streaming in through the windows of Number Twelve was what finally woke Harry from a deep, restful sleep the next morning, stubbornly refusing to be shut out by his eyelids. Rubbing his offended eyes and locating his glasses on the nightstand next to him, Harry smiled as Hermione came into focus, still sleeping quite peacefully in his arms, completely oblivious to the persistent sunlight. Waking up next to Hermione, in Harry's opinion, must be the nicest way to start the day. He would be quite happy, he was sure, to let her sleep as long as she liked and not move until she woke up, but a glance at the watch that he had received from Mr. and Mrs. Weasley on his birthday that summer told him that it was ten-thirty, and he had invited everyone over for noon.
Glancing from his watch to Hermione and back again, he bit his lip thoughtfully. He would hate to wake her up when she was sleeping so peacefully, but with only an hour and a half left until a large group of people showed up at Number Twelve, perhaps he ought to.
After a few moments, Harry decided on a compromise. Assuming that he could get up without waking her, he could let Hermione sleep until eleven and take care of getting ready for the guests by himself. He was a big boy, after all, he thought with a small grin. He could do things by himself. And besides, he could probably just ask Kreacher to get everything ready, if the elf didn't mind.
With the same level of delicacy that one might use when defusing a bomb, Harry carefully removed his arm from around Hermione, making her roll over in her sleep and mutter something that sounded suspiciously like "Prat".
Hm, so that's what I get for letting her sleep, Harry thought to himself, rolling his eyes as he got up. Rummaging through the small beaded bag (tossed in a corner by Hermione), he extracted a pair of jeans and a plain white T-shirt (the first two items of clothing that he could find), located his toothbrush, and sauntered off to the bathroom, shutting the door behind him with great care to avoid waking Hermione.
Once he was washed and dressed and had at least made an attempt at flattening his resolutely messy hair, Harry wandered downstairs and got a shock as he met Kreacher in the dining room. The elf croaked "Good morning, Master" as he went about dusting the table, but otherwise didn't pay much attention to Harry, being focused on his cleaning. Usually, this would have suited Harry just fine, but he needed Kreacher's help at the moment.
"Er… Kreacher?" he said, unaccustomed to speaking to the house-elf. Kreacher stopped dusting immediately and stood at attention so quickly and smoothly that Harry half expected the elf to salute as well.
"Yes, Master?" he croaked.
"Erm… I've invited some friends over today, and they'll be here at noon, so I need your help to get everything ready," said Harry, trying not to give Kreacher any direct orders. Hermione always reminded him that he could just ask Kreacher to do things, just like he would ask anybody else, and the elf would most likely do as Harry requested. Harry had to admit that this probably worked better than just ordering Kreacher around, as it kept him from feeling like a slave driver and kept Kreacher from reverting to his earlier ways of muttering insults under his breath.
"Of course, Master," Kreacher replied with a bow. "What does Master need Kreacher to do?"
"Well," Harry said slowly, trying to think of anything that needed to be done before everyone showed up, "I don't think there's very much to do, other than making sure that the sitting room is tidied up… Oh, and it would help if you made something for lunch. I suppose inviting people for noon means that you're inviting them for lunch as well."
"Of course, Master," Kreacher repeated. "Kreacher just needs to know how many guests are coming."
"Well, let's see," said Harry. "There's Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Ron, Fred and George, Bill, Charlie, Ginny, and I suppose they'll bring Percy too; I just told Mr. and Mrs. Weasley to bring the family," he said, counting off nine people on his fingers. "And then there's Remus and Tonks, and I don't know whether or not they'll bring Teddy; I didn't say anything about him when I asked them to come over," he said, dropping his hands back to his sides as he ran out of fingers to count on. "So that makes eleven, maybe twelve, and then there's Hagrid and Professor McGonagall. I invited Luna and Neville, but they said they couldn't come, so that makes thirteen or fourteen," he finished. "Jeez, do we even have room for all of them?" he added, looking at the table. It was big, but maybe not big enough for fourteen people, plus himself and Hermione.
"The table can seat eighteen, Master," Kreacher assured him. "Kreacher will just have to bring more chairs to the table, Master." Harry breathed an inward sigh of relief. Maybe he should remember to think before he invited all nine Weasleys at once!
"And can we accommodate a baby, if Remus and Tonks bring Teddy?" asked Harry. "I mean, is there a highchair buried in the attic somewhere or something?"
"Yes, Master," said Kreacher.
"All right, then," said Harry. "Anything I can do to help?"
Kreacher shook his head. "Oh, no, Master. Kreacher will take care of everything, Master."
"Well, OK, if that's what you want," said Harry. "And you can stop calling me 'Master', Kreacher," he added.
Kreacher looked surprised. "But how can Kreacher address his master, if Kreacher cannot call him 'Master'?"
"Well, you could always just call me Harry," said Harry.
Kreacher shook his head. "Kreacher could never address his master in such a way. Kreacher would not dream of disrespecting his master!"
"OK, if you don't want to call me 'Harry', then… Why don't you just call me 'sir'?" Harry suggested, remembering that Dobby called him that without any problems.
"If that is how Ma- how sir wishes to be addressed," said Kreacher, bowing again. "Kreacher will start preparing for the guests now, sir, if he may."
"All right, go on," said Harry, checking his watch and seeing that it was ten fifty-five.
Well, no harm in waking Hermione five minutes early, he thought, turning and heading back upstairs. The door was still closed when he reached it, just as he had left it when he had gotten up earlier, but as he made to ease it open, he received quite a surprise as he heard a squeal and the door was slammed shut with a bang.
"Whoa!" he exclaimed, jumping back a step. "Good morning to you too, Hermione," he said as his heart rate slowly returned to normal.
"Learn to knock!" Hermione's scandalized voice replied from the other side of the door. "It's a very simple process!"
"Well, seeing as I thought you were still asleep, I would have been a bit of an idiot if I'd knocked, wouldn't I?" asked Harry, rolling his eyes as he crossed his arms and leaned against the wall outside the door. "Now, could you please inform me of the reason why I'm getting a door slammed in my face?"
Even from outside the door, he could feel Hermione switch from being scandalized to being embarrassed. "Because I'd prefer it if you didn't walk in when I'm not dressed," she replied.
"Ah," said Harry. "Well, I was just coming to wake you up, but I suppose I don't have to, if you're already wide awake and starkers," he said with a smirk.
"I'm not star- Wait, why am I telling you that?" Hermione's flustered voice asked from the other side of the door.
"I dunno, but I would love it if you told me what you are wearing," Harry said saucily, still smirking outside the door. "In great detail, of course."
"Harry!"
"OK, I'll be good," Harry said innocently. "Which obviously means that I absolutely won't open the door…" he said, noticing that the door hadn't closed properly when Hermione tried to slam it shut (it had merely bounced against the frame, leaving the bolt loose) and grinning as he nudged it with his foot, causing it to drift open a little before it was slammed shut yet again.
"HARRY JAMES POTTER, YOU OPEN THAT DOOR AND I SWEAR TO MERLIN I'LL-"
"Just teasing, love," Harry said sweetly, cutting Hermione off before she got carried away. "Now, hurry up and get dressed before I open the door for re-eal…" he said in a singsong voice.
"Don't you dare!" she said threateningly. "Unless you want multiple parts of your anatomy hexed off!"
"Which parts are we talking about, exactly?" he asked her, almost conversationally. "'Cause there are a few that I'd be willing to lose if it meant I got to see you starkers…"
"I'm not- Aargh!" Hermione exclaimed exasperatedly, while Harry sniggered outside the door.
"There's a new invention for Fred and George to think about," Harry mused. "If Extendable Ears can go under doors, what about Extendable Eyes?"
"Great, now I'll have to remember to Imperturb the door every time I get dressed," Hermione grumbled from the other side of the door.
"Or you could just let me in now and get it over with," Harry suggested innocently.
"In your dreams, Harry!"
"Oh, you have no idea," he quipped.
"Ugh! And to think I sleep in the same bed as you!" Hermione exclaimed.
"I'm only kidding, 'Mione."
"You'd better be!"
"Are you almost done yet?" he asked, tapping his foot.
"None of your business," Hermione grumbled.
Harry sighed. "Somebody's tetchy today."
"I wouldn't be so tetchy if you weren't a pervert," she retorted as she finally emerged from behind the door, toothbrush and hairbrush in hand.
Harry rolled his eyes as he followed her down the hallway. "Making a couple of jokes about my girlfriend makes me a pervert?"
"Yes!"
"Oh. Well, excuse me while I fetch my top hat and monocle and then you can join me whilst I sip tea with my pinkie in the air, if you want me to be all proper and stuff every second of the day," he grumbled.
She couldn't help but giggle. "Harry, I don't really think you're a pervert."
"Then what are you all grumpy about?"
"I just woke up a few minutes ago, and then I nearly got walked in on by you when I was only in my underwear. I have the right to be grumpy," she said as she shut yet another door in Harry's face, the bathroom door this time.
He smirked. "Ah, so that's what you were wearing."
There was a moment of shocked silence before Hermione's voice came from behind the bathroom door.
"Damn!"
Harry just snickered.
~*~
When Hermione emerged from the bathroom, she found Harry leaning against the wall next to the door and smirking at her.
"What are you smiling about?" she asked, charming her toothbrush and hairbrush to put themselves back in the beaded bag and watching them soar down the hall.
"You're so cute when you're flustered," said Harry.
"Am I?"
"Yes, very," he told her, slipping his hand into hers as they started the long descent down the stairs. "No that you're not cute the rest of the time, of course," he added.
She smiled, turning a little pink. "Flatterer."
"You know it," he said with a grin, checking his watch again. "Eleven twenty-five," he said to himself.
"Pardon?" asked Hermione.
"Oh, nothing," he said. "Just checking the time."
"Oh. And what time is it?"
"Eleven twenty-five. Six," he corrected himself as the minute hand moved over a bit.
"So specific," she said, rolling her eyes. He shrugged in response as they reached the bottom of the stairs and found Kreacher hauling chairs that were twice his size over to the table.
"Hey, Kreacher, let me do that," Harry said hastily. The elf was in danger of turning himself into a Kreacher pancake if he kept lifting chairs twice his size and weight. Hermione gave him an approving look.
"As you wish, sir," said Kreacher, setting the chair he was carrying down at the table. "Kreacher will make lunch now, sir, if he may."
"All right."
"What should Kreacher prepare for sir's friends, sir?" the elf enquired.
Harry shrugged, picking up a chair. "Anything you feel like cooking, Kreacher."
Kreacher looked surprised at the chance to make a choice of his own, but merely bowed to Harry and headed to the kitchen.
"You're treating him so well lately, Harry," Hermione said approvingly, picking up one of the chairs. "And I see that you've gotten him to stop calling you 'Master' all the time."
Harry shrugged again as he set the chair he was carrying down beside the one that Kreacher had just placed at the table. "He still does everything I ask him to do if I don't give him direct orders or make him call me 'Master', so I don't see the point in ordering him around like a slave. I mean, I know that that's what he is, technically," he pointed out, "but it doesn't mean that I have to treat him like one, right? I mean, I would pay him and everything if I weren't afraid of giving him a heart attack. You know, 'honest work deserves honest pay' and all that."
Hermione set down the chair she was carrying and pulled Harry into a hug, surprising him.
"Oof!" he said as the breath was crushed from his lungs without warning. "And what's this for, exactly?" he asked, hugging her back.
"For being sweet," she replied, kissing him on the cheek. "And also to make up for the fact that I haven't hugged you today."
"Well, that's good," he said with a grin. "I was going to go into withdrawal if you didn't hug me soon."
She rolled her eyes as she gently broke their embrace. "Come on, we've still got a bunch of chairs to move," she said, but the little grin on her face told Harry that she was pleased by what he had said.
The two got the chairs squeezed in around the table, after a little bit of arranging and rearranging, and found that Kreacher had been right about the amount of people that could fit in. Seven chairs on the left side, six chairs and room for a high chair on the right, just in case Remus and Tonks brought little Teddy along, and one chair on each end actually gave each person a considerable amount of room.
"How many people did you invite?" Hermione asked in disbelief, silently counting the chairs.
"Thirteen, but I added a spot for Teddy, just in case Remus and Tonks bring him along," said Harry, gesturing to the empty spot on the right side of the table. "And then there's you and me, so fifteen or sixteen people need to be able to fit."
Hermione's lower lip hung slightly slack after that. "Thirteen people? How did you manage to invite thirteen people?"
"Well, nine Weasleys, two or three Lupins, and then Hagrid and Professor McGonagall," Harry explained.
"You invited Hagrid?"
"Yeah."
"Oh. Then I guess we need to fix up one of these seats for him, huh?" Hermione pointed out. "Unless you want him to be sitting on a pile of sawdust."
Harry hadn't thought of that before.
"I guess so," he agreed. "What about one of the ones on the end, so he'll have more room and no one will have to squish up next to each other in order to fit him?" he suggested. Hermione nodded, and a few moments later, one of the end chairs had been magically widened and strengthened to accommodate their half-giant friend.
"There," said Hermione, satisfied with their work, "that's better."
"Much," Harry agreed.
"Hey," Hermione said suddenly, "how's Percy going to get here? And Hagrid? Percy wasn't talking to the family when they were here before, and I don't remember anyone telling Hagrid about this place, so they probably don't have any idea where we are!"
"They do," Harry told her. "The Weasleys will have told Percy about this place by now, and I told Hagrid where we were going, so he knows where it is," he explained. "I just told him that it was Sirius' house and that I'd inherited it from him."
Hermione nodded. "There's not really much of a reason to keep this place secret now, anyway," she said. "It's not like it's being used as the Order's headquarters anymore or anything."
Harry shrugged. "Maybe not, but I think that we should still keep it secret, even if it hasn't got anything to do with the Order anymore. At least you and I can be safe from the swarms of bloodthirsty reporters while we're here, right?"
"That's always a plus," Hermione agreed. "But, Harry, you're going to have to talk to someone, sometime, aren't you?"
"Why?"
"Well, once you get the story out, people will stop bothering you for it," she pointed out. "And it's not only the Boy-Who-Lived story they're going to be after, either," she added as an afterthought.
"What do you mean?"
"Harry, don't you think that people might notice the fact that the Boy-Who-Lived and his best friend are a bit more than that nowadays? Or were you planning to stay holed up here forever and never venture into the public eye again?" she asked.
"No, I wasn't, but…" said Harry, running a hand through his hair. "Well, let's try to get through breaking the news to our friends first, and then we'll talk about breaking it to the entire wizarding population."
"Fair enough," said Hermione, just as the doorbell rang.
"They're he-ere," Harry said ominously, as though a flying saucer had just touched down on the front step and a horde of Martians was now marching into the front hall of Number Twelve, all toting ray guns and ominous-looking probes.
"Oh, hush, they're not going to attack us," Hermione chided him as they went to the door.
"I dunno, maybe we should confiscate their wands, just in case," said Harry. "We are dealing with our ex-Defence teacher and his Auror wife, not to mention multiple members of the Order of the Phoenix, here," he pointed out. Hermione just rolled her eyes in response as Harry pulled the door open, revealing a smiling Molly and Arthur Weasley.
"Hello, dears," Molly said cheerfully.
"Hi, Mrs. Weasley," said Harry and Hermione, moving to the side to let their guests in and finding themselves being engulfed in a bear hug by Molly.
"The others are on the way," Arthur told them as they got the oxygen squeezed from their lungs.
"We thought we'd come a few at a time," Molly explained as she let the two teenagers go. "You know, to make things a little easier, and a lot more inconspicuous. We can't all fit on the top step without anybody accidentally getting into a Muggle's field of vision, can we?" she chuckled.
Harry and Hermione smiled and chuckled as well, both of them imagining the large Weasley family all trying to fit on the front step at once as they led the way to the living room. Molly and Arthur had just sat down when there was a crack from outside.
"That'll be Fred and George," said Molly, frowning. "I told those two to be quiet when they Apparated; Merlin knows what the Muggles will think, pops and bangs in the middle of the day…"
"It's fine, Mrs. Weasley, the Muggles always think that it's just someone's car backfiring," Harry assured her as the doorbell rang again. He left Hermione with the two eldest Weasleys and went to open the door, finding Fred and George grinning at him.
"Hey, Harry," they chorused, forever in unison.
"Hi, guys," said Harry, letting them in. "Any progress with Weasley's Wizard Wheezes lately?"
"Not much," said Fred.
"But we were a tad busy this year, weren't we?" George pointed out as the three started off towards the living room.
"Fighting old Boulder Wart and all," said Fred.
"But business was still great at Hogwarts," George informed Harry.
"Oh?"
"Yeah," said Fred. "People were so keen on getting back at the Carrows that our Skiving Snackboxes sold like mad!"
"People were puking their guts out the minute the Carrows or Snape got within ten feet of them!" George chuckled. "It was really a horrible mess, and Bubble-Head Charms even came into fashion again because of the smell. Filch was going mad!"
"Some students even started combining the Snackboxes!" Fred laughed. "They'd puke and then faint, or they'd get a nosebleed and pretend to be so disgusted that they threw up, or maybe they'd faint and then bleed everywhere for no apparent reason. We never advised mixing up the Snackboxes, of course, seeing as we never tested them together," he told Harry, "but it was hysterical nonetheless. And nobody got hurt, thank Merlin. We had enough trouble on our hands without getting sued, didn't we, George?"
"Yeah, but it really wouldn't have mattered if we'd gotten sued, would it? We probably would have been able to pay whoever sued us and then take them out to dinner afterwards. Made us a load of gold, those Snackboxes did," George said with a smile.
Harry grinned back. "Lucky you."
"You should really let us pay you back, Harry," said Fred. "I mean, you're the one who got us started, after the Tournament-"
"No," Harry said firmly, cutting Fred off. This conversation must have started at least a couple thousand times before, and Harry's answer had never changed. "I told you, I was either giving you the gold or throwing it down the drain. I didn't want it and I still don't."
Fred and George both sighed.
"Well, we hope that free Wheezes for life is enough to pay you back," said George.
"It's more than enough," Harry assured them as they reached the living room.
"I told you two to keep it down when you Apparated!" Molly scolded the twins the minute she saw them. "Are you trying to break the Statute of Secrecy? That's the last thing we need, a horde of Ministry people banging on the door and brandishing loads of letters from… Oh, what's her name? Mafalda whoever…"
Harry hid a small smile as his memory threw him a momentary glimpse of a gray-haired Hermione impersonating Mafalda Hopkirk.
"Sorry, Mum," Fred and George chorused, just as the doorbell rang again.
"That'll be Bill and Charlie. Oh, and I think Bill's bringing Fleur along as well," Molly called to Harry as he disappeared from the living room to answer the door. Harry wished that he could just Apparate, but the Weasleys didn't know about him popping about without a license, and he didn't want to get a scolding from Mrs. Weasley, or worse, a warning from Mr. Weasley about the trouble he could get in if the Ministry found out about him Apparating illegally. So, he was forced to walk to the door before he could open it and welcome a smiling Charlie, Bill and Fleur.
"'Arry!" Fleur exclaimed, pulling a very surprised Harry into a hug the moment he had closed the door and kissing him once on each cheek. "Eet is so good to see you again! Eet 'as been too long!"
"Good to see you again too, Fleur," Harry replied when she let him go, surprised by his reaction (or lack thereof) to Fleur's impromptu hug and kisses. Usually, he'd be blushing the colour of a fire engine and unable to form a coherent sentence, not to mention probably drooling a little, but he found himself completely unperturbed this time around. Perhaps it was because Fleur was married to Bill nowadays, and therefore off the market. Or perhaps it was because of Hermione, who did almost the same thing every morning, greeting him with a hug and kiss. Either way, it was a relief to be able to be around Fleur without turning into a stammering puddle of goo, he thought to himself as he led the next three guests to the living room.
And speaking of Fleur, we're going to need another chair, he thought. I really should have thought of that, he scolded himself. After all, I invited the Weasleys, and Fleur's a Weasley nowadays. How on Earth could I have forgotten about the wedding? Harry sincerely hoped that there were no more surprise guests on the way. The space around the table was reaching its limit.
The doorbell rang yet again as Bill, Fleur and Charlie got settled in the living room, and Harry was forced to endure a few minutes of intense awkwardness as his ex-best mate and ex-girlfriend entered the house (it seemed that Ron had obtained his Apparation license sometime after he had deserted Harry and Hermione) and were shown to the living room, after a few polite greetings and a momentary hug from Ginny, before the last Weasley appeared on the doorstep, shook hands with Harry in a less pompous manner than usual (thank Merlin), and let himself be led to the living room, where he joined the rest of his family. The Weasleys had all accepted Percy after the Battle at Hogwarts, but Harry could still sense a little tension between the Humongous Bighead and the rest of the Weasley clan. Well, that was to be expected, Harry supposed, after Percy had left in a whirlwind of insults to his mother and father, having picked the wrong place to lay his loyalties, and then shunned his family for nearly three years.
Professor McGonagall arrived a few minutes later and joined the Weasleys in the living room. The doorbell rang again, and Harry received an enthusiastic greeting from Remus and Tonks ('enthusiastic greeting' meaning 'huge group hug'), who, it turned out, hadn't brought Teddy along. Just as Harry led Remus and Tonks into the living room, Hagrid rang the doorbell, having walked to Number Twelve from an alley a few blocks away, where Professor McGonagall had been kind enough to set up a Portkey for him. He, like Molly, crushed the oxygen from Harry before allowing himself to be led to the living room, where the large group of people chatted for a minute, before a realization seemed to blindside Hermione.
"Hey," she said to the group, "I've just realized, but the doorbell rang at least six times in the past few minutes, and that awful portrait of Mrs. Black never started screaming. We could barely drop a pin without setting her off the last time we were here!"
There was a general noise of realization and bewilderment from the group.
"Wonder what's happened to the old hag?" Fred piped up, before being promptly answered by a "Fred!" from Mrs. Weasley.
"Well, there's a very easy way to find out," said Harry. "Kreacher!"
The house-elf appeared in the living room with a small pop. "Yes, sir?" he asked with a bow.
"We've all just noticed, but that portrait of Mrs. Black's been quiet all day," Harry told the elf. "Has anything happened to her?"
"Yes, sir," said Kreacher. "Kreacher removed the portrait, sir, as it was displeasing his master and his master's friends, sir." He looked a little worried. "Kreacher can replace the portrait, if sir wishes. Kreacher has only put it in the attic, sir."
"No," Harry said hastily, never wanting to see the late Mrs. Black again and almost ready to kiss Kreacher for getting rid of her. "No, Kreacher, that won't be necessary, but… How on Earth did you get that portrait off the wall?" he asked, bewildered. "I thought it had a Permanent Sticking Charm on it! None of us were able to get it off the wall the last time we tried."
"Kreacher's master was displeased, sir," Kreacher said simply. "Kreacher removed the portrait."
"But-" Harry started, before he was cut off by Hermione.
"It's just like when Kreacher escaped from that place back when Regulus was alive, Harry," she explained, skirting around the topic of what the 'place' was and putting emphasis on the word so that Harry knew that he wasn't supposed to elaborate on it either, as it would just provoke loads of unnecessary questions and probably many hours of explanation as well. Neither Harry nor Hermione felt that the Weasleys needed to be exposed to the horror of Voldemort's Horcruxes and the Inferi-ridden cave just then. "Regulus told him to go back, so he did."
"Unwavering obedience is the mark of a good house-elf, miss," Kreacher croaked.
"Exactly, Kreacher," said Hermione.
"Huh," said Harry, struck once again by the complete black-and-white bluntness of house-elf magic. "Well, thank you, Kreacher."
Kreacher bowed again. "Kreacher has finished preparing lunch, if sir and his friends wish to eat."
"Sure, I suppose," said Harry, looking around at the group, "if everyone's hungry."
There was, once again, a general noise of agreement.
"Good," said Harry. "Then let's eat."
He and Hermione then shared the task of shepherding everyone out of the living room. Once the room was empty except for Harry, Hermione and Kreacher, Harry informed Kreacher of the fact that they needed another chair for Fleur, and the elf bowed and disappeared faster than you could say 'Quaffle'.
"So," said Hermione, "when are we breaking the 'Big News'?" she asked, tracing quotation marks in the air with her fingers.
"I dunno," said Harry. "Maybe we ought to do it soon, just to get it out there, but… Well, it's a little nerve-wracking," he said nervously.
"I know," Hermione said sympathetically, "but remember what you told me yesterday: if they were ever our friends, they'll accept the fact that we're a couple now."
"Right," said Harry, nodding and trying to get his bearings about the whole thing. "Right, well, let's go drop the bomb, then," he said resolutely, heading towards the dining room, closely followed by Hermione. It was time to come clean.