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Author: TheGov Story: Defining the Relationship Rating: Teens Setting: Pre-HBP Status: Completed Reviews: 19 Words: 162,112
A/N: Hello again, friends. Disclaimer in the prologue. Really not much to add on this one. Life goes. Campaigning is fun, but it’s a hard road this year. And other members of my Party seem intent on spoiling this election season for the rest of us. I’ll leave it at that. Thank you to DancinginMagic for her fast work in the Brit-pick pre-beta stage. Thanks for Arnel’s superb work as my beta, and as always, thanks to my wife, who puts up with me, and all my little quirks. -- -- -- -- “Congratulations, Chief Inspector.” The Home Secretary shook his hand as he moved down the line of men receiving promotions. “Thank you, sir,” Chris said, smiling. “It’s an honour.” The Home Secretary paused. “Did you do this in the line of duty?” he asked, gesturing at the cane. “Well, in a way, sir. I did it while I was in the Army, sir. Five Para.” The Home Secretary, nodded solemnly. “Your country is grateful, Chief Inspector.” And he moved down the row. When the Home Secretary left, the gathering dissolved from a formal ceremony to a kind of reception, with people talking and chatting. Chris smiled when he felt a familiar hand on his arm. “You made it,” he said. “I did,” Penny said, smiling at him. She stood on her tiptoes and gave him a quick kiss on the lips. “I got here for the important part.” She brushed her fingers of his new badge of rank. “It’s pretty.” “Thank you,” Chris said, smiling. “And here we have the pride of the Homicide Division,” Superintendent Pitt said, coming up to shake his hand. “Congratulations, Chris.” “Thank you, ma’am.” Chris gestured at Penny. “Penny, this is Superintendent Pitt, my superior. Ma’am, this is Penny Weasley, my girlfriend,” Chris said. “Emily Pitt,” the woman said, shaking Penny’s hand. “It must be your little boy who’s taken to redecorating Chris’s office then,” Emily said, smiling. Penny’s cheeks reddened a little. “Yes, ma’am,” she said. “That would be Arthur.” “Well, good,” Emily declared. “It’s about time Chris got out of the office once in a while.” She nodded. “Congratulations again, Chris,” she said, giving him a pat on the shoulder and moving on. “Thank you ma’am,” Chris said as she moved on. Chris offered Penny his arm and they made their way toward the exit. “Do you have time to grab some food?” he asked. “Sure,” she said smiling. “As long as you’re buying. I don’t have any money with me.” “Who needs money?” he asked. “We’re going to Philippe’s,” he chuckled, talking about the restaurant where they had gone on their first date. The Frenchman would out do himself for this occasion, Chris was sure. “Sounds fantastic,” Penny said, smiling. “Lead the way.” Chris signalled for a cab. “Cabbie!” -- -- -- -- “So did the three brothers ever get their acts together as far as Arthur’s birthday present goes?” Harry asked Hermione. They were eating lunch in Hermione’s classroom, taking a few minutes out of their day to reconnect. It had been a while. “Yes,” Hermione sighed. “Alicia and Angelina got Fred and George to exchange their gifts. Ron was pleased.” At Arthur’s birthday party a few days ago, the three brothers had managed a feat worthy only of the Weasleys and all got Arthur the same gift – a My First Broomstick – because they never checked in with one another about what they were getting. The family was still snickering about it, and probably would for some time to come. “It was nice to see Chris there,” Harry said. “Did you get a chance to talk to him much at all?” “No,” Hermione said, sounding disappointed. “Between Charlie bawling, and him and Penny going off for a walk part of the afternoon, I didn’t get a chance. I would have liked too. He seems like a nice fellow. What happened to his leg?” Hermione asked. “He was in the Army, and he was injured. Some sort of training accident, he said,” Harry provided, reaching across the desk to steal a few crisps off Hermione’s plate. “A pity,” Hermione said, casually slapping Harry’s hand away. “Hands off my food, Potter. Get your own.” “I didn’t want to make the house elves work too hard, Hermione,” Harry said, giving her his most pathetic look. “You know how hard they work.” “Oh, stop it,” she said, glaring at him, but she handed across a few crisps anyway. “You know, you can be as bad as Ron sometimes,” she said. “Well, what are best mates for, if not to share annoying habits?” Harry asked, rhetorically. “How is Ginny doing?” Hermione asked, changing the subject. “Doing all right with the wedding planning?” “It’s coming,” he said. “We’ve got invitations picked out, and we’re still trying to hammer down the guest list,” Harry said. “It’s a long list.” “I can imagine,” Hermione told him. “And I thought our wedding was out of control.” Harry laughed. “Hermione, you rescheduled your wedding twice! Of course it was out of control.” Hermione glared at him over her food. “Yes, and the first time it was your fault.” “My fault?” Harry laughed. “Because I was in St. Mungo’s recovering from saving the world?” “Yes,” Hermione said, but it was clear she was having trouble holding her glare. The corners of her mouth were creeping up into a smile. “You should have been more considerate.” “So, what? ‘I’m sorry, Lord Moldypants, we can’t fight today, I might get hurt, and I have a wedding to go to in a week and a half?’” Harry was snorting with laughter. “Yes, that’s it exactly!” Hermione declared, giggling. “It would have saved Ron and me so much trouble.” Harry chuckled and flicked a crisp crumb at her. “Why do I put up with you?” he asked rhetorically. “Because you never would have got through school without me,” Hermione said, still giggling. “Not to mention, oh, say, surviving.” “Yeah, there is that,” Harry admitted. “Have I said thanks lately? ‘Cuz I’ll say it again.” “You’re welcome,” Hermione nodded pleasantly. “And you could say it a few more times, I won’t mind.” “Know-it-all,” Harry grumbled good-naturedly. “Insufferable, moody prat.” The clock chimed on the wall, and Harry looked over at it. “Well, I should be getting back to work. Same time tomorrow?” he asked. Hermione nodded. “Sure. My place or yours?” “How about the Three Broomsticks tomorrow?” he asked. “Get out of the building for an hour.” “Sounds good. See you later, Harry,” Hermione said, waving her wand and Vanishing the remnants of their lunch. -- -- -- -- “Well, hello there,” Ron said, walking over to Ginny’s table at the Leaky Cauldron. “What are you doing here?” he asked. “Where’s Harry?” “Oh, hi Ron!” she said, clearly pleased to see him. “He’s up at Hogwarts, and he said he was planning on having lunch with Hermione. They don’t catch up often enough, so I figured I’d get lunch on my own today,” she said. “Are you on lunch, too? Do you have time to eat?” she asked. “I’d love your company.” “Sure, Ginny,” he said, pulling up a chair. “How are things?” he asked. “Busy,” she said. “I can’t believe how much work there is in getting married.” “Believe it,” Ron chuckled. “Been there, done that.” “It must have been murder doing invitations three times,” Ginny said. “Saying that would be an understatement,” Ron replied. “It was a bloody nightmare. And it was all Harry’s fault.” “Excuse me?” Ginny said, arching an eyebrow. “As I recall, it was Riddle who put him in the hospital the first time, and the second go round, you got yourself stabbed by Bellatrix Lestrange.” “That’s just what I mean,” Ron said. “If Harry hadn’t gone all wonky the first time round, we would have been married when I got stabbed by Lestrange, and it wouldn’t have mattered.” Ginny continued to give her brother an arched look. “I somehow don’t think massive spell damage and hovering near death can be categorized as ‘going all wonky.’” Ron waved a dismissive hand. “Details.” “And how’s little Charlie?” Ginny asked, changing the subject. “Sleeping better, thanks to your fiancé,” Ron said. “Which is good. Hermione’s sleeping better, and we get some time to ourselves,” he said. Ginny wiggled her eyebrows suggestively. “Time to yourselves, huh? I know how important that can be. Already planning on giving little Charlie a sibling?” Ron squeezed his eyes shut and shuddered. “Ginny please. I’m not discussing this with you. It’s bad enough that Harry brings it up.” “Oh, grow up, Ron. We’re all adults. We can talk about, gasp, sex,” Ginny said, grinning at him. “I mean, you’re a parent now. One presumes you’ve had sex in order to become a parent.” “You’re right, Ginny,” Ron said. “But by the same token, one presumes you’re being careful, so you don’t. And one also presumes you’re being careful so Mum doesn’t find out where you’ve been spending your nights.” Ginny paled a little bit at that. “Yes, we’re being careful,” she said. “I don’t think Howler would even begin to describe what I’d be in for if she found out that I was sleeping at Harry’s. And if I turned up pregnant?” Ginny shook her head. “Way to suck all the fun out of the conversation, there, brother of mine.” “My pleasure, dearest sister,” Ron said. “Have you ordered?” he asked. “Oh, I’ve already eaten,” she replied. “I was actually just getting ready to leave when you came over, but I’ll sit with you while you eat, and steal food off your plate.” “Just what I always wanted,” Ron said with a grin. “I’ll be right back.” -- -- -- -- Ron was on his way back to the office, heading through the Ministry lobby when a voice called out to him. “Mr. Weasley!” Ron turned. A tall, rather scruffy looking man approached. He was wearing a collared shirt and suspenders, and a brown fedora sat perched on his head. He looked more like a Muggle than a wizard, carrying a pen and pad rather than parchment and quill. “Yes?” “AJ Dawson, Richmond Reporter,” the man said. “I’d like to ask you a few questions about the Malfoy case.” An American, Ron thought, that’s where I recognize the accent. “I’m sure if you go to the Ministry press office, they’ll be glad to answer any questions…” “I’m not asking about the case, Mr. Weasley, I’m asking about you,” Dawson persisted. Ron paused. “Yes?” “Are you at all concerned that Draco Malfoy may be coming after you, personally? Or Mr. Potter?” he asked. “I know about the security scare at your family’s home the other day. I know you have a history with the Malfoys,” Dawson continued. “It is true that I’ve dealt with the Malfoys in the past,” Ron said, starting to go. “Yes. You did, didn’t you?” Dawson asked. Ron turned slowly. “I’m not sure I appreciate your tone, Mr. Dawson.” “What happened the night Lucius Malfoy died, Mr. Weasley? You and Mr. Potter were the only witnesses, and it’s well documented that Lucius Malfoy killed your wife’s parents.” “I have nothing to say,” Ron said turning back around. “Was he really trying to escape, Mr. Weasley? Was it really an accident, like the report said?” Dawson persisted, following him. “No comment,” Ron repeated. “Or did you stop Mr. Potter from killing Malfoy first, and then Malfoy fell to his death?” Ron froze. “Did I touch a nerve?” Dawson drawled. Ron turned and got up in the man’s face. “Where did you hear that?” Ron hissed. Dawson grinned at him. “I have my sources. They’re confidential. Now, would you like to talk about it, or not?” The seconds ticked by slowly and Ron ground his teeth. “I have nothing to say to you,” Ron said. “Good day.” Ron turned on his heal and stalked through the gates. He could feel Dawson’s eyes on him even as he walked away. “Bloody hell,” Ron breathed. -- -- -- -- “Malfoy on Quest for Vengeance?” “Hero or Avenger?” “Lucius Malfoy’s Death Questioned” The headlines were screaming at Ginny as she came into Harry’s sitting room. She hadn’t heard from him since the American reporter published his story. Since then, there had been a firestorm in the press. Harry had kept himself on Hogwarts grounds, avoiding the press at all costs. Ginny pointed her wand at the papers, and they shot into the fireplace where she set them aflame. “Harry?” she called out. “Harry?” She stuck her head in the bedroom, but he wasn’t there. She looked around the quiet rooms again, and noticed that his Firebolt wasn’t in its traditional location near the door. Sighing, she trekked out towards the Quidditch pitch. Long before she got there, she spied him, whacking away at a Bludger. She retrieved a broom from the broom shed, and cruised up beside him. “Oi, Potter,” she called to him. “Are you missing something?” “What?” he said, turning in surprise. “Huh?” “Your brain maybe? Because it must have wandered off if you forgot to tell your fiancée where you were going to be, or what you’ve been up to for the last twenty-four hours.” Harry cruised up next to her. “I’m sorry, Ginny,” he said. He looked tired. He was drenched in sweat and he had dark circles under his eyes. “I just…look out!” he cried, bowling her over, and sending her broom into a spin. As she spun, she heard a sick sounding thud, and a grunt of pain. Pulling out of her spin, Ginny looked up and saw the Bludger flying off away again, Harry slumped of his broom, which had gone into emergency mode and was spiralling slowly to the ground. “Harry, oh you stupid…” Ginny breathed. She shot down towards the open box of Quidditch balls. She dropped to the ground and tapped her wand once on the recall knob. The Bludger came flying back to the chest and Ginny quickly snapped it in place before rushing over to where Harry was being gently lowered to the ground. He was awake, and groaning. “Harry!” Ginny reached out and grabbed him as the broom touched down. He was holding his arm across his chest, groaning. “What did you do?” “Bludger,” Harry managed before he coughed again. He winced in pain. “Coming up behind you. Tried to hit it. Missed.” “Can you walk?” she asked. “Let’s get you in to see Madame Pomfrey.” Ginny put Harry’s arm around her neck and began leading him towards the castle. “You could have just dived out of the way,” she scolded him. “Might’ve…” he coughed. “...hit you.” “I would have gotten clear on my own, if you hadn’t run me over, silly man,” she said. “And now look. You’ve probably broken your ribs. Again,” she pointed out. “Hurts.” “I’ll bet it does,” Ginny said. They made their way to the Hospital Wing in relative silence after that, probably, Ginny reflected, because it hurt for Harry to talk. “Madam Pomfrey?” Ginny called out, easing open the double doors leading into her infirmary. “Are you there?” “And what did he do to himself this time?” Madam Pomfrey said, bustling out of her office and seeing Harry, holding his chest and obviously in pain. She clucked as she eased him down on a bed. “Mr. Potter, I have enough to do during the school year without Professors getting hurt, so I would appreciate if you would try and be more careful while you’re here the second time around.” Harry managed a weak smile. “I did spend a good deal of time here,” he said, before coughing. “He took a Bludger in the chest,” Ginny told Madam Pomfrey. “I think he broke some ribs.” Madam Pomfrey clucked over him, waving her wand for diagnostic spells, and probing carefully with her fingers. Harry hissed in pain several times during the examination. “You’ve broken two, perhaps three ribs, Harry,” Madam Pomfrey said. “I’ll set them, but I want you to lie still for a while, so we can make sure you haven’t bruised a lung. Now, lie back, Harry.” Harry groaned and lay back on the small bed. “See what happens when you aren’t careful,” Ginny said. “At least you should be comfortable there. You’ve been there enough times before.” Harry glared at her from the bed. “Don’t give me that look, Harry Potter, or I won’t sit with you.” Harry schooled his features back into semi-calm. Madam Pomfrey clucked her tongue in her cheek. “Hold still Mr. Potter.” She waved her wand, murmuring incantations as she went. “Now, just relax. It will be painful for a time, but you’ll be feeling better in an hour or two.” “Yes, Madam Pomfrey,” Harry said. “Now, since I have you here,” Ginny said, grinning wickedly. “Let’s talk about colour schemes for the wedding. I was really thinking of a bright purple,” she said. Harry gave her a look of pure horror that had her wishing she had a camera. “I’m just kidding,” she assured him. “About the purple anyway,” she said. “I am going to make you talk about the wedding, since I have a captive audience for at least the next hour. And you can’t use any of your usual distraction methods either. You’re suppose to be lying still.” To emphasize her point, she took his hand off her leg. It had been wandering. Harry looked disappointed, but resigned. “Yes, dear.” “Now, let’s talk about flowers,” she began. -- -- -- -- Still sore, and exhausted from the marathon wedding planning session, Harry made his way back to his office. Ginny let him go, saying she was going down to see if Hermione was in her office. When Harry opened the door, he found Ron sitting in his desk with his feet up. “Made yourself comfortable there, Ron?” Harry asked bemusedly. “Yup,” Ron said, smiling. “How’s it going? Where were you?” he asked. “Hospital Wing,” Harry said. “I took a Bludger in the chest and broke a few ribs,’ Harry waved it off. Ron winced. “Ouch.” He swung his legs down off the desk and sat up. “Well, the reason I stopped by is that Hermione and I are going to have Charlie christened this weekend at St. Jonathon’s, and we’d like you to be his godfather.” Harry smiled widely. “Of course, Ron. I’m honoured.” “We’re going to ask Ginny to be godmother,” Ron continued. “So I guess you’ll have to stay together now, for the sake of the children.” Ron sniggered. Harry chuckled. “Right,” he said. “Like we were contemplating splitting up anyway.” Harry paused. “Children, huh? Are you and Hermione already planning the second one?” Harry asked, teasingly. “Something you need to tell us?” Ron crumpled up a blank sheet of parchment and chucked it at Harry. “Prat.” Ron got an evil look in his eye. “No, I meant Charlie and your baby.” Harry gave him an odd look, and Ron raised his eyebrow. “Ginny didn’t tell you?” Ron shook his head. “I still don’t know how you’re going to explain this one to Mum. She’s really going to kill you.” Harry froze, staring at Ron. He wasn’t serious, was he? She can’t be…can she? Ron’s serious face slipped and he began roaring with laughter. “Harry, if you could see the look on your face right now…” “You little…” Harry reached for Ron, trying to put him in a head lock to scruff his knuckles in the taller man’s hair, but Ron was too quick for him, and they both tumbled to the floor in an impromptu wrestling match, laughing. -- -- -- -- “What are those two on about?” Hermione wondered, as she and Ginny walked up to Harry’s office. “I’m not sure we want to know,” Ginny said. She swung the door open, and found her fiancé and her brother tangling on the floor, laughing riotously. “What is going on here?” Hermione demanded. The two boys stopped laughing and looked up at the women, and started laughing again, falling backwards onto their backs. “How are you feeling, dear?” Harry asked, in between laughter. “Any morning sickness?” “What?” Ginny asked, looking at Hermione. “Don’t look at me,” Hermione said, “I don’t have any idea of what’s going in their sad little heads.” “Ron…godfather…children…pregnant…tackled” Harry managed between gasps. “Erm…Nope, still no idea,” Hermione said, shaking her head. “Their brains must be malfunctioning. Maybe Madam Pomfrey will have to amputate.” Ginny giggled. Ron and Harry began to take deep gasping breaths in an attempt to stop laughing. Hermione and Ginny watched in amusement as they sat up, and tried to control themselves. Harry wiped tears from his eyes. “Ron told me that you were going to ask Ginny to be godmother for Charlie, and that we would have to stay together because of the children. I asked if you and he were expecting more, and he said that it was Ginny who was expecting. He started laughing, because I got scared, and then I tackled him.” Hermione listened to the explanation with a growing sense of the absurd. “You believed him?” “No,” Harry said defensively. “I just got nervous, is all. Especially when he started suggesting what Mum would do to me.” Ginny giggled. “That would make anyone nervous,” she said. “But no, Harry, I haven’t been keeping anything from you. I am not pregnant.” “Well, that’s a relief,” Ron said, chuckling. “Although it’s not as if we haven’t been practicing enough,” Ginny said, evilly. Ron squawked and threw his hands over his ears. “I don’t want to hear it!” “You play with fire, you get burned, brother of mine,” Ginny said, sauntering over to Harry. She helped him up and pulled him into a lip lock. “Okay, that’s enough,” Hermione said. “As much as I’m enjoying the shade of green my husband is turning, I’ve seen enough.” “Aww,” Harry said, breaking off the kiss. “And we were just getting to the good part!” “Enough!” Hermione declared. “I need to go get Charlie from the Burrow,” she said. “Come on, husband of mine,” she said, grabbing Ron by the collar and dragging him toward the fireplace. “Let’s go home.” -- -- -- -- Charlie’s christening Sunday afternoon was a crowded affair. The church was open, so quite a few people from the general public came in off the street, hoping for a glimpse of the Minister, or Harry, or Ginny, or all three. Harry wished they’d been able to have a private ceremony, more for Ron and Hermione’s sake than anything else, but that wasn’t the church’s policy. Harry held Ginny’s hand tightly as they were asked to respond in the requisite places and participated in the magically binding contract which made them guardians of Charlie should anything happen to Ron and Hermione. They smiled at each other as Ron and Hermione beamed over Charlie, and he was presented to gathered crowd. The ceremony was handled quickly, enabling the family to escape the public venue of the church for the private ceremony at the Burrow, which, as Harry expected, was a lively affair. “Nice crowd,” Harry commented to Ginny as they crossed the grass toward the house. “Always is,” Ginny replied. “Think it’ll be this crowded when it’s our turn?” Harry asked softly. Ginny looked up at him, surprise blossoming on her face. “Of course, Harry!” she said delightedly, squeezing his arm tight. “Why wouldn’t it be?” She looked up at him shyly. “So when did you decide that we get a turn?” she asked softly. “The day Charlie was born, and you held him,” Harry told her honestly. “When I pictured you hold our baby.” Harry watched a red blush creep up Ginny’s cheeks. “Aw, Harry!” she said. “That’s so sweet!” She turned into him with a twinkle in her eye. “And when we’re alone later, I’ll reward you for that properly,” she whispered, and Harry felt his own face heat up. “All right you two, break it up or get a room,” a deep voice said from behind him. “Bill!” Ginny exclaimed, launching herself at her oldest brother. “How are you? We don’t see you nearly enough,” she told him. “I’m doing all right, Ginny,” Bill said. “I came by to make sure this prat was taking good care of you.” Harry gave a slight grimace as the older man cuffed him semi-gently on the shoulder. “Hey Bill,” Harry said, allowing him to be drawn into a bear hug. “You look good.” “You too, Harry,” Bill said. “Must be all that Weasley cooking,” Harry said, rubbing his stomach. “Hard to resist you know.” “Weasleys in general are hard to resist,” Ginny added with a cheeky grin. “Isn’t that right, Harry?” “Erm, right,” Harry stammered, his face heating up again. Bill chuckled. “You be careful, Harry. You might be in over your head.” “Maybe, but who said I want to get out?” Harry shot back, putting an arm around Ginny, who beamed at him. Bill rolled his eyes. “I’ll leave you two be, I’m going to go find the guest of honour.” “We should probably do that, too,” Harry said. “Why don’t you go see Hermione, and I’ll find Ron,” Harry suggested to Ginny. “Sounds good,” Ginny stood on her tiptoes and kissed Harry on the cheek. “I’ll see you later.” Harry made his way over to the Burrow while Ginny went to check the back garden for Hermione. Harry found Ron, Mr. Weasley, and the twins out in the small front garden, puffing on the cigars that Mr. Weasley had tucked away for Charlie’s birth. Ron grinned at him with a cigar clamped firmly between his teeth. “Cigar mate?” Ron asked. “You realize that Hermione’s going to kill you if she catches you.” “That’s nothing like what Mum will do,” Ron said off hand, handing Harry a cigar. Harry took it and lit it with his wand. Fred was using his wand to arrange his smoke rings in amusing caricatures. “Look, it’s Umbitch!” Fred said, arranging a smoke ring into a rather comical looking plump figure. They all chuckled. Harry coughed after his first puff, his lungs rebelling against the smoke. Mr. Weasley patted him on the back. “Don’t draw on it, Harry,” he counselled. “Just give it a little puff and enjoy the flavour. Don’t treat it like a cigarette. Cigars aren’t meant to be smoked, they’re meant to be savoured.” Harry did as instructed, and found the sensation wasn’t exactly unpleasant, if a bit odd. Not something he’d do every day, however. “So, Harry,” George began, “Got any plans to join this illustrious club any time soon?” Ron choked on his cigar. “George!” “Which club would that be, George?” Harry asked, though he thought he knew the answer. “The fatherhood club of course,” Fred provided. “I think there’s a ways to go yet before Harry’s ready to join that particular club, Fred,” Mr. Weasley said evenly. “For one thing, he needs to be married first,” Ron pointed out. “That is, unless you want Mum to do what the Dark Lord couldn’t…kill him.” The men chuckled. “There are many things Ginny and I need to work out as we move forward. Children is just one of those things,” Harry said diplomatically. “As it should be, Harry, as it should be,” Mr. Weasley said approvingly. Suddenly, Alicia’s voice could be heard in the house. “I think they’re out front, Molly.” In a quick panic, all five men threw their cigars to the ground and Vanished them with their wands. Mr. Weasley used his wand to blow the air clear, while George reached in his pocket. “Harry, catch,” George said. Harry caught the peppermint humbug as George tossed the rest around, and Harry popped it in his mouth. Mr. Weasley was just tucking his wand back in his pocket when Mrs. Weasley came through the front door. “There you boys are,” Mrs. Weasley said. “What are you all doing out here?” she demanded. “Come out back with the rest of us!” she ordered. “We were just on our way, Molly dear,” Mr. Weasley said, guiding the boys ahead of him. Mrs. Weasley narrowed her eyes at them, looking from one to another suspiciously. Mr. Weasley smiled at her pleasantly, and they walked by her, through the house and out to the back yard. By unspoken agreement, they separated, and Harry went to find Ginny. “Did Molly catch you smoking out there?” a voice asked from behind him. “No,” Harry said turning. “But it was a close thing,” he said, smiling at Remus and giving the older man a hug. “How you doing? Haven’t been by lately, but I’ve been meaning to,” Harry said. “It’s all right,” Remus said, waving a hand. “I imagine you’ve been busy,” Remus said pointedly. “Yes, well…” Harry felt himself blush a little. “That’s true.” “And how is the preparation for the new school year coming?” Remus asked. “Oh, it’s coming great,” Harry said, warming to the topic. Harry went on for several minutes about his progress in preparing for the upcoming term. Remus nodded appreciatively. “I can see that we aren’t going to be disappointed, Harry. Minerva and I always thought you had the gift,” Remus said. “And it’s obvious you do.” “Gift, what gift?” Harry asked, a tad confused. “The gift for teaching, lad,” Remus said. “You have the gift for teaching.” Harry opened his mouth to respond when there was a commotion over by the kitchen door. Harry heard voices shouting. He and Remus turned and hurried toward the commotion. “What’s going on?” Harry demanded of Hermione, who was looking pale. Ron was no where to be seen. “The twins’ shop,” she said, looking up at Harry with sad eyes. “Harry…” Harry drew his wand and Apparated directly to Diagon Alley. The Dark Mark was clearly visible in the sky overhead, flames still licking out the blown out front window of Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes. The fire brigade was dousing the place with water, and it looked as if Ron had both his brothers in full body binds to keep them from charging into the building. Harry jogged over. Ron pursed his lips and shook his head, and Harry followed his gaze. The fire brigade had the fire mostly out, but the showroom was pretty much a lost. Their quick response had saved the upstairs apartments, however. “It looks like he just blew up the front window and maybe the showroom,” Harry said. “The fire was probably from secondary explosions, maybe in the workroom in back.” Ron nodded. “Plenty of things there could have gone off if handled roughly.” Ron turned to Fred and George. “I’m not going to let you go charging in there,” he told them. “Not until the curse breakers get through with it,” he said. “What if the place is booby trapped to hell and gone?” Ron pointed out. He flicked his wand, releasing both twins, who looked appropriately chagrined. “Sorry, Ron,” George said. “You’re right, but…” Fred swore eloquently. “Yeah, that,” George said weakly. “This is going to take us months to recover from,” he said. “Just be glad you and your families were all at the Burrow, and the shop was closed,” Harry pointed out. “This could have been a lot worse.” That observation seemed to sober their anger just a little. “Harry!” Ginny joined them. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming here? I spent the last five minutes looking for you!” “Sorry, Gin,” Harry said sincerely, “Impulse.” She glared at him and muttered something that might have passed as “noble idiot” but held her peace otherwise, staring at the ruined shop front. “Oh, Fred, George, how awful.” “We’ll rebuild,” Fred promised her. “Take more than this to keep us down, right Gred?” “Right you are, Forge.” Determination was evident in George’s voice. “After all, if Lord Moldypants couldn’t stop us, why should we let some little pipsqueak knock us down?” Ginny smiled at them. “He’s getting bolder,” Ron muttered, scanning around the area. “It means he’s more likely to make a mistake,” Harry pointed out. “He’s getting desperate.” “True,” Ron said. “I just hope he makes it sooner, rather than later.” Harry looked at the gutted shop. “Me too.”
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