16. Somewhere Over the Rainbow

When Harry and Mr Weasley re entered the house they found George sitting quietly at the kitchen table. He looked up when they came in and his eyes found Harry’s.

“Sorry, mate,” he said, without hesitation. “I shouldn’t have made any of that my business.” Harry shrugged.

“It’s Ginny you need to apologise to.”

“I know, I already have,” replied George. Harry smiled and Arthur patted him on the back as he left the room, heading up the stairs.

“Then we don’t have a problem,” said Harry as he sat down at the table. “How are the renovations to the shop going? Are you on track to reopen as soon as we get back?”

“Sure are,” said George enthusiastically. “Ron’s brilliant with planning this sort of stuff. He’s even got a few good product ideas!”

“He surprises you sometimes, doesn’t he?” laughed Harry. “Hey, can I come and help, you know, if you need it, when you reopen?” George looked at him in surprise and raised an eyebrow in question. Harry looked at the table and began tracing the grain of the wood with one finger.

“I just want to spend some time with Ron, you know?” Harry looked up.

“So that’s why you haven’t moved into Percy’s room?” asked George. Harry nodded.

“We’ve never spent more than a few weeks apart since we were eleven. That fight we had over the tournament in fourth year was torture. I’m going to miss him while I’m at Hogwarts,” said Harry, looking back down at the table. “I reckon I’ve spent enough nights sleeping alone in my own room.”

“Yeah, it is hard,” said George distantly, “sleeping alone. I’ve never slept alone before.” Harry didn’t know what to say to that. He would miss Ron for a while, but George had lost his best friend and roommate forever. The two of them sat in silence until Ron came clattering in about five minutes later. He looked a little flushed and his hair was so rumpled it was messier than Harry’s.

“Hello chaps!” he said enthusiastically as he headed to the pantry to retrieve something to eat. “Isn’t it a beautiful evening?” George looked at Harry and smirked. Harry felt the undeniable urge to giggle and suppressed it quickly.

“And how is Hermione, Ron?” asked George, a sly smile on his face.

“Oh,” breathed Ron as he poured a glass of pumpkin juice, “she’s brilliant.” The pumpkin juice overflowed the glass and poured over the table. Ron shook his head and lazily cleaned the spill up with his wand before sitting at the table and taking a swig before sighing dramatically. George and Harry watched him barely suppressing smirks.

“So, you’ve had a good evening then, Ron?” asked Harry.

“Yeah,” Ron smiled distantly. “You?”

“Yeah, I did actually,” said Harry, smiling faintly. Ron suddenly sobered and looked at Harry critically.

“But didn’t dad drag you into his shed for a … chat?”

“Yeah, he did,” said Harry, perplexed.

“And this chat did not bother you?” enquired George with a frown. Harry shook his head, puzzled.

“Why should it?”

“He didn’t give you dire warnings about respecting our baby sister’s honour and keeping certain … things to yourself?”

“Or an embarrassingly detailed talk about how women think and, er … function?”

“No,” said Harry slowly looking at both of them with raised eyebrows. George and Ron looked at each other before Ron turned to Harry.

“So what did he say?” Harry smiled and stood up, heading for the door.

“That women are smarter than us,” he tossed over his shoulder as he headed for the hallway and up the stairs. He didn’t get very far before he heard Ron and George thumping after him.

“What?”

“Dad said that?”

“Among other things,” replied Harry. “If you two leave me alone long enough for me to say goodnight to Ginny, I might be more specific.” They had reached the second landing now and Harry knocked on Ginny’s door. She poked her head out a few seconds later and then squawked and slammed the door in his face. Harry stared at the door in confusion.

“He did not say anything that explains that, however.” Ginny opened the door a few moments later.

“Sorry,” she said breathlessly. “I wasn’t decent.” Harry wound his arms around her waist, pulling her close and leant forward to whisper in her ear.

“I wouldn’t have minded.”

“Maybe not, but they would have,” said Ginny nodding towards Ron and George who were still standing on the landing behind Harry.

“I just wanted to say goodnight,” explained Harry. “If they want to watch …” and he bent his head and kissed her. Knowing her back was to her door and therefore not in view of her brothers, Harry let his hands drift downwards as they kissed. He could feel Ginny smile against his mouth but he felt alarmed when he realised her hands were heading to the corresponding area of his body, and his back was in full view of her brothers. He pulled away sharply and she giggled.

“I really don’t need to see this,” decided Ron loudly. “I’ll see you upstairs mate.” Harry turned to see Ron’s retreating back and George standing there smirking at them. Suddenly George’s face fell and he stammered something about going to bed and he too vanished up the stairs. Turning back to Ginny Harry noticed she was putting her wand away. He shook his head a smile playing across his lips. It seemed George had forgotten she wasn’t of age and couldn’t use that wand in any case.

“Now, where were we,” murmured Ginny as she reached up and pulled his head down to hers.

When Harry arrived back in his and Ron’s room some ten minutes later he found both Ron and George waiting for him. Harry, knowing his hair was likely messier than usual, attempted to smooth it down, the whole time knowing he was fighting a losing battle.

“Give it up, Potter,” said Ron from his supine position on his bed. “We know what you’ve been up to, apparently with the all clear from our father.” Ron was looking at Harry with an expression halfway between amusement and outrage. Harry just shook his head and pulled his shirt over his head, rummaging about for his pyjamas in the pile of clothes next to his bed. George had made himself comfortable on Harry’s bed and was now looking quizzically at Harry.

“Seriously, what did dad say?” asked George. Harry thought for a moment before replying.

“He said he advised all his sons to wait for marriage, but that he’s not my father,” Harry grinned waiting for their reaction. What Ron actually said surprised and annoyed him.

“Well then, you’re just lucky! I got an entire father-son lecture about respecting women and their bodies and waiting was more than advice!”

“Lucky?” asked Harry hollowly. He could see George from the corner of his eye sit up abruptly. “You really think it’s lucky that my father isn’t around to talk to me about stuff like this? To give me his advice?” Ron was still laying on his bed, hands linked behind his head, looking at the ceiling.

“Yeah, it’s embarrassing …” shuddered Ron. Harry just stared at Ron before abruptly turning and yanking the door open and walking out onto the landing.

“Yeah it’s real lucky that I have no idea what my dad would have said about it, that I can’t ask him about intimacy and feelings and what to do with the rest of my life,” shouted Harry as he stood trembling, shirtless, his pyjama top hanging from his left hand, on the landing. Ron sprang out of the bed and started towards him.

“I didn’t mean - ” Harry just shook his head fiercely and thundered down the stairs. He could hear George calling Ron an ‘insensitive git’ as they scrambled down the stairs after him. He dimly heard Ron answer that it wasn’t the first time and Harry remembered the awful words they’d had over pretty much the very same thing last year. The hatred he’d felt then seemed to surge back and he wanted to get as far away from Ron as possible. Harry landed with a thump on the second landing having leapt down the last few steps and Ginny’s door flew open but he paid her no heed as he yanked open Percy’s door, stepped inside and slammed it behind him with a satisfying bang. It banged open, hitting the wall, only seconds later. Harry spun around to see Ron standing in the doorway.

“Just go away, Ron,” shouted Harry. “Just leave me alone!”

“Harry, I’m sorry. It just came out all wrong. Of course I don’t think that’s lucky.”

Then Mrs Weasley was there telling them to keep it down. At the same time George was telling Ron he had a gift for saying stupid things. Ginny was standing, wide eyed, in her bedroom doorway. Harry glared at Ron, his arms crossed. Hermione had her wand out, ready to throw a shield between them.

“I don’t think that’s lucky,” Ron repeated softly. “I’m sorry.” Harry relaxed a little, dropping his arms and sighing. Ron grinned at Harry.

“In fact I’d think it was the end of the world if I’d just had that chat with Hermione’s dad,” he said. Harry regarded him for a moment before he burst out laughing.

“He was really great about it, Ron,” said Harry. “I just wish things were different sometimes.” Harry noticed that Arthur had joined the rest of the family on the landing.

“Everything alright, boys?” he asked.

“Yeah, everything’s great, thanks dad,” said Harry and Arthur beamed at him. Ron gave him an odd sort of look but Harry had no time to ask him about it because Ginny pushed her way past Ron and her father and into the room.

“What happened?” she asked as she reached him and raised a hand to trace the oval shaped scar near his heart. Harry suddenly realised he was standing there, shirtless, something he had steadfastly avoided, even while swimming. His pyjama top was in his hand and he hurriedly started to pull it over his head. Ginny was still looking at him steadily when his head emerged from the neck of the pyjama top. Harry sighed inwardly. He looked at Hermione who looked worried and was biting her lip.

“It’s a long story,” he replied, avoiding Ginny’s gaze.

“Well, give me the short version,” she said. Harry looked at her then and she was looking at him with a mixture of understanding and expectation. He remembered his own vow that he would share everything with her and he knew that this was more important, more precious to her than access to his vault. He took a deep breath and looked at Hermione who nodded imperceptibly as if encouraging him.

“It was from a … battle I suppose you’d call it,” he started, “with Voldemort’s snake, at Christmas. I was wearing a locket that he’d made a Horcrux out of and it … well I guess you could say it put up a bit of a fight when the snake tried to sort of strangle me.”

“Sort of?” questioned Hermione, eyebrows raised, “you have a terrible habit of down playing things, Harry.” He just looked at her and shrugged.

“I’m just lucky it’s the only scar I’ve got from trying to destroy one of those things,” he said. He felt decidedly odd standing in Percy’s old bedroom in his jeans and pyjama top discussing Horcruxes casually with Hermione. “I’m lucky I’m not dead.” He said it so bluntly that Ginny winced and he cursed himself inwardly and reached out for her. As he pulled her into his arms she wound her own arms around his neck and clung to him tightly.

“When you think about it, you only did destroy one anyway,” mused Ron, heedless of their audience and his sister still hanging from Harry’s neck.

“Well that just proves I didn’t need to do it alone, doesn’t it?” Harry said as he realised he’d not actually spoken of many of the past year’s activities since they’d come home. He wondered how many questions everyone had been dying to ask him and suddenly felt an overwhelming gratitude that they had refrained. Arthur cleared his throat. He seemed hesitant.

“Who destroyed the other ones then?” he asked.

“Ron, Hermione, Professor Dumbledore, Neville …” Harry trailed off.

“He had five?” asked Arthur faintly. Harry shook his head.

“No, seven, although he didn’t mean to make seven, he meant to make six,” answered Harry, stroking Ginny’s back. He continued softly. “I suppose you’d say Crabbe died destroying one. Professor Dumbledore was killed by one.”

“That’s still only six. Who destroyed the seventh?” asked Mrs Weasley hesitantly.

“Well, er … he did,” answered Harry hesitantly. Taking a deep breath he looked directly at her. “When he tried to kill me, he destroyed it.” Mrs Weasley went white as she realised the implications and her eyes flicked up to the scar on his forehead. “The only one I destroyed was his diary and that was pure dumb luck. That one was actively trying to kill me and if it hadn’t been for Fawkes …” Harry felt Ginny stiffen in his arms and he trailed off, tightening his arms around her. She fought him for only a moment before he felt her slump into him and her tears wet his neck. An oppressive silence hung over the room.

“Well, this is an odd time for this all to come out,” remarked Ron eventually. It was punctuated by a loud sob from Ginny. Harry didn’t notice as they all withdrew and he cradled Ginny in his arms as he sank onto Percy’s old bed and held her while she cried.

“I’m okay, I’m still here. It wasn’t your fault,” he murmured into her hair as her sobs subsided. She still clung to his neck like a limpet, quite uncharacteristically. He shifted uneasily as she quietened and stilled. Suddenly she spoke, whispering into the stillness.

“I know. I try not to think about it. I don’t like to think about you hurt or dying,” she said. “And last year, at school … I didn’t know where you were or how you were … I mean I knew you were in danger but … I’m sorry. I guess I got a little overwhelmed.” She pulled away from him abruptly and stood up, wiping the tears from her cheeks and pretending she hadn’t just broken down in his arms. Harry reached out and took her hand, pulling her back to him.

“Tell me about last year,” he said softly. “I used to think about Hogwarts. I used wonder what it would be like to be there, tucked up in a nice warm bed, having dinner in the Great Hall. To be with you. I would get out the map and watch your name. Willing you to know I was thinking of you, hoping you were alright. But it wasn’t as simple as that, was it?” Ginny shook her head. She seemed to be considering something.

“At first it was a bit of an adventure,” she admitted as she wandered to look out of the tiny window. “It wasn’t too bad before Christmas and I had Neville and Luna. Neville told you we reformed Dumbledore’s Army together?” Harry nodded, sensing more understatement, then realised she was looking out of the window and couldn’t see him so he got up and slid his arms around her waist.

“Yeah, we heard things along the way and Neville told us some of what you’d all been up to,” he said softly. “It didn’t sound anything like being tucked up in nice safe beds.”

“Well, no, we kept getting out of bed,” mused Ginny and Harry chuckled as she turned in his arms. “I wish I’d had a map I could have seen your name on, so I would have known you were safe. I used to throw myself into all the things we planned to I wouldn’t have to think about how you might be …” She stopped, staring distantly over his shoulder.

“Well I knew where you were and I knew you were alive but I didn’t know how you were,” said Harry, stroking her hair. “Later Neville told us matter of factly that being pure blood meant they only hurt you, not kill you. It was, quite frankly, disturbing.” Ginny laughed a short, sharp laugh. It sounded harsh in the stillness of the night.

“Some days I don’t know how I am going to go back,” she admitted. “It was horrible and there were days I thought Snape had it in for me specifically. He saw me looking at a picture of us once and he went nuts. It was weird actually.”

“You have a picture of us?”

“Yeah, Colin took it once when we weren’t looking. We were sitting outside, near the lake,” she smiled. “He sent me a copy for my birthday. Hang on.” Ginny scurried out of the room and returned moments later with a dog eared photograph that showed the two of them sitting close under a tree. As he watched himself bend his head down and press a kiss to Ginny’s lips Harry realised that this was the same tree under which his father had taunted Snape when they were fifteen.

“He saw that and just went nuts. I got three week’s worth of detentions for looking at something that wasn’t a text book on school grounds,” said Ginny. “Normally he sent me to Hagrid for detentions. Not this time. I always wondered if he had something against the two of us. He seemed to really hate seeing us together, remember he gave you all those detentions when we started going out?” Harry nodded absently, watching as his photo self gave photo Ginny another kiss. He didn’t miss the fact that Ginny did not reveal what her detention was but he didn’t think now was the right time to ask about it. As he watched the photograph it struck him how much they looked like his parents when he could no longer see their faces clearly and suddenly he knew why Snape had snapped on seeing the photo.

“He wasn’t seeing us,” said Harry softly as he handed her the photo. “He never saw me. He always saw my dad. He was watching my dad steal my mum away from him.” Ginny contemplated the photo for a moment.

“That makes sense,” she murmured. “It wasn’t safe at Hogwarts anymore. I’m worried I won’t feel safe when we go back. I worry that memories will make it seem unfriendly. Which is stupid.” She grimaced and Harry shook his head.

“It’s not stupid,” he said as he pulled her into a hug. “But I’ll be there, I promise. We can make new memories … all over the castle.” And he bent his head to kiss her. Only a few moments later, and much too soon in Harry’s opinion, she pulled away and looked up at him, her eyes once again twinkling with concealed mischief.

“So … you had a chat with my dad?” Harry grinned at her.

“Yes,” he said, “yes I did. It was most … illuminating.” She cocked her head to one side and studied him intently.

“In what way was it illuminating, exactly?” Harry‘s smile softened and put his hand up to caress her cheek as he looked at her. She closed her eyes and turned her face to nuzzle the palm of his hand.

“I think he was warning me that you would try and seduce me,” he whispered. Ginny’s eyes shot open in shock and her jaw fell open. Harry chuckled at her expression. He trailed his hand down her neck, across her shoulder and down her arm. He then moved to her hip, letting his hand drift lower until his gentle pressure urged her to press her body towards his own. His other hand wandered up her back and he pulled her lips to his to capture her them in another kiss. As he pulled away he said, ever so softly,

“He needn’t have worried, I have a very strong will.” Harry released Ginny then and she stumbled back a step, her eyes flew open and with her hair mussed, lips swollen and face flushed and Harry wondered for a moment just how strong his will actually was.

“Goodnight, Ginevra Weasley,” he said as he backed towards the door. Her full name seemed to bring her out of her trance and as she looked at him Harry looked back steadily. “I love you.” He saw her smile as he went around the corner and up the staircase and he suddenly felt euphoric. He bounded up the stairs and threw open the door to the tiny bedroom under the attic. Ron was sitting in his bed, reading a Quidditch magazine and he looked up as Harry stood there.

“Hello, Ron! Isn’t it a beautiful evening?” Ron smirked at him.

“And how is Ginny, Harry?”

“Oh,” breathed Harry as he flopped onto his own bed, “she’s brilliant!” And they both laughed.

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Mrs Weasley seemed very teary the next morning at breakfast as she piled their plates high with bacon, eggs, sausages and toast but none of them paid a lot of attention as they raced through their breakfast and prepared to leave for the day. George and Ron were going to do some final work in the shop before they left the next morning and Hermione and Ginny would join them there after they went to the bank. They all tried to get Harry to come after he’d visited Teddy but he steadfastly refused. He was willing to leave random public appearances in London’s wizarding heart until they came home again. Although the shop would not be open to the public, it had very large windows. Hermione was fretting because the morning mail had not brought their Hogwarts letters and she would have to wait until she returned home. As he watched the other four Floo into number ninety three Diagon Alley, Mrs Weasley piled his plate higher with more breakfast than he could possibly eat.

“Thanks, mum,” he said absently as he read the front page of the paper that Arthur was holding up and stabbed a piece of sausage with his fork. The sausage never made it to his mouth however because he found himself engulfed in one of Mrs Weasley’s rib cracking hugs, his breathing became laboured and his hand was jutting out at an uncomfortable angle and he struggled to hold his fork so that it would not poke him in the eye.

“Molly, let the boy go so he can breathe,” said Arthur, not removing his eyes from the paper. Mrs Weasley let him go and he stuffed the sausage piece into his mouth hurriedly, wondering what he’d done to warrant the affectionate assault as Mrs Weasley busied herself washing the dishes. Arthur lowered the paper fractionally and peered over the top at Harry.

“She likes it when you say that,” he supplied quietly. Harry merely looked at him in confusion. He thought back and tried to work out what he’d said. “She wouldn’t mind Molly, but … I don’t think you realise that sometimes you call her mum.” Harry shook his head. He hadn’t realised that at all. He watched as Mrs Weasley directed the dishes and plates with her wand. He suddenly realised he wanted to call her mum and knew with a certainty that his own mother would not mind, in the same way he had known his father would not have minded. He smiled at Arthur as he pushed his chair back.

“I’m going over to see Teddy now,” he announced. He grabbed a piece of toast from his plate and went to the back door. He paused and crossed the kitchen in only a few steps to give Mrs Weasley – Molly a kiss on the cheek.

“Thanks for breakfast, mum,” he said and watched her eyes light up before he banged out the door and bounded into the garden to apparate to Andromeda’s.

The next morning Molly’s tears were even more pronounced as she fussed over them prior to their departure. Harry was irresistibly reminded of their departure for the World Cup in the summer before Fourth Year. Molly even asked George if he had anything that he shouldn’t take into another country in his pockets. She did resist doing a summoning spell on him this time and when George left he did so after giving his mother a hug and a kiss on the cheek. Molly hugged Harry and then pulled her daughter into a fierce embrace.

“I can’t believe you’ll be all grown up next time I see you!” she wailed into Ginny’s shoulder. “You’ll be of age and my baby will be gone!” Ginny patted her mother awkwardly on the shoulder, refraining from saying that she was already all grown up, wasn’t a baby and hadn’t been for some time, but somehow Harry knew that’s what she was thinking.

“Don’t worry, I’ll always be your baby, mum,” she said instead as her mother released her.

“That’s right,” sniffed Molly. “So don’t you dare go off and get married or anything silly just because you can!” Ginny blushed tomato red as her mother glared at her. Harry put his arm around Ginny’s shoulders and leaned in to press a kiss to Molly’s cheek.

“I wouldn’t dare, mum,” said Harry. He grinned at Molly cheekily. “I wouldn’t dare.”

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

“Why on earth is this place a mess?” exclaimed Ron as they arrived by portkey at the designated point, concealed by Muggle repelling charms, in Sydney International Airport. Looking through the large windows that surrounded them Harry saw that there was a lot of building machinery and more than one massive scaffold. Cranes wobbled precariously overhead and half finished buildings rose into the sky, planes appearing to dodge them as they circled the airport.

“You’d think, if they call this place the showcase of Australia, the Muggles’d tidy it up a bit!”

“They’re building it Ronald,” sighed Hermione exasperatedly.

“Well, how is that safe for the Muggles? It’s not as if planes aren’t dangerous enough without knowing how they stay up and all but they have to try and drop them out of the sky into this mess?”

“Planes don’t drop out of the sky, Ron,” said Hermione, less than patiently. “Planes land.” Hurriedly showing their paperwork to the rather bored witch manning the International Portkey desk Hermione led Ron over to a window and began pointing out the runways and attempted to explain that the planes used these to gather and reduce speed when leaving or returning to earth. George, Harry and Ginny showed their own paperwork to the witch and joined them.

“Why does it look like this then?” George asked curiously. “It is a bit messy. Bit like my bedroom after an experiment gone wrong, things sticking up at angles all over the place!” Hermione turned from the window where Ron was watching, fascinated as planes landed.

“They’re making it bigger, for the Olympics.”

“The Olly-whats?”

“But Hermione they’re two years away!” said Ginny incredulously. “They’ve started a bit early don’t you think?”

“Takes a long time to build things the Muggle way,” said Harry matter of factly as he joined Ron at the window of the nearest gate.

“I can’t believe they aren’t falling out of the sky!” Ron marveled.

“So am I, actually,” said Hermione peering out into the gloom. “That’s one nasty storm out there.” The five of them watched as tiny people hurried about on the runway below, buffeted by the wind, pulling bags and suitcases from the belly of the plane below. Rain lashed the windows and the grey world outside looked incredibly uninviting.

“Oooh this is a lovely place for a honeymoon,” muttered Bill sarcastically as he and Fleur approached from behind them.

“What took you two so long?” Ron demanded. “We’ve been here for ages!”

“Never you mind!”

“Thees ees our ‘oneymoon Ronald,” said Fleur. “I zink you can make up your own mind.” She grinned mischievously at them and George groaned.

“We do not need to hear that!”

“Right,” said Bill, “I think we have more pressing matters to attend to at the moment. For one thing, how do we get out of this maze? And then where do we go, Hermione?”

“Well, the best way would be the train station, straight to the city, only they are a bit behind and haven’t finished the train station yet, so we will have to find the bus and catch that,” she mused.

“Is it anything like the Knight Bus?” shuddered Ron. Hermione shook her head exasperatedly.

“They’re Muggles Ron, they drive a little more sedately than Ernie!” However the bus proved difficult to board with such a large group as the weather had caused more than one delay and had resulted in the baggage handlers walking off the job due to hazardous conditions. The Airport was packed with weary travelers wondering when they would be able to reclaim their luggage and eventually crowding onto the shuttle buses, without their luggage, in order to get home that night. There was no room for a party of seven with copious amounts of luggage.

The group watched as a glum looking Muggle climbed into the last seat on the third bus they’d tried to board. She appeared to be talking to herself until Hermione pointed out that she had a mobile telephone attached to the opposite side of her head with the hand she was not waving wildly in the air. Ron commented that they’d have been dead useful over the past year and it was a pity they didn’t work around magic. Abandoning the Shuttle bus idea Bill finally flagged down two taxis with a few Muggle repelling charms. The fight for taxis was worse than the fight to get onto the Shuttle Buses but they were a lot easier to cast the charms on.

The taxi drivers proved to be quite equal to Ernie’s driving skill and Ron hopped out at their destination looking decidedly green. They huddled next to a nearby building, which had an overhanging porch above the doorway, in order to remain dry, while Bill paid the taxi drivers.

“Where are we?” asked George looking up at the tall buildings, many of which were covered in flashing lights or other brightly glowing signs. Night had fallen and the grey skies and smoky looking landscape had given way to sparkling lights on an inky backdrop, the lights of the city reflecting in the rain that was still splashing down and coating the buildings and roads.

“George Street,” Hermione said absently while consulting a notebook she had pulled from her handbag.

“I realise that we are on a street Hermione. I was wondering more precisely which one and what are we doing here?” George rolled his eyes. Hermione looked up exasperatedly.

“We are standing on George Street,” she said. “George, the name of the street is George Street. It’s Sydney’s main thoroughfare and quite possibly the first street in Sydney, being one of the first two main tracks that led through the settlement. It used to be called High Street as in the best British tradition, but it was obviously formally named at a later date. It runs from near the Harbour Bridge through the city to the south end of Sydney and connects to feeder roads out into the Western suburbs-“

“She’s read a book about Sydney,” muttered Ron. Hermione continued as though he had not spoken

“- and it happens to run between Sydney’s main wizarding locations at Chinatown and The Rocks.”

“So where are we off to then, Hermione?” asked Bill as he joined them, shaking the rain from his hair.

“Well, according to the notes I wrote down there should be a wizarding pub here somewhere. It’s called The Dripping Bucket, if any of you can see it through this rain that would be fantastic,” Hermione said.

“The Dripping Bucket?” scoffed Ron incredulously. “Who calls a pub that?”

“British wizards trying to recreate home on foreign soil I expect, Ronald,” she responded tartly. “It’s not like I named the pub, is it? I am just trying to get us out of this rain and somewhere to stay.”

“I found it,” interrupted Ginny. Harry looked to where she was pointing across the street. A small door was wedged in between two office buildings. As his eyes lingered on the door he could make out the sign proclaiming it as The Dripping Bucket swinging in the waning wind.

“Let’s go then,” Harry said, collecting his bag and braving the rain still pelting down from the heavens. The group dashed across the busy street and spilled through the door to The Dripping Bucket, pushing their way inside to escape the freezing droplets.

“Hey, shut the bloody door behin’ ya, Blue!” the voice of the barman rang out across the crowded pub, in a lazy drawl. George hastily wedged the door shut behind him. “I know this pub is called The Drippin’ Bucket but no need to flood the place! I’m flat out trying to run this place without you makin’ more work for me!”

“We’re looking for somewhere to stay, can you recommend somewhere?” Hermione asked him after she made her way to the bar. “Do you have any rooms?”

“Nah, we don’t got any rooms anymore. No one stays in pubs anymore. Got a nightclub upstairs, but,” the barman replied. He was blonde with a thick neck and an even tan. “You wanna go through into Origin Alley there’s a hotel in there and they’ll be able to put you up, bound to have room this time of year.”

“Yes, if you could just tell us how to get through to Origin Alley?” Hermione asked.

“Youse’re definitely not from around ‘ere are youse? Everyone knows how to get into Origin Alley!” the man looked incredulous. “Well you just go through the back door there, there’s a paintin’ in front of you and you gotta tap the yellow dots. Just tap ‘em with ya wand starting at the top and work your way down. It’ll roll up and let ya through. Hotel’s about four doors down on ya right.”

Hermione thanked the man as they traipsed out the back door in search of the painting.

“They aren’t very original this lot, are they?’ said Ron. “If it wasn’t for the freezing rain in August and that weird voice we may as well be back home going through The Leaky Cauldron!”

“A lot of things are going to look British, Ronald,” said Hermione. “It was settled by the British, remember?”

“Yeah, well I expected it to be a lot less like home, you know?”

“I think you’ve got your wish Ron,” said Ginny as they came face to face with a massive canvas which was covered in swirls and dots.

“Blimey!” Ron muttered. The painting was nothing like anything back home at all. Stretching at least 6 feet tall and four feet wide, the canvas was covered in tiny dots arranged to form the picture of a giant snake. Most of the dots were white, black or a murky colour that was a cross between red and brown but weaving down the centre was a trail of yellow dots. Bill got out his wand and tapped each of the yellow dots in turn and the snake’s head, which was at the bottom of the painting, twisted around to look at them before slithering a few centimeters towards the edge of the canvas and suddenly the painting was rolling itself up, exposing the trunk of a massive tree, set into the wall behind the pub.

The tree was at about four feet wide and grey and satiny smooth and Hermione concluded that it was no longer alive at all and it had obviously been sufficiently massive with a root system so deep that they had simply built the wall, years and years ago, on either side of it, without removing it. The trunk of the tree had a rather large gap in it, tall enough and wide enough for a person to enter. As they went through the gap in the trunk one by one they realised they were standing inside the tree trunk. Another gap in the opposite side of the trunk led the way to a sparkling hive of night time activity beyond.

Entranced, Harry stepped out from the shelter of the old, hollow tree trunk, the others followed him. Hermione pointed out the hotel a short way down the Alley and they headed towards it. There were still a number of wizards and witches out on the streets and it looked as though a thriving restaurant district was next to the hotel, there were people heading down a tiny alleyway filled to overflowing with a bustling crowd. The sides were lined with food vendors and the enticing smells drifted out and swirled around them.

“Cor, the food smells alright, doesn’t it?” said Ron, entirely predictably. Hermione shook her head at him while Harry bit the inside of his cheek to stop the laughter bubbling up from inside.

“We need to check in first, Ronald,” Hermione said imperiously. “Must you always think about food?”

“Yes,” said Ron immediately as Hermione dragged him away from the entrance to the enticing alley and into the foyer of the hotel. The splendor of the hotel was entirely ruined by the sideshow being carried on behind the check-in desk. There were two men there, dressed in immaculate matching robes that carried the hotel’s insignia, having a very loud argument in strident tones.

“I’m tellin’ ya mate, all I said to ‘im woz ‘Aveagoodweegend’, how can anyone possibly find that offensive?”

“The man was going to a funeral, you drongo!”

“Dead set?” asked the first man faintly. “No wonder he spit the dummy at me.”

“Yeah well, you’re lucky he didn’t draw his wand on ya! Ya great galah!” The first man had apparently noticed them and imperceptibly straightened his collar and seemed to put on a new, professional face as he greeted them.

“Good evening,” he intoned in a low, measured voice. “How can we be of assistance this evening?” Hermione looked at Bill who stepped up and spoke to the man.

“We’re after three adjoining rooms if you have them,” he said.

“Of course, sir, I will check.” Getting out the most enormous ledger Harry had ever seen the desk clerk began to flick through the pages noisily. Harry started peering at his surroundings, noticing the strange plants in pots by the windows, the gold fixtures and the myriad collection of lamps and candles that adorned the walls. There were a few portraits but the wall decorations largely consisted of landscapes where the leaves on the trees moved slowly in an invisible breeze and birds intermittently flew noisily across the canvas skies. Hs attention was diverted by a group of witches entering the door who were giggling in the most unbearable fashion. He caught some of their conversation as they drifted past him to the staircase in the corner of the foyer.

“Oh don’t be silly, Ashley,” giggled a tall brunette. “I know you’re a bit excited to visit the Big Smoke but you won’t be seeing celebrities on every bleeding street corner!”

“I’m telling you, I saw him, it was definitely him!” shrilled a short blonde with curls. “They said he was coming so of course he’d be here. Journos never get it wrong!” Harry wondered idly who Ashley thought she had seen as Bill accepted several room keys from the clerk behind the desk.

“Do enjoy your stay at The Orridge Inn,” droned the clerk with a forced smile. Ron just snorted.

“Yeah it’s real original around here.” Hermione hushed him hurriedly.

“Thank you,” she said pleasantly to the desk clerk. “Can you give me some information about the methods of transport in Australia? We’d like to go to -” she consulted her notes, “country Victoria.”

“You’ll be wanting the bus then?” the clerk asked. Ron shook his head vehemently and Hermione elbowed him firmly.

“A bus sounds fine, if that is the normal way to get places,” she sounded dubious. “It does seem an awful long way on the map though.” The clerk stared at her.

“You a witch or what?” he shook his head and said he would gather together some brochures that they might find useful and send them up.

Bill led the way up to their adjoining rooms and Harry noted with some trepidation that they seemed to be situated near to the group of giggling witches he’d spotted earlier. They were giggling loudly, the door left wide open, in the room opposite the one Bill handed him a key to.

“Can we go and get something to eat?” asked Ron as Hermione tried her key in the door on the other side.

“Honestly Ron, we just had breakfast!”

“Yeah but now it’s dinner time … and well, I missed lunch!” Hermione rolled her eyes at him and pushed the door open, disappearing inside. George and Harry grinned at Ginny behind Ron’s back and pushed Ron into their room, following him inside. As he began to close the door behind them Harry thought he heard one of the giggly witches squeal unbearably loudly. Harry hurriedly pushed the door shut to block out the horrible noise and looked around at the room.

The splendor in the foyer of the hotel did absolutely nothing mask the fact the rooms were, quite simply, not splendid. It didn’t bother Harry, however, drab brown walls and uninspiring pictures were not something that bothered him and they weren’t here to spend all their time in a hotel room anyway. Ron began to investigate the tiny ensuite, poking through the drawers and cupboards. There was a door in the wall to his left and Harry opened it to find Hermione and Ginny whispering in the middle of the next room. George peered over his shoulder.

“Don’t tell mum Bill and Fleur weren’t in the middle room,” he said and winked.

“Oh, yes George, because there is so much danger of anything untoward going on with you and Ron here!” George just laughed.

“It’s not you and Ginny I’m worried about it’s Ron and Hermione!”

“Really?” Harry raised his eyebrow at George who nodded vigourously.

“You’ve heard the way he talks about her,” he said emphatically.

“Maybe to you,” mused Harry. “He’s never said anything much to me.”

“Well he probably thinks you’d hex him if he voiced, to you, half of what he’d like to do to her!” chortled George, “cause he would do the same to you!”

“Just … don’t … George,” he shuddered. “I probably know what he’s thinking of doing and I don’t want to hear it!” Hermione had marched forcefully over to the door and was standing there, hands on hips glaring at them both. Harry hurriedly pushed the door closed and called out to her through the door.

“We’ll meet you downstairs!” He strode back across the room and grabbed at Ron’s arm, pulling him out of the door and down the hallway to the stairs.

“I think those girls in the room opposite ours are barking, Harry,” said Ron as he followed Harry down the stairs. “I think they’ve been to the zoo or something.” He didn’t say anything else and Harry just muttered absently that he’d once been to a zoo.

“No, I really think they are barking mad,” insisted Ron. “Maybe we should see if we can move to a different room away from them.”

“Why, Ron? They seemed a bit giggly, but visiting zoos is hardly a crime!”

“Because one of them was saying she was in love with an otter!” Ron grimaced. “I think she said she wanted to marry one!” Harry made an indistinct noise in his throat, choking down a laugh as they reached the foyer.

“I’d say it’s more likely they were giggling about some bloke they want to marry, Ron,” George said. “Girls giggle like mad about getting married.” Harry nodded emphatically.

“Yeah, they were giggling when they got here, about someone famous,” he offered.

“Oh, well, maybe that’s who they were talking about then,” said Ron thoughtfully. “Maybe his name’s Otter?” Harry went pale.

“Say that again,” he demanded. Ron looked at him strangely and frowned. Hermione and Ginny were approaching from the staircase and as Harry watched them he thought he could hear the group of giggling witches

“What? Someone famous named Otter?” The three of them looked at each other in horror.

“No,” breathed Harry. As he looked again at the staircase he saw Ashley poke her head out from around the corner at the top of the staircase. She squealed and pulled back again.

“How is this possible?” he hissed at Ron and George as Hermione and Ginny caught up to them.

“Bill and Fleur are staying in,” announced Ginny with a grimace. Harry laughed at the look on her face, forgetting about the witches in the room opposite theirs. He reached out and pulled her into a hug before whispering in her ear.

“I bet you wouldn’t be making that face if we were the ones staying in?”

“Maybe my mother should have warned me about you Harry Potter,” murmured Ginny as Harry’s lips began playing with her ear. They both ignored the argument that Ron and Hermione had started over where to eat and pretended not to see George deliberately turn his back on their display as Ginny began threading her fingers through Harry’s hair, bringing his head closer to her own. Harry moved his attention to her lips and lost himself in her feather light touch as she danced her fingers through his hair. He thought he heard George murmur that maybe he should be less worried about the quarrelling duo and more about the amorous twosome but they didn’t actually break apart until he felt a whack on the back of his head.

Harry turned, scowling, to find George wielding a newspaper, The Daily Oracle. Harry just stared at George as if he had lost his mind because as far as Harry was concerned – he had. George simply unfurled the paper and Harry took one look at it and blanched.

POTTER NUPTIALS PLANNED

Reports have it, on good authority, that Harry Potter, wizarding Britain’s most eligible bachelor, is no longer eligible!

It seems that he and his long time girlfriend, a Miss Hermione Granger, have planned to marry right here. His arrival is anticipated sometime today. Actual details of the event have been kept securely under wraps, even from this intrepid reporter.

Speculation is rife that the hasty nuptials have been planned due to the ill timed arrival of a bundle of joy during the war that tore apart wizarding Britain over the last two years. Potter has been seen several times in the company of a small dark haired baby that can only have been his child. It seems he is finally about to do right by the poor tyke’s mother.

The article was accompanied by the picture of him and Hermione in the Leaky Cauldron and a smaller, fuzzy inset picture of him and Teddy that had obviously been taken one day at Andromeda’s. Harry scowled fiercely.

“Blimey, Harry,” said Ron, “I thought dad and Kingsley cleared that mess up?”

“Obviously not,” ground out Hermione. “This report is worse than the last one!”

“And what do they care all the way over here anyway?” grumbled Harry as he screwed the paper up and lobbed it at a nearby bin.

“Tabloid news, it’s got global appeal,” muttered Ginny. Harry gave her a warm smile and slung and arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. He looked up at Ron and Hermione.

“Let’s go have some fun,” he grinned at Hermione. “What are they going to do when they see both of us at the same time with someone else? The stories can’t get any worse!” Hermione laughed and slipped an arm around Ron’s waist. George eyed them distastefully.

“I need to find myself a chick,” he muttered as he trailed after them.

“If you keep using that term I’ll hex you, George,” complained Hermione, twirling her wand. “The correct term in Australia is sheila.” The five of them spilled out laughing into the street and headed to the alleyway next to the hotel.

A large sign bolted the wall at the entrance of the alleyway indicated that it was called Tucker Run. The vendors that lined the streets sported large colourful signs and placards that proclaimed them as ‘the best place to get seafood’ or ‘award winning’. Harry strolled down the narrow alley way, his hand in Ginny’s marveling at the sights and sounds that enveloped them. Ron pulled Hermione ruthlessly from vendor to vendor, from one restaurant to the next. The tiny street held a vast array of delicacies from all over the world. There were meats spinning on spits, sizzling stir fries and seafood buffets. Delicate pastries and exotic ice creams spilled from dessert lounges and drink vendors pedaled juices, soft drinks and aromatic coffees.

Eventually they settled on a table in the back corner of a restaurant that boasted ‘Modern Australian Cuisine’, figuring that if they were here they might as well experience the local fare. The menu was a colourful selection of meats, flavoured with bush herbs and spices, including Barramundi, which Hermione assured a dubious Ron was a fish, and kangaroo steaks.

“They eat kangaroos here?” asked George as if he couldn’t quite believe it.

“Sure do!” came a lively voice from Harry’s elbow. “Only place in the world they eat their own national emblem, so they say. Not that I’ve ever been able to work out who ‘they’ are in any case.

“So where are you lot from then? Don’t get too many travellers in August. Mind you I’ve noticed it’s been a bit busier lately. Perhaps it’s that British war being over. Never seen so many Poms around for years. It’s like they’re all tryin’ to flee the country. You woulda thought they woulda tried to flee before now!” Harry raised his eyebrows at Ron as the blonde waiter gave them his version of what he called ‘The Pommy Situation’.

“Well - ” began Hermione but the waiter ignored her and simply kept talking.

“The Muggles like to get involved globally. Used to be a time when they’d send soldiers to fight for British Muggles,” he never seemed to take a breath. “Can’t say as wizards ever do that though. Certainly wasn’t no campaign or anything over ‘ere for Aurors to go over or nothing. Some reckon the British Ministry got taken over by that evil bloke so they weren’t about to ask for anyone else to fight them were they? But who knows what’s real that comes from those British news sources.” They way he said ‘British news sources’ suggested he considered them a bigger evil than Voldemort. It seemed he hadn’t finished.

“Of course bit more allied to America these days,” he said ‘America’ as if it was worse than British news sources. “The people are alright o’course but they’ve got some weird Muggles running that joint, I’m telling you. Think the US Ministry is better run though. Anyway, where are you lot from?” Hermione glanced at Harry and Ron before speaking up.

“Britain, actually,” she said. Hermione was about to continue, when the waiter took another deep breath and went on.

“Oh so you’ve been there then? Fair dinkum? Course you have, you live there! Don’t ‘spose you were involved in that war at all? Nah, kids like yourselves woulda been a bit young to get involved – although they reckon the whole thing came to a head at a school or summat?” he looked at them expectantly but did not give them a chance to confirm or deny what he obviously thought were rumours as he plunged on. “Of course that Potter bloke’s not very old, schoolboy they reckon, so I suppose it could be true. ’Snot ridgey didge if you ask me, can’t trust that British press. I mean I ask you, as if he’d come ‘ere to get married. Seen that story ‘ave youse? If he’s still at school he’s not likely to be getting married at all! What a load of rubbish. Course you look a bit like the sheila they reckon he’s marrying, could get you in a bit of strife.” He waved a finger in Hermione’s general direction as he finished. Hermione smiled and Harry looked at her with a raised eyebrow while Ginny tried valiantly to stifle a giggle.

“Anyway I’ve gas bagged enough at you lot. I’m supposed to be telling you I’m ya waiter for this evening and my name’s Johnno,” he paused, which had been a rare occurrence during his monologue, before he sighed. “It’s not really Johnno, it’s just Jonathon but the owner thinks the punters want some sort of Aussie flavor and he thinks that is it. I mean really if he wants Aussie flavor he should just stick to smothering the kangaroo steaks in bush spices and serving Liliypily Icecream.”

“And that’s what Australians eat?” asked Ginny dubiously.

“Nah,” Jonathon replied, “most of ‘em eat the same as the rest of the world. The Muggles eat a lot of stir fries and pasta but wizarding folk seem to have got stuck in some sort of British time warp and it’s all dumplings and mutton. Muggleborns like me are changing that of course but I don’t think we’ll ever give up the lamb roast. Stuff like emu is mostly in restaurants. You can get kangaroo in a supermarket but few people actually buy and cook it. Anyway, what’ll youse have?” They ordered some of the more exotic things on the menu at Jonathon’s suggestion. He said that even though it wasn’t your normal fare it was actually quite good, for a change of pace. The restaurant was filling up slowly but no one paid any mind to the small group in the back corner. About halfway through their entrée Bill’s patronus turned up and asked them where they were. Hermione sent back a message and Jonathon expanded their table and conjured up two more chairs. Bill and Fleur arrived moments later while Jonathon was fetching some extra menus in preparation for their arrival.

Harry shuffled his chair around to fit the two newcomers at the table and when Jonathon came back he greeted Bill and Fleur, handing them the menus before asking the rest of them if they wanted anything else at the moment. It was the first time he’d seen more than Harry’s profile and Jonathon stopped dead in the middle of a long winded sentence that extolled the virtues of Australian Muggle Beer over the imported British mead. He leaned in close to the table, eyeing Harry with his blue eyes and dropped his voice to a whisper.

“Here, you look like that Potter bloke,” he swung towards Hermione and his jaw dropped. His eyes narrowed. “Well you coulda let a bloke know before letting me carry on like that before!” Jonathon looked behind him swiftly and he took his wand out of his pocket and cast a series of complicated charms around their table.

“What was that for?” asked Bill curiously.

“Privacy charms,” Jonathon replied. He waved vaguely to a table near the front of the restaurant. “There’s a bunch of witches over there and they are giggling about Potter something fierce. You’re him, aren’t you?” Harry nodded mutely. Harry and Ginny craned their necks to see the table in question. It was Ashley and her friends from the hotel.

“Well you don’t need to be bothered by the likes of them,” said Jonathon authoritatively. “They’ve been going on about following you around. I reckon maybe they’re stalking you. They can’t see you now though. Somehow, they got a strange compunction to go looking elsewhere. When you’ve finished I’ll take you through the back.” He paused thoughtfully. “It might cost you an autograph though – Naomi out the back’s a bit of a fan, don’t know if I can get youse past her.”

“You’ll have to start signing them eventually,” mumbled Ron, his mouth full of food. “Are you going to eat that Hermione?” Jonathon watched shrewdly as Hermione passed him her plate, shaking her head, a smile on her lips and Ron responded by running his hand up her arm and leaning in to kiss her cheek.

“Stop that!” said George. “Honestly, you two are sickening. We are at the dinner table!”

“So, er … ya definitely not marrying her then, hey?” said Jonathon to Harry. He assumed a supremely smug look. “Knew it.” Harry shook his head, a smile playing on his lips and Jonathon took Bill and Fleur’s orders and scurried off to attend to his duties.

Jonathon would come back at irregular intervals during the evening to recommend a dish or particular drink. Occasionally he’d give them a report on the giggling witches.

“There’s this waitress,” he paused and pointed her out during one of his visits, “Susan, and they have managed to convince her that they know you! She’s running around like a chook with it’s head cut off catering to their every whim. I don’t know what she thinks she’s going to get out of it. I’m not at all sure she isn’t a sandwich short of a picnic if she believes that giggly lot. Honestly, sheilas!” Jonathon glanced hastily at Hermione who growled at him. “You should definitely try the wattleseed dip with fresh fruit.” He finished hastily before scuttling back to the kitchen.

True to his word Jonathon escorted them through the kitchen and out the back door of the restaurant. Harry stopped to sign a napkin for an awestruck Naomi, who happened to be the kitchen hand and as they spilled out the back door into a dingy alleyway he thought he could hear Susan’s shrill voice exclaiming over the napkin and cursing the giggly witches at the table near the window.

“Well, youse all have a good time while ya here,” said Jonathon as Bill conjured several umbrellas to shelter them from the rain that had begun to fall once again. “It was nice meeting youse.”

“I thought it’d be a bit more, you know, dry,” said Ron grumpily, “land of sunshine and that. If I wanted rain I can get that back home.” He moodily splashed the toe of one of his shoes in a puddle. Jonathon looked at him thoughtfully.

“If you want dry you should go outback or up country,” he said. “It’s dry as a bone there. This rain, here, not much good in the long run. If it don’t fall where it can get into the river system and on the farming lands it’s just not much good at all. We’ll take as much rain as we can get right now. Haven’t had a lot for two years now.”

“Oh we are going to the country,” piped up Hermione excitedly. “When I can figure out how to get there. The hotel clerk really wasn’t all that helpful with transport arrangements.”

“Oh you’ll want Ernie’s bus,” said Jonathon as if it was accepted fact. Harry swallowed heavily.

“You have a bus driven by Ernie?” he asked, monotone. Ron paled. Jonathon nodded eagerly.

“Yeah, Ernie’s me best mate! I help him on the bus sometimes but me job keeps me pretty busy so usually it’s Bert,” Jonathon was once again warming to his topic. As they stood there in the street, the water splashing on their legs and dripping into the top of their shoes Jonathan launched into another monologue. “Course it’s not really Ernie’s bus. I mean he don’t own it or nothing, he just drives it. Loves that job he does, been doing it since we left school. Ernie took a holiday in New Zealand once and rode the bus there. He’d never ridden it back here seeing as the train lines run to school. Don’t s’pose you lot catch a train to school do you?

“Anyway, prefers brooms normally, does Ernie, Bert too for that matter but they took this trip in New Zealand on their bus, crazy bloke what drives that one, and when he got home and finished his EMUS all he wanted to do was drive the silly bus!”

“Emus?” asked Hermione faintly. Jonathon nodded firmly.

“Ernie Bingle, sport mad sod! I mean he could be so much more but instead of sitting normal exams he sits for the Exceptional Magical Umpire Scores and then starts driving the bleeding Roobus!”

“Roobus?” questioned Ron as he quirked an eyebrow.

“Yeah,” said Jonathon enthusiastically, “we named it, me and Bert and Ernie! It used to be called the Blackhound, but what sort of a stupid name is that for a bus? So we renamed it the Roobus. Much more sensible.”

“Er, quite,” said Bill, clearly not understanding why it was in fact much more sensible. Perhaps Jonathon sensed this because he sighed exasperatedly.

“Stands to reason dunnit?” he looked from one to the other and they stared back at him blankly. “Crikey poms are daft. You got a bus that hops from one place to another, what else would you call it?”

“Oh, sure,” said Ron a little weakly as he raised an eyebrow at Harry who shrugged. As far as Harry was concerned Jonathon was alright – if a little enthusiastic. Jonathon had treated Harry courteously and without the awe that attended some of the other people he’d met recently. His prompt shielding of Harry from the giggly witches had earned Jonathon, although he did not know it, a new friend.

It was getting late when Harry found himself walking back to the hotel on a nearly deserted street, sharing an umbrella with Ginny and listening to Hermione as she explained what she had organised with Jonathon regarding the Roobus. He really did try to listen carefully to Hermione’s long winded explanation about apparating buses and how it would only take moments to go the six hundred kilometres from Sydney to Yackandandah, something that took the Muggles six hours. Of course Ernie might have a few stops along the way but wouldn’t that be a wonderful way to see the country. The Roobus didn’t operate on weekends but there was so much to see in Muggle Sydney and Jonathon was happy to take them on a tour in the morning. Of course they might not be able to sleep at the right time so who knew what sort of havoc that would create with their body clocks.

Harry wondered briefly if Hermione had always talked in this fashion or if it was something she’d picked up from Jonathon himself. He soon paid it no heed because he could feel Ginny’s hand, which had been resting on his hip, slide down to rest in the back pocket of his jeans and it made him acutely aware of her hip bumping into his and her hair swishing back and forth over the arm that he had slung around her shoulder. She leaned her head against him as they walked and Harry found himself slowing down until they were behind the rest of them, Hermione gesturing all the while. Taking his chance Harry stopped and bent his head down to kiss Ginny. With the umbrella as a shield he didn’t hesitate to deepen the kiss immediately. Ginny responded promptly and he was soon lost in her, standing in the middle of the footpath.

Dimly he heard Bill call out to them that they could find their own way back to the hotel but if they weren’t back in an hour he’d hunt them down. Harry took that as permission to continue and they made full use of their allotted hour.