21.There’s No Place Like Home

“AAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

The cry ripped through the still air of the campsite, shattering the early morning stillness. Harry raised his head briefly from the pillow he’d conjured to see George clutching his head on either side while Ginny stood over him with her wand out. He smirked and laid his head back down, burrowing into the warm sleeping bag Ernie’s mum had sent with the food. He wasn’t alone for long.

“Morning, Harry!”

“Mornin’,” he mumbled to Ginny, his eyes still closed. Something landed on his chest with a thump and expelled his breath with a soft ‘umph’.

“Is that how you greet me on my birthday?” Ginny asked, inches from his face. “On my seventeenth birthday, Mr Potter?”

Harry could feel the tip of her wand resting on his cheek and he smiled, opened his eyes and looked straight into hers. The sun creeping over the horizon cast a soft light on her features and glinted off her hair. He could see clearly the dusting of freckles across her pink cheeks and the tip of her nose. Her eyes sparkled with mischief and if he’d had any breath left it would have been taken away at the sight of her.

“Good morning, beautiful,” he whispered sincerely, “happy birthday.” Her soft pink lips curved into the faintest of smiles.

“Nicely saved, Harry,” she whispered back as she melted into him and pressed her lips to his.

Harry thought having his arms trapped in a sleeping bag while Ginny Weasley lay on top of him, kissing the life out of him, was perhaps the most exquisite torture known to wizardkind. He moaned softly into her mouth wanting to do so much more than just kiss her. He tried valiantly to free his arms so that he could run his hands up her back and into her hair. He nearly came undone when she made a delightful little noise and, dropping her wand, ran both hands into his hair. Somehow, despite the cumbersome sleeping bag, he found her underneath him and his hands quite free to plunge into her hair and grip her waist. He was just about to slip one hand under the waistband of her jeans and go exploring when the moment was ruined by George.

“I can hear you!” he bellowed. “Not only can I see you but I can hear you! Every. Last. Little. Noise.”

Harry stopped abruptly and lifted his head from where he’d been doing something quite delightful to Ginny’s neck. Ginny made a strangled noise of discontent. George was glaring at them, two enormously large ears growing from the sides of his head, the lobes almost touching the ground as he sat in his own sleeping bag. Harry put his forehead down on Ginny’s and began to chuckle.

“Well if he doesn’t want me to hear so much he deserves to hear exceptionally well, to make up for it,” whispered Ginny with a grin. George made a disgusted noise as Harry bent his head once again to Ginny’s neck.

“Nice work,” Harry complimented her. Ginny giggled.

“Stop it you two,” grumbled George, before raising his voice slightly. “Oi! Knock it off you lot!”

Harry looked up quizzically but didn’t have to wait long before Bill poked his head out of his tent. His hair was mussed and he looked flushed and particularly unhappy. Ron and Hermione soon emerged from the other tent.

“Knock what off, George – whoa!”

“I can hear every noise you lot are making, you know,” said George conversationally. “It’s not pleasant.”

“I disagree,” growled Bill.

“From this side,” clarified George.

“How did you get those ears mate?” asked Ron trying but failing to conceal his laughter.

“His girlfriend did this to me,” said George in an accusatory tone, pointing at Harry as if it was his fault. Harry struggled to sit up, his legs still tangled in the sleeping bag.

“Oh that’s nice,” said Ginny as she looked for her wand, “you’ve disowned me now. I’m not your sister anymore, just his girlfriend?”

“It’s only a matter of time Ginny, before you belong to him,” said George seriously. “We may as well get used to it.”

Harry saw Ginny scowl at her brother and begin fingering her wand and he put out a hand to stop her. She looked at him, her eyes full of fury but he begged her silently to keep still. George looked up at Ginny, an unreadable expression on his face.

“You used to be our little Gin-Gin,” he said softly, “and it was our job to protect you, take care of you and look after you. To love you.” Ginny’s face softened and she got up and went over to George, curling herself up in his lap. Bill emerged from the tent then, buttoning the waistband on his jeans, his shirt slung over his shoulder. George continued.

“But now you’re all grown up and legal,” he said putting his arms around her, “and it’s not our job any more.” Bill stood looking at them, shivering slightly in the frigid morning air.

“You’re not our little Ginny any more,” said Ron softly as she hugged George, somehow managing to work around his massive ears. “Not our girl. You’re his girl and that’s the way we like it.”

“So does Charlie. Percy’s in denial,” added George, managing to lay his head on Ginny’s shoulder, flicking the left ear out of the way.

“Fred …” he began, his voice faltering and cracking, “he wanted you to be with Harry. He wanted you to be Harry’s girl if you couldn’t be ours anymore.” Ginny smiled fondly at George.

“I’m still your little sister. Your little Gin-Gin,” she said softly, “even now I’m all grown up you’re still my big brothers. I love you.” Harry smiled softly as Ron knelt next to Ginny and George and put his arms around them.

“Happy birthday Ginny,” he said pulling them tight. Bill joined them only a moment later, the four of them tangling in a heap.

“Happy birthday, Gorgeous,” said Bill, squeezing them tight. “Congratulations. “

“Guys, you’re hurting my ears,” said George. Harry laughed as they separated and George looked up at him.

“You’ll look after our girl won’t you Harry?”

“Yeah,” said Harry, “I’ll look after your girl.” Bill looked at Harry then, an odd expression on his face that Harry couldn’t quite decipher and Ginny smiled at him from George’s lap where she fondly stroked his oversized ears as he scowled at her and begged her to take them off.

“Maybe it’s a bit overprotective,” George said softly to Harry, “but it doesn’t matter how grown up she is, she’s still our little sister but she’s your girl now.” Ginny snorted indelicately but did not protest the sentiment.

“There’s no one else we trust,” Ron said quietly. Harry realised that although he didn’t need it and although they didn’t have to give it, he had the approval of Ron and George who, much like their father had entrusted him with her happiness, had entrusted her care and safety to him. It was an approval that guaranteed there would be no interference in their relationship and that they respected it as taking precedence. He looked at Ginny as she sat between her brothers, a wide smile on her face as George tried to tickle her.

“I remember when you were born. It was amazing, you were so tiny and so pink and a girl.” said Bill softly. “Mum was rapt and we all knew that you were special. I can’t believe you’re seventeen.”

“Neither can I!” she said brightly. “I can’t believe I have been seventeen for more than six hours and I still haven’t been given a single present!” Bill laughed and fished a small box out of his pocket.

“Dad brought this around just before we left, he asked me to wish you a happy birthday from him and mum,” said Bill. He continued softly as Fleur emerged from the tent and came over to sit on his lap, draping a sleeping bag over the two of them. “Dad said they would have been here if they could.”

“Yes and maybe then Mum would make you take these ears off,” complained George. “Everything’s so loud. Can’t you take them off now, please?”

“Ginny,” said Hermione quietly, Harry was startled, he’d forgotten she was there, “how did you make both of his ears bigger when he only has one?”

“I didn’t make them bigger,” said Ginny absently as she tugged at the bow on the small box Bill had given her. “I put new ones on.”

“Can you put smaller ones on?” asked Hermione intently, moving closer to George and inspecting his head.

“Maybe,” said Ginny thoughtfully as she paused just before pulling the lid off the box. “I didn’t try.” George twisted his ear out of Hermione’s grasp but Hermione made an exasperated noise and pulled him back, examining the ear on the side of his head where he had no ear.

“How long do you think they’ll last?” murmured Hermione. Ginny shrugged.

“I don’t know Hermione, I didn’t intend to give him massive ears forever!” She went back to her present and pulled the lid off, rustling in the tissue paper inside.

“Just … can we take them off now?” whined George. “That rustling is very annoying.”

“Talking must be killing you,” said Ron louder than necessary and George threw him a filthy look. Ginny sighed and waved her wand vaguely in his direction and the ears vanished.

“Thank you,” George breathed, feeling the sides of his head.

“You’re welcome,” said Ginny with a grin as she pulled a delicate watch from the box. “Oh!”

Harry watched as Bill helped her fasten it then Fleur handed her a flat box. It contained a small, delicate hand mirror and matching hairbrush. Jonathon roused himself and wished Ginny a happy birthday before he ducked into the girls’ tent. Ernie raised his head and snorted, mumbling something about Bert and beds and tension before he pulled his sleeping bag back over his head.

Harry just sat and watched as Ginny opened a book from Hermione and as Ron and George presented her with a large box of chocolates. The early morning sun glinted off her hair and her smile was captivating. Harry smiled as he watched her thank her brothers and Hermione before she tore open the box of chocolates and, carefully selecting one, popped it into her mouth. She was beautiful and Harry couldn’t take his eyes off her as she ate chocolates for breakfast and flipped through the book Hermione had given her. He pulled his knees up to his chest, resting his chin on them, and watched as George picked up the brush and pulled it through her red tresses. George said something that was obviously teasing and Ginny turned and poked her tongue out at him.

Harry was content but he ached to hold her, to kiss her. As if she could read his thoughts Ginny suddenly looked up from the box of chocolates and caught his gaze. He held it steadily as she put the book and the chocolates aside and climbed off George’s lap. She approached him slowly, the few steps between them taking forever and Harry lowered his knees and leaning back on his hands, raised his head as she approached so that he was still looking into her eyes. Ginny stood still for a moment only inches from him and tilted her head to one side.

“Have you got something for me, Mr Potter?” she asked, in a seductive and teasing tone.

“Are you looking for your birthday present, Miss Weasley?” he replied. She nodded cheekily and Harry continued. “I do believe that I would like to give you the same thing you gave me when I came of age.” Harry detangled himself from the sleeping bag and stood up, pulling her to him, no longer the least bit shy or embarrassed that he was about to kiss her senseless while under the attention of three of her brothers.

He kissed her then, pouring all his feelings into the kiss. Ginny responded eagerly, demanding entrance to his mouth almost immediately, her hands going straight to tangle in his hair. Harry let his hands pull her closer as he lost himself in her and he dimly wondered if this was a present for her or for him. He didn’t know how long they stood there, on the desert floor, sun streaming over the horizon as they kissed. He didn’t care either and he took his time slowly exploring her lips and teeth and every inch of her mouth. When he pulled away breathless, he noticed they were alone, Ginny’s birthday presents in a pile on George’s discarded sleeping bag, everyone else some distance away looking through the esky for breakfast.

“Happy birthday,” he breathed. “I love you.” Ginny smiled at him before pulling out her wand.

“Accio birthday present!” she cried and Harry laughed as a little box sailed out of the tent where he had given it to Fleur for safe keeping, and to hide it from Ginny who had taken to exploring his pockets the day before in an effort to find it. She opened it slowly and gasped at the necklace inside. It was a simple opal pendant, but the stone was alive with the colours of the rainbow. Harry plucked it from the box and motioned for her to turn around. Carefully he fastened it around her neck.

“The jeweller said opals have fire in them,” he said softly. “It’s fire trapped in a stone and that’s what makes it beautiful. Just like the fire inside you makes you irresistibly beautiful.” He finished fastening the clasp and Ginny turned to face him, the pendant resting on her chest, the colours flashing as the sun’s rays struck it.

“Thank you,” she whispered and Harry kissed her lips tenderly.

“You’re welcome,” said Harry softly, and then, just because he could, he kissed her again, winding his fingers into her hair and pressing her body to his. The scent and smell of sizzling bacon drifted across the campsite and teased his nostrils but he kept kissing Ginny until she pulled away. He felt bereft at the loss and his head instinctively followed her as she backed away. It took a strangled noise from Ginny to make him open his eyes. She was looking at him intently and he thought he would melt under the intensity of it. Her face was flushed and her lips were bruised and swollen. He reached up a thumb to softly stroke her bottom lip and she sucked in a breath.

“You need to shave,” she whispered with a glint in her eye that either meant mischief or hilarity. Harry smiled ruefully at her as he realised why she had pulled away. “Not that I don’t think that stubble looks unbelievably sexy.” Harry remained rooted to the spot as she trailed a hand down the rough stubble on his cheek and sauntered away to collect her birthday presents. He watched her go back to her tent and remained staring after her long after she had disappeared.

“Oi, Potter! Give us a hand with breakfast you lazy sod!”

Harry looked over at Ron and grinned before ambling over to inspect the contents of the frying pan. Ernie was holding several pieces of bread over the fire on long sticks to toast them while Jonathon watched Bill poke at some sausages as they sizzled in a pan.

“-this obsession you Poms have with a cooked brekkie,” Bert was saying as she sat, hunched in front of the fire, a bowl and spoon in her hands.

“What’s wrong with a cooked brekkie?” asked Jonathon in a most offended tone. Bert snorted in a very unladylike fashion.

“What’s wrong with good old fashioned Weet-Bix?” she asked airily, waving her spoon aloft and flicking milk and brown pulp around her head.

“Oi!” cried George ducking and weaving to avoid being splattered with the soggy missile. “Watch it!”

“Weet-Bix is boring,” said Jonathon decisively. “I like a cooked brekkie.”

“Yes, well don’t you expect me to cook you any brekkie in January when it hits 30 degrees before dawn,” uttered Bert ominously as she scooped up whatever disgusting thing was in her cereal bowl and ate it.

“Can I expect your company for breakfast in January?” asked Jonathon softly. Bert dropped her spoon into her now empty bowl with a small clatter and looked up at him.

“That depends on if you marry me before New Year,” she replied. Jonathon regarded her, neither of them breaking eye contact.

“I’ll marry you tomorrow if you’ll have me,” said Jonathon in a voice devoid of all joking humour. Bert tilted her head as she studied him intently.

“Really?”

“Really,” he nodded.

“Have to run the Roobus tomorrow,” said Ernie suddenly. “Make up for the lost time.” Jonathon turned to look at Ernie who was unconcernedly dropping the toast he had made on a plate next to him and spearing the next piece of bread. Bert exploded.

“Don’t ruin my proposal like that!” she screeched at him and George stifled a snort.

“That was a proposal?” asked Ron, his nose screwed up as he looked from Bert to Jonathon and back again.

“Sat’day’d be better,” said Ernie, twirling the toast as he held it over the fire. He looked thoughtful. “You could go buy a dress mebbee if Johno helps me on the bus on Friday.”

“Don’t call me that,” muttered Jonathon.

“Gavin’d give you a room at The Bucket on Sat’day,” continued Ernie blithely, stacking the toast into a carefully constructed tower. “You could put on a good bash without too much trouble.”

“You – you can’t just get married like that!” exclaimed Hermione, she looked utterly scandalised. “What about planning and guest lists and menus and – and …” Jonathon looked up at her, eyebrows raised but Bert smiled at her.

“That’s a wedding, Hermione,” she said simply. “You can get married without all the menus and the planning.” Jonathon reached out and took Bert’s hand.

“Do you want to get married?” he asked her. Bert stared at their joined hands for a moment.

“I haven’t wanted anything else so much for six years,” she said quietly. “I want to be with you, to laugh with you, to love with you, to live with you, to wake up with you-”

“To go to bed with you,” interrupted Ernie.

“Ernie!” Bert was blushing to the roots of her hair and Harry could see Ernie hiding a grin as he meticulously buttered the tower of toast he’d been cooking.

“Marry me on Saturday then,” said Jonathon seriously. “You could even wear a dress, I wouldn’t mind.” Bert laughed, Hermione shook her head and Fleur looked positively horrified.

“Yes,” said Bert, “yes I’ll marry you on Saturday. I might even wear a dress.”

“So, I should stock up on Weet-Bix then?” asked Jonathon laughing.

“Who said we’re living at your place?” Bert questioned indignantly, but instead of answering her Jonathon pulled her to him and crushed her lips to his in a searing kiss.

“Thees ees ridiculous!” said Fleur emphatically. “You cannot just get married like zat!”

“Why not?” demanded George. “Cuts out a lot of the fuss you had when you got married.” Fleur glowered at him.

“Less for Mum to fuss over as well,” added Ron.

“No chance for Auntie Muriel to force her tiara on your head,” muttered Ginny who had arrived during the preceding conversation and was now making George twitch by twirling her wand at him.

“Oh, I’d like to see you three tell Mum you’re getting married in less than a week and having the reception in a pub,” chortled Bill, eyeing his younger siblings.

“Don’t even think about it Ron,” said Hermione idly, as she searched for something to spread on her toast. Ron spluttered and fell silent. Harry just grinned at him as he brought Ginny a plateful of bacon and eggs for breakfast which she accepted with a grateful smile.

“Look at you, all chivalrous and gallant,” Ron teased and with a flick of her wand Ginny made Ron’s nose grow. Her brother ruefully shook his head.

“I forgot you can do that now,” he muttered and this earned him the loss of his eyebrows. He opened his mouth, presumably to complain about that.

“A Bat Bogey on a nose that size, Ron?”

Ron sat quietly after that trying to eat his breakfast under his oversized nose until Ginny took pity on him and shrank it back so he could eat his toast. Harry had idly poked a finger at the pressed wheat flake biscuits that Bert had been eating but decided he preferred bacon and eggs over the brown slosh they turned into when Bert added milk to her second helping. Jonathon and Bert sat close together next to the fire, Jonathon balancing a plate of bacon, eggs and toast while Bert teased him about putting marmalade on his toast instead of Vegemite.

“You’ve gone all Pommy,” she teased; affecting a superior tone that Harry guessed she imagined to be a British accent. “First, bacon and eggs for breakfast and now marmalade on one’s toast.”

“I like marmalade,” protested Jonathon, but it was without ire, his fingers caressed Bert’s thigh as he spoke, edging towards the hem of her shorts. “You’re just an Aussie kid, through and through with your Weet-Bix and your Vegemite.”

“That’s right,” affirmed Bert as she picked up a piece of toast and slathered it in Vegemite.

“That’s disgusting,” said Jonathon as he wrinkled his nose at her but Bert simply took a big bite and chewed provocatively. Jonathon wound his arm around her waist and picked up his own toast with his other hand and the two of them munched in silence, Bert laying her head on Jonathon’s shoulder.

“Are you two really going to get married on Saturday?” Harry asked them. Jonathon smiled and Bert nodded.

“Eet ees madness,” sniffed Fleur. “A wedding, it takes more zan buying a dress and renting a room.”

“Why?” asked Ginny suddenly. “Why can’t it just be buying a dress and having a place for everyone to celebrate with you? Why do you have to plan menus and decorations and things?” Fleur looked at her blankly.

“But Ginny,” began Hermione, “don’t you want to make your wedding special?”

“Hey, are you saying their wedding won’t be special?” questioned George, indicating Bert and Jonathon. “I think it’s a brilliant idea. I might steal it.”

“Well no – no th- that’s not what I meant,” Hermione stammered. “But your wedding is something special that reflects who you are, isn’t it? I think it reflects Bert and Jonathon perfectly, but can you see Ginny getting married in a pub?”

“Oh I’m not going to get married in a pub!” exclaimed Ginny. “But there’s also no way I’m colour matching anything or making vol-au-vents!”

“Oh I don’t know, Ginny,” interjected Ron, “there’s something quite alluring about the Hogs Head.” Ginny gave him a withering look and fingered her wand. Ron fell silent.

“If it’s a reflection of you, Hermione,” said George thoughtfully, “are you going to get married in a Quidditch pitch full of books?”

“With an orange theme?” added Bill.

“I’ll look hideous in orange,” mused Ginny. The tips of Ron’s ears were going red and Hermione flushed a pale pink. Harry smiled and noted that neither of them denied anything as Ron’s siblings continued their gentle ribbing.

“Oh, Mum could make one of those Quidditch pitch cakes!” crowed George.

“Snitches for wedding favours,” said Ginny with glee.

“You should have it at Halloween,” George insisted. “That would be fantastic because it incorporates the orange and provides a perfect backdrop for the black spiders!”

“Spiders?” squeaked Ron, suddenly finding his voice. “What spiders?”

“Well isn’t a wedding about bringing two people together?” asked George. “Celebrating who they are and that they want to share their lives … forever and ever and ever? Rejoicing in their personalities and celebrating their union. Becoming one and sharing all their hopes and dreams and fears … like spiders.”

“If you bring any spiders anywhere near our wedding, I’ll have Hermione hex you so bad you can’t walk for a week!” grumbled Ron. “She’d do it too, if you ruined her wedding.”

“George,” huffed Fleur, “zat is so immature. You weel not bring ze spiders to Ron and Hermione’s wedding.” She turned to Ginny: “You’ll see, there is nothing wrong with vol-au-vents. We can plan ze most beautiful wedding for you. Ta Mère, she eez magnifique at the planning, non? Hermione, you will ‘elp, non?” Hermione nodded; grateful the attention was off her and Ron. Ginny narrowed her eyes at them.

“You make it sound like I am planning to get married.”

“You are not?” enquired Fleur as she turned to look at Harry who felt his face heat up as the attention fell on him. Fleur made an indistinct noise in the back of her throat. “But eet takes months to prepare ze wedding! I was doing ze planning for more zan a year!”

“Yes,” shot back Ginny heatedly, “but you didn’t start planning until after you got engaged. And that’s my point. A dress and somewhere to celebrate doesn’t need a year of planning. If you and Mum aren’t careful, I’ll just elope.”

“But ze preparation-”

“I don’t need the Burrow to look like a manicured French garden-”

“Oh ze garden gnomes-”

“I like garden gnomes!”

“Oi!” shouted Ron. “D’you two think you might call a truce over a wedding that isn’t even on yet?” Bill laid a hand on his wife’s arm and she subsided a little. Ginny still looked a little fierce and she glowered at Fleur as she crossed her arms across her chest.

“It’s your birthday Ginny,” said Hermione sounding a little strained. “Let’s not fight.” Ginny looked rather sheepishly at the ground.

“Sorry,” she mumbled. Fleur reached over and patted her on the arm.

“Eet ees okay, ma chérie,” she said as she smoothed Ginny’s hair back from her face. “Whatever you plan, eet weel be beautiful, non?”

“You’ve been rather quiet, Harry,” said Bill suddenly. “As Best Man have you any objections to wearing a fantastically orange cravat and eating from specially hollowed out Quaffles on placemats that look like pages from Hogwarts, a History>?” Hermione made a strangled noise while George laughed.

“How about your wedding, any ideas?” he asked. Harry shrugged.

“I don’t know anything about weddings,” he said. “I’ve only ever been to one. I’ve certainly never thought about mine. You tend not to do that when you don’t think you have a future.” His words sounded harsh after they’d left his mouth and he saw a few uncomfortable faces. Ron seemed completely at ease. He swallowed the bacon in his mouth before speaking.

“Reckon you’ve got one now though,” he said and grinned cheekily. “I still think the Hogs Head has merit.” Harry grinned at him and shook his head.

“Where do you want to get married, Harry?” asked Ginny.

He studied her for a moment, the flashing in the gemstone around her neck matching her hair. She was looking at him as though she was trying to see inside him. He just couldn’t picture having an argument with his mother over where to hold his wedding or he and his father being drafted to sort favours and make canapés. As much as Ginny protested he knew she would not want to exclude her mother or her sister in law from being involved in planning their wedding or her family from being there and his heart ached for a moment because his own parents would not be there. He knew that he wouldn’t be able to elope, he had no family to be there so he wanted every last Weasley there instead, even Auntie Muriel and her goblin made tiara. Dudley flickered across his mind as he contemplated Ginny’s question. Perhaps he would come if they invited him. He became aware that the entire camp seemed to be waiting for his answer and he felt like he needed to give them one.

“I wish my parents could be there,” he said instead and Ginny reached out to entwine his fingers with hers, squeezing his hand gently. He looked up at her and smiled. “You could fight with my mum about how many vol-au-vents to make.”

“I would have given that my best effort,” said Ginny smiling although there were tears in the corners of her eyes. Harry looked down at their entwined hands, studying the scars on the back of his hand and the freckles on the back of hers. Her fingernails were pale pink ovals and there was a faint ink stain on her index finger.

“I want to get married where my parents did,” Harry said at last. “It’s the closest I can get to having them there.” Ginny leaned over and kissed him then, a lone tear falling and Harry wiped it away and pulled her close.

“Well that certainly makes their orange Quidditch wedding sound lame,” said George and Hermione threw him a withering look.

“I am not getting married on a Quidditch pitch, George,” she said stiffly. “Nor will it be orange.” George looked ready to argue the point, until he caught sight of Ron who was glaring at him and falling silent, George became intent on spreading his toast with some Vegemite.

“Where did your parents get married, Harry?” asked Ron as he wiped the grease from his plate with a slice of bread. Harry wondered just how healthy that was as he shrugged.

“No idea.”

“Well we’ll find out,” said Ginny firmly. “There must be someone who was there who can tell us.”

“I don’t know who,” said Harry softly. “Sirius was dad’s Best Man, Remus would have known, Dumbledore would have known. But who’s left?” Hermione looked thoughtful.

“Hagrid,” she said suddenly. “Hagrid will know.” Harry smiled and tightened his hold on Ginny, running one hand under the hem of her jumper to caress the soft flesh of her stomach. She leaned back into him and closed her eyes, resting her head on his shoulder and Harry was fascinated by the expression of contentment on her face as he drew lazy circles with his index finger. When George called out a sarcastic comment about ‘vomit inducing behaviour’ and Ernie told them to get a room and then laughed uproariously at his own joke Harry only lowered his head to kiss Ginny’s neck.

“Don’t encourage them,” said Bill in a strangled voice. Ginny opened her eyes and looked at Bill pointedly. Eventually Bill sighed and looked away.

“I’m going for a walk,” said Ginny as she stood up. It was clear she intended Harry to come along for she had not let go of his hand before striding off. Harry hastily put his plate down and followed her mumbling that he would just go with her. It was some time before Ginny spoke; the Roobus was a speck in the distance as Ginny sighed.

“I thought they were okay with us,” she said quietly. Harry pulled her into his arms.

“They are,” he said as he lowered his head to her neck, kissing her there. “I don’t want to watch people going at it all the time and we have been in pretty close quarters the last day or so. Maybe we’re getting a bit carried away …” He trailed off, not wanting to really believe that because her lips were currently doing something unbelievable to l neck and he stopped to capture her lips with his own. The two of them did not return to the campsite for at least another half an hour.

When they did return it was to see an unfamiliar backside sticking out from the open compartment on the Roobus. It was accompanied by several swear words and a loud thumping noise interspersed with clanks and clangs. Harry looked to Ron for an explanation.

“That’s Uncle Mick,” said Ron. “New thought box is here.” It seemed as though Uncle Mick was having some trouble installing the new thought box and he suddenly pulled his head abruptly from the compartment, fixing a beady eye on Ernie.

“What you been playing at with the maintenance?” he demanded of Ernie.

“Bert did it.”

“Might’ve known that mess was done by a woman,” grumbled Uncle Mick. Bert bristled visibly but didn’t say anything, perhaps aware that Uncle Mick’s installation of the thought box was their ticket out of the desert. “Well it’ll go all right now. You can get back to your civilisation now.”

“Thanks, Uncle,” said Ernie sincerely but Uncle Mick only grunted in reply. He seemed to notice Harry and Ginny then and a grin stole over his features.

“I’d best be gettin’ back,” he said. “Make sure you swing in and see your mum before you go Ernie.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Might wanna buy yourselves a paper too,” Uncle Mick winked at Harry and Ginny before he Disapparated with a loud crack. They made short work of packing up the campsite and boarding the Roobus. Before long they had arrived back at the Yulara resort to be greeted a short, plump woman who simultaneously managed to scold Ernie for not packing up the tents properly and engulf Bert and Jonathon in a massive hug.

It didn’t take them long to offload the camping supplies and after collecting Arkie they found themselves back on the road. The journey to Melbourne was without mishap which was more than could be said for their arrival. Setting the Roobus down in the middle of Swanston Street it jerked chaotically and a loud snapping sound accompanied a flash of yellow light.

“Fair Dinkum, Ernie,” said Bert as she sighed heavily. “You’ve tangled the bus in the tramlines again! Could ya stop doing that?”

“Don’t worry about it,” said Arkie as he disembarked, “trams get delayed all the time. Muggles’re used to it. See you next week Ern.” He wandered off down the street and was soon lost in the crowd of Muggles on the footpath.

“What? What’s happened?” Hermione asked. Her face was white and she looked panicked. “Is the bus broken again? Are we going to be stuck here now? We’re never going to get to my parents are we? We’ll be stuck here forever and so will they and the whole trip will have been pointless and a great big disaster-” Ron cut her off.

“Relax Hermione,” he said, taking her hand and stroking the back of it. “Nothing’s going to stop us from getting to your parents. It’s a minor mishap and Ernie knows how to fix it. Don’t you Ernie?” Harry could see Ron glare at Ernie as if daring him to say he could not and Ernie merely nodded shortly and got out his wand.

Bert and Ernie spent a good fifteen minutes detangling the Roobus and Hermione’s face didn’t change, it remained pasty white. As they trouped back onto the bus Bert assured Hermione that they would arrive in Yackandandah by lunchtime. Hermione seemed to relax a little at that but it wasn’t long before she began fretting about whether or not her parents would be mad at her for bewitching them.

“Ron,” she said, “what if they hate me?” She was fiddling with her wand absently and it started emitting bright purple sparks that she seemed completely unaware of.

“They won’t hate you, Hermione,” soothed Ron, taking her wand and tucking it into his back pocket. “They love you, they’ll be glad to see you.”

“Will, they? Do you really think so?” asked Hermione. Ron nodded and put an arm around her.

“Oh, I think I’m going to be sick,” she moaned and Ernie brought the bus to a hurried stop. Harry was impressed with the way Ron didn’t bat an eyelid, just held Hermione’s hair out of her face as she retched on the side of the road. They hadn’t gone very far up the road when Hermione began to worry again.

“What if I’ve botched the charm up so badly I’ll never be able to take it off?” she wailed.

“It’ll be fine, Hermione,” Bill said. “You don’t botch things up.” He smiled at her but Hermione only stared at him before threatening to be sick again. Ernie brought the Roobus to a screeching halt and while Ron and Harry attempted to calm Hermione down the others went in search of refreshment. They returned with some cakes, pastries and sly grins.

“You lot look like the cat that got the cream,” observed Ron as he rubbed a circle on Hermione’s back. Ginny grinned at them and thrust a newspaper under Ron’s nose.

“There is a wizarding shop back there and look what we found,” she said with glee. Ron unfolded the paper and Harry peered over Hermione’s shoulder as she read it aloud.

HARRY POTTER FINDS TRUE LOVE

A revealing interview with Harry Potter’s closest family and friends was published in London yesterday. Published in the evening edition of The Quibbler, a tabloid newspaper that Mr Potter appears to endorse, the article was written by friends of the heroic wizard and includes several revealing photographs taken by the late Mr Colin Creevey, one of Mr Potter’s close personal friends.

Our sources in Britain were unable to be contacted last night, a mysterious note citing incapacity due to bug infestation the only correspondence received. Contact with The Quibbler’s editor however revealed the accuracy of the article. This publication is forced to conclude that certain errors were made in previous reports of Mr Potter’s current activities and we apologise to Mr Potter and Miss Weasley for the error.

“Oh, that’s nice of them isn’t it?” snorted Ron indelicately. “What did The Quibbler say, Hermione?”

“Continued page six,” muttered Hermione as she rifled through the newspaper, opening the page to show a large photograph of Harry and Ginny, kissing in the Gryffindor Common Room, with an inset photo of him and Teddy taken at the Christening. Under it an article, interspersed with photographs of his time at Hogwarts, sporting the headline POTTER FINDS HIS PRINCESS took up the rest of the page. Harry had never seen the picture of him and Ginny before, he realised that Colin must have taken it after they won the Quidditch Cup in sixth year as Ron groaned.

“That was traumatic enough the first time,” he complained and Harry slugged him on the shoulder. “Ow, what’d you do that for?”

“What’d you be a git for?”

“Stop it you two,” scolded Hermione. She frowned, “the headline’s a bit tacky.”

“I like it,” said Ginny twirling on the spot as if showing off a magnificent ball gown. Harry grinned at her. “I like being a princess.” Hermione smiled and began to read the article aloud.

A visit to a quaint little cottage on the edge of Ottery St. Catchpole in Devon, will lead you to the current home of Britain’s newest hero, Harry Potter. In a house brimming with character and love, Mr Potter has found peace with his family. Large gardens, brimming with undiscovered treasures, speak of a place where children once roamed free before traipsing back to the family home for hot drinks and cuddles. Where children’s photographs and art line the walls and family means everything. It is in the cramped kitchen that we find Molly Weasley her cauldrons brimming with delicious stews and her heart overflowing with love for her family.

‘Harry was eleven when I first met him,’ she tells this reporter. “All skinny arms and knobbly knees-”

“I don’t have skinny arms!” Hermione ignored Harry’s outburst and kept reading.

“-knobbly knees. He was the sweetest, most polite little thing. He’s been as good as one of mine since then you know.” Molly Weasley looks rather fierce as she says this and the expression on her face cannot be mistaken for anything other than maternal pride. As matriarch of this humble home she is the epitome of motherly love which shows in the way she speaks of each of her children and that includes Harry Potter. His picture hangs on the wall next to the rest of the children and his hand on the family clock rests on ‘abroad’ with several others of the Weasley offspring.

“I didn’t know you had a hand on the clock, Harry,” said Ron. Harry shrugged because he didn’t know that either.

“Dad was getting it made before we left, I guess it finally arrived,” said Bill. “It was supposed to be there for your birthday, Harry, but it just didn’t arrive in time.” Hermione cleared her throat pointedly and continued.

A home as rich in love as this one would find unthinkable the notion that marriages and matches can be made based on monetary concerns. The oldest Weasley child, William, who married former Tri-wizard Champion Fleur Delacour a year ago in this very home, is currently in Australia with Mr Potter and Miss Weasley.

‘Wonderful girl, wonderful,’ says Mr Arthur Weasley of his daughter-in-law. “Young Bill couldn’t have made a better match. All of the children have made very sensible choices; it doesn’t do to interfere with true love.’ When questioned, Mr Weasley confirmed that neither he nor his wife had arranged a match for their only daughter. An elderly Aunt of his wife’s had attempted to do so but Mr Weasley was most insistent to this reporter that such an action as arranging a marriage was far outside his experiences or intentions.

‘We will be celebrating another marriage in the near future,’ he confirmed, but denied that it was his daughter’s, citing her return to school and waiting Hogwarts letter as proof.”

“Who’s getting married?” exclaimed Ron.

“Hogwarts letters,” breathed Hermione.

“Yes, that’s great Hermione,” said Harry impatiently, “keep reading!”

“He confirmed that both his daughter and Mr Potter are returning to Hogwarts for the autumn term with no plans for marriage, arranged or otherwise.

‘Young Ginevra is almost certainly in love with Harry,’ adds third oldest Weasley son, Percy. ‘The very idea that our parents would interfere with her romantic attachments is laughable. They have similarly refrained from hampering my own activities.’ A large diamond ring in evidence on the left ring finger of Mr Weasley’s companion, a Miss Penelope Clearwater, gives evidence to his own romantic activities.”

“Percy’s getting married?” questioned Ron incredulously. George was grinning with barely suppressed glee. Harry could see him planning various nefarious deeds in light of this revelation. Hermione continued reading.

“Mr Potter’s friends confirm Percy’s claim that the liaison between Mr Potter and his only sister is not the result of a post war nuptial agreement, nor does it violate any relationship between he and Miss Hermione Granger. Miss Lavender Brown seems very definite that Miss Granger is in fact going out with Mr Ronald Weasley, the youngest of the Weasley sons and Mr Potter’s best friend.

‘She’s been sweet on him for ages,’ agrees Mr Seamus Finnegan, who has shared a dormitory at Hogwarts with both Mr Potter and Mr Weasley since they were eleven.”

“Oh what rot,” huffed Hermione. “He’s just making that up, ages indeed. Honestly.” Harry and Ginny exchanged a look of amusement over her head and George laughed outright.

“Hermione dear, it’s been obvious to the rest of us since you were second years,” he chuckled in a fair impression of his mother. “If you two had taken any longer to get on with it I think you might have both self combusted with the effort of holding it in!”

“Piss off,” muttered Ron, the tips of his ears as red as Harry had ever seen them. Hermione cleared her throat and continued reading as if to ignore George completely.

“-Seamus Finnegan, who has shared … ‘It’s always been Hermione and Ron, anyone who thinks Hermione’s with Harry needs their head read.’ The love lives of Hogwarts students indeed never run smooth but as three young men will attest, Miss Ginevra Weasley has never used a love potion. Mr Neville Longbottom, who himself has recently ended a brief relationship with one of Mr Potter’s previous involvements-”

“I wasn’t involved with Parvati!”

“What! Neville and Parvati have split up?”

“Oooh I hope he gets together with Hannah now. He was trying to get up the nerve all last year.” Hermione cleared her throat pointedly before continuing.

“Neville says … Ginny Weasley has been faithful to Mr Potter, despite their separation over the last year.

‘She really loves him, you know?’ says Mr Longbottom. ‘I took her to a dance once, in fourth year. I think she loved him even then. We’re pretty good friends, she certainly never used a potion on me.’ This is a sentiment echoed by Mr Michael Corner and Mr Dean Thomas who once went out with the beautiful young woman. Both confirm that they were never slipped a love potion.

‘We heard what happened when Ron was slipped one,’ says Mr Thomas. ‘There’s no way I ever acted like that. Harry doesn’t act like that either; he’s as in love with her as she is with him.’

‘It’s hard to compete with Harry Potter,’ adds Mr Corner. ‘They’re probably soulmates. He comes first with Ginny. She’ll hex you if you suggest otherwise.’”

“And don’t you know that first hand, Corner,” murmured Ginny.

“Speaking to Mr Potter’s family and friends it is easy to see that this young hero is surrounded by family and friends who love him, including a beautiful young lady who adores him as much as he adores her. Certainly anyone who was present when they kissed for the first time (pictured right) will attest to that.

Mr Potter does have one responsibility however, that of godfather to Teddy Lupin (pictured inset), a four month old who has been left a war orphan as Mr Potter was in the first war. Teddy’s grandmother assures us that rather than collecting the spoils of war Harry Potter is simply having the quiet and loving life which he so desperately craved his entire youth. He is lucky enough to have a family more than willing to give it to him. Little Teddy, who is the son of the former Professor Remus Lupin and his Auror wife, Nymphadora Tonks, spends a great deal of time with Mr Potter and by all accounts he dotes on the boy as if he were his father.

‘Harry couldn’t be a better godfather,’ says Andromeda Tonks, the boy’s guardian. ‘He’s just lovely with him. When he does have his own children he’ll be a great dad.’ He certainly sounds like a fine catch, ladies but this one just happens to be taken, and according to all sources, he’s not going anywhere.

‘Harry means the world to us, like the rest of our boys,’ Molly Weasley assures us. ‘This is his home.’ We at this publication wish Mr Potter all the best for his future plans and remind him to beware of Bunyips while he’s Down Under.”

“Well, Luna certainly did a marvellous job,” said Hermione briskly as she folded the paper meticulously.

“What’s wrong Hermione?”

“Nothing at all, why do you ask, Harry?”

“You’ve got your irritated face on and you sound all … annoyed.”

“I – my what?” asked Hermione, staring at him.

“Your irritated face,” repeated Harry. “The one you wear when you think someone’s got a fact wrong.” Hermione simply stared at him.

“Well, I think Seamus went a little overboard,” she started and George snorted.

“Let it go,” he said. “Fred had been running a book on it since the end of our fourth year. He knew it would take you two ages to figure it out and he made a killing fleecing everyone who thought it would happen in the near future.”

“I can’t believe you ran a book on that!”

“I didn’t, Ronald. Fred did.” Ron merely snorted and muttered that it amounted to the same thing.

“I merely had a bet for next year,” answered George cheekily.

“I had last year,” said Ginny, settling herself in Harry’s lap. “He cleaned me out.” Harry grew tired of discussing Ron and Hermione’s love life and while they and George argued good naturedly, Harry slid his arms around Ginny’s waist and nuzzled his face into her neck, finding a soft patch of skin behind her ear and kissing it softly. Ginny arched her neck in response and Harry responded to the unspoken request by kissing down the length of her neck to her shoulder. Bringing his mouth back up to her ear he kissed it before whispering into her ear.

“Hello Princess.” Ginny giggled before turning her head to look at him. Possibly she was about to say something but Harry wasn’t interested in anything she had to say right then and he kissed her instead. He didn’t have time to get lost in her though because Hermione suddenly stood up.

“Alright, let’s go,” she announced. She pulled on Ron’s arm and swatted Harry on the shoulder. “Hurry up!” Hermione grabbed Ginny’s arm and tugged her onto the bus and Harry followed swiftly, not wishing to incur Hermione’s wrath. They settled down in their seats and Ernie took off, leaving a cloud of dust in their wake.

“I miss home,” said Ron suddenly. “I mean it’s great here but reading that in the paper … I miss home, y’know?”

Harry nodded and held his hand out for the paper. Opening it he turned to the page with the picture of Teddy on it. Staring at the picture of the baby he reached out a finger to trace the outline of his little face.

“Do you miss Teddy?” asked Ginny softly.

“Not until just now,” replied Harry softly. “I want to go home … and see Teddy.”

“I want to go and get my Hogwarts letter,” said Hermione.

“Let’s get what we came for, and then you can go home,” said Bill smiling. It seemed they had not been on the Roobus for more than a few minutes when Ernie brought it to a screeching halt in the middle of a wide street lined with shops.

“Welcome to beautiful downtown Yackandandah,” said Jonathon with a grin. Harry and Ginny clambered off the bus, followed closely by the rest of the family and stood looking around at the small town.

“Well, I guess we’d better find somewhere to stay,” said Hermione, sounding a little unsure. Jonathon, who was standing next to her, reached out to put a hand on her shoulder.

“You’ll be alright, Hermione,” he said. “There’s bound to be a Bed and Breakfast here somewhere and you’ll find your parents and be able to take them home before you know it. Give us a yell when you’ve sorted it out and we’ll come and get youse.” Hermione smiled at him.

“Thanks for everything,” she said, the others echoing her. “It’s been an adventure.”

“Okay, well, not too many more then,” said Bert as she climbed back onto the Roobus. “Time to get back to your own life I reckon.” Harry watched as the bus took off, Bert and Jonathon hanging from the back, waving madly and thought that it was high time he got back to his life and he couldn’t wait.

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Finding a place to stay wasn’t difficult. It might have been peak tourist season in the middle of nowhere but seasons were different further south and north eastern Victoria was pretty chilly. There was plenty of room at a cosy Bed and Breakfast on the main street and the proprietor happily shared with them all she knew about the town’s new dentists. They had a small practice a few doors down the street and were a very nice couple. Harry could see Hermione itching to bolt out the door as the old lady who ran the establishment blathered on and on about nothing relevant that he could discern.

“Oh yes and she makes the most wonderful scones, Dr Wilkins. You really must try some of Mavis’s though, hers are better, more buttery,” said the old lady, who’s name was Doris. “I put sponges in the show myself. Nothing beats a good sponge. You will be here for afternoon tea, won’t you? I expect you’d like to sample some of my sponge. It’s award winning you know. Of course I can get some of Mavis’s scones if you’d really like to try them. You’ll see, you won’t be able to resist them.”

“Yes, well we’d best be off for some lunch,” said Bill as he edged towards the door. “Thank you so much and we’ll see you back here later.” Doris muttered something cheerfully as she shuffled off in the direction of what Harry assumed was her formidable kitchen, designed to produce forty different types of cakes and pastries with which to lure unsuspecting passers by.

Once outside the group decided to split up. Bill and Hermione went alone to ascertain what, if any, problems they might encounter while the rest of them went for a walk. Harry and Ginny trailed after George and Ron as they all ate sandwiches purchased from a small sandwich shop and took a walk along a hiking trail that they found, Fleur complaining the entire time about the smells, the sounds and the fact that she was sure some evil little bush creature was watching them. Afternoon tea back at the Bed and Breakfast with Mavis’s scones and the ‘best sponge cake in the district’ was a subdued affair as they waited for Hermione and Bill to return.

Hermione was smiling when they did return and revealed that they had met with her parents as representatives regarding their inheritance and Bill discovered that the charm on them would be fairly easy to reverse but might take some time and concentration so it had best wait until an appointment they had set up for the next day. George suggested that they celebrate Ginny’s coming of age in style at the local pub. The birthday celebrations went off without a hitch despite stale cake and Ron’s fascination with the television over the bar, but the next morning wasn’t as successful.

It had started out well enough; Hermione had greeted her parents and politely explained she was there about there about the inheritance matter. The rest of them were supposed to wait down the street. Harry really didn’t think it was Ron’s fault that he managed to get stung by a Billywig and levitated down the road right in front of Hermione’s unobliviated parents. Nor was it George’s fault that he actually felled the gum tree in which Ron had anchored himself. Anyone can make a simple mistake with spell pronunciation. It certainly wasn’t Ginny’s fault that the spell she cast to cushion the impact conjured an incredibly large purple cushion in the front yard of the dental surgery, that could happen to anyone. It definitely wasn’t Harry’s fault that he didn’t know how to deal with the Aurors sent by the Australian Ministry to sort out the problem who were young, female and rather taken with him. Anyone could have understood Ginny’s pressing need to send a Densaugeo hex their way.

By the time a Healer had been summoned to fix the teeth, a team of wizards had Obliviated all the Muggles who had seen the giant purple cushion and a witch with expertise in fixing magical accidents had put the gum tree back it was mid afternoon. Hermione’s parents had barricaded themselves in their surgery. Hermione was reluctant to frighten them any further by breaking in using magic and Ron was still floating six feet above the ground, now surrounded by several charms to make him completely unnoticeable by the Muggles. Hermione was sitting dispiritedly on the low stone wall in front of her parent’s surgery and three Ministry wizards were filling out paperwork in triplicate on clipboards.

“Hermione, let me go and talk to them,” said Bill, squatting in front of the younger witch. He picked up her hands which had been twisting the hem of her jumper mercilessly. Harry was struck with how tender Bill was with her. It reminded him of how Bill had calmed him in the early days following the battle at Hogwarts. Harry realised that this was how Bill was with all his younger siblings and it meant that he and Hermione had been taken into the Weasley family wholeheartedly and not just by Molly and Arthur.

“It was supposed to be quick and simple and easy,” wailed Hermione. “It wasn’t supposed to be a big mess like this!” Harry could see Ron trying to swim through the air in an effort to get down to Hermione but he was wholly unsuccessful and gave up, crossing his arms across his chest and hanging helplessly in mid air. Bill smiled.

“When has anything you’ve done with these two been simple?” he indicated Ron and Harry. “Don’t worry we’ll get it sorted out. Please, let me go and talk to them.” Hermione looked at him sadly.

“Don’t scare them,” she said. “They looked really scared.”

She burst into tears and Harry went to her and pulled her into a hug. He looked up at Ron as Hermione cried into his chest. The look on Ron’s face was pure frustration and Harry felt utterly helpless. Bill strode off towards the old house into which the dental surgery had been built and, unlocking the door with a simple Alohamora he, entered in the front door, closing it behind him.

“Don’t worry ‘ermione, ‘e weel fix eet,” said Fleur as Hermione straightened up and stared at the door of the house. Harry kept his arms around her and she made no move to extricate herself, perhaps she needed the comfort and to his own surprise Harry found himself quite willing and able to give it. He listened with half an ear to Ginny and George being questioned rather heavily by some Ministry wizards over the spells they had managed to completely botch in spectacular fashion.

“You do realise the seriousness of this event, Mr Weasley?” a rather harassed looking official said gravely. George nodded solemnly.

“Oh, yes,” he assured the Australian wizard. “It was a most unfortunate incident that will never happen again. I do assure you of that sir.”

“We can’t have half competent witches and wizards running about the countryside doing whatever they please to poor unsuspecting Muggles you know!” said a second official who was wearing a rather odd combination of a kilt and a leather jacket. Harry thought that the official was much more likely to make Muggles question things than George’s tree felling spell would.

“No, no, absolutely not, I quite understand,” murmured George, sounding incredibly sincere. The wizard in the kilt did not notice George slip something into his pocket as he walked away to finish filling in his paperwork.

“Miss Weasley,” simpered a squat witch who reminded Harry uncomfortably of Umbridge, “You are of age dear, but perhaps you’d best wait until you get home before attempting any more … magic.” The witch thrust a piece of paper at Ginny and smiling in a very disconcerting manner, marched off to consult with her colleagues. Bill came back out of the house as Ginny made a noise of disgust.

“It’s not fair,” said Ginny. “I just got legal and now I’m not allowed to do any magic!” She showed Harry the piece of paper she had been given. It said Ginny was not permitted to perform magic in Australia except in Origin Alley so she didn’t disturb the Muggles. George leaned over to read it and let out a low whistle.

“Well if you’re going to conjure giant purple cushions-”

“Oh, yes I do that all the time! Honestly if you hadn’t felled that tree-”

“Oh so your stupid spell is my fault now?”

“Well, if the robe fits, George-”

“Just stop it!” bellowed Ron from mid air. “Stop upsetting Hermione!” He looked fierce and incongruous all at the same time and Harry found it hard not to laugh. Hermione had begun crying again and Harry patted her gently on the back while Ginny and George murmured their apologies. Bill shook his head.

“They’re willing to listen to you now,” he said to Hermione, holding out his hand. “Come on.” Hermione stood there contemplating Bill’s outstretched hand. Eventually she put her hand in his as if clutching at a lifeline and followed him inside. Harry watched them go and stood staring at the closed door. He felt Ginny’s hand slip into his.

“She’ll be alright, Harry,” said Ginny. Harry smiled at her and squeezed her hand but did not say anything. Bill emerged from the front door a short time later.

“Well?” Harry questioned him. Bill smiled wearily.

“We’ve reversed the charm,” he said. “Hermione got stuck but we managed to fix it. I made my excuses out and left them to their reunion.” Fleur got up and threw her arms around her husband.

“Oh you are so clever,” she gushed before kissing him soundly. George groaned and Ginny made a gagging noise. Bill surfaced from the kiss and glared at Ginny.

“You can talk,” he grumbled before returning to the kiss.

“Oi!” Ron’s disembodied voice floated down. “I’m getting hungry!”

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It seemed that Ron was particularly susceptible to Billywig stings. Bill managed to conjure a rope and tow him back to the Bed and Breakfast where he floated in the corner all night like an overgrown kite. Hermione stayed the night with her parents, promising to come and see them all in the morning and Ginny, perhaps not wanting to be alone, had crept into the boys’ room some time during the night and commandeered Ron’s bed. When Harry awoke to the sound of absurdly loud squawking birds, he could smell her and eyes still half shut, he padded over to the bed, climbing in and wrapping her in his arms before falling back asleep. It was to a much louder squawking that he awoke the second time.

“What does he think he’s playing at?”

“Oh leave them alone!”

“I think you can see that nothing’s going on.”

“Deed ‘er birthday mean nothing to you? ‘E weel look after ‘er, non?”

“Well mum would find this information interesting!”

“Your muzzer cannot say anyzing, she ees of age!”

“I can’t believe you are on her side!”

“We are women; we do not take ze side of ze men!”

“Face it; she’d be in his bed in a flash. Why can’t it go both ways?”

“Because … because … he’s supposed to be the noble one!”

“Would you four just shut up?” hissed Harry. “You’ll wake Ginny if you’re not careful. Besides, between you lot and those ridiculous birds making that horrible noise, even in the middle of the night, I haven’t had much sleep.”

“But you’re in bed with Ginny!” protested Bill.

“Yes, and I’m wearing clothes. You tell her we can’t, be my guest,” smirked Harry as he snuggled further into the covers. The air was chilly and the old house clearly did not have central heating. Ginny sighed in her sleep and snuggled closer to his chest as he closed his eyes. The truth was he had no intention of sleeping just now but he wasn’t about to let a good opportunity to hold and caress Ginny get away. He heard the others leave the room, Ron grumbling as he hit his head on the lintel. He’d still not stopped levitating but at least he was no longer floating as high. Harry stayed in the bed, holding Ginny until she woke up. A slow smile spread across her face when she realised Harry was snuggled next to her drawing patterns on her back and thigh with his fingertips and she turned her face up to him, an unspoken question on her face. Harry leaned down to kiss her softly.

“Just making it up to you,” he said softly and Ginny smiled. The two of them lay in the bed, feet entwined, bodies pressed against each other as they kissed each other softly. Ron stomped back into the room a few minutes later with a strange squishing sound and sat heavily on Harry’s bed. Apparently he’d stopped levitating rather suddenly and managed to slam into the table in the dining room and now had a jug of orange juice in his shoes. He’d kept out of Doris’s way and she hadn’t seen the mishap but George had to wear the responsibility of spilling the juice and breaking her best glass jug because as far as she was concerned Ron was still in bed and certainly not floating three feet above her dining room table.

“At least I can eat properly now,” Ron grumbled as he cleaned and dried his trainers with his wand. “You’ve no idea just how hard it is to grab bacon when you keep bouncing off the ceiling.”

“It’s all about food with you, isn’t it Ron?” asked Ginny from her supine position in Harry’s arms.

“Not everything!” Ron defended. “Are you two going to get up and have some breakfast or are you trying to get Bill riled up?”

“What’s his problem?” demanded Ginny sitting up abruptly. Ron shrugged.

“I dunno, he sounded okay with everything yesterday,” he said. “Maybe he just doesn’t like seeing it?”

“Seeing what?”

“That,” muttered Ron waving at them randomly again. “The lovey dovey stuff.” Ginny snorted.

“Oh he can talk,” she said snidely. “He used to let Fleur feed him while she sat on his lap!”

“Why don’t you ask him what his problem is, Ginny,” said Ron, standing up. “I don’t care what you do, sort it out with Bill.” Ginny turned to Harry as Ron walked towards the door.

“Did you hear that he doesn’t care what we do,” she said, smiling lasciviously. Harry gulped and Ron turned around abruptly.

“I don’t want to know what you do either,” he said, shuddering as he went out and closed the door behind him. Ginny fell back into the bed giggling but Harry didn’t find it very funny at all. Bill had been giving him odd looks for days and he didn’t know why and now it seemed as though Bill wasn’t as okay with things between him and Ginny as he’d thought. As much as he didn’t want to he decided he’d better have a talk with Bill. Absently he summoned his glasses and climbed out of the bed. Ginny caught at his hand as he did so.

“What’s up?” she asked softly. Harry looked down at her and smiled.

“Nothing, just hungry,” he said. “I’m going to get dressed and go in for breakfast.” He rummaged in his bag and pulled out some clothes. Turning around he noticed that Ginny was lying on her side, in the bed, her head propped up on her hand, watching him.

“I’m going to get dressed now.”

“I know.”

“You can’t watch!”

“Why not?”

“Because – because … well it’s …” Harry trailed off. He had no good reason why she couldn’t watch so he sighed and pulled his pyjama top over his head and put his t-shirt and jumper on. Next he put his socks on, putting off the inevitable. When his socks were the straightest they had ever been, meticulously adjusted inch by inch he eyed his boxers and jeans warily. There was nothing for it; he would have to just do it. Sighing and blushing furiously, his hands went to the waistband of his pyjama pants and he was about to pull them off when Ginny leapt from the bed and headed for the door.

“I’ll see you at breakfast,” she squeaked at him before she scuttled out the door and closed it behind her with a loud click. Harry laughed, realising he had called her bluff. As he headed to the dining room for breakfast his thoughts soon turned to Bill as he wondered what the other man was thinking. If you’d asked Harry a few days ago if Bill approved of him going out with Ginny he’d have thought Bill did but now it seemed to be the opposite. Thoughts were swirling through his head as he sat down at the dining table, nodding good morning absently. He ate mechanically and only acknowledged Ginny briefly when she sat down next to him a few minutes later. By the end of breakfast he was none the wiser about Bill and had no clear idea about how to approach him.

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Hermione and her parents came to the Bed and Breakfast later that morning while Ron was complaining over a Muggle chess set in Doris’s spacious living room. He had been unable to beat either Ginny or George who were now engrossed in a ridiculous cooking show on the television in the corner. Bill and Fleur had gone for a walk and returned with red noses and freezing finger tips. They now stood huddled in front of the fire that Harry had been staring into for the better part of an hour. It was cold in country Victoria and Doris favoured a real fire during winter. Harry was glad. It felt familiar to stare into the flickering flames and think. Ginny was tucked up at his side and he had one arm draped around her, idly playing with the ends of her hair. Harry didn’t look up when Hermione entered; he was too busy thinking about what it would be like to be home and in familiar surroundings again.

“Well, everything’s settled,” Hermione’s voice broke though his thoughts and Harry looked up to see Hermione and her parents standing in the middle of the room. “We went to find a cocky this morning and sent it to Bert and Ernie. Mum and dad are as anxious to get home as we all are now that they remember who they are. Hopefully the Roobus will pick us up sometime on Friday.” Harry looked at Mr and Mrs Granger who looked more tanned and more relaxed than he had seen them before. He listened with half an ear to their account of the past year and Hermione’s explanations that they’d have to find a new place to live once they got home but it was clear now that their memories had been restored Hermione’s parents were very eager to get back home.

“So I’m going to help pack,” said Hermione after a brief lull in the conversation. “Er, does anyone want to come and help?” Ron volunteered immediately and Fleur agreed shortly afterwards. Harry said nothing as George and Ginny agreed to come as well.

“Harry?” Ginny asked expectantly. “Are you going to come?” Before Harry could answer, Bill spoke.

“I think Harry and I should do the packing here.”

Harry looked up at Bill startled but the older man only smiled at him so he nodded. Ginny looked between the two of them before kissing Harry softly on the cheek and following Hermione out the door. Harry started to get up immediately but Bill put out a hand to stop him.

“Harry, can we talk?” Bill asked quietly. Harry nodded, unsure what this meant. He sat uneasily in his seat, watching the fire and waited for Bill to speak.

“Fleur told me that Ginny’s in love with you,” he said eventually. Harry looked up at Bill who was standing and staring out of the window. “I knew she had a crush on you but I had no idea that she was so … serious about you. I want to think you are as serious about her but I’m just not sure.” Harry watched Bill as he pushed his hands into his pockets and turned around to face Harry.

“But Tuesday-” started Harry.

“It was her birthday, I said what she wanted to hear,” said Bill roughly. “I was surprised when you and George and Ron seemed to all be on the same page. So I spoke to George last night. He said you’re in love with her.” Harry only nodded.

“For how long?” asked Bill abruptly, “six months, a year?” Harry looked Bill directly in the eye.

“Forever,” he said. Bill held his gaze for what felt like hours.

“She’s my baby sister,” said the older man quietly. “Watching you two lately … how serious it all seems … how quickly it’s all moving. I used to tell her stories you know, stories about you, when she was little. She used to tell me she was going to marry you one day. But it was kid stuff, a little girl’s dreams. I watched her talking to you about getting married. I couldn’t bear for her dreams to be shattered when you’ve decided you’ve had enough.”

Harry sat silently watching the flames. He didn’t know how to convince Bill that he wasn’t playing with Ginny’s feelings.

“Ron and George trust you,” said Bill suddenly. “That’s good enough for me.”

Harry looked up. He could see that Bill wasn’t telling the whole truth. It was nearly good enough, but not quite. Harry was entirely unsure how to convince Bill but things seemed less strained between them now and they worked together mostly in silence to pack up the belongings that had been scattered during their brief stay.

Hermione received a cocky from Bert late that night saying that Ernie and Jonathon would pick them up the following afternoon, which was Friday, and enclosed a piece of parchment inviting all of them to The Dripping Bucket on Saturday afternoon for the wedding. Hermione sent back their acceptance and a Portkey booking for Sunday. Bill and Fleur having decided they’d squashed quite enough adventure into their trip and that they’d spend the remainder of their honeymoon at home in their own little cottage, were going to accompany the others home. It was with a sense of relief that the little group retired that night, they’d be going home soon and there really was no place like home.