Author's Notes: This chapter and Harry and George's significant glance are dedicated to the community at PotterFicWeekly.

Thanks as always to my beta, goingbacktosquareone.

We are once again heading into end of uni semester and dance concert territory and I shall soon be occupied with sequins. Thus updates may slow down but bear with me, this story's not over yet!

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“She’s what?” Harry asked blankly. George turned to look out of the window at the lightening sky.

“Pregnant,” he whispered.

“Like with a baby, pregnant?” Harry was sure he was still half asleep and he hadn’t heard George correctly.

“What other sort of pregnant is there?” George asked incredulously as he left the window and began pacing.

Harry, his bare feet freezing and the draft from the window going down the back of his neck, went to stoke up the burning embers in the fireplace. He stood huddled in front of the tiny flames, throwing on a couple of pieces of wood to coax the fire back to life. Harry was suddenly sick of Ginny’s brothers interfering. Maybe he and Ginny had been a little indiscreet, but his relationship with Ginny wasn’t casual.

“While you might find this very amusing,” Harry said, “I don’t think it’s particularly funny.”

“Funny?” George stopped pacing. “You think this is some sort of joke-”

“How does Angelina feel about this?”

“She’s pretty spun out-”

“This is just rich, you using Angelina like this!” Harry exclaimed. “Besides, Ginny and I are adults!”

“Keep your voice down, git!” George hissed. “And what are you-”

“And we’re perfectly responsible,” Harry continued, cutting George off with a glare. “I wish you lot would get over this idea you seem to have that I’m going to hurt Ginny or that she’s still too young or whatever stupid issue you have going on this week. Do you all not get that I want to marry her? That she is it for me?”

“Harry-”

“Making up some pregnancy to prove some stupid point about contraception is ridiculous!” Harry cried. He let go of the cloak to wave his arms about to emphasise his point and it hung off his shoulders precariously. Harry was flushed with a mixture of frustration and anger; combined with the growing fire, he didn’t notice his state of undress. “I think if I can cast a corporeal Patronus I can cast an effective, ruddy contraception charm — don’t you think? I love Ginny! I’m not taking any chances with her future.”

Harry pulled the cloak off his left shoulder and thrust the damaged flesh under George’s nose. The scars were greatly diminished but the shiny, twisted skin was still visible in the meagre light cast by the fire and the brightening sky.

“I did that for her,” Harry growled suddenly. “Everything I do is for her!”

“I know,” George said quietly. He shifted uncomfortably. Harry ignored him.

“People gave their lives for our future!” Harry knew it was a low blow but it tumbled out of him anyway. “I’m not playing fast and loose with that privilege! We don’t need you lot slinking around behind our backs trying to teach us a lesson. We know what we’re doing, we’re responsible and this is not a casual, quick shag! I love her! We’ve been together for months! Your own mother had less of a reaction than you-”

“For Merlin’s sake, Harry!” George interrupted furiously, his face red. “Would you keep it down? This isn’t about you! I don’t care if you shag Ginny on the kitchen table in the middle of dinner — well maybe I don’t want to see that … the point is; this isn’t about you and Ginny! I’m not talking about you! I’m talking about me! I managed to play fast and loose and knock Angelina up!”

“What?” Harry stared, his face heating up. “You mean like … you and her …” Harry waved a hand in the air, at a loss for words.

“Yes,” George sighed heavily. “Me and her …”

“She’s really pregnant?” Harry gaped at George. “How — how did that happen?”

“What do you mean, how did that happen?” George raised an eyebrow at Harry. “You were just in bed — naked — with my sister. I think you know how it happens. I hope you know how it happens or we need to have a serious discussion!”

“Ha ha,” Harry said dryly. George clapped Harry on his left shoulder. Harry winced.

“You see,” George began, “when a wizard loves a witch very much he has certain feelings and urges. This causes physical changes in the wizard’s body-”

“Thanks George,” Harry said, blushing beet red. “I’m aware of the … mechanics.”

“Well then,” George said, “you’ll be aware that sometimes these mechanics result in some fun times … and also … babies. Let me spell it out for you. Angelina and I got mechanical. It was fun. We were also apparently not very responsible. She’s pregnant. I’m the father.”

“Oh.” Harry sat down suddenly on the nearest chair.

“Yeah,” George laughed mercilessly. “That’s what I did. Only it was sort of less like the sitting and more like falling.” He ran his hands through his hair raggedly. “We didn’t plan for this. Harry, what am I going to do?”

“Erm …” Harry scratched the back of his head. He wasn’t sure why George was asking him this. “You’re joking, right?”

“You keep asking me that. I know I make a living of joking; but Harry, I’m really trying to be serious… could you please give a bloke a break?”

“You’re not joking,” Harry said, still trying to convince himself what George was saying was true. “She’s really …?”

“If Fred was here, he’d kill me,” George said flatly. “Of course, if Fred was here, this wouldn’t have happened.” George clenched his fists, looking as if he wanted to punch something.

“Did it happen … was it while-”

“That bender we went on,” George nodded, sighed heavily and sank into a chair. “She only found out today — yesterday, whatever day it is. Oh, what have I done?”

“I reckon there are worse things,” Harry said quietly.

“I’ve been up all night, trying to figure it out,” George admitted. “Walking mostly. I just … I needed to tell someone. Talk to them. I told Fred … git didn’t answer me.”

“Well …”

“Probably turning in his grave.”

Against his will, Harry snorted. George looked at him for a moment before he burst out laughing. Harry’s snort became a full, throaty chuckle and the two of them began laughing harder.

“This is the most ridiculous thing you have ever heard isn’t it?” George asked Harry, tears of laughter rolling down his cheeks.

“It’s not that ridiculous,” Harry said, still laughing.

“Shhhhh.” George tried to stifle his chuckles. “I don’t want anyone else to hear!”

“Hear what?” Harry asked innocently. “That you’re going to be a dad?”

“I’m …” George sat in the slowly brightening living room, staring into space. “I’m going to be a dad. That’s good news, isn’t it, Harry?”

“Yeah, I reckon it is.”

They sat in silence for a while before George yawned.

“I’ve been up all night, I might go get some sleep,” George said. “I can open the shop late, I guess …”

“Yeah I could use some going back to bed,” Harry agreed.

“I bet you could,” George grinned at him and Harry felt his face heat spectacularly.

“To sleep!”

“Sure …” George smirked. “Remember the incantation? We don’t need another announcement; Merlin knows Mum’s going to pop a vein when I tell her this.”

“Tell her what?” A sleepy voice came from the doorway. Both Harry and George spun around to see Ginny standing there in Harry’s pyjama top and a pair of rather tiny knickers that Harry vaguely remembered from the night before.

“That I’ve been out all night,” George lied smoothly.

“Oh, well that’s good isn’t it?” Ginny said. “Get up to any mischief?”

“Me? Mischief?” George asked in mock horror. “Surely you jest, little sister! Looks like you got up to some though …” He winked exaggeratedly and Harry wondered if his face would be stained permanently red.

“I wouldn’t call it mischief-”

“Well I would, young lady!” Molly’s shrill voice pierced the air. The three of them started and turned rather guiltily towards the door. “I would be interested to know what happened to your pyjamas for a start.” Ginny gulped and eyed her mother carefully before shrugging.

“More to the point,” George said cheerfully, “where’s the other half of those?”

“Well, Harry isn’t wearing them,” Molly said rather pointedly. Harry wanted to sink through the floor. He grabbed at the cloak and pulled it closed. He’d been standing there in his boxers. Molly turned to George. “Also of concern is why you are fully dressed at this hour.”

George stood unwavering under his mother’s pointed gaze.

“Got up early to open the shop,” he said.

“Don’t lie to me!” his mother snapped. “You’ve not been out of bed before eight o’clock for months and then only because someone forced you out! And that shirt is not a work shirt! You’ve been out all night, haven’t you? I know things haven’t been good, but this behaviour has got to stop! You need to start being responsible and that includes coming in at a respectable hour. I’ve a good mind to give you a curfew while you’re staying here, young man! Merlin knows what sort of trouble you’re getting into at all hours of the day and night!”

“You have no idea …” George muttered as his mother continued her rant.

“I could get a call from St Mungo’s in the middle of the night!”

“Actually that’s likely in a few months, I reckon …”

“You could really ruin your reputation going around with all those witches!”

“I actually have a fabulous reputation …”

“We could find you lying in a ditch!”

“Possibly … when Angelina’s dad gets hold of me …”

Molly wasn’t listening to George but Harry was trying desperately not to laugh. Molly turned to her daughter.

“And I hope you remember what I told you!”

“Yes, Mum,” Ginny nodded. “Message received, clear as a bell.”

“Don’t give me any lip, young lady,” Molly warned. She pierced Harry and Ginny in turn with a searing look. “I’m willing to turn a blind eye but don’t think I appreciate the underwear parade. I suggest you go up, to your room, and get something on before your father comes down.”

Ginny scuttled out of the room promptly. George glanced surreptitiously at Harry before he squared his shoulders.

“Well I’ll be off then, lots to do!” he proclaimed.

“Now you can just march yourself into the kitchen,” Molly fixed her son with a gaze that would freeze water. She continued in a deceptively sweet tone. “You need breakfast before you go. You too, Harry; it is the most important meal of the day.”

“But I’m not dressed-”

“You can get dressed after breakfast,” Molly said blithely, holding the door open and gesturing through. Harry and George shared a significant glance before sidling through the doorway and into the kitchen.

Harry slid into a chair, the cloak clutched around him, as George leant casually against a sideboard, watching his mother get out the bacon and eggs. Molly waited until the bacon was sizzling and a whisk was merrily scrambling the eggs before she said anything.

“I understand that you have been … very upset.” Molly addressed George, who snorted inelegantly. “However, I cannot ignore this … behaviour any longer.”

“And there’s the mum we all know and love,” George said. “It’s wonderful to have you back from the pits of grief and despair!” Molly fixed him with a stern gaze.

“That’s enough of your flippant commentary,” she said. “You were out all night. I do not think I want to know what you were up to while I lay awake wondering whose bed you were in or if you were drinking yourself blind.”

Harry wanted to sink through the floor at this direct speech but George merely shrugged.

“I told you, I went out with Angie,” he said neutrally.

“All night?” Molly asked pointedly. George shifted uneasily at her tone.

“Most of it.”

“The point is, George,” Molly sighed, “we just don’t know anymore. How you are, what you’re doing. You never tell us anything that’s going on with you.”

“Well … get ready,” George muttered as his mother turned to the stove to prod the bacon.

“What was that, dear?” Molly asked as she turned around, wiping her hands on her apron. George shook his head wordlessly. “Well, the point is ... it really needs to be said … you have to understand …”

“What she means to say,” Arthur said from the doorway, “is that it’s not appropriate to carry on like this with young women, they deserve more respect.”

“I worship women, Dad,” George said with a smirk.

“I’m aware of that,” his father remarked dryly. “I seem to remember a rather vocal young lass that you had the rather unfortunate idea to bring here.” George blanched.

“The walls in this house,” Molly remarked, “are rather thin. The point is that I don’t think it’s a bad idea to remind the pair of you how one conducts himself in the presence of a lady. Having her home at a decent hour, instead of being out all night is a good start.” She shovelled some eggs onto a plate, topped it with bacon and plunked it down in front of Harry, who was trying to blend into the furniture. What he wouldn’t give for a good Disillusionment charm right now.

“But it was only me out all night!” George grumbled. “She was in well before … three o’clock.”

“Privacy is very important,” Molly said, rolling her eyes at George’s comment. “Specifically hers-”

“Oh, so you mean don’t walk in on Ginny in the shower, that sort of thing?” George asked innocently.

“No!” his mother snapped. “I mean you shouldn’t talk about your … exploits with whomever you fancy!”

“Oh that’s not fair,” George remonstrated. “I never tell you lot anything. Hey, can I talk about someone else’s exploits?” He grinned at Harry, who scowled furiously.

“No!” Molly said in a strangled tone, nearly dropping a plate of bacon and eggs in Arthur’s lap.

“There is nothing that goes on in this house that we don’t know about,” Arthur said, gently taking the plate from his wife and sliding the food back onto it. Harry froze.

“There is very little you could tell us, George,” Molly snapped. “However, next time you drag Harry out of bed, give him a chance to get dressed. However much he is family, it’s just not appropriate because … well, there are ladies present.”

“Ginny’s not seeing anything new,” George said casually, sitting down and accepting the plate of bacon and eggs his mother pushed towards him.

“George!” Harry was mortified, his face was flaming and he wanted a hole to open up in the floor and swallow him. He couldn’t look either of Ginny’s parents in the eye.

“Perhaps not,” Molly said in a strained tone, “but I won’t tolerate this causal behaviour any longer, George Weasley! No more! You need to stop this reckless behaviour and really think about your activities. Especially those which involve young women who deserve to be treated with consideration. Your father and I raised you to be respectful young men, not some sort of Ferro Fernwicker!”

“Who?” Harry asked.

“Womaniser from her favourite magazine serial,” George whispered out of the corner of his mouth as his mother kept going on about respect, honour and courtship.

“These things are not old-fashioned!” Molly finished and her face was flushed and she was waving a finger in George’s face expressively.

“How come Harry’s not in trouble?” George asked petulantly.

“Who said he’s not?” his father said quietly. Harry looked up, startled, to find Arthur’s eyes twinkling merrily. Arthur stood up and slid his arms around his wife’s waist. “Ginny’s just like you, my love; beautiful, fiery ... Harry’s in all manner of trouble.” George’s snicker turned to a groan as his father bent to nuzzle his wife’s neck. Molly giggled.

Harry and George just looked at each other. When they turned back to Molly and Arthur it was to see Arthur’s hands wandering into territory Molly had just told Harry and George to stay out of.

“You, my darling,” crooned Arthur, “are wonderful. Don’t be too hard on the boys; anyone who has what I have is a lucky man indeed.”

“Well, yes,” Molly said breathlessly while George and Harry stared in growing horror at the way her hands circled Arthur’s waist, threatening to travel lower. “If it’s … it’s not something … not something casual.”

“Ah, Mollywobbles, you are such a passionate woman …”

“Let’s beat it, Harry!” George hissed urgently, standing up suddenly. “Once he says Mollywobbles it gets a bit … well, we don’t need to see that!” George grabbed a piece of bacon and a slice of toast with one hand and Harry’s collar with the other and dragged him out of the kitchen. Out of the corner of his eye Harry though he saw Arthur start kissing Molly’s neck and he was glad George had the foresight to save them when he had.

“No wonder there’s seven of you!” Harry gasped as they took the stairs two at a time.

“I know,” George replied. “I’m surprised there aren’t more of us! The number of times Fred and I caught them … all over the house … kissing and snuggling and … and she had the gall to reprimand us!”

Ginny was hovering on the landing outside her bedroom door. She was now fully dressed and Harry blushed as she eyed him appreciatively.

“Don’t go down there yet, Gin,” George warned her. “He called her Mollywobbles.”

“Oh, that’s never good,” Ginny grimaced. “Still it doesn’t always turn out a disaster … I might be able to risk it.”

“If the behaviour we just witnessed is anything to go by, Mum and Dad are about to Christen the kitchen table!” George said.

“Oh, I already caught them doing that the summer after your second year,” Ginny laughed. “But it’s absolutely nothing compared to how I found them in the orchard when I was six!”

“Obliviate me now, Harry,” George moaned.

***************

When Harry had showered and dressed, he returned to the breakfast table and found Ginny helping her mother with the dishes at the sink and his plate still under a warming charm. George was nowhere to be seen and Arthur was reading the paper at the table. Harry sat down silently.

“Want some juice?” The voice startled him and he jumped. Ginny was standing next to him, holding a pitcher of pumpkin juice. Harry nodded.

“Thanks,” he answered quietly when she’d finished pouring. He took a sip hesitantly. It was all so normal. No one had flown off the handle and he hadn’t been kicked out. Harry waited for the axe to fall.

“They really need to do something about this, Molly,” Arthur said suddenly, the newspaper rustling as he laid it on the table. “These poor children have been stuck in St Mungo’s for weeks now, only because they have nowhere to go. It’s disgraceful.”

“Well didn’t you speak to Kingsley?” Molly said. She came over, wiping her hands on a tea towel. “Harry dear, the warming charm isn’t going to last forever and Ginny says you have a lot to do today. Eat up!”

“What are you up to today, son?” Arthur asked absently, still scanning the newspaper and shaking his head. “I did speak to Kingsley but he can’t seem to get through the parchments, either. Honestly, we’re lucky to have come out of this with as few orphans as we did, but the Ministry is just being so cautious and doing things by the book since the end of the war.”

“Orphans?” Harry asked, his curiosity overcoming his fear of what Ginny’s parents thought of the previous evening’s activities.

“Poor little mites,” Molly murmured, reading over her husband’s shoulder. “Are they still pretending to try and find some relatives?” Arthur nodded.

“There are orphans at St Mungo’s?” Harry asked.

“They’re just babies,” Molly sighed.

“Who?” Harry insisted. Arthur looked up from the paper.

“Some weeks ago it came to our attention that there was a Death Eater stronghold that hadn’t been properly searched,” Arthur sighed heavily.

“There were children there?” Harry asked. “After all this time?”

“Two little ones,” Molly nodded. “Thank Merlin for the house-elves.”

“But why?” Ginny asked. She sounded pained. Harry reached for her, intending to comfort her with a gentle touch but she slid into his lap, her eyes on the newspaper.

“Why were they there?” her father asked, looking over the top of his glasses at her. Harry couldn’t meet his eyes and wondered what Ginny’s parents thought of her actually sitting on his lap at the breakfast table.

“Death Eaters don’t kidnap,” Ginny answered. “They hurt and torture, but they don’t keep you.” She sounded scornful.

“You don’t know what they’re capable of,” Molly snapped.

“Yes I do,” Ginny shot back. Harry could feel her back stiffen as she eyed her mother grimly. Molly sighed and turned away, knowing Ginny was right. Forcing down his unease at such a display in the kitchen, Harry put his arms around Ginny and leaned over to kiss her cheek softly.

“They didn’t waste time with kidnapping at school last year,” Ginny said. “Torture did them just fine.” She sounded angry and bitter.

“They took Luna … to make her father do what they wanted,” Harry said quietly. “And then … they took Hermione because they knew it would make us crazy. I — I couldn’t bear it but Ron … I think it would have been easier if they’d beaten him. He just … it’s just another form of torture.” Ron’s hoarse screams and the pounding on the door as they were shut in the cellars at Malfoy Manor echoed through Harry’s head and he shuddered, closing his eyes. Ginny turned in his embrace and softly caressed his cheek.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t think of it like that.”

“S’okay.”

“We don’t think they were kidnap victims,” Arthur said quietly. “We think they’re … the strongholds were where the Death Eaters lived and … there’s evidence these children are theirs.”

“Death Eaters have children?” Ginny asked blankly before shaking her head. “Well obviously they do … I just … it’s a weird concept that there are … babies.”

“Why?” Arthur asked her thoughtfully.

“Well it’s just …” Ginny trailed off a faint blush staining her cheeks before she took a deep breath and continued. “Babies are … they come from love.” She was fidgeting slightly as if she hadn’t really said what she wanted to say.

“Yes,” Molly sat down and watched Ginny as she struggled with her thoughts. Harry listened intently, curious to hear Ginny’s train of thought.

“Obviously I know how people become parents,” Ginny said, sitting up straighter and sounding more confident. “And well … it’s just — how do Death Eaters feel that? They hold onto so much hate and they’re … there’s no love there. How is it that they … I mean it feels… how do they feel enough to … make love?” She blurted the last two words as if forcing them out of her mouth, her face flushed.

“Those actions are not always motivated by love, Ginny dear,” Molly said gently. “Sometimes it’s power or even violence, but … even those who followed Voldemort had those whom they loved, I’m sure.”

“I don’t believe it,” Ginny said flatly. “A person who feels what it’s like to share themselves intimately — how can they hurt and torture and kill other people? Once you feel that how can you still want to hurt and torment people?”

“Not everyone has the same experience as you’ve had,” Molly replied. Harry stared intently at a spot just above the kitchen sink, his face heating spectacularly.

“But … children …” Ginny seemed to be struggling for words once again. She took a deep breath and squeezed Harry’s hand. “Parents — when you’re a parent … they die for their kids!” Harry sucked in a breath involuntarily and Ginny gripped his hand tighter.

“I’m sure their parents loved them,” Arthur said quietly.

“How could they?” Ginny cried. “How could they love their kids and then hurt and torture other people’s? How could they have babies and share that love, that special bond with each other and then just hurt children? They can’t have loved those babies or they wouldn’t have chained Michael to that wall for rescuing that little first year! They wouldn’t have broken his arm and made his wrist bleed from the shackles! And they would have let him go see Madam Pomfrey!”

“Ginny-” Molly reached across the table but Ginny shrank away from her.

“If they had babies of their own, how could they order the entire second year to miss out on tea because someone let off a Dumgbomb during Muggle Studies?” Ginny was shaking now and Harry began to run his hands up and down her arms, making shushing noises and trying to steady her trembling limbs. “We all snuck them some food but Roger Entwhistle got caught and they put him in the dungeon for the whole night! And when he fell asleep during Defence Against the Dark Arts the next day they gave him to Crabbe for Crucio practice.”

Ginny leapt up, out of Harry’s lap, tears beginning to roll down her face. She clenched her fists and held her arms rigidly at her sides.

“They can’t know what it’s like to love!” she sobbed. “How can they? They don’t know how beautiful it is! There’s nothing but blackness in them and darkness and — they don’t know! They can’t know! How can they do that and still not feel it? How can they throw away that … that intimacy and be so cruel? How can they have children and still love them?”

“Ginny,” Harry said quietly, reaching out to her, putting one hand on her arm. She looked at him, her brown eyes filling with tears.

“It’s beautiful,” she whispered to him. “How can they not feel it?”

“I know,” Harry gathered her into his arms. He swayed gently back and forth, rocking Ginny as she cried.

After a while Ginny’s tears dried up and she straightened up, sniffing a little.

“I am such a goose,” she said, shaking her head ruefully.

“No you aren’t.” Harry smiled at her. Ginny didn’t notice, she took a few steps to the table and gazed at the article in the Daily Prophet.

“They’re so innocent,” she said, reaching out a hand to touch the cherubic faces of the two small children pictured in the morning paper. A headline underneath proclaimed them homeless. The picture was surrounded by articles about how they were found. There was a list of known Death Eater haunts that at least one reporter suggested the Ministry officials check for more ‘strays’ and a plea for anyone who knew who they were to contact St Mungo’s.

“Can they stay, Harry?” Ginny asked suddenly.

“Stay?”

“At the Home,” Ginny said. “Can they stay there — at least for Christmas?”

“Where, dear?” Molly asked. Harry jumped. He’d forgotten Molly and Arthur were there.

“At Sirius House,” Ginny explained, “at number twelve, Grimmauld Place. It’s ready in time for Christmas.”

“We’ll need to talk to Mrs Chumley,” Harry said. “They’re a bit smaller than the others. They’ll need more care.”

“Oh, she can’t say no!” Ginny cried.

“How do you … who says where they can go though?” Harry looked up at Arthur, questioning.

“I really think … well, Kingsley couldn’t cut through the legal parchments surrounding this,” Arthur said.

“Then what do we do now?” Ginny frowned slightly.

“I suspect that,” Arthur hesitated slightly. “I suspect that Harry might actually have more influence than Kingsley.” Harry raised his eyebrows.

“It went to the Wizengamot and they didn’t want the children just … out there,” Arthur said quietly. “They are very concerned that they be under the best of influences. Very few people are allowed near the children at all. They mean well but …”

“So the children need a guardian?” Molly asked. “Someone who will … who the Wizengamot think will be a good influence, keep them from going Dark. And because they can’t decide where the children should live they are keeping them homeless and isolated?”

“Yes,” Arthur said simply.

“Barbaric,” proclaimed Molly with finality.

“So why has Harry got more influence?” Ginny asked.

“He’s Harry Potter,” her father replied matter-of-factly. Arthur looked at Harry in what he could only think was an apologetic manner before continuing. “He’s … a war orphan himself and as the person who defeated Voldemort; a certified, well, Defender of the Light, one would say.”

“You think I have a chance to get these kids out of St Mungo’s?” Harry asked, as he pulled the newspaper towards him.

“Probably the only one who does right now,” Arthur admitted.

“Why didn’t you ask me before?”

“It would involve being their legal guardian,” Arthur replied gently. “It’s a lot to ask of an eighteen-year-old young man.”

“Did you think I wouldn’t do it?” Harry asked.

“Of course you would,” Arthur replied immediately. “And that’s why I insisted Kingsley didn’t ask you. Don’t you think you’ve made enough sacrifices, Harry? These children aren’t your problem. No one will let them starve and we’ll sort out a home for them eventually-”

“And do you really think that’s good enough?” Harry asked harshly.

“No,” said Molly sharply. “Of course it’s not good enough but it’s not fair to ask you to do more and children are such a responsibility-”

“Sirius House is set up with a guardianship board,” Harry said quietly. “If the Chairman of this board was to submit an application for their guardianship and residence …?”

“I think he’d be granted the application,” Arthur said, smiling.

“You’ve set all that up?” Molly asked.

“Well, not entirely,” Harry admitted, scratching the back of his head. “I mean Percy set up most of it. He knows how to do all this paperwork stuff and Hermione researched all the legal things to send him. And Bill figured out how to set up the funds. I don’t think the goblins were immensely happy when we turned the Black family fortune into the James and Lily Potter Foundation and the Remus Lupin Perpetual Education Fund.”

“Goodness you have been busy,” Arthur said in surprise.

“I think Kreacher’s done most of the work though,” Harry continued. “I hired someone to run the House but … I wanted to ask …”

“If we can help, Harry dear,” Molly smiled at him, nodding firmly.

“I think Mrs Chumley will need some help from time to time,” Harry said. “She’s not magical and … Kreacher will be there but … there are four Hogwarts students coming for Christmas.” Harry shifted anxiously as he watched Molly.

“She’s the mother of those dear boys we met at King’s Cross, isn’t she?” Molly asked, her face a mask of concentration.

“Yes,” Harry answered. “Her husband never came home and she lost her job and … anyway, she has one now so there will be six children there for the holidays and if we add these two, well, eight children …”

“I’d love to help, Harry dear,” Molly said firmly.

“I made arrangements to meet her this morning-”

“You’ll need to get down to the Ministry with Arthur,” Molly said decisively. “Get those poor mites out of St Mungo’s. Ginny and I will go and meet Mrs Chumley and see if we can’t soften the blow of meeting Kreacher and make sure that house is running the way it’s supposed to … recast the charms if necessary … I’ll need to make sure Kreacher has organised enough linens and ensure he’s not kept those ghastly elf heads.”

“I threw those away myself,” Harry said chuckling as he watched Molly summon a parchment and quill. Molly began to scribble hastily.

“Do you think that elf remembered to get Christmas decorations?” Molly asked. “I’ll need to get some more wool if they’re all to have a jumper …. Goodness, I might have to use magic to get finished in time this year.” She continued scribbling furiously and Arthur watched her fondly.

“Oh!” Molly exclaimed suddenly. “Ginny, go and wake Fleur. She can come and help us. We’ll need to introduce Mrs Chumley to the food vendors in Diagon Alley and set up an account system with them and I’ll try and figure out a way for her to contact St Mungo’s so that she can call them if one of the children are ill. I’ll take my kitchen charms book ... I’m sure Kreacher is capable of many things but setting up a woman’s kitchen isn’t one of them. I’ll Muggle proof it so the poor dear can make a cup of tea without calling on that elf all the time. All right then, you two, off to the Ministry. We only have a few weeks until Christmas!”

She bustled out of the kitchen, pushing Ginny in front of her. Arthur watched her fondly.

“Um, Mr Weasley,” Harry said nervously. Arthur turned to look at him, raising his eyebrows.

“Arthur,” the older man said softly. Harry nodded and cleared his throat.

“I was wondering if …” Harry took a deep breath. “Would you be on the board, too? It’s just, you know more about kids than any man I know and you work for the Ministry and Andromeda has her hands full with Teddy and Mrs Chumley’s a Muggle so … and I don’t have a clue what I’m doing. Not really.”

“Andromeda’s on the board?”

“Yeah,” Harry nodded and stuffed his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “I figured since I was about to dismantle the Black family fortune and turn the ancestral home into … well ... an orphanage, there should be a Black on the board. I didn’t think Narcissa and I would get along.”

Arthur chuckled before nodding briefly.

“You have some sort of paperwork for this, I gather?”

“Percy’s got it,” Harry said.

“No doubt he can rustle up the paperwork to apply for guardianship of these two,” Arthur said, waving at the paper. “Let’s Floo him, see if he can’t meet us at the Ministry and then we can meet up with the ladies later, while there’s still daylight. I’m sure you two can think of better things to do than stay cooped up with a couple of old folks like us.”

“Erm …”

“Harry,” Arthur said suddenly, “you are being careful, aren’t you?” Harry froze.

“Well, I — ah …” Harry dragged a hand through his hair nervously, unable to look Ginny’s father in the eye. “She, um … Mum taught her the charms-”

“With her heart,” Arthur said gently. Harry looked Arthur directly in the eye for the first time since the other man had said he knew everything that went on inside the walls of his home. “Ginny’s right, it is a special bond. She has to trust you, open up to you and give you her heart. Are you being careful with it?”

“We didn’t wait,” was all Harry said, studying the floor intently. “I’m sorry.”

“Not everybody waits,” Arthur said in the same quiet, gentle tone. “There’s no rule that says you have to. Some people do, I guess — the churchgoing folk mostly. My great grandfather was religious; I used to go to church with him sometimes as a very small boy, before he died. My own father was never particularly religious but he always said to me, ‘It’s important to respect witches, Arthur. Never treat them different to how you’d treat your mother.’

“I can’t tell you what to do, Harry, you know that; but the commitment you’ve shown to my Ginny is clear; hers for you is unwavering. You’ve already chosen each other. I’m just a father who wants to know that the man who has my daughter’s heart is being careful with it. Because she’s yours now; she gave herself to you and that’s the most precious thing she can give you, until she gives you a child. I just want to know that you’re being careful with her heart.”

“I love her,” Harry said a little defensively. “I’m not playing around or anything.”

“I know,” Arthur said. “I can see. She’s who you look for when you walk into a room. She’s who you reach for when you’re troubled and she’s the one who makes you smile. She’s the most important person in your life. Make sure she always knows it.”

“I think I need to work on that,” Harry admitted quietly.

“Molly said you two had a bad patch,” Arthur said nodding.

“I don’t think I’ve really dealt with … things yet,” Harry said, staring at the newspaper, at the picture of the two small children.

“What things?” Arthur asked, sitting down and gesturing to Harry to take a seat also. “If there’s anything I can do, anything you need help with, you only have to ask.” Harry sat down at the table and sighed.

“I’ve been ignoring the fact that — well … um, I’m sort of …”

“Famous?” supplied Arthur with a smile.

“Yeah but it’s more than that now, isn’t it?” Harry asked. “These children … you said I would be able to make a difference here where even Kingsley can’t. But … no one told me.”

“We’ve tried to shield you,” Arthur admitted. “It’s been fairly easy. Your decision to go back to Hogwarts has made it easy to shelter you.”

“But why?”

“We just wanted you to have time,” Arthur said, “time to just be Harry, to recover.”

“I knew there were things I wasn’t being told,” Harry said, “things about the aftermath of the war. I found out there were families who were homeless; children who literally have nowhere to go. I wish you’d told me.”

“I’m sorry,” Arthur said.

“But the thing is,” Harry said intently, “it’s just going to make it harder for Ginny, isn’t it?”

“There will probably be a lot of demands on your time,” Arthur admitted.

“I already proved I can’t do both,” Harry said miserably, running his hands through his hair.

“Setting up the Children’s Home took your time away from Ginny?” Arthur asked.

“Yeah,” Harry admitted. “I was doing that and then there’s Teddy and I’m Head Boy. We had a bit of a misunderstanding about it all. Once the children are actually living at Grimmauld Place I’ll be even busier won’t I?”

“It takes all of us a while to learn to balance things,” Arthur reassured him, clasping his shoulder. “Ginny has things to do also. I’m sure it wasn’t solely your fault.”

“She’s been training a lot for her chance with the Harpies,” Harry said. He sat in silence for a moment before he sighed. “Being a grown up is hard.” Arthur laughed heartily at that and nodded emphatically.

“It is Harry, but so far I think you’re doing just fine!”

“I would never hurt her,” Harry said suddenly. “I’m sorry we didn’t wait but-”

“It’s your choice, Harry no one else’s,” Arthur interrupted. “But if you ever need anything … some advice or even just to talk, you can come to us.”

“I know,” Harry said. He looked up at Arthur and smiled shyly. “Thanks, Dad.”

*************

Percy looked extremely flustered when Harry and Arthur arrived at his office. There were untidy piles of parchment littering his desk. Ink dripped slowly over the edge from a row of ink bottles tipped haphazardly across the surface. An overflowing rubbish bin was groaning in the corner as if it has just eaten a massive Hogwarts feast all by itself and an enraged owl fluttered above Percy’s head.

“What happened?” Harry asked, leaping forward to catch a teetering pile of parchment as it began to cascade towards the floor.

“I told it to sod off,” Percy growled through gritted teeth. “Now it’s gone mental at me.”

“Not the owl,” Arthur said as he siphoned up the ink, “this mess. It’s very unlike you Percy.”

Harry looked closely at Percy. His robes were rumpled and his hair stuck up on one side as is he’d been laying on it, his glasses were smudged and sitting a little crookedly on his nose and the tops of his shoes were scuffed. Percy snatched at the owl with an angry growl and pulled the scroll of parchment off its leg. Percy unrolled it viciously and then tore it up and threw it at the bin in the corner which cowered in fear.

“Penelope told me that she would be cancelling the wedding arrangements,” Percy said, scrubbing a hand across his unshaven face. “It appears, however that she has neglected to do so. This owl is from the catering company who is being rather difficult.”

“You hired a catering company?” Arthur asked, his eyebrow raised. “Do be sure not to tell your mother that.”

“Caterer, florist, baker, decorator, jeweller,” Percy rattled off tossing a sheaf of parchment onto the desk. “And she forgot to cancel them all!”

“Well, as long as it’s sorted out,” Arthur said patting his son on the shoulder.

“I guess it will be at any rate,” Percy sighed, sinking into his chair. Arthur set about straightening Percy’s desk.

Harry just hovered nervously for a moment, taking in the strange appearance of the office and its occupant.

“Have you had much rest lately, Percy?” Arthur asked quietly as the piles of parchment flew into orderly piles at the direction of his wand. “You’re looking a little … ragged.”

“There’s a lot to get done,” Percy sighed. “Most people think the efforts to rebuild can slack off a little now. They’re men and women with families; I can’t say I blame them. Cyril Ogden’s family came back from France last week so he took a week off. Hasn’t seen them in over a year so …”

“But you’re here on a Saturday, still,” Arthur said as he cast a spell at the bin, restoring it to its empty state and levitating the crumpled parchment inside. “There’s few people left who need to work on a Saturday, Percy.”

“Well they clearly don’t understand the importance of administrating things in the wake of the war’s end,” Percy said primly. “There are still a lot of pressing matters to attend to.”

“What is so pressing you’re still wearing the same clothes as yesterday when we had lunch?” Arthur asked. “Did you sleep here?”

“Someone has to see to the matter of Knockturn Alley and the rebellion of the slug growers,” Percy said, shuffling a few parchments idly. Arthur raised an eyebrow at his son. Harry stifled a laugh.

“Right,” Arthur said with a slight frown. “We just need some help with this Guardianship Board …”

****************

With the paperwork appropriately filed, Harry and Arthur went straight to Grimmauld Place to find a freshly-painted door right where number twelve should be, a gleaming brass doorknocker shining in the late morning sunlight.

“Looks good,” Arthur commented as they crossed the street. “Filius removed all the charms then, I take it?”

“Yeah,” Harry nodded. He paused to look at the small, brass nameplate near the door. Sirius House it read in small, block letters. It was very shiny and Harry suspected Kreacher had been polishing it more than once a day.

He pushed the door open and his ears were immediately assaulted with a horrible screech.

”Filthy blood traitors! Defiling the house of my ancestors! Vile and loathsome little beast! Vermin! Filth!”

Mrs Chumley was staring in open mouthed horror while Molly waved her wand frantically. Kreacher was standing there wringing his hands. Ginny was standing defiantly in the hallway bellowing back at the portrait.

“Language, Ginny! Please!” Molly remonstrated with her daughter as she waved and poked her wand in the air futilely.

“What happened to the curtains?” Harry bellowed.

“Kreacher did not mean to vanish them,” the house elf said rather sadly. “Kreacher was only trying to clean them.” Harry shook his head and pulled out his wand.

“SHUT UP!” His wand emitted a shower of red and gold sparks and the portrait was silenced. Harry rubbed the back of his head sheepishly as the occupants of the entranceway turned to stare at him.

“How did you …?”

“It worked last time,” said Harry. He shrugged. “Now we need a way to get it off this wall …”

“What … it talks,’ Mrs Chumley said nervously. Molly patted her on the arm gently.

“We’ll go and join Fleur in the kitchen for a nice spot of tea and leave the men to dispose of that objectionable thing,” Molly said, giving both Harry and Arthur a meaningful look. “Come along, Ginny.” Ginny followed her mother but not before poking her tongue out at Harry and wrinkling her nose.

Harry sighed as she vanished down the kitchen steps. He wanted to do much more than stare at her retreating backside, as lovely as it was. After all it had been an entire morning without her company. He heard Arthur chuckle beside him.

“The sooner we figure this painting out, the sooner you can get back to it, er, her,” Arthur said before turning to the portrait and rubbing his hands together briskly. “Right, first things first; how is this stuck up here, Kreacher?”

The information that had never before been forthcoming from the wizened house-elf tumbled from his mouth. Harry didn’t understand a word of it but Arthur nodded gravely as Kreacher mumbled something about ancient dark wizardry.

“My mistress,” Kreacher suddenly croaked pathetically, throwing himself at the frame and crying piteously.

“Evil scum! Elf traitor! I’ll have your head for this betrayal! Mrs Black renewed her incessant screeching, unleashing a litany of foul words at Kreacher.

Harry had never seen such a reaction in all his years in the magical world. Kreacher drew himself up the full height of his tiny stature and glared at the portrait. Then he screamed; an ear-splitting sound that made both Arthur and Harry clap their hands over their ears. The elf’s hands flew out in front of him and he twisted them in a complicated pattern of swirls before throwing them up in the air. A cascade of light showered down from the sparks that began flying off the portrait and Mrs Black’s screeching ceased immediately. Kreacher stopped the horrible noise he’d been making and threw himself on the floor in a wailing heap.

“Kreacher is not a bad elf!” he wailed. “Kreacher is helping the poor children!” Harry stood dumbfounded, staring at Kreacher utterly unsure what had happened and what he should do. Molly and Ginny had come rushing into the entranceway at some point during the confusion and Harry looked up as Ginny suddenly gasped.

“She’s gone!”

Harry gazed, befuddled at the portrait frame which was still attached to the wall, empty, a few shreds of canvas hanging limply from the edges.

“Kreacher got rid of her, yes he did!” wailed Kreacher from the floor. “Kreacher is not a bad elf!”

“Of course you aren’t,” Molly soothed. “You are a very good elf; you’ve done wonders with this house.”

“Mrs Weasley thinks so?” Kreacher asked suddenly, lifting his head.

“Oh yes,” Molly nodded her head decisively. “The kitchen is wonderfully bright and clean and the bedrooms are just lovely.”

“Kreacher does his best.” The little house-elf bowed low, his nose scraping the floor.

“Now, I’m going to set the kitchen charms for Mrs Chumley,” Molly said, gingerly patting Kreacher on the head. “Why don’t you show Harry and Arthur the rest of the house?” Kreacher brightened immediately.

“Master will be pleased at what Kreacher has done with the bedrooms,” the elf said suddenly, getting to his feet and shuffling towards the stairs. Harry smiled as Ginny slid her hand into his and trotted along after them instead of returning to the kitchen with her mother.

Kreacher had done a splendid job cleaning up the rooms in Sirius House. The bedroom on the first floor had been transformed into a cosy room furnished with two beds, a huge wardrobe and a dresser. A set of heavy curtains at the window matched the new carpet on the floor.

“Wish it looked like this when I had to stay here,” Ginny murmured in Harry’s ear as Arthur congratulated the house-elf on his skill.

The bathroom was also superbly clean and the drawing room had been revamped completely. New draperies hung at the windows, the glass fronted cabinets had been polished until they shone and the fireplace scrubbed of all the soot and grime. Harry noted with grim satisfaction that the Black Family Tree had been entirely removed and the walls were now covered in rich wallpaper. The room was overflowing with comfortable couches, floor rugs and a large writing desk. Before they made their way up to the second floor Harry stopped to examine the new doorknobs.

“Kreacher did not think Master would think the snake doorknobs appropriate for children,” Kreacher said solemnly. Harry just nodded and smiled a little at the brass doorknobs, shined to perfection, a lion carved into the surface of each one.

The room where Harry and Ron used to sleep looked similar; but without the gloom and grime. A pair of twin beds and a wardrobe were the main furnishings with a small dresser squeezed in next to the window. The place where Phineas Nigellus used to hang was now occupied with a large mirror. The rest of the bedrooms were furnished in a similar manner with two beds in each room, cheerful curtains and matching floor rugs. The toilets and bathrooms were gleaming and the master bedroom showed no hint that it had once been used to house a wild animal. When they arrived at the topmost landing Kreacher pushed open Sirius’s bedroom door tentatively.

“Kreacher knows that Master told him to decorate all of the rooms however he liked but this one was restored the same as it was,” the house-elf explained quietly.

“I hope you took down the bikini girls,” Harry murmured and was startled when the old house-elf laughed. Harry pushed the door open further and walked inside. Two beds now graced the room and the red window hangings and bed curtains gave it a look reminiscent of a Gryffindor dormitory. Kreacher had obviously found a way to rid the room of the permanent sticking charms. The walls were bare and all traces of dust, debris and cobwebs had been banished. Kreacher was standing near the oversized dresser holding a large cardboard box.

“These are Master Sirius’s things,” Kreacher said quietly and held the box out to Harry.

“Thanks,” Harry said. His throat closed over and he couldn’t say anything. He just gazed at the top of the box.

“Maybe Gilbert and Gerald would like this room?” Ginny said quietly, laying a hand on Harry’s arm.

“D’you think it’s a good idea for them to share?” Harry asked, attempting to grin at her. He failed utterly and to his dismay, felt tears gathering. Ginny smiled at him sadly.

“Mum can probably take care of Mrs Chumley,” she said. “We could go if you like?”

“I’m sure we can manage, Harry,” Arthur added. Harry shook his head, blinking rapidly.

“I’m fine.”

Ginny snorted. Harry took one last look at Sirius’s room before leaving. Kreacher scuttled out after the wizards and shut the door with a soft click.

“Sirius would have liked it,” Harry said softly, still clutching the box. “Turning it into a Children’s Home, I mean.”

“Of course he would,” Ginny said gently. Harry stood staring at the closed door of Sirius’s room for several minutes before Arthur cleared his throat and laid a hand on the doorknob of the room opposite.

“Kreacher left master Regulus’s room the same colour as well,” Kreacher croaked as if afraid Harry would scold him for it. Harry gave the elf a weak smile, his grip on his composure loosening every minute.

“Let’s see it then,” he said, taking a deep breath.

The room was large enough for two beds and, like Sirius’s room it contained a gleaming chandelier, newly-polished windows and fine new curtains. It had been purged of its Slytherin leanings and was now an innocuous green bedroom, brightly-lit and cosy.

“You’ve done a really good job,” Harry said to Kreacher, still hugging the box tightly. He didn’t know why as he knew what would be in there, or rather what he hoped would be in there.

“I might go down and talk to Mrs Chumley about the two youngsters,” Arthur said, clearing his throat. “We’ll probably have the result of the application early next week if Percy has anything to say about it. Will we expect you two home for tea?” Arthur looked at Harry and Ginny expectantly.

“Yeah, we’ll be home for tea,” Ginny answered for them both.

“Yeah, thanks, Dad,” Harry said, mustering a smile and ignoring the tears that once again threatened to fall against his will. Arthur and Kreacher both left the room and Harry and Ginny followed them. Ginny stood uncertainly, watching Harry.

“Do you want to open it?” Ginny asked him, gesturing at the box. Suddenly Harry was overcome with the urge to open the box and search through the contents and he sat down abruptly on the brand new runner on the top landing. Ginny sank down on her knees next to him as Harry opened the flaps of the box.

There, on the top of a pile of papers and scarlet and gold Gryffindor banners lay the picture of James Potter, Sirius, Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew that had been stuck to the wall last time Harry had been there. Harry reached out a hand to trace the features of Sirius and his father before turning to Remus and sighing heavily.

“I can’t believe they’re all gone,” he said softly. “I’m glad I have this picture. I think it’s the one thing I wanted last time I was here. It was stuck.”

“So, you don’t want these?” Ginny asked cheekily, pulling at a scrap of shiny paper peeking out from under one of the banners, revealing a bikini clad Muggle; her tanned skin glowing artificially and her high heels at odds with her beach attire. Harry felt himself flush as he shook his head. Ginny giggled and leaned over to press a kiss to his cheek and Harry turned to capture her lips in a deep, slow kiss that left his toes tingling.

“Why don’t we take this box back home,” Ginny said as she broke the kiss. “No one’s there at the moment …”

Harry gaped at her and shook his head ruefully as Ginny laughed merrily at him. He slipped the photograph back into the box, closed the flaps on the top and the two of them made their way quietly down the stairs and slipped out onto the front steps where they Disapparated away and back to the Burrow.

**************

It wasn’t until they had returned to Hogwarts and settled into the common room after Sunday tea that the idyllic weekend was broken. Harry was contemplating a way to convince Ginny to accompany him to somewhere with a little more privacy when Hermione sat down on the edge of the couch next to them, twisting her hands nervously.

“Hello, Hermione,” Ginny said when the other girl didn’t say anything for several minutes. Hermione jumped.

“Hello Ginny.” Hermione’s fingers plucked restlessly at the hem of her jumper.

“Are you all right, Hermione?” Harry asked, sitting up straighter. “You don’t look-”

“Ron hasn’t written in a week,” Hermione interrupted.

“He’s never been the best at correspondence,” Harry said, patting her on the arm. “You know that.”

“But he’s written every second day since I came back to school,” Hermione said.

“Soppy git,” muttered Ginny. Hermione gave her a sharp look and turned back to Harry.

“He writes every second day,” Hermione said. “He never misses.” Harry was surprised.

“Really?” he asked.

“He promised,” Hermione suddenly wailed. “After last time when he left and … he promised we wouldn’t be apart again and that if we had to be away from each other he’d write to me always, always!”

“Maybe the owl just …”

“Died,” interjected Ginny. Hermione looked at her, horrified and Ginny shrugged.

“Pig came back just now,” Hermione said quietly. “He brought the last letter I sent back. I wrote it on Monday.”

“He brought it back?” Ginny went pale. Hermione’s eyes filled with tears and she pulled a crumpled scroll out of her pocket. Harry stared at the piece of parchment and didn’t even feel the urge to laugh at the tiny love hearts surrounding Ron’s name on the outside.

“I think Ron’s missing,” Hermione said quietly as she let the tears fall.