The First Day

George sipped his coffee and glanced at Katie. The Sunday afternoon meeting she had had with Angelina before she had moved to Toronto had picked up with him in Angelina's place. He found he rather enjoyed slipping out after lunch and spending a quiet hour with Katie. 'So, how's it going with Summerby?' he asked, wincing internally.

'It's fine,' she said, shrugging.

'Does he have to stay the night so much?' George asked, a pained expression on his face.

'He stays over once or twice a week,' Katie said pointedly. 'Why does it matter to you?'

George squirmed uncomfortably. 'It doesn't,' he mumbled. 'I just don't want people to think you're...' He scratched his nose in an attempt to cover his embarrassment.

'A what?' Katie asked in amusement.

'Nothing.'

'A whore?' Katie guessed. 'Woman of loose morals?' She waved a hand in the air. 'Pfft. I'm well over age and if someone doesn't like the fact I'm having sex, then it's their problem, not mine.' She stirred milk into her coffee and glanced at George. 'Is that what you think?'

George twitched and ducked his head. 'No,' he admitted.

Katie gave George a shrewd look. 'Have you ever...?' George blushed and mutely shook his head. 'Really?' she asked in surprise.

George grimaced and pushed his coffee away. 'I saw what Fred had with Ang,' he explained. 'Kind of a hard act to follow. And I'm not interested in a shag and run type thing.' He suddenly chuckled. 'Want to hear something pathetic?'

'Sure.'

'Ron - my baby brother - Ickle Ronnikins - has been shagging his girlfriend since July.' At Katie's raised inquiring eyebrow, George elaborated, 'They came in one afternoon right before dinner, and both of them had that "I've been shagging my brains out" smirk Fred used to have...' He coughed lightly. 'And when she came over last month, she stayed the night with us. I saw Ron's room the next morning. They obviously made a night of it...' He sighed and picked up his coffee. 'And here I am. I haven't even kissed a girl since I tried to hit on Verity before we closed the shop,' he mused. 'That was total disaster,' he sighed mournfully.

Katie tapped her fingertips on the surface of the table. 'You know,' she said thoughtfully, 'there's a girl at the magazine...'

'No,' George said firmly. 'No set ups.' He swallowed nearly half the scalding liquid in his cup. 'I can find my own bird, thank you.'

'Not if you keep referring to us as birds,' Katie retorted.

'Yeah, well...' George rubbed the back of his head and leaned back in his chair. 'I'm not really interested in doing the dating thing right now...' He glanced at Katie. 'So what does Summerby think of all this?' he asked gesturing between the two of them.

Katie's cheeks burned dully and she set her cup on the table firmly. 'It's kind of a sore point,' she allowed. 'We don't talk about it. I think he's jealous of you.'

George snorted. 'Of me? Why?'

'I have no idea,' Katie sighed. 'I can go and have a drink with a group of friends from work, and that's not a problem. It's kind of odd, because there're plenty of blokes in that group.'

'Could be because you're meeting with me one-on-one, and not with other people,' George pointed out.

'Not like I haven't thought of that,' Katie sighed. 'I've even told him he could come with me here, but I think he likes to play the wounded party.'

George refrained from commenting on Summerby's maturity level. He didn't think it would help, and it was apparent Katie already felt badly about it. 'So heard from Ang lately?' he asked, changing the subject.

Katie nodded. 'Yeah. She's settling in with her aunt and her new job is working out all right. Says she's a little lonely sometimes, but it's getting better.'

'That's good.' George drained his cup and stood up. 'I need to go get some things done at the shop, and I'd rather do it now than get up and do it early tomorrow.' He gestured to the door of the coffee shop. 'I can see you home...' he said shyly. 'If you're ready to go.'

'I'm perfectly capable of getting home myself,' Katie said dryly. But she, too, stood up and pulled her wooly cardigan on, walking toward the door. She glanced at George over her shoulder. 'Well, are you coming or what?'

*****

Ginny wiped the rain from her face, pushing the wet strands from her eyes that had escaped from her ponytail. She flew behind Demelza, clutching the Quaffle in one hand, gripping the handle of her broomstick between her knees. She glanced down and saw Natalie zoom underneath her. 'Natalie!' she yelled, dropping her free hand to the handle, and adjusting her grasp on the Quaffle. Natalie looked up and doubled back. As she passed Ginny, Ginny lobbed the Quaffle at her, and it slipped through Natalie's outstretched fingers. Stricken, Natalie pointed her broom toward the ground and caught the Quaffle before it could hit the sodden ground.

Sighing, Ginny fished the whistle from the neck of her sweatshirt and blew it shrilly, signaling for the team to land. 'I'm sorry, Ginny,' Natalie said, as soon as Ginny dismounted from her broom. 'I can do better. It just slipped through my fingers and I couldn't get a hand on it...' she babbled.

'It's fine,' Ginny said tightly. 'Come on...' She led the players back into the changing room, wringing out her soaked hair over a small sink in the corner. 'Natalie, you're not going to fall off your broom, if you take both hands off of it for ten seconds. You're going to have to trust me. If you don't start committing to the play, it's not going to work. Ritchie and Jimmy, if the two of you don't start actually aiming those Bludgers at someone, why bother showing up? Dean, for the love of Ravenclaw, this is Quidditch, not football. You have to defend three goals, not just one. You have to keep circling and moving around, otherwise you're going to let in more goals than you block. Dennis, you have to do the same thing as Natalie. If you're going to play Quidditch, play the bloody game. You're so worried about messing things up; it makes you miss things even more.' Ginny dropped to the rickety chair behind a battered and scarred desk. 'Go back to the castle and get cleaned up. Practice on Thursday at six.'

Demelza cupped a hand under Natalie's elbow, urging her to stand up. 'Come on, then,' she murmured. 'Got to let it go and starting thinking about how you're going to play next practice.'

Jimmy tugged on Dennis' arm. He was slumped dejectedly against the wall. 'Let's go. It's just a practice.'

Ginny's head lifted and her eyes blazed. 'That's just it!' she raged. 'It's not "just a practice"! You practice like you're playing a real game every single time!' She pressed her lips together in a tight line. 'Just go back to the castle.' Demelza put an arm around Natalie and led her out of the changing room. Ritchie and Jimmy each wrapped a hand around one of Dennis' arms and all but dragged him from the room. Ginny lowered her head to the desk, resting it on top of her folded arms.

'Gin?' Dean touched her shoulder gently. 'The weather was lousy.'

'It doesn't matter,' she said, her voice muffled by her arms. 'We need to learn to play in all sorts of weather. It won't always be sunny and perfect.' Ginny turned her head and peeped at Dean. 'Could you just leave me alone for a bit?'

'Are you sure?' Dean asked worriedly. 'It's awfully dark out.'

Ginny sat up. 'Dean, this is why we broke up. I am of age. I can take care of myself. I don't need a nursemaid to follow me around with a damned butterfly net. And I don't need anyone to make sure I get back to castle in one piece!' she shouted. 'Least of all you!'

Dean stepped back involuntarily. 'I... I just want to make sure you're all right...'

'I'll be fine,' Ginny snapped, pulling her wand from a back pocket of her jeans, and waving it over her clothes and hair. Steam rose in waves, obscuring her vision momentarily. Dean still stood uncertainly next to the desk. 'Just go, all right?' Ginny hauled her bag to the desktop and began to rifle through it. She saw Dean turn and walk out of the changing room, hunching his shoulders against the rain that had begun to drizzle over them halfway through their practice session. She pulled a thick envelope of parchment from her bag and ran her thumb over the wax seal, smiling a little at the design pressed into it. The seal had been Hermione's belated birthday gift to Harry. It was a holly sprig in a triangle. Harry had explained the triangle had been a symbol that represented his Invisibility cloak, while the holly leaf was meant to represent his wand. The envelope opened at her touch and Ginny pulled a wad of folded parchment from it.

15 October 1998

Dear Ginny,

George gave me a bank draft today. It's my share of the profits from the shop. It's quite a bit of money. I don't need it, but George won't take it back. I'd like to give it to your mum and dad, to try and repay them for everything they've done for me, but I know they won't just accept it. Maybe I could replace a few of the things that are beyond repair. You know, just sort of sneak it in when they're not looking. When they ask, say it's from George and Ron. Because it is, actually. They're the ones that do all the work.

Things at the Ministry are getting back together. The other Aurors are slowly starting to leave me be, especially since the details from the Death Eater trials are leaking out. Unfortunately, it also includes the debacle in the Department of Mysteries. So everything we did is coming out, too. I'm getting a lot fewer comments about not knowing anything and more questions about what I know about the activities and methods of Death Eaters, to try and capture the ones that are still on the run. Sometimes, I have to admit to them it was nothing more than dumb luck. They're still leaving pranks in my cubicle, though. But that tends to be the younger ones. It seems like they're desperate to try and get things to be the way they were before. If it takes a fake wand or quill, or even one of those Muggle pranks, like the fake dog poo (and that was pretty funny...) then that's what it takes.

I'm still not happy with my Head. But your dad says complaining about your department Head is something of a pastime in the Ministry. I can believe that. Mine is - well, she's not bad as an Auror. I guess I'm going to leave at that. She's all right, I suppose. Just a stickler for rules and regulations. A lot like Percy in that respect.

Ron's trying to grow a moustache. It's not going well. He looks rather moth-eaten. And no amount of protestation from Hermione will make him shave it. It's not that he can't grow one - because he can - sort of - it's that it's somewhat patchy. George told him the other day it was a pity Ron has such a hairy arse as it must be where all his hair energies have gone. I have to agree with Hermione on this one. It makes Ron look like he's trying to look older. I guess that's what he is doing, but it looks like he's trying too hard.

He's still trying to persuade Hermione to go back to school. She's unconvinced. She thinks it's too late, but maybe if she talks to Professor McGonagall... She needs to go back.

I think you've been handling the team really well. If anybody can get them into shape, Gin, it's you. You know the game better than most of your brothers. I'd say better than even Charlie. No offense to Angelina, and she was a damn good player, but you're a better captain than either her or me. You get the game in a way neither of us did. I've watched you play. You could tell what was going on, even when you couldn't see it.

So I'm going to give you a word of advice. You can take it, if you want. Or you can tell me to sod off. When we were doing the DA, I knew eventually we'd use those skills in a real fight, just not that soon. But I knew that if we didn't know the basics, we'd never survive one. Really, it was all about learning enough defensive magic so we could pass our exams, and not have large gaping holes in our educations. Think about a game as an exam, not a war. Make sure you teach them how the play the game, Gin. You may not win all your games, and you may not win the Cup, but if you leave the team better than how you found it, it's all right.

Don't tell McGonagall I said that. She'll retroactively revoke my captaincy. I'm not sure she can do that, but I'd rather not find out.

Why did you leave the journal Andromeda gave you for your birthday? I found it when I was up with Teddy last weekend. He's teething and nothing I did seemed to help, except walking with him. I got bored pacing around Bill's room, so I took Teddy for a few turns in yours. I wasn't snooping, I promise. I saw it sticking out from between your bed and desk. I checked it later. It's fine. Not that Andromeda would give you anything tainted with Dark magic. But I know how writing in a journal might make you feel a little gutted. Just wondering, that's all, Gin.

I'll see you in a couple of weeks. We'll do whatever you want. Well, whatever won't get you into any trouble or lose you House points. I'd hate for that to happen on my account.

Take care of yourself, Ginny.

Love,

Harry

Slowly, Ginny folded the parchment, and slid it back into the envelope. She sat for a moment, leaning back in the straight-backed chair, listening to the rain fall on the roof of the changing room.

*****

Harry took the last plate from George and dried it, reaching up over his head to put it in a cupboard. It made him laugh to himself that Molly still kept the plates in a high cupboard, away from small, mischievous hands. 'Where's Ron gone off to?' George asked.

'Over to Hermione's.'

George wrung the dishcloth out and draped it over the rim of the sink. 'Does it bother you?'

'What?' Harry shook out the tea towel he'd used to dry the dishes. 'Ron and Hermione? Not at all. They've been going that direction for years. It's about bloody time. They just had to stop bickering long enough to realize it.' Harry hung the towel over the bar near the stove and shrugged. 'He's still my best mate. That's not going to change.'

George reached into a cupboard set with a Cooling charm and handed Harry a butterbeer. 'Any plans later?'

Harry shook his head. 'Not especially. I've got Teddy.'

'You can come by Lee's do later with me,' George offered. Lee was hosting a small party at the Leaky Cauldron later for Halloween. 'Mum won't mind watching Teddy.'

Harry considered it then, replied, 'Nah, I'm all right. There is something I want to do. I'm just not sure how long it'll take. And I don't fancy asking your mum to watch Teddy more than a couple of hours.'

'You know she won't care.'

'Yeah, but Teddy's my responsibility, not your mum's, Harry responded, clearly uncomfortable with abdicating his obligation, even for the whole of an evening. Especially since he was going to be gone for a good portion of next Saturday, visiting Ginny during the Hogsmeade visit.

'Well, if you change your mind, it'll be in the second private parlor upstairs,' George told Harry. 'Probably go on quite late, knowing Lee.'

'Thanks.' Harry left the kitchen and wandered up the stairs to Bill's room, where an ancient cot stood against the opposite wall from the bed. Teddy sat inside the cot, fretfully gnawing a teether, while drool coated his chin. He whined softly when he saw Harry, and dropped the plastic ring filled with water on top of the blanket, raising his arms up to Harry. Harry lifted Teddy from the cot, settling him on one hip while he reached into the cot with his free hand, and pulled out the teether. Teddy rubbed his face against Harry's shoulder, whimpering a little. 'Shhhhh,' Harry crooned, setting the teether on the night table, and fishing his wand from his back pocket. He cast a Freezing charm over the teether and handed it back to Teddy. 'Here, chew on that for a bit. Your gran put some sort of goo in your bag for me to put on your gums before I put you down for the night. She says it'll help.' Teddy grunted, as he worried the teether between his irritated gums. 'I hope it works as well as she says it does. You were pretty cranky last week,' he informed his godson, who ignored him and continued to chew the teether with a single-minded intensity. 'Let's get you into a bath, then. And bedtime for you, little one.'

After managing to bathe Teddy, and in the process, getting a great deal of water over both himself and the bathroom floor, Harry scooped out a bit of the ointment Andromeda had packed and gently rubbed it on Teddy's gums. The tense creases in Teddy's face eased as the pain slowly ebbed away. 'That feel better?' Harry asked, as he pulled a sleepsuit over Teddy's head, leaning over to rub Teddy's nose with his own. 'I hope so.' Teddy blinked sleepily and gurgled at Harry. 'All right. One story before you go to sleep. And then I have to go do something for a bit. But I promise, I'll be back in an hour or so.' Harry picked up Teddy, and settled into the small rocking chair that had mysteriously appeared in a corner of the bedroom last month. With the cot, it made things a bit cramped, but it was all right. He picked up the battered and dog-eared copy of -The Tales of Beedle the Bard he'd found in a bookcase in the sitting room, and opened it to the first story. 'There was once a kindhearted, elderly wizard...' Harry continued to read quietly to Teddy, rocking slowly to the cadence of his words.

'Are you sure you ought to be reading something like that to a baby?' George asked, leaning against the frame of the door, giving the book a skeptical glance.

Harry shrugged. 'It's no different than the Muggle fairy tales. Those can be pretty gruesome. Amputations to remove shoes that make you dance all the time. Mermaids becoming human, but the price is the loss of her voice and it feels like she's being stabbed in the feet every time she takes a step. Princesses eating poisoned apples.'

'Yeah, I suppose. Dad gave Ginny a book of those when she was little. Mum wouldn't read them to her. Said they made her feel like she had the lurgy.'

Harry's lips turned up in a smile. 'Yeah, I can see why...' He reached over and laid the book on the night table and carefully stood up. Teddy had fallen asleep, his head lolling against Harry's shoulder. Harry pressed a kiss to the top of Teddy's head and laid him in the cot, covering him with the blanket.

'I'm on my way out to Lee's party,' George said. 'Sure you don't want to come?'

'Yeah, I'm sure.'

'Well, if you change your mind.' George clattered down the stairs, making Harry cringe a little at the noise, as he glanced in the cot at Teddy, hoping the noise didn't wake his godson. Teddy slept on, oblivious to the commotion.

Harry slipped out of the room, partially closing the door and went down into the sitting room, albeit much quieter than George had done. Molly and Arthur were ensconced in the sofa, listening to the wireless while Arthur read the Daily Prophet and Molly worked on what looked like Ginny's Christmas jumper. 'How long does it take you to make them all?' Harry asked her curiously.

'Oh, a couple of months. I do them here and there when I can.' She glanced up from her work. 'It was much easier when you lot were at school. Didn't have to hide it all the time.'

'She used to have to do it at night when all the boys were small,' Arthur commented. 'After they'd gone to bed.'

'Hush,' Molly chided. 'You know as well as I do it was the one time the younger ones got something new.' She gave Harry a sharp glance. 'You could do with a few new things yourself,' she told him. 'Those trainers are a disgrace. And I'm not sure those jeans you've got are going to survive much longer.'

'Oh...' Harry looked down at his much-abused clothing. 'I hadn't noticed...'

'Madame Malkin's has some smart new robes in,' Molly suggested. 'Maybe you ought to pop over and have a look.'

Harry's mouth worked soundlessly for a moment, trying to figure out how to respond, but Arthur jumped to his rescue. 'I think Harry might prefer Muggle clothing, dear,' he murmured to Molly.

'Oh, right.' She looked up at Harry. 'Hogsmeade weekend is coming up, isn't it?' she asked slyly. 'You'll want to look nice when you see Ginny.'

'I'll think about it.' Harry badly wanted to squirm in embarrassment. 'Could you keep eye on Teddy for a bit? I need to go do something. I'll be back in an hour,' he promised.

'Of course we can,' Molly said. 'Take all the time you need.'

'Thanks.' Harry darted into the scullery and grabbed his jacket against the late October chill. He ran down the length of the back garden and vaulted over the low wall that separated it from the paddock. He jogged down to the Apparition point and pulled out his wand, turning on the spot. He reappeared at the end of a lane he'd seen only a handful of times.

Harry worried his lower lip between his teeth for a moment and struck off down the lane that would take him to the cemetery. He slipped through the kissing gate and wound his way toward his parents' graves. He tended to come a few times a month, sitting quietly in front of the headstones, studiously ignoring the small black one several feet behind him where he'd buried Snape. Harry folded himself to the ground, resting his chin on his drawn-up knees, looking for all the world like a lost child. 'You know Molly's clock?' he asked, hesitating only a little. 'They gave me a hand for my birthday. I haven't told you, because I didn't want you to think I was trying to replace you.' Harry's fingers drifted toward the laces of his trainers and he began to wrap the ends around his index finger. 'It's just nice to be part of a family. It's odd, you know. To have someone tell me I need new clothes, when before nobody really cared. Well, not that nobody really cared, but the people who should have cared didn't.

'Sometimes I wish you were alive, Dad. Because I could ask you how getting married changed things with you, Sirius and Remus. Not that Ron and Hermione are getting married next week, but that's already changing. I guess it should change. It's just been the three of us for so long. Just something else to get used to. Then again, there're things I've told Ginny that I haven't told either Ron or Hermione. Guess it goes both ways, huh?' Harry smiled suddenly. 'See, this is why I like talking to you.' Harry leaned forward and briefly touched each headstone in turn. 'I'll be back soon.' He got to his feet and wandered back to the gate, brushing off the seat of his jeans. He stood indecisively in the lane, with his hands jammed in his pockets, gazing in the direction of his parents' house. Coming to a decision, he began to walk determinedly toward it. He hadn't been there since that disastrous Christmas Eve last year. Why shouldn't I go see it? he asked himself. It is my house, after all.

As Harry approached the house, he could see two figures standing by the fence, their heads close together. Suddenly, one of them bent and began to work one of the slats off the weathered picket fence. 'Oi! What d'you think you're doing?' Harry shouted.

'Blimey!' breathed one of the figures. 'Let's go!'

'Wha' for?' the other grunted, giving the recalcitrant slat a hearty tug.

'It's Harry-bloomin'-Potter, that's why!' the first one hissed, grabbing his companion's elbow, forcing him to abandon the fence. Before Harry could say anything else, the two of them Disapparated.

Harry ran through the gate and into the garden. Large gaps in the fence that hadn't been there last December made him frown in dismay. He cautiously approached the house, and the door swung creakily on its hinges. Swallowing, Harry pushed the door open and exhaled sharply. Pieces of the banister were missing, and it seemed that pieces of furniture from the sitting room here gone, too, judging by the dark smudges in the thick dust on the floor. He put a wary foot on the first step and slowly climbed to the first floor.

At one end of the corridor, a door was blasted off its hinges and Harry approached it, holding his breath. He stopped in the doorway and for the first time actually saw the wreckage that had once been his cot. The room was in a shambles. The pictures were still on the walls, but Harry thought it was only a matter of time before those, too, disappeared. It seemed as if all the toys that had once been in the room were gone. Harry traced the curving pattern carved into the end of the cot, his fingers coming away coated with a layer of dust.

He pulled his hand away from the cot, wiping his fingers down the side of his jeans, and backed out of the room. A splintering sound made Harry turn and run down the stairs. He burst through the front door and pelted into the garden. The pair of souvenir-seekers was back. Harry drew his wand from his pocket and jabbed it at them. They went flying backward several feet, landing with a muffled thump in a meadow on the other side of the lane. 'This is my house!' he yelled at them. 'Not something for you to pinch piece by piece!' Harry picked up a chunk of brick from the grass at his feet and hurled it at them. 'You want something? Take that, you wankers!' The two young wizards snatched at the brick and took off running down the lane, the loud pop of their Disapparition echoing through the valley.

Panting, Harry stepped through the gate and spun on his heel. He began to murmur the spells he and Bill had put on the Burrow when they had come home from Hogwarts in May, anger coursing through his veins. What had once been a visible symbol for resistance against Voldemort had now become something of a curiosity for people to gawk at and try to take pieces of home to display on their mantles. Completing his path around the house, Harry stood at the gate and rested the tip of his wand against the post. As he muttered the words of the final spell, the gate swung closed and locked with an audible click. Harry was the only one who could actually open the gate now.

Shaking, Harry tightened his grip on his wand and Apparated back to the Burrow.

*****

A/N: The quote from The Tales of Beedle the Bard does more-or-less come from the recent publication, but since I haven't had Hermione actually translate it yet, I tried to make it read a little 'older'.