A Long, Strange Trip

X.

Cho found herself continually glancing toward the front door as the afternoon wore on, every time she heard the slightest noise whether it was the rustle of leaves, or the sound of a bird chirping. It was shameful, really; she was acting like a schoolgirl, and while in Harry's house, on his wife's invitation. Honestly Cho, she silently chided herself as she set Damien firmly back in his seat after yet another altercation with Phoebe. You're a grown woman. A married woman.

Luna, meanwhile, had taken Phoebe upstairs to her room after the latest altercation between the two children.

"When can we leave?" Damien said resentfully, arms crossed over his chest.

"Soon, all right? We'll leave soon. Just be good for a little while longer." Cho silenced her son with a look. "Then we'll go to the Quidditch store."

This placated Damien to some degree; he accepted a third piece of cake from Cho, and began to eat quietly.

Taking advantage of Luna's absence, Cho wandered around the room, sneaking glances out the window every now and again to see if Harry was on his way.

So this is the home of a hero, she thought to herself. A real, honest-to-goodness hero. Cho found it amazing, really; the fact that Harry could have more than enough money to never have to work in his life, yet to live under such modest conditions. Cho wondered how much money Harry had, exactly. She knew it was a small fortune - of course nothing close to what Draco and the Malfoys had, but still, it wasn't anything to turn up one's nose at.

Which brought a thought to her mind. Harry abhorred Draco's wealth, and his family's influence - everything about the Malfoys. He would find the idea of having servants (particularly House Elves) very off-putting. Why eat dinner on priceless china when regular dinner plates were more than sufficient? Who needed a personal Quidditch pitch and tailor-made Quidditch uniforms, when you had a spacious backyard, and suitable handmade clothes? This was the way Harry thought, and Cho admired that - she really did. But after living with the Malfoy name for so many years, she'd grown used to those little 'extras', as much as she despised where they came from. Harry would never go for that, not ever. He found it necessary to keep quiet about his money, making only necessary purchases - with the exception of his wedding, which had been a rare moment of splurging for him. While not nearly as ostentatious or lavish as a Malfoy wedding, it was certainly more than Cho would have expected from him.

She wondered if he would take money for the Quidditch camp. No, definitely not, she decided almost immediately. In fact he would probably buy equipment for any child who needed it, but couldn't afford it. Luna would probably make the uniforms, or perhaps buy them secondhand.

"I'm so sorry about that," Luna said dreamily, interrupting Cho's train of thought. Cho found herself momentarily annoyed, but she quickly wiped the scowl from her face.

"No, it's fine," she said.

"Phoebe's got Harry's temper sometimes," Luna remarked offhandedly, as she drifted back to the sofa.

And Harry's instincts, Cho thought. The idea made her suddenly, irrationally nervous.

"Can we go now?" Damien said pointedly, dropping his plate unceremoniously on the coffee table and standing up. "I want to go to the Quidditch store!"

"Soon, Damien. Soon." Cho gestured for him to sit down, but the boy refused.

"No, let's go now! Mummy, you promised if I came here you'd take me to the Quidditch store!"

"Damien!" Cho was mortified.

Then Phoebe appeared at the top of the stairs, looking murderous. Clearly she had heard everything that Damien had just said. Her fists were tightly clenched, down at her sides. "Get out of here! I hate you!"

The unnerving thing was, Cho noticed, that Phoebe seemed to be looking at her more than Damien as she said it. Or was she imagining that?

"And you're not coming to my daddy's Quidditch camp!"

"I wouldn't come for all the Galleons in the whole world!" Damien retorted, his face red with anger.

"Phoebe..." Luna started, but for once even she seemed to be at a loss for words. In her eyes was confusion - it seemed that she was actually surprised by what was happening.

"I think we should go," Cho said anxiously, and went to fetch her cloak.

"Yes, I think you should."

Cho jumped at the sound of Harry's voice. She had been so focused on the altercation between the children that she hadn't noticed Harry's arrival. From the look of him, he'd seen more than enough. He stood in the front doorway; his body was rigid, and all color had left his face. And, Cho noted rather inappropriately, his well-defined pectoral muscles were very taut under his shirt.

In a blur of activity, Cho gathered her cloak, made sure Damien picked up all of his Quidditch supplies, then ushered herself and her son out of the house. Harry stepped aside coldly as she passed, and before she knew it, the front door had slammed shut behind her. Only as an afterthought did she realize she'd left the cake plate inside. But there was certainly no chance of going back in to retrieve it.

"Come on, Mummy!" Damien pulled at her cloak. "Come on!"

"Fine. Let's go, then." She acquiesced, and with one last, frantic look back at the house, Cho took her son's hand and practically dragged him down the path, with tears stinging the corners of her eyes. She literally felt sick to her stomach.

**

As Ginny wandered through the empty rooms of the house, she kept having to remind herself that this was her home. Their home. She looked at Neville and smiled. They would fill this house with love, laughter, and of course, children.

"It is going to be so much fun decorating it," Ginny said. In her mind, she was already envisioning colors, patterns and styles. She almost wanted to ask Neville to postpone the honeymoon so they could get started right away. But no, she could wait. She was actually looking forward to getting out of the country for awhile; plus she was anxious to see those Koalas, and the eucalyptus trees that Neville always talked about.

As she went into the kitchen, it hit her - this. This was what she wanted. To stay home, and take care of her family. She never thought she'd want to be a housewife; growing up in the Burrow, she'd always admired her mother's ability to keep the house in order while also keeping a husband and seven children in line. But it hadn't appealed to her. She'd imagined herself as a career woman; a Healer at St. Mungo's, playing Quidditch on the weekends. But now, as she stood admiring the rows of cabinets, the gleaming countertop, brand new water fixtures, and the light streaming through the windows she realized that this was what she wanted. This, and nothing more. She envisioned a big table right there, in the corner by the window, where she would serve breakfast every morning bathed in soft, warm sunshine. She would still be active in the community, of course - no need to isolate herself completely - perhaps she'd do freelance work, writing articles for the newspaper. But essentially this would be her life. Her family, her husband, her children...

Ginny bit her lower lip pensively, and glanced at Neville, who was at the back window admiring the garden. She wondered how he would take this. It was very unlike her. Frankly, she was still surprised, herself.

"This would be a fantastic place to build a greenhouse," Neville said, not really talking to anyone in particular. There was a satisfied, dreamlike quality to his voice. "There's more than enough room. And a habitat for Trevor, as well. Nothing big, but just a place for him to call his own."

"Hey," Ginny said suddenly, "we should come up with a name for the house, don't you think? You know, like the Burrow? To give it a more homey feeling."

Neville smiled, and crossed the room to take her hands. "Sure, of course," he said, looking utterly thrilled by the idea. "Any suggestions?"

"The Nest," Ginny said off the top of her head. She didn't know how the idea came to her but it seemed to fit.

"The Nest it is," Neville said, and they shared a kiss. "Now, I hate to break this up but we do have to get going."

"Neville, wait. I need to talk to you."

Neville looked concerned. "What is it?"

Ginny cleared her throat. "Being in this house - our home, has made me realize something. I want to stay home for awhile. I mean, take care of the house."

"You mean, like a housewife?"

"Yes. I want to stay at home, and raise a family. I'm not saying that's all I'll ever want to do, but for now...I can't think of anything better."

"Are you sure about this, Gin? I mean, you've talked about going back to school, to train to be a Healer. And the Summer Quidditch League - I thought you were considering trying out next season."

She earnestly clasped his hands in hers and squeezed them tightly. "I know, but right now - Neville, this feels right. I want to have a family. In fact, I'm hoping we've already started."

Neville kissed her. "That's wonderful," he said softly. "But I just want to make sure this is really what you want. It's just that, it's so--"

Ginny smiled. "Not like me, I know. Believe me, I wasn't expecting to feel like this. Maybe it has to do with being married, and having a home of my own. You've always encouraged me to follow my instincts, Neville - to trust myself, right?"

"Of course, but--"

"I've never felt as strongly about this as I do now. It's what I want. Really."

"Well if it's what you want, who am I to argue?" Neville said, and kissed her. "Now, let's get a move on. We're late for our honeymoon."

* * *

Harry stood there for what seemed like ages after pushing shut the door behind Cho and Damien. Luna made no move to touch him, and even Phoebe remained where she was despite the slight sparkle in her eyes that was reserved only for her father.

Luna noticed her daughter's knees twitching anxiously as she remained at the top of the stairs, watching Harry expectantly but with an air of anxiety. The little girl's fingers held onto the banister, yet her hand seemed to lift off from it then fall back down as if she were restraining herself from bolting toward her father.

"Phoebe, please go to your room for awhile, all right?" Harry finally spoke, his voice calm but firm.

"But, I..."

"Go, Pixie," Luna said. Phoebe obeyed.

The disappointment was clear in Harry's eyes as he went to the sofa and sat down. "Luna, I don't understand how you could do this," he said. "Draco Malfoy threated my life at the reception yesterday. He insulted you, and Phoebe. How can you overlook that?"

"Of course I'm not overlooking it, Harry," Luna said. She came to the sofa and sat beside her husband. She took his hand in both of hers. "I just think it's gone on for far too long. I want it to stop, for the sake of our children. Do we really want them to grow up hating each other?"

Harry sighed deeply. He had hated the Malfoys for as long as he'd known them; hated everything they had done to his family, hated their alliance with Voldemort, hated that they could use their wealth to buy power and make others do their bidding. They tortured, threatened, and humiliated others just because they could. He couldn't imagine a life in which his family and Draco's broke bread, and their children played together.

"It's not right," Harry said, startling himself. He hadn't expected to say those words allowed.

"No, Harry, it's not. That's why I want it to stop."

Harry stood up. "What I mean, is all the things the Malfoys do - the way they treat people - that's not right. They have done it for centuries, and I can't - no, I won't - just brush that aside like nothing happened. I know you mean well, and I love you for that. But I - "

"Harry, Phoebe doesn't even know why she hates Damien. She just does, because you've taught her to. It doesn't have to be that way. I would never ask you to forgive Draco Malfoy for what he and his family have done- not ever. But at least let Phoebe make up her own mind. Think about your Mum and Dad. Would they want this for you, and for your children?"

Harry's demeanor changed the moment his parents were mentioned. She was right; he knew that his parents would hate the way he'd carried this hate with him all his life, and the way it was being passed down to Phoebe - and undoubtedly to his unborn sons. But to call a truce would be, to him, like giving up. It would be like forgetting what had happened to his parents, all because of hate and the obsessive need for power and control. Hate had killed his parents, along with countless other innocent witches and wizards. He could never forgive that.

"Harry, think about this. Our boys - they're already learning to hate." Luna leaned closer to him, her breath soft and warm against his face. "Please, Harry, let go. For their sake, let go."

A sense of exhaustion mixed with despair washed over Harry as he looked into his wife's eyes. "I can't.You know I'd do anything for you and our family, Luna. But I just can't do this. I'm sorry."

* * *

Oh this was just wonderful! Molly Weasley smiled to herself after sending off Pigwidgeon with the reply to Hermione's owl, along with a fresh batch of pumpkin cookies. They would be moving in one week from today - that didn't give her a lot of time to plan, but it would have to do. She'd already decided that Fred & George's room would make the best quarters for them; while it wasn't the biggest room in the house, it was certainly better than the cramped lodgings Ron had lived in. Plus it was on the second floor, which would make it easier for Hermione to get up and down the stairs. Certainly she would be able to Apparate for the time being, but near the end of her term there would be none of that. Pregnancy always seemed to make a witches' magic a bit scattered; there was too much likelihood of splinching, or winding up in the wrong place. She remembered none too fondly of winding up in the hen house when she'd tried to Apparate from her kitchen to the market when she was six months along with Charlie.

"Well, you certainly look cheerful," Arthur Weasley remarked as he came in from the garage, where he had been tinkering most of the morning. He kissed his wife's cheek. "Anything I should know about?"

"Hermione just sent an owl. She and Ron are moving in next week! I knew this would be a good idea, Arthur - having the two of them here will be absolutely marvelous."

"Yes dear, I'm sure it will be," Arthur said, although a look of momentary concern crossed his face.

"It will be so nice to have the children in the house again. I mean, yes, of course they're not children - they're adults," she added, noting the look on her husband's face, "but the point is, the house will be full, it won't feel so..." she looked around.

"This is only temporary, Molly. It's just for the year, until they have enough for their own house."

"Of course it's temporary!" Molly gave him a cheerful kiss on the cheek.

"I know you miss having the kids around, but I don't think Ron or Hermione is going to much care for being coddled. They will still have their own lives - Ron will work, and if I know Hermione she'll work until the very last minute." Arthur smiled fondly. "They'll want to take care of themselves."

"Well there's certainly no harm in giving Hermione some tips about pregnancy and motherhood," Molly went on. "We'll certainly have to open up those boxes of baby things again. I knew they would come in handy. Imagine, if they have a little girl she can wear Ginny's jumpers and bonnets, since Amanda and Samantha have outgrown them."

"Yes, certainly." Arthur couldn't help but feel a sense of pride when he thought of holding his youngest son's child in his lap. Imagine, Ron a father! And with Hermione as its mother, that child would probably smarter than the whole lot of them. But then something else came to mind. "I was thinking, perhaps it would be a good idea to let them pay rent."

"We can't do that, they're family!"

"But like I said before, dear, they're going to want to live their own lives while they're here. I'm sure both Hermione and Ron will want to contribute to the household."

"I already told Hermione it wasn't necessary. What do we need with extra money, now that all of our children are launched into the world?"

"Well, we are nearing that age...I won't be working at the Ministry forever," Arthur said. "We should think about how we're going to manage. Come on now, dear, I think it's a good idea. We don't have to charge them too much, just enough so that they feel like they're being helpful."

Molly sighed. Even though she didn't like the idea much, she had to admit he had a point. "All right," she said. "But not too much."

"I was thinking along the lines of 15 Galleons a month. That's less than half of what they're paying now. That sounds reasonable. Good." Arthur gave his wife a kiss on the cheek. "Now, why don't you send off an owl to Ron and Hermione, and I'll fix myself a bit of a snack."

* * *

So they were moving out. Hermione had talked to the landlord, and their last day in the flat would be one week from today. She'd already begun taking an inventory of all their things; estimating how much of it would be able to come with them to the Burrow. The rest would have to be put in storage. She was like a witch possessed, Ron thought to himself, as he sauntered down the street. He'd told Hermione he wanted to get to work a little early, to get a feel for things, but he had another stop to make first.

He slipped his hands into the deep pockets of his trousers and sighed. He still wasn't sold on the idea of moving back with his parents, but if it meant they could have their own house in a year, he figured he could deal with it. Even if that meant endless ribbing from Fred & George. He could hear them now: "Ickle Ronniekins needs his mummy!" Oh, hell. They'd make him miserable. But, this is what Hermione wanted. Right now, that was his top priority. To keep her happy, and make sure she didn't go too far off the deep end. That's what Luna had said - to be there for her, and support her.

Which of course meant that he'd be sticking with the dance lessons after all. Despite the fact that their lives were completely changing, one thing that wasn't changing was their anniversary. He was determined to make it unforgettable.

"Ah, Mr. Weasley!" Polly Snapdragon emerged from the back room the moment the door clicked shut behind Ron; the aroma of lemon polish preceded her. She looked absolutely delighted to see him. She wore essentially the same outfit she'd worn two days ago, only now the skirt was a soft blue color. "Shall we pick up where we left off? We have the entire studio to ourselves today."

"Sure, yeah, okay," Ron agreed, and allowed himself to be pulled into the studio

* * *