Footsteps To Valhalla

-- CHAPTER THREE --

The Past Returns

For a moment nobody said a word, then, as Ron drew in a great breath, all hell broke loose.

"WHAT THE BLOODY HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'VE BEEN PLAYING AT, GINNY?"

Harry winced, and next to him he felt Hermione heave a great sigh and rub her forehead. Here it was again - Ron's famous temper.

"GOING OFF WITHOUT A WORD....WORRIED SICK....IF YOU EVER DO THIS AGAIN...."

Ginny stood in silence while Ron yelled at her, her arms folded and eyes flashing, fiery hair tumbling over her shoulders and wearing a glare which Harry had seen turn lesser men than Ron into stuttering imbeciles.

As he prepared to insert himself between the two of them if necessary, Harry noticed another person in the room behind Angelina's chair - Patrick, Ginny's Bureau colleague and boyfriend. Harry didn't know him very well, but he had learned after only a brief acquaintance that Patrick, not unlike Collins, didn't suffer fools gladly. He had an imposing presence and a commanding tone, which might have been due to the fact that most people he met knew him to be a Bureau agent, with a respectable desk job by day and business, not entirely unlike Harry's, that required him to prowl the backstreets by night. And at that moment he was glaring at Ron with such fierceness that Harry had a momentary worry for Ron's physical health.

"...WHAT POSSESSED YOU TO GET IN WITH THIS BLOODY DEPARTMENT IN THE FIRST PLACE...might have been KILLED and nobody would have KNOWN....of all the IRRESPONSIBLE, IDIOTIC..."

"DON'T speak to her like that!" warned Patrick, stepping swiftly in front of Ginny with a practiced movement.

"Don't tell me how I can talk to my sister!"

"If you'd just give her a break and stop playing the overprotective brother you might find she'd confide in you!"

Ron began to bluster.

"Thankyou," Ginny said to Patrick, coolly, "but I'm perfectly able to handle my prat of a brother without help, you know."

She turned back to Ron and prodded him in the stomach with her finger.

"Not that what I do with my life is any of your business, Ronald, but I think I'm adult enough to look after myself and do my job without needing to be babysat by you!"

Ron snorted. "Whatever! What responsible adult buggers off into the unknown without telling anyone where she's gone?"

"I told Dad!"

"Dad's in New York!"

"She still told him!" objected Patrick, scowling.

"YOU KEEP OUT OF THIS!" snarled Ron. He looked expectantly at Ginny, who simply looked expectantly back.

"Why should I tell you?" she snapped.

"Because I'm your brother!"

"At the moment you're just overreacting."

"OVERREACTING?"

Harry decided it was time to act as Ron turned an unpleasant shade of maroon and Ginny clenched her fists. Hermione was fluttering anxiously at his elbow.

"OK, stop yelling at her, Ron," he said, firmly.

"I'm NOT yelling!"

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Really? You amaze me."

"But, she...you know what she...." blustered Ron, gesturing wildly with his hands to make up for his sudden lapse into incoherence.

"Oh, shut up, Ron!" suggested Ginny, impatiently.

"Don't fucking tell me to shut up!"

The door into the shop opened a crack and a red head poked out.

"People, if you must rave and storm in this uncivilised fashion can you please relocate?" said George, politely. "We have a shop full of impressionable children and we don't want to scar them for life, now, do we?"

Ron make a strangled noise, and Ginny, letting out a long sigh, took his other arm - the one Harry was not holding in a wary grip - and propelled him sharply out into the garden. Harry, Hermione and Patrick followed behind them.

Shoving aside the broken rabbit hutch with a sandaled foot, Ginny turned around looking tempestuous, shaking her hair over her shoulder.

"If you stop behaving like an obnoxious git, Ron, I'll tell you what's been happening!"

"Damn right you will!"

"Oh, shut up and let her talk, Ron," said Patrick, impatiently.

Ron swelled visibly, but thanks to the firm pressure of Harry's hand on his elbow he swallowed the angry retort on his lips.

"You were in Egypt, weren't you?" Harry said, deciding that a change of tack was in order.

From the moment he had spotted her on the armchair he had been looking at her glowing, golden skin and shining hair that seemed to catch fire in the sunshine. She was looking remarkably trim and healthy, and, although Harry reproved himself for thinking it, beautiful.

Ginny nodded. "Patrick and I have been working on a dig outside Cairo. There's a continuous turnover of Bureau staff there, and the job we're doing is an ongoing thing - but I'm not going into that now," she added, firmly, as Ron opened his mouth. "It's got nothing to do with you, and I'm not sure I'd tell you even if it did."

"Oh, whatever!" snorted Ron. "Everyone knows the Bureau is a cloak-and-dagger department working with the Aurors - Moody was going on about it yesterday, wasn't he?" He turned to Harry for confirmation. "If you've been abroad it's because they've got you in the agent unit, and you've only been there one year! God damn it, Ginny, if you go and get yourself killed..."

"Oh, what, you'll shout at me some more?"

"I'll....I'll..." stammered Ron, glowering. "This is all YOUR fault!" he burst out, rounding on Patrick. "What did you drag her into this for?"

"Don't start on me," said Patrick, ominously.

"Excuse me, but he did not 'drag me into this'!" exclaimed Ginny, furiously. "I joined the Bureau for my own reasons, and I'm doing my job, end of story!"

Harry had fears for Ron's blood pressure, but fortunately at that moment the door opened and Bill came out, putting himself firmly between his two youngest siblings.

"No need to ask what's going on here," he said, dryly. "All right, Ron, I think you've made your point, now leave her alone."

"But...."

"You heard me - leave her alone!"

Bill turned to Ginny and gave her a quick hug, and soon they were greeting each other and exchanging news.

Ron gave a final snarl and stormed around the side path, radiating temper.

"Oh dear," muttered Hermione, anxiously. "Perhaps we should..."

"I'll go," sighed Harry. As he went around the path he reflected that it was getting to be something of a child-minding rota between he and Hermione now, taking it in turns to monitor Ron's moods and drag him back to nicety.

He caught up with him halfway down the Alley.

"Oi! Where are you going?"

Ron kept walking, barging through the groups of shoppers loitering outside the decorated windows and enjoying the balmy sunshine.

"Slow down, will you?" Harry insisted, as Ron narrowly avoided sending a table flying outside Thomasina's Tearoom, much to the annoyance of the nearby customers.

"Don't you start ordering me around as well!" snapped Ron, moderating his pace.

"Wouldn't dream of it."

"I can't believe she's acting like this is all right!"

"Like what's all right?"

Ron gestured wildly again but he refrained from shouting, which pleased Harry enormously. He was beginning to get a headache. "You know what!" exclaimed Ron.

"She's just doing her job, Ron, like we are."

"But what is her job?" Ron persisted. "Everyone knows what the Bureau's like. Look at Patrick! Remember the time we met him in the Auror Department last Christmas in the middle of the night? Bleeding everywhere, broken shoulder, raving about some psychotic gang of crooks on his tail..."

"Ssssh! Keep your voice down!" Harry hissed, as several people standing outside the Frog and Nightgown looked at them both in shock and pricked up their ears.

"See what I mean!" said Ron, significantly, jerking his head at the group as he and Harry walked on by. "This is dangerous stuff, Harry."

"Patrick's a Bureau agent, Ron - his work is more or less the same as an Auror's," Harry pointed out, steering him through a large crowd filtering into the Alley in the opposite direction. Eventually they broke out into the sunny Square, and headed for one of the benches near the fountain.

"Who's to say Ginny won't end up being like him, though?" Ron insisted.

Harry fought to suppress the intense feeling of unease which had welled up inside him. "She's only just joined," he replied, trying to ignore the niggling feeling of doubt somewhere around his stomach.

"That won't stop her, the stubborn wench."

He was still scowling and looking annoyed, and Harry had just opened his mouth to tell him to calm down when he nearly collided with someone coming the other way.

"Damn! Sorry, I..." he began, but then he found himself faced with a very familiar pair of almond-shaped eyes and a mocking mouth that was smiling enigmatically.

"Hello, Harry," said Faith, brightly. "Fancy bumping into you! Hello, Ron."

Ron grunted in response, still lost in dark thoughts. Thus occupied he fortunately missed Harry's awkwardness.

"Er...hello..." Harry said, feeling enormously embarrassed as he always did when his life in the open met his secret one. Faith caught his eye and smiled knowingly.

"I need a walk," announced Ron, absently. "See you at Hildebrand's later, Harry."

Once he was gone Harry let out a long breath and relaxed, and Faith burst out laughing.

"The look on your face!" she chuckled. "Poor Ron! But they say ignorance is bliss."

Harry ran his hands through his hair and grinned weakly back. "He'll kill me when he finds out."

"Why should he find out?"

"He nearly caught me out this morning!"

She smiled rather abstractedly, and for a moment neither of them said anything. Then:

"Sit down, Harry. I need to tell you something."

Something in her tone got his attention, and he obeyed feeling rather concerned.

"What's happened?" he asked.

"Collins happened, that's what," Faith replied, a little savagely. "He's...he's sending me to Moscow. Tomorrow."

Harry blinked in sheer shock. "What?"

"It's one of these ongoing affairs," she said, fiddling rather nervously with the strap of her handbag. "The Russian Ministry has finally decided to accept European help, what with the sudden increase of attacks out there, and Collins wants me in the first despatch."

"He can't just pack you off without any warning!" Harry exclaimed.

"He can, and that's what he's doing. It's not technically official yet that we're allowed into the country, so until the announcement by the Russian Minister we're really breaking the law by going out there. Collins has decided to send us the Muggle way, for security. I've got to get a train tomorrow afternoon."

Tomorrow afternoon. Harry's mind reeled, and for a moment he wondered if he was sleeping and the whole day had been a surreal dream. It was typically Collins, though, to make a sudden decision and expect everyone to fit in with his plans, and to be utterly insensitive to their feelings into the bargain.

"How long will you be gone?" he asked, hollowly.

Faith shrugged. "I don't know. A while." She took his hand and gave him a small smile. "Don't pretend to be heartbroken, Harry, I know you're not."

He looked up in surprise and saw the calm good-humour in her eyes, tinged with something not unlike resignation.

"Neither are you," he said.

"No."

So they understood each other, thought Harry, with some relief. She was such a closed book, and so unlike anyone he'd ever met before, that he'd been rather dreading the inevitable moment when they went their separate ways.

She seemed to read his thoughts. "I'll miss you, though," she said, softly.

"I'll miss you too. I suppose all things have to end."

"Only some things," she replied, thoughtfully. "Other things can go on forever, if they're right."

She looked at him knowingly, and he understood her point. "And this isn't," he said.

She shook her head. "We've always known, haven't we? I think....I think that we were just there when we needed each other, if you know what I mean."

Harry did, exactly. Faith had appeared in his life at a moment when everything seemed to be changing and nothing was constant, and the future looked bare and unpredictable. She had been a source of stability and comfort for him, and he for her.

"Will I see you again before you go?" he asked, as she got up to leave.

"I'll be in the park tomorrow morning," she replied, with a smile. "Perhaps we'll bump into each other again then."

Harry smiled back. "Perhaps."

He watched her walk across the Square until she was lost in the crowds, feeling rather numb. It was moments like this, he reflected, that seemed unreal while they were going on, and only later after several drinks and many brooding hours did their significance sink in.

He sat on the bench for a long time with his mind a blank, until he'd lost count of the minutes. He knew Ron would be waiting in Hildebrand's with a comforting bottle of Old Ogden's and plenty of gripes of his own which would take Harry's mind off everything, but somehow he couldn't summon the energy to move.

"Hey, Harry, are you OK?"

Harry looked up to see Neville Longbottom peering anxiously at him.

"Oh...hi, Neville...yeah, I'm fine."

Neville didn't seem too convinced. "You've been sitting here for ages - I've been watching from the library. Is something wrong?"

"Not really."

He knew Neville wouldn't believe him, but it surprised him considerably when he plonked down on the bench next to him and let out a great sigh.

"I know how you feel. Right now I feel like going to bed for a fortnight and wishing all my problems would go away!"

"What problems?" Harry asked.

Neville shrugged and looked despondant. "Just stuff - you know. My grandmother keeps on at me to get a better job and make something of myself, and there's no arguing with her. I'd rather be doing something else, but I'm lucky to have this."

Harry felt suddenly sorry for him. Neville had never had much confidence at school, and he hadn't left Hogwarts with the best array of NEWTs in the world, but he had a gift in Herbology which could be put to much better use than simple filing and categorising in a library. He also knew Neville's grandmother of old - she had given Neville a terrible time during his exams, and clearly she was still at it.

"You deserve better, Neville," Harry said. "Can't you look for something else?"

"Who'd employ me?" asked Neville, resignedly. "I don't exactly shine out, do I? I wish I could be more like you."

"Don't say that," said Harry, feeling a sudden flinch pass through him.

"I do, though. You're so capable, Harry, and brave. I'm really not."

Harry felt unaccountably awkward. There were things Neville didn't have the faintest clue about. He saw only the trainee Auror whom the Daily Prophet used to write about - the boy hero who attracts trouble and has somehow survived to the age of twenty despite unnerving odds to the contrary. If he only knew what a screwed-up, complicated life he really led...

"And there's girls," added Neville, with a sigh. "I don't understand girls."

Harry stared at him. "Girls? What sort of girls?"

"All girls. It's very confusing."

Neville looked so wistful that Harry almost laughed aloud, but he fortunately managed to restrain himself. It would have hurt Neville's feelings, and it shouldn't really come as such a surprise to him that clumsy, good-natured Neville Longbottom had issues with women along with the rest of mankind.

"It's a fact of life, I think," Harry replied, with a smile that he hoped would come across as comforting rather than amused.

"You too, eh?" said Neville, returning the smile. "Well, I can think of only one solution. Fancy a drink at Hildebrand's?"

"Absolutely. Ron should be there by now."

"Then lets go and find him. We all can get drunk and complain together."

Harry couldn't prevent a laugh this time. He had never seen Neville drunk, nor even imagined such a scenario. It seemed there was a lot about Neville he'd underestimated!

***

"...and then she turns up this afternoon as though nothing had happened, and then she tries to make out that I'm the one being unreasonable!"

Neville, Harry could see, was trying so hard to be sympathetic and say the right things, but he was looking absolutely bewildered and out of his depth. Apparently a tense, wound-up Ron was something he had forgotten how to deal with after three years of not sleeping in the same school dormitory.

The three of them were sitting in Hildebrand's in their favourite alcove by the back window, next to a huge Tudor open fireplace decorated with foliage and photographs and antique brassware. In the winter it held a roaring fire that gave off the scent of apples and cinnamon, and on hot summer days like that particular one Hildebrand would enchant the flames to be cold and send pleasant breezes through the rooms. Harry, nursing his glass of Old Ogdens, found himself staring absently into the hearth where Hildebrand's dog lay curled up on an old blanket, while Ron went tirelessly on and on.

"I mean, is it so unnatural that I should want to look out for my little sister? None of the others seem bothered, and somebody needs to do it, what with Dad away and Charlie abroad. Why does she have such a problem accepting that I'm trying to protect her?"

Neville gave a nervous shrug. "Isn't that what a brother's supposed to do?"

"Exactly!" exclaimed Ron, "exactly! That's my whole point!"

Harry took another mouthful of Old Ogdens and tried to ignore him, drowning himself in his own thoughts now that they'd had a chance to work around in his mind for a while.

He was surprised at the way he was feeling. It had nothing to do with being upset or betrayed or lonely or shocked, or any of the other emotions that usually come from a relationship breaking up - rather it was that slightly pensive, don't-know-what-to-do-next sort of feeling that comes from the ending of an era, and the large expanse of unwritten time stretching out ahead of him.

A group of people came in through the door, chattering and laughing as they made their way through the tables. Among them was Anthony Goldstein and his girlfriend. He gave Harry a grin as he passed, which Harry returned rather half-heartedly.

It had been inevitable that one day he and Faith would turn and go their separate ways, and he'd known right from the beginning that what he had felt for her hadn't been love - but suddenly that simple fact had become surprisingly irrefutable, as though he had been trying to suppress it all along. He hadn't loved her, and she had certainly not loved him. It had just been....Harry wasn't sure what it had been.

"Oi!" said Ron, suddenly, making Harry jump. "Are you listening?"

"Of course," Harry replied, wearily.

Ron frowned. "Why so depressed? Earlier you were all excited about..." He broke off and looked across at Neville. "About Romania and everything," he finished, awkwardly.

Harry gave him a warning look - he had been about to mention Mundungus.

"Nothing, don't worry about it," he replied, hoping Ron wouldn't press him. "Are you done whinging about Ginny yet?"

"I'm not whinging about Ginny, I'm just telling Neville what happened!"

"I think by now he gets it, Ron."

Ron shot him a long, levelling look. "Don't you agree with me that what she's doing is ridiculously dangerous?"

Harry felt impatient and annoyed all of a sudden. "Does it matter whether I agree or not? I'm not her brother!"

"You can't think this is a good idea, Harry! You broke up with her in case she got mixed up in this war, and now here she is disappearing off into the thick of it all by herself! Hasn't that occurred to you?"

Of course it had occurred to him. It was what made him uneasy, and why he had been so hard pushed to cope with Ron's complaints about it ever since she'd gone off to Egypt. It was what he was trying very hard not to think too much about, especially on top of everything else.

"Nobody can stop her doing what she wants," he said, as composedly as he could manage. "She's a grown woman and just because you're her brother doesn't mean you can try to order her around."

Ron stared in surprise, and Neville looked embarrassed. Harry rather wished he'd kept his mouth shut, but it was too late now.

Just then Hildebrand himself bounded over brandishing another bottle of Firewhisky.

"Ah! Got it!" he exclaimed, happily, beaming as widely as he could underneath his thick, white moustache. "Right at the bottom of the crate! Best year in all of London! Let me fill you up, lads!"

"Thanks, Hildebrand," said Harry.

"You're welcome, m'boy!" He slapped Harry on the back genially, and then waved exuberantly at someone coming in through the door. "Merlin's beard! This is an surprise!"

The three boys turned around. Hagrid - it could have been no other - was squeezing himself through the various customers, apologising as he knocked stools over and budged elbows. He waved exuberantly at them all.

"Hildebrand! S'been a long time, eh?"

Hildebrand beamed back equally cheerfully. "A very long time. Come, come in. Usual, Hagrid? I never forget!"

"Please!," said Hagrid, and Hildebrand bustled off. "Hello Harry - Ron - Neville! What're yeh lot doin' 'ere?"

"Drinking," replied Ron, gloomily.

"Oh yeah?" said Hagrid, raising a bushy eyebrow. "Well, budge over an' I'll join yeh."

He inserted himself onto the bench-seat beside Ron, squashing him up against the window, and surveyed the three of them with suspicion.

"Ah, I know a sorrow-drownin' session when I see one," he said, wisely. "Wha's this all about?"

"Nothing," Harry replied, firmly. He refused to get into a discussion about this, and he had a horrible feeling that if Hagrid asked Ron what the trouble was, Ron would tell him, sparing no detail. "What brings you here, Hagrid?"

"Oh, Hogwarts stuff, Hogwarts stuff," said Hagrid, evasively. "An' one or two things ter do fer the Order, yeh know."

"What sort of things?"

Hagrid shook his head solemnly. "Oh, can' tell yeh, Harry. Secret, yeh see. I'm just passin' through on me way to Headquarters, as it were."

"Where exactly is Headquarters, Hagrid?" asked Ron, curiosity temporarily making him perk up and forget his various complaints.

"S'no good, Ron, I can' tell yeh. All very hush-hush, yeh know. Ah, thanks, Hildebrand!"

An enormous tankard had been placed in front of him - nearly the size of a punchbowl. Hagrid picked it up and took a huge gulp, wiping his mouth on his sleeve.

"Ahh, that's better. Can' get beer like that anywhere else. Well, enough about me - wha's the trouble with yeh lot, then? Never seen such a miserable bunch!"

Ron grunted and stared into his glass. Neville turned red and started fiddling with the cuff of his shirt. Harry shifted awkwardly and refused to meet Hagrid's gaze.

"Oh, blimey!" said Hagrid, looking from one to another in astonishment. "Wha's happened to yeh all?"

"Women," muttered Ron, darkly. "Women happened. They suddenly developed minds of their own and made it their mission to screw us over as often as they can!"

Hagrid blinked in confusion for a moment, as he tried to puzzle out Ron's meaning. Then he sighed and took up the whisky bottle.

"Come on, lads, 'ave another one. S'th'only thing at times like this."

"Madame Maxime been giving you grief, then, Hagrid?" said Ron, with a grunt.

Hagrid sniffed. "Olympe's in France. She's doin' important war work." He looked down at his tankard and looked suddenly rather melancholy. "S'lonely without her, yeh know. Sort of wish we had time to...well, yeh know."

Harry and Ron exchanged glances across the table, smirking subtly behind their glasses.

"Makes yeh sort of want ter do more and get all this over with," Hagrid went on, sadly. "Too dangerous these days fer..." He gave a great sniff, much to Harry's horror. The last time Hagrid had got upset in Harry's presence he had drunk so much of Professor Slughorn's mead that within minutes he'd been paralytic and passed out on his kitchen table. Harry had the distinct impression that Hildebrand, kindly host though he was, would not be amused at having a drunken half-giant sobbing uncontrollably over his customers.

"Let's change the subject," Harry suggested, giving Ron and Neville an urgent look.

"It's terrible, this war!" burst out Hagrid, tearfully. "So terrible! The waste and the waitin' to see what happens next, yeh know."

"The Aurors have things under control, Hagrid," said Harry. "And the Order..."

"S'never been the same since Dumbledore went!" sniffed Hagrid, wiping his eyes on the back of his hand and taking another massive gulp of his drink. "Nobody had ter fear nothing' while he was in charge!"

"Come on, Hagrid, it's not all bad," said Ron, looking bewildered.

"Ah, yer too young, Ron, ter remember the las' time. Dreadful, it was. S'worse this time. We need another Dumbledore, that's wha' we need! Before it gets even worse than it is now!"

No matter what they said Hagrid refused to be placated, and an hour later they were still there, sunk low in gloom.

"I need to get home," muttered Neville with slightly unfocused eyes. He'd had rather more Old Ogden's than he should have done. "Gran's going to murder me."

"Yeah, let's get out of here," agreed Harry, looking over at where Ron was groaning and rubbing a head that was obviously splitting, and Hagrid had started to slide off the edge of the bench. Time to put an end to this, he thought. "How are you getting to the Manor, Hagrid?"

"Walkin' ter the Ministry first," replied Hagrid, with one final sniff and a watery smile. "Yeh lot get on."

When they emerged into the cool evening air a little while later, Harry was feeling even more depressed than he had when they'd gone in. He bade a farewell to Neville, who disappeared rather unsteadily in the opposite direction, and he and Ron began strolling slowly down the Alley to Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes.

"Urgh," said Ron, rubbing his forehead. "I feel officially crap."

"Join the club," said Harry, dully.

"You all right?" asked Ron, in concern. "You've been weird all evening."

"I'm fine," Harry lied.

"Worried about Romania? Don't be - it's not the worst decision you'll ever have to make in your life, let's face it."

"Great, that makes me feel better," said Harry, wryly.

Ron sighed. "You know what I mean. Oh, bugger, I forgot my jacket! You go on, I'll just go back and get it."

Harry wandered on alone, kicking his feet against the cobblestones and letting the soft breeze cool his skin. It was a beautiful evening, and the moon was shining and almost full - the sort of night that ought to lift the spirits of anyone.

The murmur of low voices caused Harry to stop just before rounding the little bend to Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. In the shop doorway under the gable, illuminated by the moonlight, were two people standing very close together and saying their goodnights.

Ginny and Patrick.

Harry felt the magic of the evening disappear as quickly as it had made itself first felt, and suddenly he felt unaccountably irritable. Frowning, he waited in the shadows until Patrick had gone, after a final, lingering embrace, and Ginny had slipped back inside.

It wasn't as though it was the first time he'd seen them together. There had been that Bonfire Night when they'd got together, and dozens of times after that, but for some reason that evening it annoyed him. Putting it dismissively down to the fact that they were blissfully happy while he was feeling bad-tempered and depressed, he slipped around the back and let himself in through the back door.

Four hours later, Harry heard the sitting room clock strike three, the chimes echoing strangely in the silence. Turning over heavily for what seemed like the hundredth time since he'd got into bed, he sighed and tried to ignore the fact that he was feeling extremely tense and uncomfortable. Loud, rasping snores were coming from the room nextdoor to his where Ron was evidently comatose, but there was little other indication that there was anyone except Harry alive in the world at that moment.

He turned over again, making the springs creak.

This is ridiculous, he told himself, sternly.

Tossing the bedclothes off with another frustrated sigh, Harry got out of bed and reached for a jumper. If he was going to be awake he might as well do something instead of just lying there.

The stairs down to the ground floor were twisty and uneven, and - since it was the middle of the night - pitch black. Harry felt his way gingerly down them, negotiating the sneaky little curves and missing steps. The moonlight, streaming in through the landing window, was just about enough to see by, and he was just observing this fact when something warm and soft bumped into him at the foot of the stairs, followed by a waft of a delicious scent that he remembered very well indeed.

"Jesus!" he yelped in surprise.

"Harry?" said a familiar voice. Then a blaze of light illuminated the scene. It was Ginny, holding her glowing wand aloft. "Merlin's teeth, you made me jump!"

"Sorry," he replied, with a weak laugh, letting go of the bannister he'd gripped in reflex. His heart was pounding so loud he was sure she would hear it. "I didn't hear you."

"No, I was trying to be quiet," said Ginny, with a smile. "I just couldn't sleep tonight, for some reason, so I thought I'd come down and make hot chocolate."

She lifted her other hand, which was holding an enormous mug full of something that smelled heavenly.

"So was I," said Harry.

"Oh. Well, come into the kitchen and I'll make you one too," said Ginny, jerking her head in the direction she'd just come from. "My hot chocolate is unbeatable!"

"Are you sure? I don't want to keep you up..."

She waved away the comment. "Don't worry - I probably wouldn't get off anyway. I think it's just being in a different bed again. I can't seem to get used to all the moving about!"

Harry sat down in one of the chairs around the kitchen table as she bustled about with his chocolate, watching the moonlight dance on her hair. It looked almost alive.

"Where exactly have you been based, then, all this time?" he asked, dragging his eyes away with the vague feeling that he oughtn't to find it so alluring.

"Oh, we were in a sort of bungalow thing on the dig-site, but we were moving around quite a lot. One night a hotel, one night a tent, and so on."

"A dig-site?"

Ginny nodded and smiled at him, sweeping her hair over her shoulder with a deft hand movement. It trickled, liquid-like, through her fingers. "I can tell you because you won't get all touchy and annoying like Ron." She sat down opposite him across the table, handing him his mug of chocolate. She cleared her throat like a speaker preparing to give a professional presentation. "We were sent to an archaeological site in the desert near Cairo, to keep an eye on some of the black market dealing going on in magical antiquities out there - Mundungus' type of business, you know the sort of thing. Anyway, once we'd got out there Patrick got a summons from one of the top Bureau officials telling him that there was more to the problem than just illegal dealing."

"Like what?" asked Harry, curiously.

"Apparently there's a lot of Death Eater activity in the area, and they've been trying to get the antiquity dealers onto their side. Usually watching the Death Eaters would be an Auror affair, but the top people seemed to think that it would be more subtle if Patrick and I and some others were doubling up our roles and pretending to be innocent archaeologists on the dig, while actually keeping an eye on the dealers - which is part of the Bureau's job - and on their negotiations with the Death Eaters."

Harry's eyes widened, and the old uneasiness crept upon him again. "Serious stuff, then."

"Pretty serious," said Ginny. "Patrick did most of it. I just had to keep up the whole façade at the dig and watch and learn."

"What happened? Did you find anything out?"

Ginny shrugged. "Not all that much, actually. I think Patrick knows more than he's telling me, frankly, but that's all part of the game. Seniors and juniors aren't technically supposed to exchange information."

"Are you going out again?"

"Eventually, I expect, but they want Patrick somewhere else pretty soon, and there's a stack of work I've got to get started on here." She broke off and smiled encouragingly. "Anyway, enough about me. What's behind your midnight rambling?"

He avoided her eyes. "Oh, just work and stuff - you know," he said, dismissively.

Ginny looked sceptical. "Hermione told me about Collins wanting you to go off to Romania."

"Did she?

"Yes." Ginny leaned forward and said, in a business-like fashion: "Don't not go because you think Collins is a stone-hearted idiot. He is, but you don't have to be."

Others had said similar things over the past couple of days, but coming from Ginny it seemed almost like a validation. He managed a smile.

"You remember what Ingrisfeld was like, though, Gin - a bloody disaster!"

"So go knock some sense into them all," suggested Ginny, simply. "They need someone out there who has some proper skill and sensibility - Charlie told me so last time I spoke to him! They really want you to go, you know."

Harry glanced up and caught her eyes. They were just the same as they'd always been - bright and wise and beautiful - and the moonlight was shining in them. He'd forgotten how they crinkled up when she smiled.

"I keep thinking about what Collins said, you know," he told her.

"Collins sounds as though his mother hated him," said Ginny, tartly. "Don't listen to what he says."

"Everyone else thinks he has a point," Harry replied, thinking of his conversation with Bill and Remus and Tonks the day before. "Tonks says I'll understand when I get out there."

"Maybe that's a good enough reason to go," said Ginny.

Harry studied the bottom of his mug, thoughtfully. He was getting tired of having the same conversation over again, and learning nothing new about what the mission was going to involve. But Ginny's presence was comforting in some strange way, and hearing encouragement from her brought him closer to making a decision than anything had before.

"Don't worry about the You Know Whats, either," Ginny went on, softly. "We can't do anything about them just sitting here, waiting."

"Mundungus is coming out soon," Harry found himself saying.

"Yes, Hermione told me that too," Ginny replied. "But that's two months away. You've got plenty of time."

"Meanwhile more people are getting killed - "

"One impossible complication at a time, Harry, please," she laughed, not unkindly - he understood that. He swirled his chocolate around his mug, lost in his thoughts.

After a moment Ginny looked straight at him and said, firmly: "Nobody can make your mind up for you about Romania, Harry. This is your decision, and don't let anyone push you into anything you don't want to do."

Harry smiled gratefully. Typical Ginny, to subtly remind him to be a man and stop complaining while wearing the innocent mask of confidante and colleague. She was astonishing.

They talked for a while longer about all kinds of things: Ron, Romania, Mundungus' release, and Harry found himself missing large chunks of the conversation because he was thinking of other things - not least the way Ginny always wore pyjamas that were a size too big for her, so the collar of her shirt kept falling over her shoulder, and her habit of tilting her head to the left when she was deep in thought. He'd almost begun to forget those little things, she was so often away. In fact, this was probably the first time they'd sat down together and had a proper conversation in two years. How silly that he hadn't realised he missed her!

"I must go to bed," she said, at last, stifling a huge yawn and stretching like a kitten. "It's almost four!"

Harry glanced at the clock. "So it is. Lucky I've got a day off tomorrow."

They climbed the stairs quietly, trying not to make any noise that would wake up the others. Ginny stopped outside her room.

"Thanks," said Harry.

"What for?"

"Being good company."

Ginny smiled. "Likewise. Night, Harry. See you in the morning."

"Night."

She went into her room, pulling the door up behind her.

It was funny how one chat with Ginny could make him feel better about everything, from the lurching change of Faith's departure to the complications about Romania. He lay awake for half an hour absently contemplating how good it was to have her back again - and when he woke up the next morning, her soft perfume was clinging to his clothes.

***

"So, tell us all about New York, Arthur," said Mrs Weasley, beaming down at her husband.

Mr Weasley had arrived from America during the night, and he had come straight over to the twins' to say hello on his way to the Ministry. Comfortably settled in a faded armchair with some tea in his hand and Crookshanks on his lap, he was smiling around at everyone while they breakfasted.

"Yeah, go on, Dad," said Ron, through a mouthful of toast. He was feeling distinctly curious. "Is it like they say?"

"That depends on what they say it is," replied Mr Weasley. "It was very busy and very hot, but I'm sorry to say that I didn't get to see much of it from a boardroom and a hotel suite. Lovely people, though. Very hospitable."

"Did you meet the American Minister?" asked Angelina, looking starstruck. Ron rolled his eyes.

"I certainly did. Charming man, absolutely charming. Can't say the same for his private secretary, though." He picked up the Daily Prophet from the table and scanned the headlines perfunctorily. "Good heavens, more trouble has materialised during my absence, it seems."

"What is it now, Arthur?" asked Mrs Weasley, anxiously. "Not another attack?"

"No, nothing like that. Just Scrimgeour making yet more grossly inappropriate moves. Listen to this: 'Early this morning the Minister of Magic, Mr Scrimgeour, met with the Goblin Liaison Office to discuss the political situation' - as if that's his job! - 'Rumours have been rife in recent days that a full-scale goblin defection is a potentiality in the next few months. Since the unsuccessful negotiations five years ago with the last remaining cohort of Alpine giants, our non-human allies have been becoming increasingly difficult, particularly in the wake of the past year's hostile and devastating global attacks by You Know Who's supporters'."

"They're just stirring," said Ron, dismissively. "Besides, people have a right to know what's going on."

"I agree," replied his father, "but Scrimgeour is bordering on imbecilic if he's making this sort of thing public knowledge without any solid evidence that he's doing something constructive. Moody's going to be livid."

"Are the goblins going to defect, do you suppose?" asked Ginny.

Mr Weasley sighed. "I hope not, and I don't see that there's any reason to think they will just yet, at least. This is more in Bill's line than mine, I'm afraid."

"Can't he speak to them?" asked Ron.

"Not if Scrimgeour's decided to do it himself. Oh, honestly, it's about time we had a new Minister. First Fudge, now this."

"Has this anything to do with your work in New York?" asled Angelina, curiously.

"Not exactly, no," replied Mr Weasley, cagily. "My job is more in the line of encouraging international unity in a time of war. That and other things," he added, mysteriously.

"What were you doing out there?" Ron urged, with determination. Getting information out of anyone about the war these days was like getting blood from a stone, but when it was your own family, whatever happened to clan loyalty?

His father's reply didn't surprise him, even if it made him cross.

"You know better than to ask, my boy," said Mr Weasley, exchanging a look with his wife that drove Ron wild. It said: bless him, the dear boy, if only he knew.

One day, thought Ron, I won't need them to tell me what's going on.

Mrs Weasley topped up everyone's tea and coffee and settled herself down at the head of the table as though she was back at the Burrow.

"Well, it's a lovely day, anyway" she said, conversationally. "I hope you're not going straight to the Ministry, Arthur, after being cooped up in offices all this time. Some fresh air would do you the world of good."

"I must, dear," Mr Weasley replied, with a sigh. "There are some things I need to speak to Bill and Nick about which can't wait."

Mrs Weasley pursed her lips, but Ron pricked up his ears. So, across the table, did Ginny. But unfortunately Mr Weasley did not elaborate just then.

"Ah, here's Harry at last!" he remarked, beaming in the direction of the stairs.

Harry grinned back. "What's all this about goblins?" he asked, obviously having heard the tail-end of the conversation as he came downstairs.

"Oh, Scrimgeour being a pillock," replied Ron, tossing him the Prophet as he slid into a chair and began eyeing the plate of bacon and egg. "Eat something, you look knackered."

"And as for you, young lady," went on Mr Weasley, looking across at Ginny, "I hear you've been giving everyone the run around."

"I have not been giving everyone the run around," said Ginny, emphatically. "It's just Ron exaggerating."

Ron glared at her, unable to retort due to the massive forkful of bacon he had just stuffed into his mouth. Ginny glared back.

"I'm sorry our communications broke down," Mr Weasley added, stroking a purring Crookshanks. "I had meant to let you know, my dear, but they did keep me so busy in New York."

"That's quite all right, dear," replied Mrs Weasley. "We knew Ginny wouldn't just disappear, and we assumed Patrick was with her."

Ron snorted. Bloody Patrick! He was the reason she was getting herself into deep water in the first place! He winced as Harry delivered him a sharp kick under the table and frowned at him over the top of the Prophet.

"Yes, it all worked out in the end, I'm glad to say," said Mr Weasley. "Tell me, how did things go in Egypt?"

"We made progress," Ginny replied, with a knowing glance at Harry which made Ron frown.

"Good, good," said his father, nodding. "And what have you boys been up to during my absence?"

"Nothing unusual," said Harry. "Same sort of thing, really."

Mr Weasley gave him a long look. "Bill tells me you might be going to Romania."

"Yes."

"Hm. Have you decided yet?"

"Almost."

"You have until midnight tonight, don't you?" said Mr Weasley.

Harry nodded.

"A day can make a great difference," muttered Mr Weasley, under his breath. "Ah, who's this?"

The door from the shop had opened, and Hermione came in, besuited and stylish, as she always was these days. Ron tried hard not to stare, but it was painfully difficult when her cheeks were pink from the brisk walk across the Square and her slim legs below the floaty, feminine skirt she was wearing seemed to go on forever. Forcing himself to study his plate with unnatural attentiveness Ron gave himself a mental kick.

Hermione waved to everyone, dropping her handbag and books into an armchair.

"Hello! I hope you don't mind me dropping in!"

"Of course not, dear!" exclaimed Mrs Weasley, jumping up to pour an extra cup of coffee. "Come in and sit down."

"I was just on my way to the Courts and I thought I'd say hello. How are you, Mr Weasley?"

"Excellent, my dear, excellent!" he replied, beaming. "You're looking very smart indeed. How is the new job?"

Hermione beamed back just as brightly, and Ron stabbed his fork viciously into another slice of bacon to relieve his feelings. When she was in this sort of mood she practically glowed, and at once she launched into a detailed description of her duties and the people and the opportunities and her future plans until Mr Weasley began to look slightly bemused.

"You'd think she was enjoying this, wouldn't you?" grinned Harry, looking across at Ginny and Ron and jerking his head towards Hermione, as she began explaining the complexities of the latest case she was helping with.

"That's our Hermione," laughed Ginny, as she got up and began clearing her part of the table. "Never happier than when she's overworked and stressed."

"Are you going?" Harry asked.

Ginny nodded, finishing her coffee in one huge gulp. "I promised I'd meet Patrick at ten and go for a walk in the park before we need to get down to the Bureau."

"Oh, Ginny, dear, won't you stop just a little while longer?" Mrs Weasley entreated, looking rather disappointed. "We've hardly seen you."

"I'll be back for dinner, Mum, don't worry. Are you still going to be here?"

"I expect so," said Mrs Weasley, with a sigh. "Home seems very empty these days."

George had arrived in time to hear this last comment, and he bounded up to the kitchen table.

"Fred and me'll come liven things up for you if you like, Mum!" he suggested, winking at Ginny.

"It's a nice thought, dear," said Mrs Weasley, clearing her throat and pulling herself together. Apparently her twin sons returning to the nest, complete with explosions and practical jokes, was not exactly what she had in mind as a solution.

"That would be a no, then," said George, grinning at Harry and stealing a slice of toast from Ron's plate.

"Oi!" exclaimed Ron.

"You'll get fat, Ronald, if you don't stop stuffing your face!"

"Fuck off," Ron muttered, so only Harry and Ginny heard him. Ginny prodded him in the ribs in punishment.

"Come to the park, Ron," she suggested, mischievously. "You can sprint round the lake while we lounge about eating icecreams."

Ron made a face at her. "Can't. Got work."

"Whatever," said Ginny. "Harry'll come, won't you? And Hermione? When do you have to be at the Courts?"

"Not for another hour or so," replied Hermione, eagerly. "A walk in the sun might be nice!"

"Absolutely. Patrick and I used to do it every morning before breakfast in Egypt."

Ron gagged on his last mouthful of bacon and had to be thumped on the back by Harry. Both Ginny and Hermione gave him thoroughly disdainful glances.

"Get your mind out of the gutter, Ron," suggested Ginny, pleasantly.

***

The park really was heavenly at this time of year, reflected Hermione, happily, as she lingered a little behind the others to admire the scenery.

They were all strolling along a leafy walk beside the lake, with dappled sunlight filtering through the leaves and setting the shadows dancing, and the smell of something cool and flowery floating in the air.

It was like wandering through a real wood in the middle of the countryside, she thought to herself. Nobody would have known that they were in the centre of wizard London if they just happened to Apparate here by accident. A gentle breeze fanned her face, and Hermione leaned against a nearby beech tree to gaze out across the water.

They were by no means the only people out and about that morning. On the other side of the lake small groups had gathered, some sitting on the grass reading books and eating icecream; some getting out broomsticks for a friendly game of Quidditch in the sunshine; some, like themselves, just walking - friends oiut for a stroll, or couples holding hands and laughing with each other.

Hermione sighed. Sam was still away in Edinburgh, with no immediate reason to suppose he'd be back before the end of the week, and she wasn't sure if she was cross or just unhappy. It wasn't the same as it used to be when they were back in Cambridge as students, and she didn't even know why - they saw just as much, if not more, of each other than they did then, and he hadn't changed. He was still kind and fascinating and easy to talk to - but something was different, and it made her anxious that she couldn't put a finger on what or why.

"Hermione!" called Ginny, cheerfully. "Keep up!"

They had bumped into Luna, on her way across the park to her father's Quibbler offices on the other side. When Hermione caught up with them, she was explaining to Ginny everything which had happened since her departure for Egypt.

"My father says the case is watertight, of course. Nobody can deny that the Snagglebroth Finckleton has exactly the properties the article described..."

Hermione bit her tongue and smiled.

"Hello, Luna."

"Hello," replied Luna.

"Care to stroll with us for a bit?" asked Ginny. "We're just procrastinating - it's too nice a day to go to work!"

"I'd love to!" said Luna, beaming. "Tell me about Egypt."

She put herself between Ginny and Patrick, taking each of their arms and looking thrilled at being around friends again. Hermione felt a little sorry for her in a way - it was obvious that she was quite lonely, and Ginny was so often away.

Harry fell into step with her behind the others, looking rather grateful.

"Not sure I can deal with any Snaggletooth whatsit talk this early in the morning," he said, grinning.

Hermione laughed. "I know what you mean."

They strolled in silence for a few moments, just letting themselves soak up the scenery and sunshine. Hermione looked sideways at Harry now and again. He had dark circles under his eyes - a sure-fire sign that he was worrying about something.

"Are you all right, Harry?" she asked, finally.

He looked rather surprised at being asked. "I'm fine."

"You look like you haven't slept in a week."

"I don't sleep very well these days," he shrugged.

"You're not worrying about Romania still, are you?"

"No, not exactly."

"What is it, then? The You Know Whats?"

"I'm always worrying about the You Know Whats, but that's not why I don't sleep."

A rush of panic flooded through her. "It's not your scar again, is it?"

Harry gave a queer laugh and stopped walking, taking her gently by the arms and giving her a little shake. "Hermione, stop, I'm all right. It's not my scar, it's not Romania, it's nothing worth getting worked up about."

"Something's on your mind, I can tell."

"Something's on yours, too."

They looked at each other, each trying to read the other's thoughts behind their eyes. The trouble was, thought Hermione, in frustration, that Harry's eyes were so cloudy these days.

"I just miss Sam, that's all," she murmured, feeling as though she was lying.

"Yeah, it must be hard."

They began walking again, slowly.

"Your turn," Hermione said, after a while.

Harry looked at her, puzzled, before her meaning sank in. He took a deep breath and tensed up at once.

"I feel - stuck," he said, grudgingly.

"Stuck?"

"Yes, stuck. There are too many things in my head and I can't make any sense of them."

Hermione gave his arm a squeeze. "You're just tired. You've been working too hard."

"That's good coming from you," he said, with a laugh.

"I delegate, Harry. You don't," she pointed out. "You've always been 'thrash it out alone and don't let anyone know'. Don't deny it."

"I don't," he said.

A hail sounded from Patrick and Ginny at the end of the walk, and they quickened their pace to catch them up.

"We're going to get icecreams!" exclaimed Luna, excitedly.

"Ooh, that does sound nice," began Hermione. "I think I - Harry, what's the matter?"

He had stopped dead, and was staring at something. Hermione followed his gaze and noticed a pretty girl in a smart white outfit sitting on a bench near the water's edge, reading through a pile of parchment. It was Faith.

Hermione's eyes flitted between them. She hadn't seen that look on Harry's face since Cho Chang, and suddenly it dawned on her why he had been so secretive in recent months, and probably why he was so on edge at the moment. Shocked into immobility, it took another shout from Ginny to jump-start her brain.

"Oh, um..." she began, feeling bewildered. "Harry - I'll be with the others. Take your time," she added, trying to give him a look that would express her understanding. Again, surprise flashed across his eyes for a moment, but Hermione hastily made herself scarce.

Merlin's beard. I never realised. He never told me! Oh dear.

***

Harry watched Hermione walk away towards the others, and he knew the game was up. She had always been able to see through him.

He had thought as soon as Ginny suggested a walk in the park that Faith might be there - she'd said she would be. And there she was. She looked up, saw him, and smiled.

"Hello," she said, simply.

Harry smiled back. He felt nothing. Not one tiny feeling. Not regret, not loss, nothing. It was so opposed to how he'd felt the day before that his mind seemed to cloud over in shock.

"Hello," he said, gesturing to the space beside her on the bench. "Can I sit?"

"Of course."

She made room for him.

"When does your train go?"

"Soon," Faith replied.

"Want me to walk over with you?"

"No, don't do that," she said, quickly. Her almond eyes met his and she shook her head. "I might not be broken-hearted, Harry, but I hate goodbyes. I'll miss this. These past few months with you have been - fun."

"I know," he replied, truthfully.

"Are those people your friends?" she enquired, nodding to the cheerful, laughing group now sprawled on the bank with icecreams and drinks.

"Yes, that's Ron's sister, Ginny, and Patrick, and Luna. Hey, and that's Neville - where did he spring from? And you remember Hermione."

"They look like a nice bunch," observed Faith, absently.

Harry laughed. "Yeah, they are."

Ginny was telling them all something about Egypt which had Luna and Hermione in fits of laughter. He watched them for a moment, smiling slightly. Then Patrick added something to the story and Ginny began laughing too. He put his arm around her. Harry felt his insides squirm uncomfortably.

"I have to go, Harry," said Faith, standing up and thrusting her papers back into her bag.

"Let me come and see you off."

She hesitated a little before nodding. "All right."

The station wasn't far away. They Apparated as near to King's Cross as they could manage, and found the Muggle platform. Faith kissed his cheek before climbing into a carriage, and looked down at him with a soft expression he had never seen before.

"I knew when we first met that you were a tortured soul, Harry," she said, with a slight smile.

"What?" he said, puzzled.

"I think that's why we ended up together. Me getting over what happened to my family, and you getting over a broken heart."

Harry's eyes snapped up and met hers.

"What broken heart?"

Faith laughed. "I always suspected something of the sort, but today I saw it for sure."

"I don't know what you mean," said Harry, feeling himself going red.

She studied him for a brief moment. "No, perhaps you don't. You will, though."

The train began to move, and Harry started walking to keep up with her.

"I'll write, if I can," she said, waving. "Goodbye, Harry. Good luck!"

He managed to say the same to her as the train gathered speed and thundered out of the station, waving until she disappeared inside the window.

He felt strangely cheerful as he Apparated to the Ministry atrium to look for Ron. In fact, it felt as though a weight had been suddenly lifted from his shoulders. Braced, he walked with a firm step towards the lifts, and Faith's cryptic goodbye was consigned to the back of his mind.

***

It really was nice to be back, mused Ginny, as she and Hermione strolled leisurely along Diagon Alley in the afternoon sunshine.

The two girls had clocked off early from work and, deciding that it was far too nice a day to sit at a table doing paperwork for the next day, were indulging in a little shopping. They very rarely got the chance these days, especially to go together, and such brief moments were to be pounced upon whenever they arose.

"I shouldn't have bought that," sighed Hermione, swinging her bags as she walked. "Where on earth am I going to wear it, Gin?"

Ginny smiled impishly. "I'm sure something will come up. Besides, you have to get these things when you see them, otherwise something does come up and you have nothing to wear."

"I'd forgotten why I never go shopping with you," grinned Hermione.

"Ah, you've missed me, haven't you?" teased Ginny, taking her arm.

"Of course I have! You have no idea how difficult those boys can be at times. I've been counting the days till you came back!"

The windows of Madame Malkin's were lavishly decorated with a pretty summer theme, and as they passed they stopped to have a look.

"What have they been up to now?" asked Ginny.

"Well, as far as I know, nothing, and that's just it. I think Harry's getting that restless gleam in his eye again. You know what I mean, don't you?"

"Oh, yes, I know the one," said Ginny, nodding. "The furtive, glazed one."

She certainly did know it. At all the moments in Harry's life when he had made a grand, self-sacrificing decision she had seen it. It showed all his thoughts, playing out one by one, revealing all the motives and reasons behind the decision for those who knew him best to see.

Ginny found herself smiling. There was something attractively transparent about Harry when it came to his policies for action. It was never too hard to tell what he was thinking - or at least, it never used to be.

She cast her mind back to their conversation the previous night, when they had sat at the kitchen table and talked for hours in low voices, as they hadn't talked in many years. While he had been pouring out his concerns about Romania she had seen all the old signs in his eyes - the overwhelming sense of responsibility, the lack of self-confidence, the deep-rooted passion for justice and fairplay.

But that was where the transparency ended. The had talked about Ron, and she had seen no clue in Harry's expression as to what he thought about his best friend. She had told him all about Egypt and her Bureau work, and he had listened attentively but without emotion.

Three years, and he's still hiding from me, she thought, painfully. And I'm hiding from him too.

"Fancy a coffee?" suggested Hermione, pointing to the continental little terrace outside Thomasina's Tearooms.

Ginny agreed heartily, and soon they were lounging idly at a table underneath a linen umbrella, next to a series of potted palms that waved gently in the breeze. With the sunshine and the smell of the coffee, and the soft hum of chatter and activity along the Alley, they could quite easily imagine themselves in a Roman or Parisien café if they closed their eyes.

"So, are you going to really tell me about Egypt now, then?" inquired Hermione, meaningfully, as she poured milk into both cups.

Ginny looked up in surprise. "What do you mean?"

"I mean the uncensored version of the one you gave the others this morning in the park."

The self-satisfied glint in Hermione's eye brought a smile to Ginny's face. She really was an astonishing woman, who seemed to know everything from very few clues. World wisdom and deeply nourished intelligence was the cause of that, Ginny thought.

"How about the still-partially-censored-because-of-Bureau-regulations-but-nevertheless-more-truthful-as-you're-my-dearest-friend version?" she suggested.

"That will do admirably," agreed Hermione, leaning back elegantly in her chair and taking a sip from her coffee cup.

Ginny repeated a similar story to the one she had related to Harry. Both of them, she knew, could be trusted with the facts, and neither of them - unlike Ron - would get agitated and protective. Hermione wouldn't because she had the brains and good sense to appreciate Ginny's capabilities, and Harry because - well, he just wouldn't dare. Not after...

"So all in all," she finished, at last, "I've come back feeling very righteous and useful to the world."

"And how was Patrick through all this? Has he improved after that last little hiccup?"

The last little hiccup referred to a moment soon after the attack on Ingrisfeld back in March, when Ginny had been out of her mind with worry for Ron and Charlie and Patrick had proved himself to be less than tactful or even sensitive about her state of mind. They had had quite a nasty row, but fortunately Patrick was almost as good at making up as he was at breaking up.

"We get along OK," replied Ginny, with a shrug.

She could feel Hermione watching her shrewdly through her sunglasses, and hoped she wouldn't pursue this line of inquiry. Discussing men was something they often did together, but every so often Ginny could tell that her best friend was experiencing intense difficulty in restraining herself from mentioning Harry.

For her own part, four years was a long time not to think about someone - and there were moments when she slipped up for a while before forcing her mind back to other things. It had felt like old times last night when they'd chatted at the kitchen table, and she had afterwards allowed herself the luxury of contemplating how nice it was to really talk to him again for precisely thirty seconds and no more.

Not thinking about Harry was the most important thing. Always. No matter how many Death Eaters were on her tail.

Luckily, Hermione changed the subject after a while.

As she stirred sugar into her coffee she said, reflectively: "It's been a funny few months, don't you think? Everything's changed. Harry's being all secretive, Ron hasn't been himself since Ingrisfeld, and all of us are on edge and trying to pretend we aren't."

"We need some action," said Ginny. "There's too much going on in the world and no stability like there used to be at Hogwarts. No Dumbledore at the head of everything; no Sirius and McGonagall and Lupin doing mysterious things and getting us out of trouble; no Snape to vent frustrations on." They both laughed. "This is the big wide world now."

"Can we handle it?" said Hermione, thoughtfully.

"We've got each other," replied Ginny, with a reassuring smile. "And we're not dead yet."

***

Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes was chockfull as usual when Harry returned at five o'clock. Fred hailed him from behind an enormous, teetering display of colourful bottles with tempting labels on them, and it was with some relief that Harry managed to gain the sitting room door before he was roped in to help fetch and carry.

He found Hermione and Ginny sitting at the kitchen table, surrounded by enough parchment to plant a rainforest and assorted cups of half-drunk tea and coffee. Whatever they were trying to get done had obviously been long since abandoned, for Hermione had taken her shoes off and was curled up on her chair laughing to tears at something Ginny had said.

"Hi, Harry," said Ginny, grinning. "Pull up a chair and come join us."

"Something tells me I won't be interrupting," replied Harry, returning the grin and gesturing at the coffee stains all over Ginny's paperwork.

"Nah, we gave up ages ago," she said, dismissively.

"How's your day been, Harry?" Hermione asked, studying him intently.

Damn it, thought Harry. I'm busted. He hoped she wouldn't say anything about Faith in front of Ginny - not that it really mattered, he reminded himself, sternly.

"Fine," he said, airily. "I dropped in at the Ministry to see Anthony and Ron."

"Doing sod all, as usual, I expect," said Ginny.

"Funnily enough, no," said Harry, with a smile. "He's got his work cut out for him this week, actually."

"Really?" said Hermione, in a rather surprised tone.

Harry felt a little reproachful on Ron's behalf. "He's all talk, you know, Hermione. He gets the job done in his own way."

"Is he still annoyed with me?" asked Ginny, not seeming to notice Hermione's blush.

"He's not really annoyed with you at all. He's trying to look out for you, but he's not sure how best to do it."

"He could stop treating me like a four-year-old, that might help," muttered Ginny. She had been making Harry a cup of coffee, and now she placed it in front of him.

"Thanks. What have you two been procrastinating about this time?"

"We've been discussing men, actually," replied Hermione, with a smile at Ginny.

"Oh, no, I'm not getting in the middle of that," said Harry, firmly.

"It's all perfectly innocent," said Ginny. "Sam and Patrick are in the doghouse, and we're just venting a little pent-up frustration, that's all."

"What have they done?"

"Oh, we won't bore you with the details," said Hermione. "Suffice it to say that we've had more fun spending the afternoon together than we've had with our respective others in over a month!"

"When you should have been working?" pointed out Harry, with a mischievous glance at her. She flushed again and tossed her hair over her shoulder archly.

"We've done a bit."

"I haven't," said Ginny, with a sigh. "This report needs to be in tomorrow morning, and Christina will murder me if it isn't done. She's Head of the Bureau," she added, at Harry's quizzical expression. "Usually this would be Patrick's job since he's more senior than me, which is one of the many reasons why I'm not speaking to him this afternoon."

Hermione caught Harry's eye and they both grinned.

"What's the report about?" asked Harry.

"Our doings in Egypt. She wants to know exactly what we did, when we did it and who we spoke to, in case we've managed to upset diplomatic relations with the Near East or given away state secrets that'll have You Know Who on our doorstep."

"It all sounds terribly exciting and dangerous," said Hermione.

Ginny smiled. "It can be. All Patrick and I were really doing was reconnoitring and making some contacts. There wasn't a lot of thrills to be had this time."

She chattered on with Hermione about Bureau policy and their current projects, and Harry leaned back in his chair. It had suddenly come home to him just how busy Ginny was, and how important her work was. The few clues she had given him about what her job entailed had given him food for thought over the past few days, and now her words 'not a lot of thrills...this time' set off bells in his mind. Whatever it was that she was up to was no walk in the park, and if what he knew about Patrick's job was anything to go by she was probably dealing with things which were almost as serious as his own work.

He watched her as she began sorting through her mess of parchment, muttering to herself and explaining various symbols and names to Hermione as she asked questions. He had never seen her so intelligent, so capable. Her forehead was screwed up in concentration, and she kept biting her bottom lip, absently, and sweeping her long hair out of her face.

"I don't know why I'm stressing about this," she said, after a while, chewing the end of her quill. "I could just as easily tell her what happened."

"Put it away for the evening," suggested Hermione, with most un-Hermioneish casualness. She sighed as both Ginny and Harry stared at her in astonishment. "We'll get up early tomorrow and start afresh," she added.

Ginny looked across at Harry and rolled her eyes. She tossed her quill aside and stretched, grinning. "More coffee, Harry?"

He grinned back, and held out his cup.

***

The evening came much quicker than Harry expected, being ever-conscious of the time he had left until he must go over to Collins' office and tell him what he had decided.

Ron came back at half past six, his eyes looking like burnt holes in a sheet and full of a shifty sort of politeness for his sister. He managed a small smile, though, when she presented him with a wedge-like slice of chocolate cake and ruffled his hair like a little boy. He swatted at her hand, and she laughed.

"Remus and Tonks are coming over to see your father this evening," Mrs Weasley told the twins, when they appeared in the sitting room after shutting up the shop.

George turned to Fred and they exchanged bewildered glances.

"Whose house is this, Fred?"

"I really couldn't tell you, George."

"Did I dream the day we signed the lease?"

"I think we both must have."

Mrs Weasley tutted impatiently. "Oh, come now, boys, you know your father can't hold meetings at the Burrow after what happened last time."

"We fully appreciate that, Mother, darling," said Fred, wearily, "but who's to say that You Know Who won't earmark our little nest for a nice explosion next time?"

"It's hardly an official committee, dear," said Mrs Weasley. "Remus and Tonks are old friends, so no-one will think anything of them dropping in for tea to see Harry."

"Can't they drop in for tea at the Burrow to see you and Dad, then?" asked George, with some pique.

Mrs Weasley flushed, much to Harry's surprise. "It's not quite up to visitors yet, dear," she replied.

"Don't get me wrong," said Fred, "we like Remus and Tonks. But it does make a fellow feel pretty undone when his mother starts treating his place like an open hotel."

He winked at Harry, who knew perfectly well that the twins loved having people drop by at all hours of the day and night. What they objected to was the persistent presence of their mother, who seemed to be having a hard time letting her youngest children fly the nest.

When Remus and Tonks did eventually appear, everyone was comfortably settled in armchairs and on hearthrugs and sofas, enjoying the soft breeze coming through the open windows and chatting contentedly. Remus and Mr Weasley were in full force discussing Scrimgeour's latest asinine move with the goblins, and Ginny was trying to teach Tonks and Angelina how to sit like the Arabs.

"You're not concentrating, Harry," said Ron, prodding his leg with his toe.

Harry returned his attention to the chessboard between them, where he was receiving yet another solid beating from Ron.

"Sorry."

"Keeping an eye on the clock?"

"Sort of," said Harry, uncomfortably. Now that midnight - his deadline - was looming ever closer he was beginning to get nervous. How much was hanging on this decision!

Eight o'clock came, then half past. Tea was passed around, and Fred challenged Ron to a game of Exploding Snap. Quarter to nine - nine o'clock.

"It's not going to vanish, you know," said a voice in Harry's ear. Tonks had joined him on the third stair where he'd been sitting, staring at the clock face above the mantelpiece.

He managed a smile.

"I know you'd rather not make this decision, Harry," she said, gently, "and I know exactly how you feel. But wouldn't you rather go over to the Ministry now and get it over with? You're making me feel all stressed and exhausted sitting there twiddling your thumbs and tapping your foot."

She nodded to his knee, which was moving up and down in a quick, reflexive movement. He laughed and held it still.

"Yeah, perhaps you're right."

"Want some company?"

"No, I'll be fine."

He stood up to slip out, but he never got very far. At that moment a loud banging on the back door made everyone jump, followed by frantic shouting. Hermione gave a scream, and Remus and Mr Weasley leapt to their feet.

"Good God!" gasped Tonks. "Let them in, for goodness' sake!"

Mr Weasley turned pale, but he hurried across the kitchen and flung open the door. Two dishevelled figures fell inside, breathing heavily.

"Arthur! Thank God you're here!" exclaimed one of them - Harry recognised him from the Order.

"Elphias! What on earth has happened?"

"An attack, Arthur - here in London!"

"Where?" asked Remus, quickly.

"Over on the west side of the park - your Bill's area, Arthur!"

Mrs Weasley screamed and clutched the back of the sofa. "No! Oh, no, not Bill!"

Elphias seemed to see everyone else in the room for the first time and blinked. "Molly! Don't worry, he's all right - I left him helping get the others out. It looks pretty bad, Arthur, Remus."

"We'd better get over there," said Mr Weasley, unhesitatingly. "What happened, Elphias?"

"It was so sudden," said Elphias, wobbling slightly. Ginny darted forwards and caught his elbow, thrusting a glass of what looked like Firewhisky into his hand, and handing another to his companion. "So sudden," he repeated. "They just appeared out of the dark and overran the apartment block on Aquila Road - "

"Oh, God, that's where Bill's place is!" said Ron, going white as a sheet.

"It's a miracle he got out alive," said Elphias, drinking down his Firewhisky all in one go. "We sent a message across to the Ministry, but I thought I'd better come by and get you straightaway."

"Thankyou, Elphias," said Mr Weasley, clapping him on the shoulder. "Let's go."

Remus and Tonks had their wands out at once, and were out of the door in seconds. The twins came forwards too.

"No, not you," said Mr Weasley, firmly. "We don't want anyone else getting into danger."

"We can help!" objected Fred, indignantly.

"You're not trained!"

"Well, we're going, aren't we, Harry?" said Ron.

"Absolutely," replied Harry, emphatically.

"No, boys, you're not," said Mrs Weasley, wiping her eyes on her apron. "I'm not having any more of you getting mixed up in this. Oh, Bill!"

"He's all right, Mum," Ginny assured her, gently.

"You can't stop us," insisted Ron, scowling and folding his arms.

Mr Weasley stopped in the doorway and let out a long breath. He looked tired and haggard suddenly.

"No," he said, at last. "I don't suppose I can."

"Or me," added Ginny.

Harry supposed the tableau must look pretty formidable from Mr and Mrs Weasley's point of view - the three of them lined up with their wands out and their expressions each identically determined.

Mrs Weasley let out a choked sob, and Angelina patted her gently on the arm. The twins were looking mutinous.

"Come on," said Mr Weasley, resignedly. "We need to be quick."

"I'm coming too," said Hermione, with firmness, as Harry and Ron made for the door.

Ron opened his mouth to object but checked himself just in time, much to Harry's relief. Ginny he might be entitled to scold and protect, but Hermione was another matter all together - and she was just as capable as the rest of them.

Harry nodded. "Let's go," he said.

They Apparated to the scene. What had once been a beautiful road lined with enormous, mismatched houses was now reduced to smoking remains, piles of broken stone, and blasted tree trunks. The Aurors were arriving in small groups and organising themselves to check the area for any lurking Death Eaters, and people everywhere were shouting and calling out for help. Harry noticed several shaking, dusty-looking figures being comforted by the helpers, but it didn't look as though many would have had time to get out of the buildings in time.

"Merlin's teeth," said Ginny, looking stunned. "Where's Bill?"

"I'm here." Bill emerged from beneath a heap of mangled timberwork, rubbing dust and grime out of his eyes. Mr Weasley rushed forward at once.

"Bill, are you all right, son?"

Bill nodded. "Cuts and bruises, nothing worse. Nick came over to talk, and he's all right too. Damn it, Dad, there were loads who didn't get out."

"Right, we need to get in there," said Remus, authoritatively. "Arthur, you and me will go in here. Tonks, go round the back - Harry, Ron, go with her. Ginny, Hermione, stay here and be available if the Healers need any extra hands. They should be here any minute."

One by one they plunged into the rubble.

"What happened?" asked Harry, as Bill squeezed in behind him.

"They just appeared," replied Bill. "No warning, nothing. Blew the sodding street apart."

"There's someone here!" came Remus' voice further along the dark passage. "Give me a hand, Ron."

Harry ignited his wand as the lack of light became a hindrance, and listened to the dreadful scuffling sounds and groans and they tried to get whoever it was free of the debris.

It was a ghastly scene. For the next hour they brought people out of the smoking remains, some in a worse condition than others. Tonks and Remus disappeared to help the Aurors make the area safe, and after a long while Harry found himself standing, exhausted, beside a charred oak tree. His shoulders ached from carrying people out, and he was scratched and bleeding everywhere from the sharp edges of bricks and stones. Dust was lodged in his lungs and his eyes were watering.

"Harry!" called Hermione, hurrying towards him. She was pale and her face was streaked with dust and dirt. "Are you all right?"

"I just brought a kid out," he said, darkly. "Can't have been more than six."

"Oh, Harry!" cried Hermione, with a sob. She slipped her arms around him and gave him a gentle hug. "It's awful - just awful. A man just died in Ginny's lap."

Harry squeezed her shoulders.

"Come on, sit down," he said, as she wobbled slightly. "Have something to drink."

He guided her to the remains of a garden wall and set her down upon it. The Healers had set up little nourishment tables with Firewhisky and hot tea to treat shock and coldness, and people were huddled around them sobbing and clutching at each other. Harry pressed a cup into Hermione's hands and made her drink.

He glanced around. On the other side of all the activity in the centre of the area, Bill was deep in conversation with his father and Mad-Eye Moody, and they all looked grim. Harry felt a wave of fury flood over him. It was a horrific waste of life, all this. All those people being carted off to St. Mungos would never forget what had happened that night, if they made it through. Suddenly he wished there had been a Death Eater or two remaining in the shadows, so that he could go and curse him until he couldn't remember his own name.

Ginny arrived at that moment, just as dirty as the rest of them and rubbing her shoulder. She gave Harry a weak smile and sat down next to Hermione.

"They think they've got everyone out now," she said, taking Hermione's hand.

"Thank God," said Harry.

"Thirteen dead, they think."

Hermione choked up again.

"Do they know what happened yet?" Harry asked Ginny.

She shook her red head. "They're talking about it now," she said, nodding at the group beside Bill.

Harry frowned, and helped himself to a glass of Firewhisky. It cleared his head a little, and warmed his insides.

Ron emerged then, looking gaunt and worried.

"Harry," he began, urgently. "Seamus was in there! They've carted him off to St. Mungos!"

"What?" said Harry, in sudden panic.

"He looks bad, Harry, I saw them take him."

Ginny clapped a hand to her mouth. "Will he be all right?"

Ron shrugged, bewildered. He looked at Harry with a mixture of anxiety and perplexity.

"What do we do?" he asked.

Harry felt like kicking something - anything - as hard as he possibly good, and swearing, and shouting, and drawing blood. He didn't know what to do.

"Here comes Mr Weasley," said Hermione, pointing.

Mr Weasley was approaching, with Bill and Moody behind him. Harry didn't like the looks on their faces.

"Bad news, I'm afraid," he said, tiredly. "This was a targeted attack, there's no doubt about it."

"How can you tell?" asked Hermione.

It was Harry who answered. "Because an untargeted attack is usually in a large, public place, or somewhere where there is a building or a monument or a meeting with some political significance," he replied, dully, as though he was reading out of a textbook. "It's just to stir up anxiety rather than kill anyone off. A targeted attack happens when one person, or a group, is being aimed at, which is generally the case when obscure places get hit. Like here - a residential road with no political significance at all."

Ginny stood up and stared at her father with narrowed eyes.

"Who were they trying to get?"

Harry knew the answer before Mr Weasley opened his mouth.

Romania. It all came back to that.

"Me, it seems," said Bill, cutting across his father. He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. "Me and Nick."

"Fuck," breathed Ron, sitting down without looking to see if there was something behind him. Not even Hermione had the strength to tick him off for his language just then.

"Not a word to anyone until we've made it official, though," Mr Weasley warned them, sternly. "We need to get hold of Kingsley and Scrimgeour and have a proper discussion. It'll be all over the Prophet tomorrow, I don't doubt - Harry? What's the matter?"

He looked at Harry in sudden surprise, and so did everyone else. As all eyes turned to him he realised what his face must look like - forbidding, furious, and utterly determined.

"I've got to go," he told them, without answering the question. "I'll see you all back at the house later."

"Harry! Where are you going?" Hermione called after him.

He didn't reply. He Apparated straight to the Ministry, strode across the Atrium, took the lift to the second floor and wound through the rabbit warren of corridors in the Auror Department in a red haze, without thinking, without even being aware of what he was doing.

He marched straight into Collins' office without knocking - without caring that Kingsley and Professor McGonagall were in there in urgent conversation with him. While the others stared at him in stunned surprise, Collins merely regarded him with curious politeness. Harry kicked the empty chair facing the desk out of the way and slammed his fists onto the desktop.

The clock read ten minutes to twelve.

"Have it your way, then," Harry said, scowling. "I'll go."