Without Wand or Wire

"Wotcher, Lupin!" Tonks said cheerfully as she sat down to breakfast.

"Ready for your big day, Tonks?" Lupin returned her greeting.

She nodded enthusiastically as she tucked in. While she'd been healed of her injuries from the battle at the Ministry of Magic long before, this was the first day she was being allowed to resume full duties as an Auror (she'd been made to stay at her desk for a month now), not to mention as a member of the Order of the Phoenix. Nothing could spoil her mood today.

Well, almost nothing. She noted with sadness the dark circles that were now a constant presence under Lupin's eyes. She hadn't been so close to Sirius as she would have liked, but he was the only member of the Black branch of her family tree she had actually been proud to call family, and she had grieved his passing. She couldn't even begin imagine how much someone who was as close to him as Lupin had been must be feeling now.

Did anyone else know? she wondered, not for the first time.

Hell, did Sirius? But there didn't really seem to be a tactful way to ask the question. Sirius had always seemed to be such a ladies' man, but that didn't really mean anything. And he had left the house to Lupin -- although he might have done that simply to make sure Lupin didn't end up homeless, and to assure that the Order still had a headquarters. They never acted more than dear friends when Sirius was still alive, but even then Tonks had suspected Remus felt more than simple camaraderie for his bosom buddy. Had he kept those feelings to himself? Was he having to hide his mourning of a lover under the guise of friendship, even now? She wished they could leave him alone for a while, and let him grieve in peace. Moreover, she wished he didn't feel he had to hide his feelings from them. Maybe Lupin and Sirius had grown up in a time where more than platonic love between two men was taboo, but times were changing! Besides, the people in the Order (well, except maybe Mundungus and Snape) were made of quality character, and certainly would be perfectly accepting. …

Then again, Tonks wasn't one to talk. While she wasn't exactly hiding, she hadn't come right out and told anybody about her girlfriend, had she? Maybe she and Lupin should have a chat after all; it might make them both feel better. …

A chocolate frog landing in her orange juice woke Tonks out of her morning musing.

[Tonks' breakfast surprise.]

"Sorry!"

Neville Longbottom hurriedly dumped her glass down the sink, and fetched her a refill, making nearly as much mess along the way as his frog had made by jumping into her cup in the first place. Well, at least it had only been a chocolate frog, and not his real live toad, Trevor. Still, Tonks hoped his Gran was leaving number twelve soon -- and that she wasn't leaving her walking disaster area of a grandson behind (which, considering the Metamorphamagus's own problems with clumsiness, was saying quite a lot.)

Ron heckled his friend affectionately from the doorway. Hermione, in turn, gave Ron a reproving look that was spoiled by the laughter that kept turning up the corners of her mouth. Tonks hid a smile of her own behind her fresh glass of orange juice.

Those two were even less successful at hiding their feelings than Remus was. She noted with great amusement that Ron was wearing one of the shirts and pairs of jeans Hermione had brought him at the beginning of the summer, on the pretense that, if they were gong to go gallivanting around London, he was needed something to wear that was a little more "Mugglish". She had artfully managed to make it look like she was giving it to him on the Order's command, so he neither felt embarrassed by the gift nor ashamed that he couldn't buy anything for her.

Anyone else might have been accused of giving him the new clothes because they didn't want to be embarrassed by his old homespun-looking attire, but Tonks knew better of the Muggle-born girl. Hermione just wanted Ron to feel comfortable in the world she'd grown up in. Plus she wanted Ron to finally have something to call his that wasn't a hand-me-down. She was only thinking of Ron's pride, not her own.

She also, Tonks had noted with approval, given him all long-sleeved shirts (with cooling charms in them, of course, to combat the summer heat), as he was still self-conscious about the scars on his arms from the Ministry battle. They had faded considerably, but he still had a ways to go. In fact, Tonks noted sadly, they might never fully disappear. She felt her usual twinge of pity for the un-morphable.

"Time to go, Neville," Mrs. Longbottom informed her grandson as she and Mrs. Weasley came into the kitchen.

"Bye, Neville!" Ron and Hermione chimed. They didn't even wait for him to actually leave through the fireplace before turning, obviously heading right out the door.

"Honestly, children today are in such a hurry!" Molly huffed.

"Ahhh, young love," Lupin remarked, causing Neville to stop and gape, before his Gran commanded he come along.

"Yeah, too bad they don't know it yet," Tonks replied.

* * *

Ginny Weasley was happy for her brother and Hermione, she really was -- even if they themselves didn't seem to realise there was anything to be happy about -- but just at that moment, she'd give anything to have them back in the house, or else be hanging outside with them.

Of course, she hadn't said anything to them about what was going on in her life; if she had, they might very well have stayed or taken her along. But she didn't want to spoil anything for them, so she suffered in silence. And it was stupid, really.

It wasn't like she had been in love or anything with Dean Thomas.

If she had, maybe she'd actually be crying right now, instead of just feeling lonely. Well, lonely and incredibly brassed off at Dean for being such an insensitive git. Breaking up with her via an owl. Really. She supposed they hadn't been going out long enough for him to bother telling her in person. At any rate, he had gotten back together with his Muggle girlfriend two weeks after he'd gotten home, leaving Ginny with no one to spend the break with. Everyone else she knew seemed to either be on Holiday somewhere exotic, like Luna, or working, or else was involved with someone.

At least she'd been able to hang out with Neville that morning; thanks to the events at the Ministry of magic, his Gran, who was a member of the original Order and had recently reprised her role, wasn't letting the boy out of her sight. Which of course meant he not only got to come along with her to number twelve, but he had to leave with her as well.

What about Harry?

Don't be silly. He's barely written Ron, his best friend, all summer -- why would he want to talk to you?

Ah, but has Ron really written him? Has Hermione? They both seem a bit … preoccupied. Maybe Harry's lonely. And anyway, it couldn't hurt. Even if he doesn't write back to you, it's something to do.

Satisfied that she was only trying to pass the time, and wasn't writing Harry because she still had a crush on him (one that was worse than ever, now that she had no other boy to occupy her thoughts) Ginny got out a quill and parchment, and sat down to write.

* * *

"And they're not enchanted or anything?" Ron asked Hermione, never taking his eyes off the quickly-moving figures as they soared into the air again and again. He knew the "skateboards", as Hermione called them, weren't enchanted -- these were Muggles they were watching, after all -- but he just couldn't wrap his brain around the idea of performing all the aerobatics this lot were doing without the help of a spell.

Hermione smirked and patted his arm. She loved magic as much as the next witch, and really had no interest in skaters or their boards, but she couldn't help but feel a flash of pride whenever a wizard -- Ron in particular (Harry already knew plenty about Muggles) -- expressed amazement at Muggle ingenuity and ability. It was the life she'd grown up with after all; in some ways she'd never actually stop being a Muggle herself. So when the group of rather rowdy teens had come into the park to play, instead of steering Ron elsewhere (she would have just up and left if she were alone, out of sheer annoyance), she decided to let the Quidditch-lover experience a bit of Muggle-style extreme sports. And she had to admit now, as she was watching them, that what the human mind and body was capable of really was nothing short of amazing. Even when said humans were breaking the law and showing complete disregard for everyone else in the park.

After a while, the skaters were shooed away by a strolling policeman. Hermione decided she'd had enough of peoplewatching anyway. "It's hot. Let's get an ice cream cone or something." She knew she didn't need to convince Ron; growing boy that he was, she doubted there was a moment in the day that he wasn't hungry.

Sure enough, his face, which had fallen a bit when the athletes had departed, lit up with a wide grin. "So, where shall we get some from?"

She looked about. She didn't want to trek all the way to Diagon Alley, no matter how delectable and exotic the flavors at Fortescue's were. Sometimes you just wanted plain old vanilla! And, happily, she spotted what she wanted: an ice cream vendor, on the other side of a fountain. "We'll just get them from him," she answered, taking Ron by the hand and leading him over.

Neither of them gave their linked hands any thought. Since they weren't in school, there wasn't really anyone around to make them feel self-conscious. Without that barrier, the need to be in physical contact had turned out to be rather instinctual for them -- so much so that they didn't even consciously realize they were touching. If there had been someone around to laugh at them, of course, things would likely be very different.

Consciously, they believed their excursions to be nothing more contrived than Hermione wanting to show her wizard best friend around Muggle London. That was what they told anyone who questioned them -- including each other. But the real reason why they were spending every moment they could away from Grimmauld Place -- and Diagon Alley, where Fred and George now lived -- was their subconscious desire for the freedom to be more intimate -- without being spied on or being harrowed by unwelcome comments.

But just because the people around them weren't Hogwarts students didn't mean that people didn't notice the connection between them. It only meant that when ice cream vendors gave them knowing smiles or sly winks, they were completely oblivious to them.

They settled on the fountain's edge, and went back to people watching, Ron pointing now and then to an odd (well, to him anyway) device or bit of clothing and asking questions. Yes, he was definitely more like his father than either of them had ever realised. Hell, he still didn't seem to notice his own blossoming fascination with Muggles.

But it wasn't all about Muggles. She asked him questions too, about life growing up as a wizard, about his relations, about famous moments in Muggle history, to see how much the ordinary world affected the wizarding one. She was fascinated to learn that he knew nothing about the development of aviation or space exploration -- and quite happy to fill him in on it all. He was astounded to learn that the moon was big enough to walk on, and that there was no air in space. If she didn't know better, she could have sworn he seemed to get a bit wistful about the idea of space travel; having grown up with a wizard's education, there was no hope of becoming an astronaut now.

Well, perhaps she was just feeling a bit sad about it herself -- becoming an astronaut was one of many things she'd considered before she'd learned she was a witch. But no, she didn't regret the doors that had closed to her once she'd decided to take the magical path. Learning magic, getting to know people like Ron and Harry, and all the Weasleys - these were far more worthwhile ways to spend her days than exploring the vast emptiness of the night sky. And who knew, maybe someday she would find a magical way to do just that, and get much father than Muggle science could ever take her in her lifetime. …

"Look at you!" Ron was saying to her. He reached out a finger and wiped a bit of ice cream off her nose, sucking it off his finger after. "Hermione Granger, in all the books you've read, surely there's been instructions somewhere on how to eat an ice cream cone!"

She was in too good a mood to get defensive. In fact, she'd come to take most of his teasing in stride these days, even enjoying it. Instead of getting huffy, she felt a surge of Gryffindor spunk. She stuck her chin out, which she could feel had more cream on it, and pointed to it. "You missed a spot."

Ron must have been feeling a similar burst of Gryffindor courage. Impulsively, he reached out, held her jaw lightly, leaned forward, and actually licked the offending glob off her chin.

"That better?" he asked, smirking, before his brain had a chance to absorb what he'd just done. He was still holding her chin, their faces close.

She giggled, and neither of them were sure if it was because of how absurd the scenario was or if it was out of nerves. Worse, neither of them seemed to know what to do next. Ron was torn between two sides: one was mortified at what he'd done, and screaming at him to run away; the other was on fire, urging him to touch her again, this time with his lips to her mouth, not to taste vanilla, but her own sweet skin. … Between the two sides, he was frozen stiff, his heart racing.

The loud pop of a nearby child's balloon saved him from the battle. Started, they both jumped apart, laughing the kind of laugh that speaks not of humor, but relief.

"Sorry," Ron mumbled when he caught his breath, glancing at her sideways, hand rubbing his neck.

"No, no, don't be silly!" she insisted, a little too casually to be believable. She wondered if her face was as pink as his ears were getting. "I mean, I asked for it!" The moment the words left her lips, she knew how bad that sounded.

"Right!" Ron said, his voice sounding strangled. "Let's, ah … let's go inside somewhere air conditioned, 'ey?" He stood up. "It's … it's getting too hot out here." The conversation was going from bad to worse. Get a grip, Weasley! If this keeps up, you'll have to dunk your head in the bloody fountain! What on earth had gotten into him anyway? Going at Hermione like that? He was lucky she didn't pop him one!

"Ah, how about Virgin?" Hermione suggested. "The Megastore, I mean!" she added quickly, wincing.

Ron had flinched a little too. "Borders, maybe?" he suggested. "They still have music, and there's more books for us to look at." He's never get her out of there, either, but maybe that was for the best.

She beamed. For us to look at, he said! Not "you"! There's hope for him yet! "All right," she replied, trying not to sound too enthusiastic, as moved to sling her bag's shoulder-strap over her head.

"I'll carry it for a while," he volunteered, taking it from her. She stifled the impulse to tell him she was perfectly capable of doing it herself. She knew he wasn't being condescending, and sometimes it was nice to have a helping hand, even if you didn't need it.

Whatever else they did that day, neither of them spoke of the incident again. It was a habit they had fallen into, pretending such moments did not exist; neither of them was ready to face what those incidents meant, individually or collectively. But that didn't stop either one of them from thinking about it the rest of the day, no matter how hard they tried not to. And if they could be honest with themselves, they would admit that they didn't want to forget this particular experience, the electricity that had surged through their skin with such intimate contact. It wasn't even his just his lips!

Of course, in both their minds, the scene didn't end with his tongue on her chin -- nor did it end with a exploding balloon. Their minds played out a different series of events, which still ended with a bang, but of the fireworks variety. …

* * *

Arthur look about the table as he ate his dinner. Bill and Charlie were there, and Fred and George, as well as Gunny, Lupin, and even Mad-Eye Moody, but it still felt like people were missing. And then he realized who. "Ron and Hermione are late again," he noted with a smirk.

"Yes …" Molly noted, scowling. "I do hope you'll give them a talking to about that dear. In fact, I wonder if we shouldn't insist they spend a bit more time indoors. Perhaps we should talk to the Grangers about it."

"Oh! I could call them on the fellytone!" Arthur suggested brightly. It was clear he hadn't really been thinking about just why his wife wanted to talk to the Muggle couple.

"Telephone," Fred and George corrected their father. Honestly, you'd think the man would have gotten it right by now. …

"Oh, Mum, don't be such a spoilsport!" Bill protested. "Weren't you and Dad just like that at their age?"

Molly's ears turned red, and no one was sure if she was embarrassed or angry until she swatted Bill with a copy of the Daily Prophet. "Exactly! I shudder to think what they might be up to without some adult supervision!"

Ginny shot her mother a bemused look, while the twins laughed outright, but none of them bothered to point out that Ron and Hermione weren't exactly the types to be snogging all over London..

Charlie nudged his older sibling with an elbow. "Just think! Our youngest brother might actually be the first one of us to marry!"

Mrs. Weasly let out a cry before covering her mouth with her hand.

"Molly?" Arthur started to get up.

She waved him back down, and put a few more things on the table, fussing over placements. "I've heard from Percy, actually. …" Conversation at the table ceased, and a dark look crossed her husband's features. "It seems," she went on, not meeting his eye, her voice cracking as she tried to sound cheerful, "that he and that nice Penelope girl are engaged!"

No one said a word. The Weasley children all picked at their plates, but no one ate a bite.

Despite the turn of events at the end of the schoolyear, Percy and the rest of the Weasley clan, save his mother, still were not on speaking terms. He was still refusing to apologise about the things he'd said about his father, Dumbledore, or Harry. The twins insisted it was no loss, saying they had never liked him much in the first place. Ron seconded the "Good riddance to bad rubbish" notion, still fuming over the letter Percy had sent him suggesting to break his ties with Harry. Bill and Charlie had tried to reason with Percy, to no avail, and eventually had given up, telling Percy that he'd better apologize to their father or else. Ginny had it the hardest, though: Percy had always been so protective of her, while she hadn't known Bill or Charlie all that well, and Ron and the twins had tormented her in the typical brotherly fashion. She loved her father dearly too, though, and knew Percy had been in the wrong; ultimately, she sided with the rest of her siblings and giving the cold shoulder to the third Weasley sibling.

Lupin and Moody shared a significant glance; they could only hope the Weasleys would be able to heal any damage the war was bringing on their family when it was all over.