Harry, with Ginny firmly anchored onto his arm, allowed himself to be ushered into a familiar kitchen. A chorus of "meows" greeted him."Oh," his hostess exclaimed, sounding dismayed. "I never got to introduce you to my newest, Franklin…" she dangled a grumpy- looking kitten before Harry's face.
"He's… very nice, Mrs. Figg," Harry replied, feeling a bit awkward as he was pushed down onto a rickety wooden chair. Ginny settled neatly beside him, adjusting the hem of her light blue dress over her knees and crossing her ankles underneath the chair.
"Well now," Mrs. Figg intoned, peering over her glasses at the red-headed woman before her. "Let me get a good look at you. Oh yes; you are lovely. A good family, you've come from; I've been told by many a friend."
"Thank you," Ginny replied, throwing Harry a cheeky wink once the older woman's back was turned. Franklin leapt onto Ginny's lap and she held a finger out for the ball of brown fluff to sniff.
"Do you need any help?" Harry called as he heard a clattering coming from the kitchen that his old neighbor had disappeared to.
"I'm just fine, dearest!" the old woman called back.
She emerged with a platter held tightly in her soft-looking arms only moments later; on the platter was the makings of a nice tea nearly forgotten in the shadows of a simply enormous chocolate cake. The platter was promptly settled down on the doily-covered table and tea cups were distributed to all.
Harry nearly spilled the pale brown liquid that had been poured in his cup when a heeled shoe was ground mercilessly into his toe. "Ow! What—" the look on Ginny's face told him what he was supposed to say.
"This looks wonderful, Mrs. Figg," he dutifully informed the woman. He shot Ginny a glare; she responded with a cherubic smile.
"To what do we owe this fine occasion?" Ginny asked politely, settling Franklin back on the tiled floor.
Mrs. Figg, who was busy carving out thick slabs of cake with a wicked-looking knife, glanced up at the question.
"Well, darling, I've been looking after this boy his whole life; I find I've grown rather attached to him, and it's been so long since I've been able to see him… You really did worry me, Harry." She shot him a stern glance, and Harry bowed his head, trying to conceal a smile.
"Not to mention," she continued, "that I really did give him a bit of an awful time when he was growing up. I thought it might be nice to just talk; no more pretense. You haven't grown too famous to spare a moment for an old friend, have you, boy?"
"No, ma'am," Harry shook his head, feeling as if he were, indeed, once more the bespectacled and lonely ten-year-old boy instead of the nearly eighteen-year-old, engaged to be married man he now was.
"Good. Now have some cake."
They did indeed have some cake and, if it was rather stale tasting, nobody noticed, or at least, nobody said anything, for this afternoon was reserved for nothing more than old comrades in a lifelong war meeting together once again.