*NOTE: If you are a fan on my Fred/Helen stories, a clear order has finally appeared. "For Sale", "Fred's Decision", "The Birthday Party", "Negotiations", "Best Laid Plans", and "Silly Me," with a final installment well on the way. Keep reading!

Helen was just putting Winnie down for the night when she heard something going on down the hall. Distinctly it was a lack of noise. She knew George was visiting from his loft over the shop in Diagon Alley and Lupin was over, taking a break from a very pregnant Tonks (not right, in her opinion, leaving the poor woman with her mother and father all the time), but normally the three of them would be drinking her good wine and bitching loudly enough to carry to the mainland about the way things were these days.

But the room down the hall on the single level beach house was suspiciously quiet. After assuring that Winnie was all right, Helen headed down the hall and looked in on where she had left the boys in the living room and found it empty. Helen rolled her eyes and groaned. She knew exactly where to find them.

Returning down the hall and passing the nursery, Helen got to the end and stood in the right hand doorway. She leaned on the frame and drummed her fingernails on the opposite side. The men were sitting at the kitchen table in low light with speakers in front of each of them and the radio equipment out. They were on Potter Watch again.

The drumming caught their attention and all three looked up to Helen. Since they were on the air, she restrained herself and simply signed to them. She pointed to the three of them one by one mouthing 'you three' and then slashed her flat palm across her neck.

'Off.'

Her pointer finger jabbed toward the ground.

'Now.'

The boys signed off. And stood up from the table. "Sorry Helen…we just…" Lupin stammered as he grabbed his coat and fled through the kitchen door past Helen to flee through the front door off the living room.

George clapped his brother on the shoulder. "This is why I don't intend on getting married." Helen punched George's shoulder as he passed, and then turned to the sole man left standing, her husband.

"Fred, what did I tell you when you came to me with his idea?"

Fred leaned against the table and responded smartly, "That you thought it was a good way to give people hope."

"That's right and I said I would help with whatever you needed on one condition. Do you remember that condition?"

Fred straightened. "Oh Helen-"

"Don't 'oh Helen' me. What did I tell you?"

Fred sighed. "Not on the island." Helen nodded. "But come on, Helen, it's the most secure place in all of England. You said it yourself when we moved here."

Helen sighed. "Sit down Fred."

"What?"

"Sit down."

The two took up seats at the table, and Helen moved the speakers from in front of her. "Fred, when you moved here I told you it was the most secure place in all England because it is…I think, probably. I didn't set the security measures on this island, my great grandfather did. And with all the spells and charms out there, there's no way I can know what he used. The man spoke four languages. I don't know if there's a time limit on any of it. Our cloaking could blink out in a flash; our barriers could disintegrate in a moment." Helen sighed and wrapped her hand around her elbows. "Likely no one knows what it was and the only people who would are long dead. It's not likely anyone will bust through the in on us."

"But it's possible," Fred put in, answered with a nod. "Someone could know what he did."

"And it's not likely they're a friend to us; Old Papa wasn't a good man. Brilliant, but…That's why I don't want this going on in the house, the mansion, on the island. Anywhere near our family."

Fred's face turned red. He was clearly abashed, but when he looked up, he was calm, and asked, "Why didn't you tell me?"

Helen shrugged. "I never thought I would need to. Or because I thought telling you simply not to do something would actually work. Silly me."

They both snickered at this and Fred took Helen's hands from where they rested hugging her elbows. "Whatever you want. This stuff will be gone tomorrow, but I do still want to do Potter Watch."

"Of course you do," Helen said assuredly. "It was after all my idea."

"Was not."

Helen stood up and bent to kiss her husband. "Was too." When she reached the door Fred stopped her. "Where are we going to move it?"

"I was thinking George's flat over the shop."

Fred leaned back in his chair. "In the middle of the alley. Right there, so close those dimwit Death Eaters should be able to smell it." He paused while a smile graced his lips. "I love it."

"I thought you might."