Disclaimer: Ok, so here's the thing. I do not have not and never will own Harry Potter. J.K Rowling does. Unfortunately, that doesn't stop my mad, crazy mind running rampant all over it. Sorry.

Right, so I had mocks. UGH. And this is what I did when I was not revising, in a misguided attempt to chill and wind down. Now won't leave me alone. Ah well. Thats me. (But sitting in a French exam, trying to concentrate on the verb to be born- and its irregualr- when this is shouting plot details at me is really, really frustrating. But they were good plot details.)

Parilitas

Harry stifled a yawn.

So this was what happened at Grimmauld Place in the summer.

Boring.

He turned to Ron, who was scrubbing bad-temperedly at a stubborn piece of dirt on some ancient china that had been unearthed from the back of a cupboard, and (much to Sirius' astonishment) didn't have the Black family crest on it, which was therefore deemed suitable for use. Harry picked up what felt like his millionth cup, and looked around interestedly as he heard the front door quietly close.

It was testament to how boring washing eighteenth century china or scrubbing out various long-forgotten rooms was that every time the front door closed, at least sixteen people dropped whatever it was they were doing, and ran towards the source of the noise. Well, at least that's what it felt like to Harry.

"That Lupin?" Ron asked, quietly, trying to identify the muffled voices.

"Yeah." Harry agreed.

Mrs Weasley's voice joined in the conversation, as did Sirius'. Unfamiliar footsteps began to climb the stairs. The voices came closer to the door and Harry and Ron heard actual words, then sentences.

"Do you think she'll be alright?" Remus' voice was still quiet, but just audible.

"We'll look after her." Mrs Weasley promised.

"I know you will, Molly, its just-"

"You know you're welcome at any time. She'll settle in alright, you just watch." She tutted. "How they've managed to miss each other at school though absolutely defeats me."

"I was surprised." Lupin's voice held a smile.

"Won't you stay to dinner at least? She'll want to say goodbye." Mrs Weasley's voice softened. "I'm making meatballs."

"How could I ever resist your meatballs?"

The door handle turned, and Harry and Ron turned, hastily back to their work.

"Nearly finished, you two?" Mrs Weasley surveyed the two sopping wet, prune-fingered fifteen-year-olds with the practiced eye of one with several children. "Ron, dear, you'll never get that off. It's part of the pattern."

Ron grumpily clanged the dish onto the small pile, and fished around in the now opaque water for another.

"Hi Harry, Ron."

"Hi, Prof- Remus. How're you?" Harry's question was well founded. Remus looked more the worse for wear than usual, and it wasn't as if the full moon was approaching.

"I'm fine."

"Who was that with you?" Ron asked, belligerently, not bothering with any degree of tact.

"None of your business." Mrs Weasley was inspecting Harry and Ron's handiwork, "These are awful, have you two actually attempted to clean off this dirt at all?"

"Thought it was part of the pattern." Ron muttered mutinously. Mrs Weasley fixed him with her legendary look.

"It's alright Molly; they'll meet her at dinner anyway." Remus turned to Harry and Ron. "My niece, Chrissie. She's just twelve."

"Don't think I saw her at Hogwarts." Ron commented.

"You've probably seen her around. She's in Gryffindor too."

Harry got the feeling that Lupin was keeping something from them. "We'll probably know her when we see her."

Mrs Weasley was supervising the cooking of the dinner, several knives chopping in tandem and meat and herbs rolling themselves into perfect spheres while a sauce bubbled cheerily on the range and potatoes crisped in the oven. Harry and Ron, although released from their monotonous task, weren't allowed to go and find Chrissie, because Mrs Weasley said she didn't want to "Crowd the poor dear."

They discussed quidditch and the weather (or at least they pretended to discuss quidditch and the weather whilst keeping an eye on the door in case Chrissie came in and listening to Remus mutter comments about the headlines under his breath.)

There was a loud bang at the top of the stairs, and Sirius' mother began her usual routine of shrieking and insults. Harry heard Sirius shouting back and fighting with the curtains until the noise abated. Lupin went to help, and Mrs Weasley tutted.

Altogether nothing much happened.

Mrs Weasley looked at the potatoes in the oven and left the kitchen to fetch the other members of the odd, dysfunctional family that was the Order.

When Hermione and Ginny entered, followed by Sirius and Fred and George, a small, dark-haired girl was chatting animatedly to them. As far as Harry and Ron could see, she was small for twelve, and a little shy. She looked nervously at Lupin as she walked in, and he gave her an encouraging smile, before ensconcing himself between Mr Weasley and Sirius, with Bill on the side beside Sirius. Chrissie sat beside Ginny, and Fred and George plonked themselves next to her. Mrs Weasley gave them a warning look.

As the meal commenced, Harry placed Chrissie. He had seen her around Hogwarts, only she was always in the company of three other first- years (Or second-years now he supposed) He didn't know any of them aside from their being… well, not constantly in trouble, but mostly just too curious for their own good.

Another thing he noticed was that she didn't pay him any attention.

Not that he was complaining, it made a nice change, but Harry felt he'd like to know why. Maybe going to school with Famous Harry Potter took the shine off it, but the other students still stared at him… he pondered this for a minute while half-heartedly listening to Ron and Hermione bicker about SPEW and elf rights. It didn't matter, he decided. Maybe there were sane people in the world.

After dinner Lupin put on his cloak to leave, walking and then getting the knight bus as far as… wherever it was that he lived. Turned out he was no fan of the Floo network. Chrissie had a quiet word with him in the hall before he left. Quieter than normal. Any conversation held in proximity of Sirius' mum's portrait was pretty quiet, but this was near silent.

"Wonder what they're talking about." Ron muttered aloud to Harry and Hermione from three floors up.

"For goodness sake, Ron, she's allowed to say goodbye to him if she wants!" Hermione didn't take any notice. Harry wasn't so sure though.

*………*

"They're nice people, I'll be fine."

Remus sighed. "I know they are, but if you don't like it, we can work something out, that's all I'm saying."

"You worry too much. Anyway, I've got to learn to get on with all sorts of people, remember?" Her tone was slightly bitter.

Remus didn't answer. "I'm coming back for dinner tomorrow, ok?"

She hugged him. "See you soon." Then a pause. "Uncle Remus..?"

"What is it?"

"Should I tell them?"

Remus considered the question. "Yes. Telling people is probably a good idea. Keeping on the right side of the law and everything."

"How?"

"How should you tell them? I'd just mention it, like it's not a bad thing."

"Casually?"

"That's right. They might need a while to get used to the idea, but they'll come around in the end. They're good kids, and Molly and Arthur won't mind. Sirius already knows. Just don't worry about it. See you tomorrow then." He opened the door and stepped out into the night.

*………*

Harry and Ron watched Chrissie close the door, suddenly looking much younger than twelve. She chewed a nail, one arm around her waist. Finally, she appeared to pull herself together, and she walked, purposefully back into the kitchen.