Finally an update! This is the second half of Part III and my goal is to have Part IV up before November, so fingers crossed. I am also going back through this fic and editing again so there should be some revisions coming out before the new year if all goes well. All the mistake you find are mine.

After two more days of sulking by the Holmes' brothers, Harry had had enough. Neither of them outwardly showed their displeasure at their situation anymore, and Harry almost missed the destruction they had caused over the constant forced silence they now lived in. It didn't help that Bishop cried at the door every night to be allowed out of the condo or that the wards still rippled and the occurrence was becoming more frequent. Harry had to accept that he was probably still being stalked and it was only the wards that were keeping him safe from whatever or whomever was out there, but not being able to leave left him with Mycroft and Sherlock. He was almost tempted to just leave and take his chances.

Harry walked out of the bedroom where he had spent most of the day, not hiding of course, and addressed the brothers as they sat in front of the fire.

"We need a plan of action, because we can't stay here forever and we all have jobs we would like to get back to."

Sherlock and Mycroft raised an eyebrow at the same time and Harry amended. "Plus, you both are impossible to live with in such a cramped space for such an extended period of time. Mycroft's manor is one thing, hell if I thought I could get away with it I'd take you to Grimmauld, Merlin knows you couldn't do much more harm to it that's already been done and at least there some of the house fights back." Sherlock looked for more intrigued than Harry would have liked.

"Procedures have been put in place should I ever need to lay low as such, you can return me to my office in two days."

Sherlock had an excited look about him. "You and I could take a trip to this Grimmauld you mentioned."

"I'm afraid that's not possible at this time Sherlock."

"It is your property is it not?" Mycroft asked innocently.

"It is, I inherited it actually, but it was used as a headquarters for the Order and well, the spell that allowed them access then is still in place. I didn't stick around long enough to find out how to revoke it. Anyone could show up, or even be living there right now. I thought you didn't approve of Sherlock getting mixed up with my kind."

Mycroft raised an eyebrow. "Did I say that? I don't remember saying that."

Harry's lips thinned as he scanned Mycroft's face. "You're hoping the house will eat your brother aren't you?"

Mycroft shrugged, neither admitting nor denying. Sherlock stared at his brother intently before looking at Harry and Harry sighed as Sherlock and Mycroft shared a quick, but pleased look with each other. "We are not going to Grimmauld Place, not today, but the moment the spell has been revoked you can both spend as much time there as you want, I'll even look into seeing if muggles can use the Floo Network."

"Floo?"

"Oh yes, how would you like to travel through fireplaces, Sherlock?"

"I cannot believe you brought it to this." Harry stated glaring at the backs of the Homles' brothers, currently investigating the entry hall and kitchen of Grimmauld. A mere six hours after the Harry had put his foot down and adamantly stated that they were not going to Grimmauld, they were in fact in the house.

Harry had noticed Sherlock inspecting the living room and hadn't given it much thought, until Sherlock had started spending a bit too much time near the fireplace, or more specifically the floo. "Sherlock, what are you doing over there?" Harry called just a moment too late, Sherlock had grasped a handful of the powder, shouted out Diagon Alley, and disappeared in a burst of green flames.

Harry whipped around to find Mycroft standing just beyond his right shoulder, having witnessed his brother's act as well. "I thought you said he deleted magic!" Harry bellowed before catching his chest with his right hand and placing his forehead against the door frame. "Oh Merlin, we have to go after him. Stay here! I need to pop back to the condo and grab a cloak."

Twenty minutes later found Harry and Mycroft trying to navigate Diagon Alley underneath his invisibility cloak, a bit more unsuccessfully than Harry would prefer. Sherlock was nowhere to be seen and hadn't left any fuss in his wake that Harry had been able to yet spot. If Mycroft stepped on his heel one more time… "Fuck it. You stay under here." Harry swore and slipped from under the cloak into broad daylight. Harry felt one of Mycroft's hands slip into his jacket pocket and Harry put his hand over Mycroft's, hoping to give the illusion of walking casually down the street. It took a bit of work, but they found a rhythm they could both work and continued on in their search for Sherlock.

More and more people were starting to apparate in and Harry could feel the stares and whispers increase. Harry took a chance and ducked into Wizard Weasley Wheezes and found the place pleasantly deserted. Harry flicked his wand at the door behind him, locking it and barring any further entry.

"George?" Harry called, pulling the cloak off Mycroft. Harry had to bite his lip to keep from giggling at the static look Mycroft's hair had taken on. Well, what Mycroft didn't know wouldn't hurt him and in Harry's opinion it would do the man some good to let loose some.

"Harry, that you mate?" George's voice came from the second floor landing.

"Sorry to drop by unannounced, but I've misplaced a muggle friend of mine and the crowds were getting too thick to make searching any good. I'd apologize for locking up your shop, but the storm of customers your likely to get after this…" Harry shrugged good naturedly.

"Don't worry about it mate. 'Sides I think I've got your muggle friend up here with me. Talks real fast, sharp as a whip?"

Mycroft and Harry exchanged a look. "Sounds like Sherlock, alright." Harry answered, leading Mycroft up the stairs.

Harry stopped on the landing and looked George over. The near decade Harry had been gone hadn't been as kind to George as it should have been given their likely time spans. It wasn't anything physical, not quite yet, but he could feel just how much George had aged. Harry was hesitant to get much closer to the man, his body tensing at the memory of the last couple times he had been in the presence of a Weasley. "Hey George, it's been too long."

"Why are you so far away, Harry?" George laughed and pulled him into a hug whispering into Harry's ear. "You shouldn't have kept away so long. Couldn't stand losing another brother."

Harry closed his eyes and fought back the tears, he'd never felt more selfish than in this moment. In protecting himself, in running away, he'd given up on a close and dear friend. Harry hugged George in a tight embrace. Mycroft clearing his throat brought both Harry and George back to reality and they broke apart giving each other sad smiles. "This is Mycroft Holmes, his brother Sherlock escaped us through the floo. We were visiting Grimmauld." Harry grinned at Mycroft and offered his hand out to the man to join them. "Mycroft is my soulmate."

A plume of smoke rolled through the doorway and Harry sighed, almost hitting his head against the palm of his open hand. "We should probably check on Sherlock, he hates being left out. You should see the sibling rivalry these two have going on."

George dashed back into his living quarters while Harry and Mycroft followed at a more sedate pace.

"So you really traveled to Diagon by floo?" George inquired watching closely as Sherlock investigated some of the stores products.

"Hmm?"

"The fireplace, Sherlock." Harry prompted from his seat between Mycroft and Sherlock at the tabled.

"Oh, yes."

George ruminated for a moment. "Didn't know muggles could do that, heard that squibs could, but I've never actually seen it done."

"I've deduced the function of these products, but I don't understand this one." Sherlock announced holding up a heart shape bottle filled with pink liquid.

Harry glanced at the bottle. "Love potion, guess they're still not illegal then?" George wrinkled his noise.

"Can magic make someone love someone else?" Sherlock asked in displeasure.

Harry snatched the bottle from Sherlock's hand. The glass bottles shape was similar to that of the bottles from all those years ago. "The name is a misnomer, the potions cause infatuation. Seems like love at the time, I suppose. The legal ones anyway."

"The illegal ones?"

"Love potions come in classes based on strength. Amortentia is the strongest love potion, and classed as illegal to make or sell. Nothing, not even magic can manufacture true love out of thin air, but without being under the effects of the potion yourself, or even if you are, how can you tell the difference?" Harry drifted off, leaning over to see what Mycroft was reading. "What are you reading that trash for?"

"Trash would be an apt word for this paper, I was under the impression that this was the leading newspaper for Britain magicals. It reads like a gossip rag, did you know there is a column completely devoted to the stalking of your person, Harry?"

Harry shrugged and played nonchalant. "I'm not surprised, even when I was in school the Prophet was printing this and that about me. There was an entire slandering campaign my fifth year. To whom am I marrying this week?"

Mycroft snapped the newspaper open and continued reading, looking quite perturbed. Harry just grinned and knocked his shoulder against Mycroft's.

"Any products you'd like to take with you when you go, Harry?"

"Not, today George, but thanks. Business is doing well then?"

"It comes and goes sometimes, but between the new products and the old we always come out on top in the end. Hired a couple of Hogwarts graduates a few years ago, helps to keep up with the demand and bring in new ideas."

"Ron didn't stick around then?"

"The whole family was helping here and there after the war, Ron stayed on longer than the others, but left permanently about a year and a half in. He spends an awful lot of time these days visiting with Mum, not sure where he gets the gold to support his family, but you'd think mum and dad would have a little more to themselves now that all us kids are out of the house." George gave a disgruntled sigh.

"Surely Hermione knows."

"No offense mate, but Hermione hasn't been the same since the war. None of us have, but Mum and Ron played into every bit of insecurity she had back then. Her parents were gone, no way to reverse that bit of magic and her and Ron are soulmates. None of us thought to look twice, it was romantic and "provided new hope to our devastated world", last I knew she was editing textbooks in her spare time."

Sherlock was looking a bit restless. "Why doesn't Harry have to pay? That's what you meant right?"

"Harry was Fred and mine's first investor, gave us enough to cover the startup costs."

Harry could tell Mycroft was intrigued by this. "Investor?"

"It's not a big deal." Harry murmured, cheeks turning pink.

"Harry gave us his winnings from the TriWizard Tournament."

"Like chess?"

"I wouldn't have won a game chess, let alone wizarding chess, and before you ask Sherlock, the pieces move. It's getting late and I'd like to get back to the condo and check on Bishop." Harry stated as he stood from the table. "It was good seeing you George, Sherlock don't make me check you for any products."

"We should get together sometime, Harry. Lunch?"

"Mind having it in Muggle London? I try to avoid Diagon Alley these days. Mind if we use your floo?'

After seeing Sherlock and Mycroft safely through to Grimmauld, George came up to Harry and hugged him tightly. "Just don't be a stranger, alright? You're welcome here anytime. I don't carry the same views my family did back then."

Harry nodded and walked into the floo.

Three days later Harry popped into Mycroft's office and set a box down on Mycroft's desk, barely able to keep the grin off his face. "I got you a present, for the new office."

"Is it the plant you still owe me?"

"Just open the box, Mycroft."

Mycroft gave Harry a look and proceeded to open the box, the puffskein hummed in delight and began to wobble back and forth. "You brought me a tribble?"

"A what? It's a puffskein, George breeds them. It's where the pygmy puffs in the store come from."

"Those wretchedly bright colored monstrosities?"

"Teenage girls like them." Harry shrugged. "What's a tribble?"

Harry had been treating some bruising and a split lip on one of the teenagers, the boy was newer and had fought to keep a blanket he had found; not everyone as kind as the lot that Harry regularly treated. He had just finished healing the lip and was getting ready to give the boy some advice when the air left his lungs and he dropped to his knees winded. He could vaguely remember that a few of the others had helped him get back up as he stumbled out of the building, using the walls for support and struggling to get enough air into his lungs.

The others may have called after him, but Harry didn't stop, couldn't stop. He was aware enough that he shouldn't attempt apparation instead he stumbled almost drunkenly feeling as if it took forever to reach his destination. An alley hidden in the bowels of London, dark and ominous as the sky continued to grey with the growing storm. Wind swept through the city in a rage, dragging particulates from all corners of London and converging on the alley Harry now stood in.

Crossing the threshold seemed to break the spell, Harry could breathe again, could stand upright and walk again. The city waited, as if holding its breath.

Harry spotted her, about three quarters of the way down the alley before it dead ended. To look at her caused Harry to flash back to the war, the quiet stillness about her that came in the presence of death, when handed out by magic. There was no blood, no bruising, just the stillness. She lay on the ground, almost peaceful, no shock or surprise on her face. She had faced her attacker, but had welcomed, maybe even expected death to come to her that night.

As Harry dropped to his knees at her side a brush of fur startled him. Bishop limped past Harry to sit by Willow's head, crying out mournfully when his paw touched her cheek and she didn't respond. Holding out his hand to his familiar Harry became very aware of just how close he had come to losing both Bishop and Willow. Guilt clung to him as he realized that it hadn't been Willow's death that had brought him here, but Bishop's labored breathing.

Finding the strength to stand, Harry collected his familiar in his arms and held him close. He allowed himself one last look before turning away with a crack.

The crack of apparation was loud even to Harry's ears as he appeared in the in the master bedroom of the condo, jostling Bishop and wincing as his familiar gave a soft cry. Harry gently placed Bishop on the bed and took a step back to try and take in everything that had just happened. He ran a hand through his hair and paced the bedroom; he knew that he and Bishop would be safe here tonight. The wards may ripple, but Harry had every confidence that they would not fall. He knew it from the feel, the way they had been woven, these wards belonged to the Goblins and warding was definitely their craft.

Bishop needed tending to, though, and while Harry trusted himself with years of experience of working on humans, he knew that he was currently too adrenaline filled to even attempt anything on his familiar. He wasn't sure if wizard vetrinarians even existed and he had no way of contacting one safely if they did. That left muggles and Harry was sure they'd be able to help Bishop, but did he dare take them from the safety of the condo? Did he risk giving Mycroft the address and bringing the man here? What if Mycroft became injured in the process?

Harry stifled a sob and curled up on the bed next to Bishop, body buzzing with adrenaline, and reached out with shaky hands to gently run his hands through Bishop's fur. He slipped his phone out of his pocket and lifted it up to his ear, repeating the address of his current location twice to the person on the other line and abruptly hanging up.

Harry was pondering the merit of having Sherlock and Mycroft's residences warded, weighing the pros and cons, the man appeared in the doorway. Harry had felt the man pass into his current area of awareness and when the knock at the door had come, Harry had just waved his hand and unlocked the door, preferring not to get up and move.

"Bishop needs a vet." Harry whispered hoarsely, confident in Mycroft's ability to hear him and procure one as Mycroft stepped back out of the room and walked back down the hall, his voice just filtering through the distance as he gave his orders.

When Mycroft returned he still came no closer than the doorway. "One shall be here shortly."

"You can come in." Harry said as he gingerly sat up and noticed Mycroft giving the room a wary glance.

"Interesting weather we've had today."

"Oh? I hadn't been paying much attention."

Mycroft's dithering look was almost enough to make Harry grin, but the reality of the situation just wouldn't shake. "A magical killed a mundane today, Aurors will need to be notified."

"A file has already made its way to my office, the Queen is already aware of the situation. Aurors were dispatched some time ago, they have been making quite a fuss about wanting to be put in contact with the witch or wizard that had caused quite a ruckus with that storm." Mycroft reported as he made to sit on the opposite side of the bed, careful not to jostle Bishop. "Your name has already been dropped curiously enough. I'd even go so far to say you might be a suspect. Curious way to run a department of law enforcement."

"I can't take the credit for killing the woman."

"I suspected as much."

"I'm not going to cooperate with them either. They'd have me locked up in Azkaban without a trial in a heartbeat."

"As an employee for me, you are protected. The Crown will not take lightly to the pursuing of your person, they've come to find out."

Harry could faintly hear the buzzer at the door going off and Mycroft excused himself. He returned a few minutes later with a woman who looked to be in her late thirties, whose name Mycroft mentioned but Harry paid no heed. His sole focus was Bishop and the careful watch of his familiar in her care.

Bishop was going to be fine, the veterinarian had confirmed. Harry would have to try and make sure Bishop took it easy for a week or more, but he had no breaks, dislocations, or any apparent internal bleeding. Harry was given a list of things to look out for and was instructed to call the emergency number listed if any of them occurred, but otherwise Bishop should be fine. Harry suspected his cat's well being had more to do with his magical lineage than being a case of simply being bruised, not that he was complaining.

"Thank you." Harry murmured into Bishops fur as he cradled the cat to his chest.

"Think nothing of it."

Harry raised his head and moved to stand directly in front of Mycroft. "I mean it, Mycroft. Thank you."

"You are most welcome, Harry. Arrangements are being made for your friend, are there any specific requests you may have?"

Harry shifted Bishop and gently placed him on the ground, freeing his arms to hug Mycroft fiercely. "I would ask how you knew, but it doesn't really matter does it?" Harry asked sounding a bit choked. "Thank you for everything Mycroft, for all that you do. I was thinking earlier, when did I come to rely on you so much, but I should have been asking why couldn't I have been able to rely on you sooner? We missed so much time."

Mycroft didn't respond with words, he just held Harry tightly, eased them back on to the bed and stayed the night.

Sunlight filtered through the open curtains of the bedroom. Harry scrunched up his nose and attempted to roll over and burry himself underneath the covers. He cracked open an eye to find himself wrapped up and held against Mycroft's chest, who else did he know who dressed in such fine clothes, as the man still slept, a soft snore audible with every few breaths. Harry had to reign in a chuckle as he watched the man sleep.

As Harry laid there the realization that he hadn't had any nightmares the night before hit him. After the day he had had yesterday, the emotional upheaval he had gone through, the reminder of the war. Just remembering the events made Harry shudder and lean in closer to Mycroft.

"Good morning, Harry." Mycroft's voice rumbled in his ear.

Harry rubbed his cheek across the fabric of Mycroft's shirt. "Morning, Mycroft. Have any important meetings today?"

"Nothing that cannot be rescheduled."

"I don't want to keep you from anything."

A hand rested on Harry's head. "I think I am due for a day off."

"Are you sure you don't want me to take you to your office?"

"I arrived here by car."

"It's just after everything that happened yesterday..."

Mycroft buttoned his jacket and joined Harry by the couch. "I have a feeling that should anything happen you will be right by my side." Mycroft held out his hand and Harry grasped it, giving a gentle squeeze. "I have meetings tomorrow and Friday that will require me to leave the office, otherwise if you have need of me I shall be where I always am."

"Thank you for taking Bishop in."

"He eats Tribble and you won't be so thankful." Mycroft added with a raised eyebrow.

Harry chuckled and drew closer to Mycroft, standing just in front of him, almost chest to chest. "I still can't believe you named him that. "

Mycroft pressed his lips to Harry's forehead. "It seemed appropriate at the time."

They shared a brief hug and Harry walked with Bishop and Mycroft down to the car. Mycroft had agreed to take Bishop in, for a trial period, or at least as long as it took for the cat to heal. Bishop hadn't complained as much as Harry thought he would. Harry watched as Mycroft and Bishop loaded into the car and exchanged parting words with Mycroft through the rolled down window.

"I'm going to stay in today and tomorrow I have lunch with George, after that I will be out again, like normal. I'll be sure to keep my phone close though. You two take care. "

"And yourself, Harry. We do hope to see you soon."

Harry watched as the car drove away and felt oddly unsettled. It was becoming more and more difficult to say goodbye to Mycroft.

Harry arrived first, it was a quaint café that had a small privacy section in the back. Mycroft had insisted on making a reservation for Harry and his friend. He gave the café a cursory glance, mostly college age patrons in the front with a slightly older clientele in the back. As the hostess seated Harry at his table he smiled at Mycroft's forethought for a corner table and elected to sit with his back to the corner. He was a bit nervous to visit with George by himself, Sherlock and Mycroft could be overwhelming to take on at the same time and Harry worried at how differently George may act without the two present. He knew he was probably over reacting, Fred and George had always been good friends, and it was Harry's own fault for not trusting George more in those last days.

"Such a serious look, Harry." George announced as he came up to the table, startling Harry. "Didn't mean to startle you though."

"No worries George, just have a bit on my mind." Harry responded as George sat across from him. "How have you been?"

"Good, good. So, if you don't mind my asking, what has you shaken?"

"Does it show that much?"

George looked at him in concern. "If you know what to look for. Are you alright, Harry?"

"Lost a close friend a couple days ago. It was sudden and has definitely thrown me a bit."

"I'm sorry to hear that. If there's anything I can do for you, Harry, you know you just have to ask."

Harry gave a self-deprecating grin. "Thanks, George. That's really decent of you."

"You're a friend…"

"Haven't been much of one lately, though."

George studied Harry for a bit before leaning across the table, grasping Harry's hands, and looking him directly in the eye. "I won't say I wasn't angry when you disappeared. I had no way of knowing if you were alright or if you knew that I didn't agree with the rest of my family's views. It upset me that you may have just lumped me in with them, I thought we had been better friends than that. I was also in a bad place still, I couldn't look at the situation objectively. I could hardly leave my shop still without worrying about having a breakdown and it was easier to take it out on you, but that didn't make it right.

"After Ron had stopped working at the shop, I was in a much better place then, and I started to really think about all that was going on in our world. The marriages, the babies, the celebrations. It all seemed so fake, forced almost. The Prophet was already starting to pick you apart. Mum was always quick to put you down whenever your name was mentioned. Ron and Hermione would usually chime in. Words like duty and responsibility were thrown around without thought." George released his hands and sat back in his chair. "The more I looked, the more I listened, the more I thought about it, I realized that I would have left too. I mean what did you have left? You gave your life for us and we turned around and just demanded more."

A waitress came by and took their orders and they sat in a comfortable silence until their meals arrived. Harry mentally chewed on what George had said. He was relieved to have it confirmed that George didn't follow his families views, or that of the wizarding population of Great Britain at large.

George broke the silence. "If it would be alright with you, I'd like to tell Bill and Charlie that you and I are in contact with each other. We've talked about you some, on and off, over the years. I think they would like to have a chance to apologize to you for what happened that night."

"I wouldn't ask you to keep out lunches a secret from those you love, George, but with what's going on in the Prophet and all, there are risks to being around me."

"Unfortunately, there has always been a risk."

"Yeah and last time it ended in a war…"

"What has you so rattled, Harry?"

Harry paused and considered the situation. He didn't want to put his friend in any more danger than he already may have. "My friend that passed, she was killed by a witch or wizard. I've known about the stalking, but it's gotten pretty serious lately and then she was killed. To top it all off, I was informed that when Aurors arrived on scene I was their immediate suspect. I'd really like to keep out of Azkaban, George."

"Shit, Harry. It's like after the TriWizard Tournament all over again."

"Minus Dumbledore and what few protections there are for minors in our world, yeah."

"What are you going to do?"

"Mycroft says I've got rights and protections, so I should be alright for now."

"The muggle that you showed up with? Isn't he your soulmate?"

"He is also my boss." Harry stated with a smile.

"Look no offense, Harry, but does he treat you well? Both he and his brother seemed a bit off. Mycroft though gave me chills, and with what your mark says. Is he safe?"

Harry bit back a frown and gut response, giving himself a moment to think through George's concerns. "I would say you just need to get to know him, but to be truthful I don't think there are many he allows to see past the mask. Sherlock and I might be the only exceptions. Mycroft and I aren't your typical whirlwind bonding romance couple. That's not who we are. I don't know that I can put it in words really, or that there's anything I can say to assuage your concerns. It's still a bit of a work in progress."

"You're safe with him?"

"George, I honestly don't think there's a safer place on the planet, then when I'm with him. At the least we make quite a team."

George took a last bite of his meal. "Well that's enough for me. As long as your happy, Harry."

"Very much."

"Going to tell me how you two met?"

Harry laughed at the memory. "He kidnapped me." George looked alarmed and Harry continued. "I was working with Sherlock, got a bit closer than most do I guess given Sherlock's nature, and social norms sort of go out the window when you are around them. So, Mycroft sent his assistant to fetch me, brought me to a seemingly abandoned warehouse. We chatted, he offered me a job."

"He kidnapped you and then offered you a job."

"It's not the strangest thing to happen while around the two of them and if Bishop gets involved…"

"Bishop?" George inquired.

"My familiar, he's a cat, some sort of mix breed mundane and magical." Harry sighed and dug his hands into the napkin on his lap. "He's staying with Mycroft currently, he was injured when my friend was killed."

"He's alright?"

"He is going to be just fine. As long as he doesn't eat he puffskein I gave Mycroft."

"That's who you gave the puffskien to?"

"Don't look like that George." Harry said as George made a face. "Mycroft isn't going to eat it, he's quite attached. Not that he'd ever admit it."

"I don't know how you do it Harry."

"Do what?"

"Attract so much trouble."

Harry smiled good naturedly. "Well, I've come to learn that not all trouble is bad, but there is no denying that the Holmes' brothers are definitely trouble. Enough about me though, how have you been? You've told me about the store and your family. Tell me about you."

"I have more good days than bad. The shop runs a whole lot more smoothly now with the extra help and well and truly being on my own has really given me a new view of the world. That's not to say that it isn't tough, but I'd like to think that he'd be proud you know."

"Yeah, mate. I know he would."

"Mum still gets on to me every once and a while about settling down, but I don't think I'm just ready yet. I think part of me is holding out, you know? I don't know how mum would feel about my soulmate being a muggle, but I don't really get the feeling they're a witch or wizard. Or maybe it's just wishful thinking. Think of how mum would freak."

"Would it really bother her? What about your dad?"

"Our family may be considered blood traitors, but we are purebloods and while we may not be liked, we are still held to certain standards. Dad's never said one way or another, but I think Mum would have arranged our marriages if she could have. She was raised with those traditions."

"What about Ron and Hermione then?"

"Well it depends on the family really. Traditionally Ron would have had a marriage contract arranged after his mark showed, but seeing as how that isn't the case in our family it kind of boils down to, any magic is better than none. It's not been a problem, yet." George stared down at the table, looking conflicted. "Actually, I've got something I need to tell you about. I should have brought it up sooner, but we just got to talking and, well, there's never a right moment."

"What's happened?" Harry asked.

"I don't usually read the Prophet, it gets delivered every day, but I usually just give it to the others when we have breakfast, before we open shop. So after your visit I started I started flipping through it, took notice of the column and the other things that were being written pertaining to you. Well when I was at dinner with the family Sunday I overheard Ron and Hermione talking to Mum and Ginny. I didn't hear it all, so I can't be one-hundred percent sure, but I thought I overheard them mention a tracking spell being used by the column followers. One that's not entirely legal. It's used to track your magic instead of your person. The reason it's not illegal is because Aurors can use it, but it is supposed to be brought before the Wizengamot, a petition of sorts before use in each individual case."

"I doubt that's actually happening and even if it was, the Wizengamot probably just turns a blind eye."

George shrugged.

"Thank you, George, I know it couldn't be easy to learn that and face the fact that at least some of your family knows about it. It actually makes sense, really. How someone or someones found the place I'm currently staying and why the wards ripple with more frequency. I apparate in and out, the floo isn't connected and I thought it would have been safer than going in and out on foot. I should probably go though, I'd like to check on Mycroft and Bishop before I head home." Harry and George stood to leave, Harry left the correct change on the table for the meal, and they headed out the door. "Take care of yourself, George, and use the phone to let me know when you want to get together again. It was good to really catch up."

"You take care of yourself too, Harry. Be careful, try to keep out of trouble."

"You may need to talk to trouble about that, it usually finds me. See ya, George."

George waved and walked off into the crowd, likely to find a quiet spot to apparate from. Harry watched until he couldn't see him and flipped open his phone. "Think I could get a ride?"

Mycroft had gone so far as to set up a small memorial type service for Willow, nothing structured or fancy. People could come and go as they pleased, but for a whole day Willow was remembered. Most didn't speak or wouldn't go all the way in to the small room that had been set up in the back of the building Harry lived, but as more and more showed Harry was overwhelmed by the sheer number of people whose lives Willow had touched.

Mycroft had also sent along a few counselors for those who may seek it. Even less chose to speak to the two women, but Harry was glad that even a few did as he stood watch over the event. It wasn't often someone listened to those who lived on the streets and Harry knew from experience the kind of toll that could take over time, the inherent loneliness in knowing that there was no one to really talk to, because everyone around you carried an unimaginable burden of their own. Maybe, Harry thought, it was why the gesture on Mycroft's part meant so much to Harry. Willow had carried many of their secrets, even gone so far as to help lessen a few burdens. It was only fitting that her memorial carried on that tradition.

Harry stayed the whole day, from the moment of set up until the moment of break down. A memorial left was behind for those who may make their way in their own time or may wish to return at a later instance. Harry had chanced a small spell to protect the area from the elements and time.

Mycroft waited for him in the car, Bishop and Tribble waited for their return home. Harry could finally say goodbye.

As he lay on top of Mycroft, his head rested over the man's heart listening to the steady rhythm, one hand intertwined with Mycroft's the other tracing his collarbone through the soft and pliable fabric of Mycroft's shirt, Harry allowed himself to mourn. Not in tears, or rage, or fear, but in life that surrounded him. In the constant hum of the city, the comforting purr of Bishop mixed with the constant hum of Tribble, in the pulsing beats beneath his ear. Part of him still felt guilty at her passing, in that if Bishop hadn't been attacked would he even have noticed? Eventually, of course, he would have sought her out. What really hurt was having to leave her, in the turmoil of his emotions Harry had known that Bishop needed help and with Willow beyond that point, he had left her behind. Anything could have happened to her.

"You should sleep." Mycroft leaned down, pushing Harry's messy locks out of the way and whispered in his exposed ear.

Harry couldn't bring himself to respond and squeezed Mycroft's hand in acknowledgment.

"Perhaps we should visit Sherlock tomorrow." Mycroft mused. "He texted me earlier, wanted a passport prepared. Says he is going to Florida."

Harry shifted his head a bit, pushing it up into Mycroft's hand. "Those poor people."

"For the last time Sherlock, I'm not your babysitter. So if you'd please leave me be I'd like to take a nap."

"Mycroft sent you?"

"He didn't, not exactly. I chose to come and Mycroft agreed."

Sherlock slipped into his jacket in a huff.

"Look I'm not here to tell you how to live, but you may want to rethink the jacket." Harry retorted as Sherlock rushed out of the hotel room. "Or not. Now I'm probably going to have to treat the idiot for heat stroke."

"Let me get this straight. You helped the lady ensure her husband got the death penalty and she's letting you stay in one of her flats back in London for a reduced price?"

"Precisely."

"I need to stop spending so much time around you and your brother. That almost sounds normal."

The seasons began to change, Sherlock and Harry returned from the Florida with little fanfare and life went on. Harry still lived among the homeless, treating them, getting to know them better. He visited Willow's memorial once after his return, but hadn't been back since. He visited with Mycroft twice a week, when work didn't bring them together sooner, and stayed over for one of those nights. Bishop had taken up permanent residence with Mycroft and shadowed the man to work every morning. Tribble was content to doze on Mycroft's bed all day. Harry met with George once a month for lunch, for the most part they talked about everyday things, and left the woes of the world at the café door. Sherlock still worked cases, both through word of mouth and Scotland Yard. Mycroft had mentioned in passing his plans to meet one Detective Inspector Lestrade. Harry would just put his head in his palm and sigh, he didn't understand why they just couldn't invite the man to Christmas dinner and be done with it. Sherlock told them to stop being so disgustingly domestic during one of his visits, or in Sherlockian terms invasions to Mycroft's home.

Which is how when Christmas rolled around, Harry found himself spending it yet again with the Holmes' brothers. Harry and Mycroft had finally come to a compromise in the regards to Detective Inspector Lestrade, if Harry let Mycroft "kidnap" the man, then Harry could invite him over for Christmas dinner, as a gesture of kindness and normalcy. As a plus, Harry was allowed to decorate the manor however he saw fit for the holiday. Harry planned on taking full advantage of the compromise and couldn't be happier, well, maybe if the "kidnapping" wasn't necessary, but he digressed.

"When will Greg be arriving?" He called out from the kitchen.

"Gregory." Mycroft emphasized. "Will be arriving at six this evening. Same as when you asked an hour ago, dear."

Harry stuck his head out of the kitchen archway to glare at Mycroft and noticed that Sherlock looked suspiciously blank faced. "Don't you 'dear' me, Mycroft."

Mycroft never looked up from his mobile. Harry sucked in a breath and walked back to the oven determined not to give in to his frustration, he could sick Bishop on the two of them later. He knew he was making a big deal out of this and it was more than likely going to go to hell, but he wanted to try at least. Greg had survived Mycroft's antics and had been honestly open to spending the holiday dinner with the three of them, Harry had gone so far as to ask the man himself. And while he accepted Mycroft and Sherlock for who and what they were whole heartedly, that didn't mean he trusted them not to fuck with him, or each other, during this dinner.

The doorbell rang a while later and Harry put a stasis charm on the food, walked past Mycroft and Sherlock in the living room, giving Mycroft a look as he started to stand, and walked into the foyer to open the door. "Good evening Detective Inspector, please come inside, if you'll follow me we can make a quick stop in the coat room before joining the Holmes'."

"Ah, hello. Hope you don't mind my asking, but are you their butler? It's just that you delivered the invitation and now with the door."

Harry chuckled and noticed Greg looked a bit uncomfortable. "No, not their butler, though it can feel like it at times. My name is Harry, Harry Potter, and the elder Holmes, Mycroft, is my soulmate. I apologize for not introducing myself when I dropped off the invitation. If you stick around long enough you'll get why I do the things I do. I find it makes things easier for all involved." Harry looked back to see Greg giving him an odd look. He took Greg's coat and hung it up before addressing the man. "Don't get me wrong, I love the two of them, idiots they may be." Harry smiled. "But, sometimes they can be too smart for their own good, I'm sure you've seen it working with Sherlock." Greg nodded. "They've become my family and I try to smooth the way when I can. Fair warning they can be a bit much to take on together, don't worry though, I've got your back."

Harry led Greg into the living room, Mycroft had stood, making his way towards them, while Sherlock hadn't deigned the situation worthy of leaving his seat.

"Gregory, a pleasure to see you again." Mycroft stated coming to stand beside Harry, holding out his hand, not to Greg but to Harry. Harry gave Mycroft a look, but gladly grasped his hand, resisting the urge to roll his eyes.

"Mr. Holmes, Sherlock. Thank you for the invitation. You have a lovely home, Mr. Holmes."

Mycroft just nodded and Harry had to squeeze the man hand to make him get the hint. "Please call me Mycroft and you know my brother."

"Well…I'm going to go finish dinner, should be ready in about twenty minutes." Harry stared Mycroft and then Sherlock directly in the eyes. "Play nice, I mean it. I know where you sleep and I have a cat."

Taking a deep breath Harry left the room and hoped for the best.

Dinner was an overwhelming success. Greg easily switched between talking to Mycroft about crime statistics in London and going over old cases with Sherlock. Mycroft complimented Harry on his cooking and Greg was quick to second, the biggest compliment coming from Sherlock when he asked for seconds on dessert. After dinner they all retired to the living room, Mycroft and Greg made easy conversation and Sherlock curled up with a book in front of the fire. Bishop wondered in and after exacting his due of a petting from Greg the feline joined Harry on the couch deciding to curl up and sleep on Harry's lap. Midnight had long come and gone when Greg started to doze and Mycroft graciously offered one of his guest rooms.

Harry waited until Mycroft had come back before getting up and walking over to Sherlock, still sprawled over the chair. "Thank you, Sherlock." Harry kneeled down in order to best hug the man. Sherlock stiffened at first, but gradually relaxed. "I know you both really tried tonight and it really means a lot to me, best Christmas present you could have gotten me." Harry stood and walked over to Mycroft to hug him as well. "Goodnight, Sherlock, see you in the morning."

As Mycroft led Harry to their room that night, Harry realized that he felt well and truly complete when he spent time with his family and the Holmes' brothers were without a doubt his family.