Chapter Four: A Burly, Irked Burke

The big, meaty fist of Lawrence Burke smashed into my desk, the sound reverberating against the cubicle walls before reaching open space. His voice, angry and emotional, snapped in the silent office like a whip crack, and even though I knew the man wouldn't lay a finger on my head (as I would destroy him), I inched my way backward, leaning away from him.

"What the fuck, Potter!" he said, for the fourth time since our conversation began a few minutes ago. I had calmly requested his presence in my office, and he had smilingly accompanied me back to my desk, seating himself and enjoying a jelly doughnut while making small talk. Once I began explaining his role in my operation, as well as who his companions would be, his patient, friendly tone went out the window, and the half-eaten doughnut was smushed across my desk. "I've been busting my ass for you for six months, and this is how you repay it? Sending me to fucking France to clean up giant shit?" He eyed me with a look bordering on fury. "I thought we were friends, man!"

I shook my head. Burke was a decent chap, but to me, Lawrence was more like an acquaintance, as I was a few years older than him and didn't hang around the younger aurors all that much. They preferred talking about hunting, and fishing, and their manly accomplishments in the bedroom, whereas I liked to talk about Ginny's new hairstyle or my upcoming wedding - not exactly the topic of interest with the guys. "This isn't about friendship, how much effort you've been putting in, or anything like... that." I tried to remain calm, hoping that if I gave the man time to vent he would see the error of his ways. "According to your file, you were raised in the upper part of Scotland." I briefly glanced at his file, still open on my desk, dripping with a bit of jelly. "The Orkney Islands." This was not a question, but he answer me all the same.

"Yes," he said through his teeth. "That is... accurate." It seemed like it was very difficult for him to admit. "I don't see what that has to do with anything."

I considered the man a moment. He was six-foot three, nearly a head taller than I was, and quite a bit heavier than me. Still, I had seen the man dance circles around the other aurors in his class a few years ago, and his speed belied his brute strength; despite his size, I knew he was as quick with the draw as anyone in the department, and nearly as powerful. His grey eyes were still narrowed, and I could sense that if I waited any longer, he might conveniently forget I was his superior.

"The Loch of Swannay ring a bell?" His forehead crinkled noticeably, but it was obvious despite his confusion that he knew the area. "Besides myself, you are the only wizard on the force with an inkling of how fiercesome giants are in close combat." I paused, as his face fell slightly. "I realize that you were attacked near the lake by a giant who was in a frenzy, lusting for blood, and you protected your," I glanced at the file, "cousin from it's wrath."

Burke stared blankly across the desk; judging by the sudden silence, I knew he was remembering the events that led up to his use of protective magic against the giant. In truth, he had barricaded himself and his younger cousin in a cave before using the Kattaraks shield to protect the third-year Hogwarts student until the giant ran off, tired of pounding against the blue wall of magic. This was right before he started with the aurors, and his use of the same spell during an exam had been the main reason I was so interested in the trainee.

"I remember, sir," he said, with a look of someone who had finally accepted his fate. "We were fortunate the giant left us alone before my strength faded."

"And yet, you held your own against the giant for twenty minutes without dropping the spell once. I'm certain we won't need more time than that, just as I'm certain you are more capable now than you were then. In short, Lurch (one of the shorter Muggleborn aurors had taken to calling him that over a year ago), you are my last line of defense against these giants. The weather in Scotland during winter is not dissimilar to what we will face in the Chartreuse."

"Look... Lawrence," I said, trying a more man to man approach. "I think you're one of the best. There are only a handful of people I'd select to watch my back on a mission, and though we've never worked together before, I am counting on you." He finally turned his attention back to me, and I could tell he had let his anger die down. "Can we trust you? Can I trust you?"

Apparently, my words had instilled some type of manly resolve in the younger man, as he stood up and used his wand to Scourgify the desk. I smiled, noting that the sticky jelly had been removed from the folder as well. "You can trust me, sir. I'm sorry, I..."

If he was regretting any of his anger, he didn't finish telling me, as Shacklebolt chose that moment to look over the edge of the cubicle. "I hope I am not interrupting, Auror Potter, Auror Burke." I shook my head, glancing at Burke out of the corner of my eye. The man, who was just as tall as Shacklebolt if not as commanding, had full-on saluted the Minister. "I need a word with you, Harry." His use of my first name meant he probably had something else fucked up to tell me. Inwardly, I seethed, my quite rational anger bubbling up to surface.

"We were just finishing up." I turned to Burke, who was busy hiding the rest of the mangled jelly doughnut from Shacklebolt's view. "Auror Burke, please meet me in Auror Hopkirk's office at precisely seven-thirty tomorrow morning."

Burke saluted me as well, an action that nearly caused me to chortle in response. "Yes, sir!"

When he was gone, Shacklebolt took the liberty of sitting in the vacated chair. A warning flared in my mind, as I remembered that Ron had conjured that same seat earlier in the morning, and he wasn't exactly on par with the world's Transfiguration experts. In a moment of mischeif, I decided not to mention it.

"What can I help you with, Minister?" This was said with long-standing frustration, as I meant to show Shacklebolt I was tremendously busy.

Fortunately, he wasted no time. "Have you spoken to everyone involved with the mission?" At my brief nod, he frowned heavily. "Should I take your silence to mean that everyone is in agreement?" I shook myself out of my bad mood as best I could under the circumstances, and forced a grin for Shacklebolt's benefit.

"Yes, sir. Burke was... initially opposed to going, but I straightened him out. The others took the news considerably better, though I have to say none of them are pleased about their orders." I decided not to add in the fact I was pissed I had to go as well.

"Very good. I knew you wouldn't waste any time." He sighed. "Now... I do have some rather uncomfortable news for you, but before I begin, I want to ask you something, and I expect you to give me the truth." He said this as if he knew my first reaction would be to lie. As I was typically truthful when it came to auror business, I knew this had to be in relation to Patricia.

"Of course, sir."

"One of the most important people on this planet has placed you in a position of responsibility, not only to oversee this objective, but also, to protect his only daughter." His stare was penetrating, and I averted my glance as his eyes narrowed. "I also recognize that she is young, tempermental, unexperienced in the field, and rather fetching to boot."

"And what is your point, Kingsley?"

He shifted uneasily in his seat. "I realize that you're to get married in a few weeks, but I..." he trailed off. "I need you to reassure me that you are fully capable of adhering to our strict policies regarding male and female, ah... relations during missions, and-"

"For Merlin's sake, Kingsley! I'm not some sex-addicted female aficionado, I'm a bloody AUROR, not to mention the fact I'm engaged-"

"Potter!" shouted the Minister, who was completely flummoxed by my intensely defensive behavior. I gawked for a moment before my face fell, and I could literally feel my cheeks draining of all color. "Watch who the hell you're talking to!"

I screwed up my face, hopefully looking apologetic. "I'm sorry, Minister. I just don't take kindly to anyone questioning my relationship with Ginny. I've always been faithful to her, sir, and you can trust me to remain that way for the duration of the mission."

Though I tripped slightly over the word 'faithful' I made enough of an effort to sound truthful that Kingsley nodded tightly. "I do trust you, Harry," he said, rubbing his eyes and, for once, looking like a tired old man. Suddenly, I remembered how much Shack had done for the country since his inaugaration, and how much he still had left to do. It was enough to make a man feel entirely inadequate. "It's just that I don't trust Patricia, Harry." This surprised me enough that I forgot all about my panicked dismissal of Kingsley's concerns. "I can sense that she is devious, just like herfather no doubt, and the only thing I can reliably expect out of her is a problem." I had no idea Shacklebolt didn't like Dubois, but in a way, it made sense.

Politics.

"I guess what I'm trying to say, Potter, is keep a close eye on your enemies, but an even closer eye on your allies. The French aren't inherently evil like these dark wizards are, but they are just as liable to fuck you over should they have the opportunity. You should be fine with the aurors you've selected - and I have no doubt that Zeller will back you every step of the way - but Patricia isn't reporting to me at all." This was newsto me, as I had never considered Patricia would be anything less than obedient. "While her father paints this picture of her being under your supervision, she has... resigned from her clerk position, and after this week, she will no longer receive a pay check from our Ministry."

What the hell? I thought nervously. What is Dubois up to?

"Sir," I began, "how do you expect-"

"I don't expect you to do anything, Potter, other than keep an eye on her. If anything seems suspicious, use your mirror to get up in touch with Hopkirk. If anything seems out of order, you tell us." It was obvious that he expected no resistance, and I didn't give him any reason to assume I would resist. In fact, I was even more determined to find out what Patricia had up her sleeve, and if it was negative, I would stop it myself.

Suddenly, Shacklebolt leaned in closer to me. It was obvious he did not want to be overheard. "I'm sure you heard Dubois mention Beauxbatons." I nodded, as I definitely recalled him making a comment about it. "Do you know what Patricia did when she was in school?"

I had assumed it had something to do with the other young men at the school's amorous behavior, but now, asked directly about it, I realized that I wasn't so sure. "No, sir," I answered truthfully.

Not for the first time, Shacklebolt looked fatigued. "As you might imagine, the daughter of the Minister of Magic is going to garner a lot of attention, even at a young age. By eleven years old, she was easily the most popular witch in her class - perhaps you can relate to that - but rather than shun that attention as you did, she craved more. Of course, she had no idea how she could accomplish that goal, but a chance encounter with one of your friends changed all of that."

One of my friends? I don't know anyone from Beauxbatons...

"Delacour," I muttered, before what I said had registered in my mind. "She met Fleur?"

Shacklebolt chuckled, but it was humorless. "That is correct, Mr. Potter. Five points to Gryffindor." It was a testament to the importance of this new information that my jaw dropped. "Fleur Delacour - as you know, a quarter veela - was a seventh year student when Patricia first started, and even though Fleur did her best to cut off her allure completely, there were some situations that were uncontrollable." He sighed. "Fleur's coming of age made it very hard for her to stop it at times. I'm sure you remember the Triwizard Tournament, and how most of the male population at Hogwarts followed her every move..." As he trailed off, I nodded, seeing the truth in what he was saying.

"Yes, sir."

I had a sinking feeling that Shacklebolt was about to tell me something I didn't want to hear. "Of course, this meant that everyone in the school, even those left at home, knew she was part veela. Patricia picked up on how useful such a thing could be, and made plans to harness a... similar power." Obviously, that declaration meant that not only had she accomplished her plans, she had most likely used it on me the night before. I wondered: was a spell effecting my behavior? Did Patricia's magic mean that I hadn't cheated on Ginny, I had merely been duped into a false attraction? These questions and more ran through my mind as Shacklebolt started speaking again.

"She didn't master it until her seventh year, but one particular boy became so smitten with her, he ended up assaulting her in front of a professor. The boy ended up on trial, where he explained that he had no memory of the events, though for some reason, he felt like Patricia was responsible."

If that was true, then why did I remember everything clearly from the night before? I was sure she had not tampered with my memories of the event, as my Occlumency wouldn't allow it without a tremendous effort from a powerful witch or wizard - of which Patricia was neither - and I had not seen her use her wand at any point during the evening.

"Since then," Shacklebolt continued, "Patricia and her father have both publicly denied this, and stimied any effort against the students or the French media to bring the complaints to the public attention. There were no lingering effects ofOblivation or the Imperius curse on the boy, but you can find the evidence if you know where to look." Shacklebolt snickered to himself. "Or if you're the Minister of Magic."

My inner turmoil must have shown on my face as the Minister paused, asking me what was wrong. "Sorry, sir, it's... just a lot to take in at once." That was an understatement, as I felt like my brain was exploding with a thousand evil plots against me - Patricia wanted my fame, or my money, or her father had a grudge against the Weasleys - and each one was as ridiculous as the next. Why is this happening?

He nodded knowingly. "I can imagine. What I'm trying to tell you, Potter, is that you'll be working with a witch who will probably try to ensnare you in a trap, and as everything is signed and dated," which was unmistakably true, as I had just signed the magical contract that morning before lunch, "you'll have to at least try to finish the operation in its entirety before you can come back to England."

I desperately wished that Shacklebolt had brought this to my attention earlier, as I rather doubted it had just slipped his mind. On top of that, I wished I had never signed the stupid contract to begin with.

"Why didn't you tell me this, Kingsley?" I asked angrily. "It seems like something that would have been advantageous to know this morning!" Shacklebolt again shifted in his seat, this time looking remorseful.

"I'm sorry, Harry, but I didn't know any of this until... well, Henri Dubois told me something about it right before the two of you met for lunch!" I sighed again, a migraine piercing me right between the eyes. "Of course, he didn't say that Patricia was responsible for any of it, but he explained she was going to leave her position, as he put it, 'because she is afraid of being in the public eye when the story breaks'." Shacklebolt scoffed loudly. "More likely she doesn't want to be mentioned when the proverbial shit hits the fan. I'm telling you now because I... ahem, Weasley's just spent a half hour talking to the Groundskeeper at Beauxbatons, and he's certain he saw Patricia use magic on that very boy a week before he attacked her."

To make matters worse, Percy knew all about the mission, as well as Patricia's part in everything. That did not bode well for keeping objective details away from my wife-to-be. Still, I suspected Percy wouldn't divulge anything - it would compromise his position with the Minister, and there was no way in hell poncy Percy would squeal.

Finished wrecking my day, Shacklebolt stood and made his farewell. "Be careful, Potter. I still plan to offer you the Head Auror position when you get back, so you better damn well stay in one piece. Just... keep an eye on that girl, and for Merlin's sake, don't let her get close to you." He eyed me with the most serious look he could summon. "Alright, Potter?"

I didn't say anything, but then again, I didn't really need to; Shacklebolt nodded sharply and left the cubicle. As soon as he turned the corner, the seat he had been sitting in disappeared.

I sighed, massaging my temples with the tips of my fingers. "Merlin, this is a long day..." Fortunately, it was just about time to leave for the evening. I rested my eyes, trying to relieve my headache in the privacy provided by the cubicle.

I don't know how long I sat there, head in my hands, pretending that the outside world didn't exist, but it couldn't have been more than five minutes. Lost in my own thoughts, I had no way to prepare for a revenge strike from behind.

I clattered to the ground alongside my chair, which had been unceremoniously pulled out from under me. I scrambled across the floor, arse aching from the fall, and jumped to my feet, ready to curse the dim-witted asshole who dared to cross me-

It was Ron. "Got you back!" he announced, thrilled he had finally be able to get the jump on me. It was rare that Ron could surprise me, but after a day like today, it was the last bloody thing I needed.

"You..." I growled, before whipping my wand at the chair menacingly. Ron took a step back, concerned for his health, and stumbled on the carpet. The chair merely flipped over, landing upright. I was tempted to laugh in Ron's face - he looked like he was strongly considering bolting when I pulled out my wand - but I was still too annoyed to give in to good humor. "I'm having the worst day of my life, and now my ass is broken," I deadpanned. "Thank you."

He laughed heartily, though he tentatively stepped back in the cubicle. "It's no trouble at all." I just gave him a look. "Besides, this can't be the worst day of your life."

I put a hand over my eyes, before peering at him through my fingers. "And why the hell not?"

He scoffed, looking at me like I was crazy. "Remember Voldemort? The Dursleys? Shit... even Umbridge made life hell for you on a daily basis. This doesn't even compare." He was so sure of this that I was confident he had forgotten about Patricia - at least for the time being. "Besides," he said, slapping me on the shoulder, "we're all celebrating your promotion tonight!"

As what he said dawned on me, I decided banging my head against the desk was the best way to express my distress. "Oh hell," I said, rubbing my forehead while Ron laughed, "that's the last damn thing I need tonight. Three weeping Weasleys congratulating me for a promotion I'll probably never get." I was speaking of Molly, Ginny and Hermione, though I knew most of the rest of the family would be around.

"What do you mean?" Ron asked, looking confused. "Hermione told me you told her and Ginny about it earlier. She said you were moving up to Head Auror when the mission's over, and that you wanted to celebrate tonight." I kicked the chair under the table, getting frustrated - mostly because I knew he was right. "Did you really think Mum wouldn't catch wind of it? Now, she can't stop talking about 'how nice it will be to have everyone together for a change." He mimed his mother's overly-enthusiastic, high-pitched molly-coddling voice perfectly, before giving me a mischevious grin. "You couldn't possibly turn her down!"

"You're right," I moaned. "It's just that... Ron, this mission is going to kill me, and if I do somehow live through it, I'll be back in the paper every damn day!" I mimed Rita Skeeter's vapid smile with marginal success. "Óh, Harry, daarrrling, how does it feel to be such a powerful figure in a declining Ministry with scarcely funded, under-educated aurors? How does it feel to murder giants with impunity, Head Mercenary Potter?"

Ron chuckled. "Whatever, Harry. I know you don't like the attention, but think of all the good you could do in that position! I bet you could even arrest Skeeter as an unlicensed animagus!"

"Nah, she registered, remember? Besides, I'm not as worried about her as I am this mission. Shacklebolt dropped one hell of a bombshell on me today."

His smile fell off his face the way grease does during a hot dog eating contest. The metaphor was made more poignant by the fact Ron could probably win one. "What do you mean, Harry? It seemed pretty cut and dry earlier. Beat up the giants, beat up the wizards, and be back in time to marry Ginny."

"Ron," I started, before faltering. How was I supposed to explain this to my best friend without sounding like I had done something wrong? "Can you keep a secret?"

"That depends," he said, scratching his chin. "Who do I have to keep secrets from?"

"Everyone. Even Hermione."

"Hmmm," he said, taking a few moments to get his thoughts in order. "In that case, you probably shouldn't tell me."

I stared blankly at my testacle-free friend. "Right," I nodded, remembering Hermione found out about everything I ever told Ron, and then she eventually told Ginny. "Nevermind."

"Anyway, I'm sure the mission will go off without a hitch. You haven't botched one up yet." Ron's attempt at convincing me was cut off when he looked at his watch. "Well, what do you know... it's past time to go home. You ready?"

I sighed. I wasn't ready, but I didn't have any reason to stay in the office any longer either. Everyone had been contacted, all of the documents had been signed, Shacklebolt, as well as Patricia and her father, had long ago vacated the premises, and I would be leaving England the next morning at eight. It was nauseating to think that I would probably be walking into a trap tomorrow, but I took some small solace in the fact that at least I was aware of the trap to begin with.

"Yeah," I sighed. "Let's get this over with."

Ron Disapparated, and his excited smile hung in the air for a moment after he left, making me feel like a total twat for being melancholy. It just wouldn't do to look upset when I went around Ron and Ginny's Mum, as Molly would take it to heart, especially considering it was a party in my honor. After Fred's death, everyone had certainly had their fill of Molly's tears.

"To the Burrow..." I whispered miserably, spinning on the spot and following Ron.

"Harry!" was the shouted greeting I received when I opened the Weasley's back door. Someone added, "Congratulations!"

I could see Mrs. Weasley was busy at the stove, though she still spared the time to walk over, giving me a peck on the cheek and a warm, back-breaking hug before going back to what she was doing. I nearly tripped over the pile of presents at the edge of the table, and wondered idly if I had forgotten someone's birthday before realizing that the gifts were meant for me. I removed my robes and hung them on the chair I usually occupied at dinner.

Looking up, I saw that George was listening to the Wizarding Wireless intently, as, since he had lost his ear, he had quite a bit of trouble hearing properly. His greeting was the loudest, as he couldn't hear it very well himself. "Why, if it isn't the Head Auror!" He nudged the woman next to him. "He's a strapping young lad, isn't he?"

"Quite," was Angelina's belated reply. She held Fred II against her dark skin, and he gurgled happily as his mother began to bounce him. George had been adamant about naming his first son Fred, and despite the fact that it was his son and not his late brothers, he had made sure the birth certificate said 'Fred Weasley II'. Angelina was in love with George, but she had dated Fred briefly in school, and easily gave her consent for the proposed name, as she missed Fred almost as much as George. "How are ya, Harry?" she asked, though she was looking down at the baby.

"I'm good," I lied, before trying a little harder to be happy. "How's little Fred?" I moved in closer, rubbing the bald, olive-skinned baby's cheek with my index finger. "You're a cute little bugger, aren't you?"

"Like his father," George said proudly. At Angelina's frown he exclaimed, "and especially like his mother!" which caused her to roll her eyes.

"Suck up," she muttered, before addressing me again. "You wouldn't think he's cute when it's time to change the nappy! George can work with those awful smelling potions all day, but he turns into a quivering mess in the face of baby poo..."

We both shared a laugh at George's expense, as his expression slowly turned into one of mock outrage. "Well, I tried putting U-No-Poo in his applesauce, but Angelina checks everything he has before he eats it."

"With good reason!" she exclaimed, raising her eyebrows. This time the three of us laughed, the conversation digressing into the couple idly insulting each other's relative caretaking prowess. When they mentioned something regarding the bedroom, I decided to go ahead and leave the kitchen for the sake of my sanity.

"Good evening, son!" Mr. Weasley greeted me with a diplomatic smile and a strong handshake. "How's the office?"

I had lightly considered Arthur a father figure years ago, but as he was soon to be my father-in-law, I regularly sought his advice, especially concerning affairs within the Ministry. He still worked with Muggle Artifacts, but now he was a consultant with the Unspeakables, and went out in the field to solve some of the world's weirdest Muggle mysteries. "Honestly, sir, today has been one of the worst days in recent memory, and I'm just glad to be here rather than there."

He nodded, his smile growing. "Oh, yes, I had quite a few of those days in my time. Molly never understood how harrowing an experience using a man-eating toilet could be when one has a bowel movement..." His eyes grew distant, before he shivered. "I still have the scars to prove it."

I briefly considered rolling my eyes, but thought better of it. I chuckled. "I can only imagine..."

Ginny chose that moment to waltz downstairs, and I had to admit, she looked radiant. Her freckles had been toned down a bit under carefully applied makeup, and her collarbone was exposed, drawing my attention to her long, pale neck. I stood to greet her, wrapping my arms around my fiancee and pressing my lips against hers. "I missed you," I whispered. "I'm sorry about earlier, babe..."

I was tremendously sorry, and she must have sensed that, because she smiled. For the moment, all was forgiven. "It's okay, Harry. I missed you too." She looked up, glancing at George and Angelina's faux-argument. "That's not real, is it?"

"Nah," I said, snickering. "They're arguing about baby poop."

"Figures," she said, laughing softly. I caught her lips with a quick kiss, drawing a wolf whistle from Bill, who had followed her down the stairs. "Oh, be quiet," Ginny hissed, sticking her tongue out at her oldest brother.

"Hey! Fleur and I used to get stick from all of you guys before we tied the knot, so you ought to expect a little ribbing here and there." He poked her in the abdomen, causing her to giggle and swat his hand away. He one-armed hugged me around the shoulders, smashing me against his broad chest and making me thoroughly uncomfortable - partly for hugging another man, and partly because he was crushing my sternum. "Harry, congratulations on the promotion! You must feel like the luckiest man in the world... marrying my sweetest sister and becoming the main man at the Ministry in the same month!"

"I'm your only sister," Ginny said with a long-suffering air; she had tolerated such comments from her brothers her entire life.

"Thank you, Bill. I really appreciate it," I said truthfully, shaking his hand. I winced as the much stronger man exerted extra pressure on my palm.

"You better be faithful to my sister, Potter," he whispered, suddenly serious. "Otherwise, the Potter line will die with you. Capiche?" He didn't seem to be joking, so I nodded, my face solemn.

"I wouldn't dream of hurting Ginny, Bill," I said, ignoring the voice screaming 'Liar!' in the back of my mind. Louder, I said, "I love her with all of my heart."

Ginny's teeth gleamed in the light coming from the fireplace. "Oh, honey," she said, leaning in close to me and wrapping an arm around my waist. A gentle squeeze later, I found myself again locking lips with the youngest Weasley. "I love you too."

She broke off the kiss about the time Ron came lumbering down the stairs, carrying a particularly large present that looked like it had been wrapped in a windstorm. "Bloody wrapping paper," he said to himself, blowing the loose paper out of his mouth. A little louder he said, "Can I get a little help here?"

"Use your wand, Won Won," Ginny said. Ron sneered at the use of his (and Hermione's) most hated nickname. Of course, his obvious annoyance with it was the sole reason Ginny used it so often.

"Whatever. Jus' get out the way if you're not gonna help." He stomped down the stairs, evading Ginny's foot as she tried to trip him. Bill snickered to himself, as he always found it funny when his youngest brother was aggravated. "I saw that, Ginny!" Ron fumed.

He entered the kitchen, presumably to put the package with the others, and Ginny started laughing. "He's too easy," she said, smiling.

"He gives as good as he gets," I said, using the cover provided by the couch to rub my arse regretfully. It was sore where I fell on it earlier. "So, I'd watch out if I were you."

She looked at me quizzically, but before she could ask what was I talking about, Hermione came downstairs. "Hello, Harry! Ron just finished wrapping your present - he insisted, despite the fact I'm a hundred times better - but I still have no idea what it was."

"Should I expect something with fangs or a Chudley Cannon's poster?"

"Probably a Chudley poster with fangs, actually," George said, having heard only the end of the conversation. "The best of both worlds, you see."

"Oh, lay off my husband," Hermione said. "At least he got you something." She looked pointedly at George. "What did you get Harry?"

For his part, George was only momentarily at a loss. "He's the one getting the promotion. He should be buying all of us something!"

"Oh, hush," Angelina said, before placing an envelope quietly in my pocket. "Don't open this until later, okay?" I nodded, uncomfortably aware of how her hand felt in my waist pocket. I put my arm around Ginny to get rid of the feeling.

"Sure," I said, and my shaky voice was lost amongst the din. A glance down revealed a note inside the envelope, and I assumed it was a Gringotts slip; George had been covertly trying to pay me off for my contribution after the Triwizard Tournament, and even though I didn't want the money, I knew George's business was booming - the fireworks' price had quite literally shot through the roof - and I couldn't rightly refuse a gift in front of everyone. Molly still had no idea I had given Fred and George the money, and I preferred to keep it that way.

"The food is ready!" Ron yelled from the kitchen. "Get your arses in here!"

"RONALD BILIUS WEASLEY! THAT IS NO WAY TO TALK TO GUESTS-"

Everyone erupted in laughter at Ron's expense as Mrs. Weasley laid into her youngest, and coincidentally, most vulgar son. "I've told you a trillion times not to curse in my house, young man, and just because you are grown, does not mean you've outgrown getting your mouth cleaned out with soap!"

Ron's apologies fell on deaf ears, but when everyone entered the kitchen, Mrs. Weasley turned away from him and went back to plating the food. "Here you are, Harry," she said, handing me the first plate, which had copious amounts of my favorite foods.

"Thank you, Mrs. Weasley. This looks amazing!"

Molly narrowed her eyes at Ron, who was trying and failing to get a plate of his own. "Why can't you be more like Harry, Ron? You would think after seventeen years in my home you would have learned some sense, and some manners, but no! You're just as hard-headed as ever!"

George clapped his brother on the shoulder before rapping him sharply on the head. "It runs in the family, eh, Ronnie?"

"Ger' off," he said, as Bill descended upon him with equal force. "That bloody hurts!"

Mrs. Weasley slapped him on the arm. "Language! How many times-"

Arthur chose that moment to join us all in the kitchen. "Alright, everyone. Stop beating Ron up and settle down. We're here to celebrate Harry's promotion, not fight each other." He put an arm around his wife's shoulders, and turned her into his chest. While she was hugging him back, he flicked Ron with his other arm, causing Ginny, George and Bill to chortle loudly.

"What's so funny?" Molly said, and even Ron smiled a bit.

"Oh, nothing, dear... let's all have a seat, shall we?"

And sit we did, as Molly floated each plate (with the exception of mine, already resting on the table) across the room. They all landed perfectly on the placemats, and systematically, we all tucked in. The meat was tender, the vegetables roasted, and the conversation boisterous, so dinner went smoothly.

After ten or fifteen minutes, Ginny was the first person to broach the subject of my pending departure. She turned to me, skewering one of my carrots with her fork before plopping it into her pink mouth, chewing thoughfully. "So, what time do you leave tomorrow?"

I took a moment to swallow before replying. "Eight A.M. I have to be in to work by seven-thirty, but we're not taking the Portkey until then." She looked disheartened, but she nodded all the same.

"I'm going to miss you so much, Harry," she whispered. It was a testament to her broken voice that no one made a joke out of her statement. George even turned away, probably to stop himself from making a funny face during her emotional moment. "I wish you didn't have to go."

"I know, babe," I said, putting my arm over the back of her chair, resting it lightly across her shoulders. "At least when I get back it won't be long before the wedding, and we can take some time - A LOT of time - off."

We were scheduled to go to the Bahamas for our Honeymoon. Hermione had found a delightful wizard-only resort a few weeks back, and Ginny had immediately paid for it - with my money, not that I was complaining all that much. The Bahamas sounded heavenly next to the Chatreuse, and on a Head's salary, I could certainly afford it.

"That sounds amazing," Ginny said, placing her hand on the back of my neck and pulling me into a kiss. This time George did make a face, and it was reflected on Ron's as well.

"Why don't you guys get a room," he mumbled, mouth full of food.

"Why don't you keep your yap shut or we'll take your room!"

"Hey!"

Mrs. Weasley stopped her conversation with Angelina to look at us all disdainfully. "I will not have talk like that at the dinner table." She even glared at me slightly, causing me to shrink into my fiancee's embrace. "Now, if everyone is quite finished, Harry can open his presents."

"Oh, oh," Ginny said, jumping up from her seat, and rushing into the living room. "I almost forgot! Hold on!"

She was gone a mere thirty seconds before she crashed into the kitchen door, followed immediately by an oblong-shaped box she was obviously levitating behind her. "Uh, sorry," she said, giggling a bit. I glanced at the box, wondering what had her suddenly acting shy. "I... I know how much the last, ah... one of these you had meant to you," she said, while grabbing both of my hands, "but I hope that you can grow to love this one as much as the last. Okay," she said, taking a deep breath. "Open it up!"

She leapt back from the box to get a better view and I could sense that everyone was especially interested in the present Ginny had given me. Rather than immediately open it, I gave her another kiss, wrapping my arms lovingly around her. More wolf whistles followed, this time from nearly all of the men present, before I moved tentatively toward the box.

I noticed there were punctures in the top and side of the paper, and assumed that a beastie of some sort was in the box. When it moved slightly, I knew I better go ahead and let whatever creature it was out. "I hope this isn't a Mackled Malaclaw or something," I said, glancing toward Ginny, who smiled encouragingly. As I unwrapped the present, I began to realize where I had seen the shape of the box before, and my heart started to flutter, my emotions coming to the surface.

A beautiful snowy owl blinked at me from behind its white-barred prison, and I couldn't help but sniffle like a little boy given his first gift - which, in fact, poor Hedwig had been the first worthwhile present I ever received. Ginny put an arm around me, and a brief glance at her showed that, even though she was pleased at my reaction, she was also a bit teary-eyed herself. "Hagrid helped me pick him out, you know. He said to pass on his love, as well as some rock cakes." She smiled. "Of course, I threw the rock cakes out. In any case, the man at Eeylops said his name is Monty, but I suppose since he's yours now, you can call him whatever you want."

Whereas Hedwig had bits of brown on her chest feathers, this owl was entirely white except for portions of his magnificent wings. He was also quite a bit larger than Hedwig, and the cage was bigger than hers as a result. As he looked at me, he seemed to be admiring my features as well. Yellow eyes gleamed with an innate understanding of wizards, and he pressed his talons against the face of the cage as if to shake my hand. A moment later I asked the owl, "Do you like the name Monty?"

The bird shifted his feet back and forth uneasily. I assumed that was a negative.

George spoke up. "Call him Hoots." The snowy owl cocked his head as if to say 'Oh, really?" After watching the owl a moment, George reconsidered. "Whitey?"

"That's a terrible name," Angelina said.

"You're just saying that because you're-"

George was silenced with a fierce look from Angelina. "How about Blanco?" George suggested, looking away from his wife with more than a bit of shame in his countenance. Unfortunately, the owl didn't appreciate the proposed praenomen. "Or not...' he trailed off, caught off-guard by the owl's abrupt dismissal.

I paused, trying to think of a good name for the gorgeous bird. If I was an owl, I wouldn't want an obvious name like 'Snow' and I wouldn't want something ridiculous like 'Hoots' either. I had named Hedwig after a female saint, but it didn't feel right naming this owl after a male saint - not that I knew any names off-hand anyway. I thought of the other owls I had known by name. Pidwidgeon was out. Errol, likewise. Inspiration struck when I thought of Hermes, Percy's owl, which had been named after the Greek messenger to the Gods. Thinking along similar lines might have been a cop out, but damnit, I was going to name my companion something cool, and certainly something I came up with!

"How about... Zeus?" I said tentatively. The bird didn't immediately react with derision, which I took as a good sign. "Zeus it is," I laughed, and everyone clapped in response. "Would you like to go out for a flight, Zeus?"

The bird nodded slightly, just like Hedwig had years ago, and I consented to let him out of the cage. He flew to my shoulder and pressed the top of his head against my left cheek, nudging me softly before flying the nearest window. Hermione stood to slide the window open, and the bird took off like a... big ass bird.

"Baby, that was an amazing gift," I said, turning to Ginny and putting an arm around her. No one said anything, as it truly had been a wonderful gift to give me, and they all recognized how much Hedwig meant to me. For her to put that much thought into a gift, I knew she really must love me, a fact that never ceased to amaze me, even though we had been together for years now. "I won't ever be able to give you a present that good."

"You're about to give me your heart forever, Harry. That's a pretty damned good present." Her smile was mesmerizing. "I wanted to get you something so we could communicate while you were in France, and I figured a snowy owl wouldn't be noticed in the mountains. This way we can at least we can talk while you're gone." I didn't think I'd be able to mail her often, but I didn't mention it, still a bit overwhelmed by the excellent gift.

In fact, I was so wrapped up in the moment, I had to be asked twice by Ron to open his present. "Oh, all right, Ron!" I said, exasperated. "Keep your pants on..."

Don't get angry with him, I heard a voice say. At first I thought it was Ginny, but she had turned to her father and was complaining about Ron breaking up the moment. Confused, I glanced at Ron, who wasn't moving his lips, to Hermione, who was talking to Angelina and George with her eyes on Ron's present. He's just excited to give me to you. Not that I'm some prize to be won...

The voice was hissing. I was eerily reminded of the Chamber of Secrets, and thought perhaps Ron had fucking lost his mind. "You got me a snake!"

"WHAT!"

Hermione had jumped up and had a severely pissed off look on her face, directed right at Ron. He winced, as he had apparently forgotten his wife hated snakes as much as he did spiders. She had good reason, as she had almost died from the basilisk's stare in our second year. Molly had already left the kitchen, having no reason to stick around for any type of snake, even one that could speak to me. Ginny's reaction was the worst, however, as she was almost in tears.

I remembered belatedly that she had reason to fear snakes as well.

Ron chuckled humorlessly. "That's not the reaction I expected..."

"You overgrown ape!" Ginny yelled, a Bat Bogey Hex on the tip of her tongue. When she released her magic, Ron ducked, and the hex hit the same window Zeus had flown out of, causing it to shatter in a million pieces. "How dare you give him a snake after all the trouble we've had with them!"

"It's alright, Ginny! Calm down, babe," I said quickly, trying to calm her down. "We'll get a terrarium for the snake, and we'll make sure it only eats those nasty field mice we keep seeing in the yard. He'll have plenty of space to live his life, and you won't ever have to go anywhere near him if you don't want to."

"Of course I don't want to!" Her panicked face was starting to return to its normal color, though a quick glance at Ron showed he was extremely pale. "Sorry," Ginny muttered, not sounding sorry in the slightest. "But you deserved it."

Ron opened his mouth, but I flicked my wand sideways and he sputtered; a moment later, he spat a woolen sock out of his mouth. "What the hell?"

"Put a sock in it," George bellowed, as everyone covered their ears. "Good one, Harry!" Ginny laughed, and the nervous ball that had formed in my stomach slowly unravelled, leaving me feeling a lot better about the rest of the evening. Even the baby looked impressed by my magic, giggling quietly in the high chair next to his mother.

"Get it out of here, Ron!" Mr. Weasley said, watching the snake with disdain. "Molly won't come back in here until you do." Ron got the hint, levitating the box out the back door before walking back across the kitchen to retrieve his fearful mother. When she returned, her eyes roamed the kitchen looking for the snake, even as Ron explained it had been removed.

Once everyone had recovered - especially Ron, who spent a few minutes coughing up pieces of string - I started opening the rest of the presents. Bill and Fleur (who was visiting her family in France) had conspired to give Ginny and I very expensive bottles of perfume and cologne, respectively. Reading my bottle, I found that it was a set for couples only, as it enhanced the attraction for the opposite sex significantly. I got the sense that, despite his over-protective behavior earlier, Bill approved of our relationship, and apparently, he wanted to be an uncle again very soon.

Hermione's gift was, as usual, a very large book. "It's a history of France, but there are a lot of very good maps of the Chatreuse in there, as well as few passages on the giant clans hidden in the area. I thought it would be helpful," she said, and I agreed that it was an invaluable resource. After I gave her a hug, she looked satisfied that she had bought me a good gift - which, to me, was more important than the present itself.

Arthur and Molly handed me a receipt for the wedding cake, as they had purchased it for us in advance from the same reputable source she used for Bill and Fleur's wedding. George gave me a huge supply of fireworks, and made me promise to use them on a giant.

"Either that, or drop one on a French auror that gets too mouthy," he joked.

All in all, my heart was warmed by the impromptu going-away party, and I didn't feel so bad about leaving all of a sudden. Ginny kept giving me coy glances that boded well for the bedroom later, and for once, Patricia was far from my thoughts. After George and Angelina had left, followed shortly by Bill, Molly forced me to take a bundle of leftovers home, despite the fact that I wouldn't be around to eat them before they expired. Ron and Hermione bowed out, with my bushy-haired friend kissing me on the cheek, and I shook Ron's hand, promising him I would be careful in France.

The rest of the night I can't tell you about for personal reasons, but let's just say a snowy owl wasn't the best present I received that evening.

-end of Chapter Four-