A Boon for Bill
a HP fanfic by canoncansodoff

A/N: I'm back on this story, after some RL issues and a diversionary game of Truth or Dare. I have a reasonable expectation that I'll focus on this story until it is completed…but I've been wrong about this sort of thing before.

Disclaimer: Not my characters, no money being made, etc. , etc.

oo00OO00oo

Chapter 9: Molly's Clock (Part 1)

Molly's subtle (and not so subtle) efforts to drive a wedge between Bill and Fleur had become a persistent (and often comical) part of daily life at the Burrow. This made an announcement delivered by her husband during that evening's dinner even more surprising than it would otherwise have been.

"If I could have everyone's attention?" asked Arthur, as he pushed back from the head of the table.

"That means you too, Ginny," her mother hissed.

The red-haired teen rolled her eyes as she turned her focus away from her plate-licking Pygmy Puffs.

"Yes, Mum."

Arthur cleared his throat.

"I think that it's fair to say that with all of the work that Bill here has done upgrading the wards, and the remodeling, and all of the help we've been getting patrolling The Burrow's ward lines, this has become one of the safer places to live in Britain."

Harry smiled as he raised his water glass and said, "Cheers to Bill, Fleur, and all of the other volunteers!"

Arthur nodded and raised his glass as well.

"Yes, yes…well said, Harry," he replied. "But there's another important part of our home safety plan…something that provides both reassurance and early warning. I am referring, of course, to the Weasley Family clock."

"Cheers to the clock!" Ron toasted, tongue in cheek.

"Ronald!" Molly hissed, as she pulled the charmed timepiece closer to her chest.

"What? Not like I'm going to hurt the clock's feelings, is it?"

"That's enough, Ron," his father said. He nodded towards Harry, Hermione and Fleur and added, "What we would like to do is add a few more hands to the clock face," said Arthur, quickly adding, "with your consent of course."

Hermione arched an eyebrow.

"How many hands are you looking to add?" she asked warily.

"Three," said Arthur. "One each for Fleur, Harry, and yourself."

A breath caught in Harry's throat, leaving it for Hermione to ask a relevant follow-up question.

"So this is just about our stay over the holidays, right?" she asked. "It doesn't anticipate anything more…permanent for Harry or myself…right?"

"What…like you two being adopted, or something?" Ron asked.

Arthur sighed. "This doesn't mean we're anticipating anything permanent, Hermione," he replied. He smiled wistfully and added, "Although it would save us the trouble later on if…"

"You mean when Fleur becomes a Weasley, right Dad?" asked Bill.

"Hmmmph!" Molly grunted.

"We aren't trying to predict or prod any of you three into officially joining our Big Happy Weasley Family," Arthur insisted.

Hermione snorted. When Harry gave her a questioning look, she leaned over and whispered into his ear, "If Fred and George were here, I'd be teasing them right now about needing a few more hands for their new employees."

Harry acknowledged the joke with a chuckle, then turned towards Mr. Weasley, and asked, "So do you need our help?"

"Just need a drop of blood from each of you to personalize each hand," Molly replied. She cast a Tempus charm, then added, "We'll have to collect that blood sometime in the next twenty minutes."

"Why is that, Mum?" asked Ron.

"Each clock hand has to soak for sixty minutes in a mixture of that blood and a dedicated potion," Molly explained. "We need to be sure that the new hands are ready to go by eight o'clock."

"Is there some magical significance to eight in the evening?" asked Hermione.

"Yes, Dear…that's the time when I told everyone who won't be here to find the safest place possible."

Harry pursed his lips. "Because…oh, you're going to have to turn the clock off to change it, right?"

"That's right," Molly replied. "I hate the thought of not knowing that everyone is alright, but…it's the only way.

"How long did you ask the others to hole up someplace safe?" asked Bill.

"Until a quarter past eight," said Molly.

"And the time for Charlie…you made the accounting for Romania being two 'ours ahead of the GMT?" asked Fleur.

Molly's face paled. Her lower lip trembled for a few seconds, before she replied.

"I'm sure that my Charlie knows well enough to account for the differences."

"I'm sure that he did, Dear," Arthur said supportively.

His wife chewed on her lower lip and suggested, "Maybe we should only take the time needed to add the three new hands?"

"Now, Mollikins," said Arthur. "As long as the clock face is open…"

Ron asked, "Are you planning on something more than just adding hands?"

His father nodded. "Your brother came up with a way to make the clock more…useful. Given the times we're living in, you hardly ever see the clock hands point anywhere other than Mortal Peril."

"So what's the plan?" asked Ron.

"The plan is for you and your sister to clear the table and do the dishes, Ronald," said Molly.

"But, Mum…"

"Don't but mum me, young man," Molly quipped. She turned towards Harry and Hermione and said, "We'll get the clock hands soaking in the living room."

"Yes, Mrs. Weasley," Harry replied, rising from the table. He followed Ron's parents into the living room, with Bill, Fleur and Hermione close behind. Molly emptied the contents of an owl-posted package onto the coffee table.

Bill tilted his head as he picked up the clock hand labeled "Fleur" and gave it a closer look.

"Why's this one bronze instead of silver?" he asked, nodding towards the other two clock hands that his mother had set out.

"It was bought separately," his father replied.

"That's right," Molly tersely replied. "They were out of the silver hands, and we've only know that she'd be spending the Summer with us for a few weeks."

"But she was here a few days before Hermione was, right?"

"Yes, but…we planned on having Hermione and Harry staying with us for some time, now."

"Planned on it even before my curse injury?" asked the bushy-haired witch.

"That's right…just like you did last Summer," said Molly.

Neither Fleur nor Hermione were all that happy with this response, but they chose to hold their tongue as they held out their fingers for the required blood donation.

oo00OO00oo

With an hour to kill while the new clock hands soaked, Bill suggested that they work on the gnome launcher. Molly had no intentions of getting anywhere close to the contraption, and insisted that Ron and Ginny stay clear as well (using the need to do dishes and clean up after dinner as her excuse). She also managed to keep her enthusiastic husband on a short leash, and put up enough of a stink for Fleur and Hermione to hold back as well (Molly not liking the idea of the two couples having an unsupervised and unfettered discussion). So while the two witches headed upstairs for an unscheduled English language lesson (and the private deconstruction of Molly's schemes), Bill grabbed his rucksack and led Harry out to the ersatz firing range.

The subsequent forty-five minutes saw advances made on a number of fronts.

Harry and Bill really did use this time to test some of Fred and George's experimental ordnance. There were several different shell casings to evaluate, as well as two distinct payloads…one liquid, and the other powder.

The liquid payloads were "portable swamps"…once released, it could transfigure solid ground or flooring into a mucky quagmire, complete with live crocodiles. Fred and George had originally envisioned the wheeze as a type of magical hand grenade; the liquid was encased in a charmed metal sphere, and five seconds after a triggering button was pushed, this inert metal container vanished, allowing the liquid spread and swampify. Loading this magical concoction into magical artillery shells required some modification…instead of releasing the payload after a fixed period of time, the shell casing needed to remain intact until the point of impact. At the same time, the casing had to be hardy enough to be safely handled and loaded into the launcher. The main goal of Harry and Bill's field test was to determine the optimal casing design and shell thickness. One of the shells "detonated" in mid-flight; and while Bill and Harry both thought it was great fun to see live crocodiles flying through the air, it made for a mess on the other end (since, unlike magical gnomes, crocodiles didn't bounce).

The powdery payload was Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder, which worked best in enclosed spaces, like hallways or rooms…places without wind to disperse and dilute the product. Packing this powder into an artillery shell had to account for the weather, as well as a remote application. The Darkness Powder didn't work all that well when it was spread on the ground (unless you were satisfied with only your feet being obscured). Harry and Bill's tests suggested that contact detonation wasn't a good option. Shells that vanished and released the powder after a fixed period of time would only work if there was a way to vary the timed-release to account for travel distances. During their experiments, Harry remembered hearing or reading about Muggle artillery shells and bombs that were detonated once a certain altitude was reached. He also vaguely remembered something about a certain type of Muggle land mine…instead of exploding when you stepped on it, the mine would fly up into the air, and explode once it got four or five feet off the ground. Bill wrote down all of these ideas, and told Harry that he'd deliver their evaluations to Fred and George during the next day's lunch break.

Bill and Harry discussed other things as they tested the artillery shells. The younger wizard was curious about Bill's suggested modifications to his mother's clock, but not nearly as much as he was curious about Bill's employers. The curse-breaker was caught a bit off-guard by this interest…not because he hadn't expected the questions, but because he had expected Hermione to demand first crack at the book he'd brought home for its entry on house elves.

Gringotts had authorized Bill to speak candidly and openly about their financial interests and the support that they were now providing Harry. And so he did, echoing the opinions that were expressed in the book about the goblins deliberately underrepresent their magical abilities and knowledge. He provided a short tutorial on goblin society and culture, touching on the pervasive influence of the military, and institutionalization of violence within the workplace…especially at Gringotts.

Bill and Harry were walking down-range towards the latest exploded swamp when the curse-breaker asked, "Have you ever heard the saying that war is diplomacy by other means?"

The Boy-Who-Lived shook his head.

"It was Muggle military strategist that said that," said Bill. "Now, if it had been a goblin, he would have said that war is business by other means."

"Economic warfare, you mean?"

"No, both…at the same time," Bill replied. "When a goblin says that he'll fight to keep your business, he means that…quite literally. Blood is spilled not only between banks, but within banks."

"Really?"

"Oh, yes," assured Bill. "Take your account manager, Chokebar…fifteen years ago, he fought two other junior executives to the death to get the job, and he's killed at least four other bank employees since then."

"Wow," Harry hissed. "Wouldn't it be better to hire and fire based on how well they manage the account, more than how well they fight?"

"There's little difference when you're a goblin," Bill replied.

"So how do you fit in, then," Harry asked. "Have you had to fight that way for your job?"

"No, it's a goblin thing…I wouldn't have survived on the job very long otherwise."

"Oh, I'm not sure about that," Harry countered. "What about me?"

Bill paused for a moment, before asking, "What do you mean…you're neither a goblin nor a Gringotts employee?"

"No, but I seem to be a valued customer these days," Harry stated. "With all of the help that you are providing, and what they're doing themselves…"

"Well, your account is one of the largest within the wizarding bank's portfolio."

"But why now, all of a sudden?" asked Harry. "I know that Sirius's money and properties made the portfolio significantly bigger than it had been before he…is that the only reason for the help?"

Bill frowned. "I would hope that you trust me well enough to know that I would be doing my best to help you…even if there hadn't been need to ask for a boon, or if the goblins hadn't asked me to work with you."

"Of course I believe that, Bill," said Harry. "But would you even be in the country right now if it hadn't been for the goblins?"

The older wizard shrugged. "Probably not."

Harry sighed. "I just want to know…with the helpful advice on ways to get out from under Dumbledore's control…am I just trading one set of manipulations for another?"

Bill let out a deep breath as he glanced back towards the house. The two wizards had cleaned up the latest experimental launch and were now walking back towards the launcher. He waited until they'd reached the device, then overlapped the privacy spells that he'd set up at the start of the conversation with an entirely new set of spells, and leaned against the barrel of the gnome launcher.

"When it comes to goblins and Gringotts, Harry…it's all about the money," the older wizard then declared. "It's about the money that is made off of your money, and the profits and losses that depend on whether you live to see adulthood."

Harry snorted. "Some sort of betting line for that, then?"

Bill said, "In more ways than one, actually." He glanced again towards the house, then cast a Tempus charm. Not liking what he saw, he shook his head and said, "It's a long story."

"How about a quick summary, then?" Harry asked.

"I'll try," said Bill. He took a deep breath, and said, "The management fees for your vaults are significantly higher than what Gringotts normally charges, but that's the way your parents wanted it…they wanted to give the Goblins a financial incentive to help keep you alive if they were both killed before you reached adulthood."

"But why?"

"Because the Ministry can levy a 100% estate tax if a witch or wizard dies without a will and without any recognized heirs," said Bill. "The Ministry also says that a witch or wizard can't write a will until they are an adult. So since you're the last Potter…"

"The Ministry of Magic gets all of my money if I'm killed before I am old enough to write a will or get someone pregnant?" Harry asked.

"Yup," said Bill. "Now, the Ministry has its own vaults, and its own goblin account managers, so it would be more of a transfer of accounts than an outright loss to somebody like the German Kobolds, or the North American Goblins. But the management fees for the Ministry's accounts are minuscule compared to what the bank gains from managing your accounts. The Ministry is also stupid and risk adverse, so there's little profit to be made on the percentages."

"What am I missing, then?" Harry asked. "Why weren't they this helpful all along, if the incentive has always been there?"

"There were individual goblins and individual departments within the bank that benefit by keeping you alive," Bill admitted. "But Gringotts as a whole…it set up hedges that limited institutional risk, and so there are also individual goblins and departments that would have gained from your death."

Harry frowned. "What kind of hedges?"

"Insurance, mostly," Bill admitted. "Do you know what life insurance is?"

"Yeah, sort of…it's insurance that pays out money if you die while the policy is in effect."

"Not bad," said Bill. "Now, have you ever heard of death insurance?"

"Death insur…you got to be kidding me!"

"Nope," said Bill. "You can also buy insurance from Gringotts that pays out money if you are still alive at the end of the policy term."

"Who would anyone want to do that?"

"The Ministry took out a death insurance policy on you the week after your parents were killed," said Bill. "Takes some of the sting out of losing the chance to confiscate your entire estate once you write out a will."

"Gringotts wouldn't have to pay the Ministry anything if I was killed before then?" Harry asked.

Bill nodded.

"So my account manager wants me alive, while his co-workers in the insurance department would be happy to see me dead," said Harry.

With a shrug of his shoulders, Bill replied, "That internal division was the main reason why the goblins never really approached you before. The bank managers enforced a hands-off policy, just to avoid running afoul of the magic within the competing contracts."

"What kind of magic?"

"Death insurance is a lot trickier to underwrite than life insurance," Bill replied. "Since, from a policy perspective, Gringotts would have gained financially from your death, the insurance contract is written in a way that prevented the Goblins from killing you themselves, or from helping someone else kill you. But at the same time, the insurance department appealed to the auditors and insisted that nothing be done to help keep you alive."

"Bank politics, then," Harry concluded. "So what changed this Summer?"

"You were right before about the influence of Sirius's money," Bill admitted. "The Black portfolio was managed under a fairly conventional fee structure. So now that most of that portfolio has been absorbed into the Potter accounts…"

"They're making even more money than they had been," Harry concluded. "And they stand to lose that much more if I'm killed."

"Basically."

"Well, that's fair enough…a bit ruthless, but as long as they are consistent."

"Consistently ruthless is actually a pretty good description."

"So what do they do when a customer is consistently ruthless?"

Bill frowned. "They don't care much for thieves and swindlers."

"What about people who ruthlessly play their games, under the same set of rules, though?"

The older wizard thought for a moment, then smiled.

"I think that there would be grudging respect for that kind of customer."

"Good," said Harry. "So tell me, Bill... becoming Lord Potter next week gets me recognized as an adult a year early, right?"

"Yes."

"And as an adult I gain full control of my vaults and my estate?"

Bill shrugged and nodded his head.

"Are the current management fees for my account set in stone?"

"I'm not sure…I'll have to get back to you on that one."

"But there's nothing that would be keep me from withdrawing all my money and closing up my vaults, right?"

Bill winced a bit. "No, although there really isn't a safer place to store your money in Britain."

"Oh, yeah, I'm not suggesting that there isn't," Harry replied. He deliberately paused for a moment, then offhandedly asked, "So who are these North American goblins?"

"What?"

"You mentioned them earlier," said Harry. "Do the goblins run the financial system over there as well?"

"For the most part," Bill replied. "Their bank is called 'Gorechunks', and it is run by a different set of goblins."

"Now that's very interesting," said Harry. "So do these two banks compete for business?"

Bill let out a loud snort. "Yeah, you could say that. Over the last five-hundred years, there's been seven different wars between the two banks."

"Real wars?"

"War is business by other means," Bill repeated.

"Are they fighting now?"

The curse-breaker shook his head. "There was a peace treaty signed the 1920's. That's why your plan isn't going to work."

Harry snorted. "What plan?"

"Your plan to gain leverage by threatening to move your money out of Gringotts," Bill replied. "The terms of that peace treaty included both a non-expansion agreement, and the creation of territorial monopolies. There's no other wizard bank in Britain for you to bring your business to."

"Well, isn't that convenient?" Harry snarked. "So what if I converted all of my galleons to pounds and moved it all into a Muggle bank?"

"Nope, Gringotts has that covered as well," Bill replied. "It owns a British Muggle bank called Prescotts, and our vault agreements stipulate that any witch or wizard that wants to transfer money into the Muggle financial system has to use that bank."

Harry scowled in frustration.

"What if I moved to France?"

"Still Gringotts territory."

"How about my houses in Canada or Jamaica?"

"Well, that's certainly Gorechunks territory," Bill replied. "But you'd still have to be a citizen of the North American Confederation to open an account there. According to the treaty signed between Gringotts and the Ministry of Magic, the only banking option for British witches and wizards is Gringotts."

"Damn, they've got us by the short and curlies, don't they?" Harry asked.

Bill sighed. "Well...it's hard for me to express an opinion, given that I am technically one of those short and curly holders."

"You know what I mean, though?"

"All that I can say is that while your banking options are limited, those options that are available to you have proven very profitable over the years."

"Yeah, I wasn't suggesting otherwise," said Harry. "I'm just worried that the Goblins will be a whole lot less helpful just as soon as I write out my will."

Bill shrugged. There were a few suggestions that he might have offered Harry, but since they ran counter to Gringotts' interests he couldn't…at least not until he was able to officially become his liegeman, and have that loyalty oath trump the oaths made to Gringotts.

"If there are any other direct questions, Harry?" he asked.

The younger wizard chewed on his lower lip.

"If Gringotts has such a tight banking monopoly in Britain, why would it even worry about losing my accounts to the North American Goblins, or to the…who else did you say?"

"The Kobolds," Bill replied. "German Goblins based in Berlin. Current territory covers Scandinavia and Central Europe."

"I can't bank with them, either?"

"Not unless you became a citizen of a magical country within its territorial borders."

"How hard is that?"

"I'm not certain."

"Wonder if I could ask for political asylum," Harry mused. "I've certainly been persecuted enough by the Ministry."

There was a lull in the conversation. Harry was waiting for Bill to respond until he realized that Bill might not be able to respond given his employment status.

"Are you going to get into trouble with your boss for answering my questions?" he asked.

Bill shook his head. "Employee loyalty oaths would get in the way if I tried to speak out of turn. And my boss has also authorized me to answer your questions, so long as they don't go too far against the bank's interests."

"Ah, okay, then," said Harry. "So if things do go to Hell in Britain…what's the easiest way for me to take my money and run?"

"Well…if you run to a country within Gringotts's territorial borders, your money would already be there, waiting for you."

"And those countries are…?"

"France, Flanders, Iberia…"

"Where again?" Harry asked.

Bill thought for a moment. "Oh, right. Wizard maps are different than Muggle maps…Flanders overlaps with Belgium, mostly…and Iberia covers Muggle Spain and Portugal."

"Do I own any houses in these countries?"

Bill thought for a moment, then shook his head.

"You've got your portfolio, but…I don't think so."

"Any reason why I couldn't buy a house in one of these countries?" asked Harry.

"I don't believe it would be a problem…especially once you take full control of your accounts."

Harry thought for a moment.

"Can Gringotts help me find and purchase a house? And could we move there once I did?"

"We?" asked Bill slyly.

"Just covering my rings," Harry said with a smile.

Bill nodded in understanding as he pulled a self-inking quill and a piece of parchment out of a robe pocket and began to jot down some notes.

"It will take more than week for us to find you a French chateau and get it all warded up," he stated.

"You're saying that we should still plan on Canada, then?"

"Yeah."

"So what would be the easiest way for me to move my money to North America?"

"Erm…marry a Yank witch and give her all of your money?"

Harry laughed. "Okay, then…what would be the second easiest way?"

Molly's call for the two wizards to return inside the Burrow kept Bill from dancing any closer to his employee loyalty oaths.

oo00OO00oo

Once everyone was gathered around the kitchen table Molly said, "I'll need everyone be quiet while I work, and to stay out of my way…I want to have the clock turned off for as short a time as possible."

"Can't we stay out of your way by playing Quidditch in the orchard?" Ron asked.

"No!" Molly snapped. "Bad enough that I couldn't get everyone to come back home today…I need to know that you are in sight and safe while I am fixing the clock."

"Yes, Mum," Ron muttered.

Molly stared down at the clock face for a few moments, then pulled out her wand and cast a Tempus spell. It was a few seconds before the top of the hour.

"Well, no going back now," she decided. She placed the edge of her clock on the kitchen table, then slowly rotated it until she spotted the two small screws that held the brass rim in place.

"Ah…there they are," she muttered, placing the tip of her wand against one of the screw heads. The witch glanced back at the instructions to confirm the next step, then incanted, "Refty Roosey!" The screw immediately twisted counter-clockwise, lifting its head away from the rim. Once unthreaded, the screw slipped off the edge and lodged itself in the thin crack between two leaves in the kitchen table.

"Fudge!" Molly hissed, watching the screw disappear from sight.

"Where?" Ron asked. "Did you put walnuts in this time!"

Hermione rolled her eyes. Harry chuckled.

"I think she was just taking the Ex-minister's name in vain," he stated.

"Never mind, young man," Molly replied, as she used an Accio spell to retrieve the small brass screw. She then pulled the clock onto her lap, and caught the second liberated screw within her apron.

Molly's clock was set back onto the table with the degree of care typically reserved for souffles and unexploded ordnance. She slowly pulled the rim away from the clocks cylindrical edge, then gently lifted the clear sapphire cover away from the face. Once the clock cover was set on the table top, Molly turned her attention to the spindle that sat in the middle of the clock face. She used the screw loosening incantation once more to remove the threaded cap that sat on top of the spindle. The brass post that anchored the nine already-mounted hands doubled in length.

When Molly reached for the clock hand labeled with Harry's name, her husband cast a Tempus charm and then asked, "Mollykins…I think that there's enough time to do the second stage tonight, don't you?"

The Weasley matriarch glanced up at the conjured time reading, thought for a moment, then nodded her head.

"Get the peril potion out, while I get these others hands off," she instructed.

Arthur followed orders and placed a small self-heating cauldron onto the kitchen table. He then lifted a quart-sized container out of the shipping box, and carefully poured its contents into the cauldron. Meanwhile, Molly removed the family's clock hands from the spindle, one-by-one, and placed each hand onto the table next to those dedicated to Harry, Hermione and Fleur. By the time that the Weasley matriarch had pulled off her own clock hand, the purple potion had warmed to a simmer. After a brief rereading of the directions, each watch hand was dipped into the cauldron and used to stir the potion ten times in a counterclockwise direction. Molly stirred quickly enough to get all twelve hands into the cauldron and back onto the spindle in short (and reverse) order.

"What's supposed to be different?" asked Ron.

"Ssshhh!" Molly hissed.

It took two more sternly-delivered shushes to clamp down on the questions as Mrs. Weasley replaced the clock face and reset the screws. Once she started the clock back up, each of the twelve clock hands lost their metallic luster and turned pale green. They also began to separate; Molly had centered each clock hand above "Quidditch," and once the clock was running they all moved off of that location.

The hands labeled "Harry" and "Hermione" spun slowly in a clockwise direction, with her hand directly on top of his. And they kept spinning, even as all but one of the hands quickly settled over the word "Home."

A wide grin formed on Arthur's face. "All greens…that's brilliant!"

"Something's not right," Molly muttered, as she reached for the instructions.

Ron asked, "What's going on, then…are we still in mortal peril, or not?"

With his wife's entire focus on the instruction scroll, Arthur said, "No Ron…we're still in mortal peril given all that is out there. But at the moment, our short-term outlook is good."

Bill nodded. "We've modified the clock to focus on immediate threats, and separated out location from threat levels," he explained. "Each clock hand changes color based on a person's current status…green means that none of us are at immediate risk of harm."

"What other colors are there?" asked Ginny.

"Yellow stands for a moderate risk of harm, and if you are really facing imminent death the hand would turn red," Bill replied.

Hermione smiled. "So it's an alarm clock, now?"

Bill chuckled, and nodded his head. "More or less…didn't think about adding an audible warning, though."

Fleur said, "So a klaxon would ring eef a clock hand changes color to yellow or red? I like eet."

"If and it," Hermione gently corrected.

"Something still isn't right," Molly muttered. "I could accept the idea of Percy still being at work right now, but the Twins's hands should be over Work as well, and Harry and Hermione's hands are still spinning, and Fleur's isn't working right either."

Bill snorted. "Fred and George do have a flat over their shop, don't they?"

"Yes, but's that's just…it's just a flat!" Molly protested.

Arthur draped his arm around his wife's shoulder. "Maybe it's time to accept the idea that Fred and George have left the nest, Molly…even more so now that we've had them clear out their old room."

"But the Burrow will always be…"

"Charlie's hand is over Home," noted Arthur.

"But Bill…?"

"I gave up my flat last month, remember Mum?" the curse breaker asked.

"So it's only the new hands that are wonky," Ginny suggested.

"Why do you say that?" asked Hermione. "My home is in Weybridge, with my parents."

"Harry's home is with those Muggles, then?" asked Ron.

"More like Hogwarts is my home," added Harry.

"What about Fleur, though?" Ginny demanded.

The French witch giggled as she reached out for Bill's hand. "They say that home is where the heart is, no?"

Hermione grinned. "That was perfect, Fleur!"

"The accent or the sentiment?" asked Harry.

Hermione gently pushed the messy-haired wizard's shoulder.

"Both, you unromantic berk!" she playfully chided.

Molly was unconvinced. Glancing back and forth between the instructions and the clock, she instructed Fleur, Harry and Hermione to go out into the back yard and play a pick-up game of Quidditch. Harry's reminder that his ban had not yet been lifted was dismissed as much less important than knowing if the clock was working properly. Hermione was going to protest that she didn't care to play, before realizing that Molly's instructions were actually the best available option, given the stations available on the clock face.

Ron was quick to assign positions, insisting that Fleur, Ginny and Harry form a chaser line while he served as goalkeeper. When Hermione asked what role he expected her to play, the red-haired wizard halfheartedly released the snitch from their box of game balls and told her to chase after it while the other four were busy. She would have been more upset about this slight if it hadn't suited her purposes. As the other four drew their brooms up to ring-height, Hermione was content to "search" for the snitch with her broom hovering two feet off of the ground.

The game ended almost as soon as it began. Molly opened the Burrow's back door just after Ginny took a pass from Harry and tossed the quaffle past her brother's outstretch hand, and ordered everyone back inside. While Molly's clock looked no different upon their return, Bill informed the group that the clock hands had shifted to "Quidditch" for the short period of time that they were outside playing.

Fleur and the four teenagers were shunted into the sitting room for another game of exploding snap while the three "adults" discussed the different options for fixing Molly's clock.

As the cards were passed out, Ginny asked, "So what do you think they'll do?"

Harry shrugged. "Don't know if there's much that could be done."

"Still an improvement, though," Hermione noted. "Think that the locations on the clock face could be modified?"

"What for?" asked Ron.

"To make them a little more useful," Hermione replied.

Ginny nodded. "She has a point, Ron…would Mum really need the clock to tell her if one of us was tossed into Prison?"

Hermione nodded. "And think about Quidditch…there's already spots for Home and School, where else would somebody play?"

Ron frowned. "Might come in handy if one of us is good enough to turn pro."

"I guess," the Muggleborn witch agreed. "But if you were playing Quidditch professionally, wouldn't that be the same as Work?"

Ron huffed. "Well if it's such a problem, Hermione, why haven't you pointed it out before?"

Harry chuckled. "Mate, if Hermione pointed out every single thing that was illogical in the wizarding world, you'd never get a word in edgewise."

"What makes you think that I do now?" asked Ron.

Bill walked into the sitting room, and asked that he be dealt into the game. He told the others that changing the locations on the clock face was exactly what they'd been discussing in the kitchen. Once Molly was convinced that this was the best approach, she had dismissed Bill, telling him that Arthur and she would decide on how to proceed from there. Twenty minutes later, Molly interrupted the game by asking Harry if she could use Hedwig again to post a letter to the enchanter who had created her clock.

oo00OO00oo

Wednesday, July 24

Fleur was off work the next day, and the weather was perfect for another trip to her magical shoreline. Molly, however, insisted that the morning be spent working on potions in the kitchen and English-language lessons in the sitting room. She also decided that her attention was better devoted to monitoring those lessons, which limited the ability of Harry, Fleur and Hermione to have fun with their innuendo-filled practice sentences.

Molly kept half an eye on her clock all morning, taking note of how each of the clock hands moved after her modifications. Bill's and Arthur's hands shifted to Travelling just as soon as they stepped into the floo, then moved towards Work once they had completed their commute. Fred and George's hands didn't budge from Home until half past ten, and when they did, they paused only briefly above Travelling before reaching Work. When Molly began to complain about the faulty hand movement, Hermione suggested that it wouldn't take all that long to walk down a flight of stairs from the Twins's shared flat to their store. Molly agreed, then began to complain about how late her two sons were starting their work day.

The fact that Charlie's clock hand had changed color from green to yellow after moving from Home to Work had been great cause for Molly's concern, until her husband reminded her just what it was that their dragon-tamer son did for a living. The fact that Percy's hand hadn't budged off of Work was cause for more concern, until Arthur reminded Molly that it was Percy that they were talking about.

By lunchtime, Ron and Ginny had gotten their stove-top potions to a long-term simmer stage, and Fleur had made similar gains on her English accent. With the sun still shining, Molly reluctantly allowed Fleur and the four teens to change into their swim costumes and spend the afternoon at the beach. Once beach bags were packed and Molly's modesty spells applied, the group headed out the back door and started down the path towards the pond.

Harry had planned on covering that distance by Hermione's side, but Ron insisted that he hang back a bit for some "bloke time." The Muggleborn witch was far more accommodating that either of the two teen-aged wizards had expected.

Ron let the three witches gain some distance in front of them before asking, "How much you think it'd cost to get one of Fleur's beach bags at Hogwarts?"

Harry snorted as they finally began to walk towards the orchard. "Well, it'd likely be considered an oversized package, but I imagine the post-owl charges wouldn't be too bad."

"No, I mean…how much do you reckon' it'd cost to buy one of those beach bags, with the umbrella, and the wave rope, and the rubber ducky?"

"Why don't you just ask Fleur?"

"Because…well, not much of a point in me asking," said Ron. "It's probably pretty pricey. And even if I earned enough from my share of the stove-top brewing, Mum is holding on to the money. Don't imagine she'd allow me to buy something like that."

Harry arched an eyebrow, wondering if Ron was suggesting that he make the purchase.

"Can you just imagine it, though?" the red-haired teen asked. "Seeing a bird like Lavender in a wet swim costume…without Mum's spell work blocking the view of those bodacious ta-tas?"

"Bodacious ta-tas, huh?" Harry quipped. He glanced up the path and noticed that the three witches had disappeared past the tree line.

"What, you don't think so?" asked Ron. The teen's pace slowed as his eyes began to glaze over, and his voice gained dreamy overtones.

"Maybe we could get the Room of Requirement to make a shoreline for us?" he asked. "And we could get the girls to wear Muggle swim costumes…Dean says that French birds only wear their knickers to the beach, and show off their bare…..OW!"

"You all right, Mate?" Harry asked, as he stopped and looked back towards the other wizard.

Ron shook his head as he glanced down the front of his swim costume. "Dunno…oddest thing. I was just reaching down to scratch myself…and something stung me!"

"Where?"

"Erm…down there."

"Your bits?"

"Yeah."

"Your bits got stung?"

"No," said Ron. "My fingers got stung when I touched my bits."

"Huh," Harry said, taking a look at their surroundings. They were still about twenty yards from the end of the orchard. With the girls already out past the tree line ahead of them, there was nobody else in sight.

"I didn't see any spells cast," he noted. "You got a bee crawling down there?"

Ron looked down. "Don't see or feel one…do you?"

Harry snorted. "Your Mum's spell is in the way of me seeing much of anything. And as for feeling down there…you're on your own, Mate."

"Well, I should hope so," Ron muttered. He then reached down and got stung again.

"Bugger!" the red-haired wizard hissed, as he tried to shake the pain off of his fingers.

Harry thought for a few moments, then rolled his eyes.

"Your mum's doing, I'll bet," he decided. "Did you notice how she emphasized the first syllable this time?"

"What do you mean?"

"It was PRAE-tego, rather than prae-TE-go," said Harry. "With the change and a different intent…maybe we should ask Hermione."

"You want Hermione to itch my bits?" asked Ron.

"Of course not!" Harry emphatically hissed. "Want her opinion on how much the spell effects could change." The teenager then shrugged and said, "Of course, it could be something that your mum cast only on you."

"Why would she do something like that?"

Harry snorted. "Maybe because she collected the laundry after our last trip to the beach?"

"Why would that matter?"

"Did you cast a Scourgify on the way back to the house?"

"How could I?" Ron whined. "We're not allowed to do underage magic."

Harry snorted. "Oh, right…I forgot. So what were you doing last time, standing neck deep in the water with your hands hidden and a goofy grin on your face?"

"Never mind," said Ron. "Why don't you give yourself a scratch, then?"

The messy-haired teen rolled his eyes, but then decided that it was a fair enough test. He glanced up and down the path, and after not seeing anyone, reached down and lightly cupped his cloth-covered bits.

"Ouch!"

Ron grinned. "So did you forget to clean up too?"

"I didn't have need to clean my swim costume," Harry replied, wiggling his fingers. "Wonder if it's more than a wank prevention charm."

"How could you tell?"

"By itching somebody else's bits," Harry replied. "And no, I'm not willing to do that experiment with you."

"Fine by me," said Ron. The red-haired wizard then looked up the path and started to walk again. "You think we could get one of them to test it out?"

Harry shook his head. "By doing what…scratching your bits, or letting you scratch theirs?"

"Either would work, wouldn't it?" Ron asked. He frowned, then added, "So long as it doesn't involve my sister."

"That's fine by me," agreed Harry.

oo00OO00oo

In a relatively rare moment of male-bonding, the two teen-aged wizards agreed not to warn the other three about what they had discovered. They rationalized that the stinging charm didn't hurt that much, and agreed that Molly could have easily restricted her spell modifications to just the boys.

By the time Ron and Harry walked out of the woods, the beach sand had already been spread and Hermione and Ginny were stretching out the wave rope. While Harry had put on his charmed sunglasses just as soon as they had walked out the back door, he hadn't been able to see anything so long as Fleur and Hermione were wearing robes over their swim costumes. But now Hermione had taken off her robe, and was wearing only her neck-to-ankle swim costume as she ran towards him…which meant that as far as Harry could see, she was only wearing a few black spots over her nipples, a vertical black stripe over her cleavage, and square patch of black over her bits.

Fleur caught him eyeballing his girlfriend and slipped her hand around his waist.

"She ees very beautiful, no?" she whispered.

A breath caught in Harry's throat. He shook his head, turned towards Fleur…and quickly pulled off his charmed sunglasses.

"Just keep these someplace safe, okay?" he asked, handing her the charmed eyewear.

"You don't agree?"

"Too much for my own good," Harry whispered.

Fleur giggled. "So are you going to return ze favor, and provide the same view to her?"

"To you and her both?" Harry asked with a laugh.

"Ees it a problem?" Fleur asked.

"You'll have to ask her," Harry replied.

"Ask me what?" said Hermione, as she reached the umbrella.

Fleur answered in French. The way that Hermione seductively licked her lips needed no translation. She reached out, and untied the belt to Harry's robe.

"You don't need to be wearing this now…do you?" she asked.

Harry shook his head as his robe dropped to the sand.

"I guess not."

"C'mon, then," said Ginny, as she impatiently grabbed Harry by the arm and dragged him towards the breaking surf, where Ron was already splashing about. Hermione and Fleur waited only long enough to perv momentarily on Harry's bare bum before they secured their own sunglasses in the beach bag and joined the other three.

Harry figured that Ron would be the one to "accidentally" test the extent of Molly's spell modifications, but it only took three waves for Ron's sister beat him to the punch...by beating him to the grope.

"Ouch!" Ginny sputtered, as she pulled her hand away from Harry and tumbled into the water.

"Well, that answers that question," Harry announced, as he reached down and helped the red-haired witch regain her footing.

"What question?" Fleur asked, as she sidestepped away from Ron's poorly disguised attempt to line himself up for his own accidental crash.

"We think that Molly modified the Praetego spell," Harry replied. "Ron got a nasty shock when he tried to itch his bits back in the orchard, and it looks like my swim costume is charmed to do the same."

"Well why didn't you warn us!" Ginny complained.

"Wasn't expecting anyone else to touch my bits," Harry replied.

"It was an accident!" Ginny insisted.

"Sure it was," Hermione muttered. She turned to Harry and asked, "So can you…adjust yourself?"

"Not without a shock," he replied.

"Why don't you touch yourselves to see if your costumes are charmed as well?" Ron asked.

"Een your dreams," Fleur replied.

Hermione was too far in agreement with the statement to notice the accent.

"Turn around," she told Harry and Ron, twirling her finger in a circle to emphasize the instruction.

"Awwww…." Ron complained.

Harry reached out and roughly pushed on Ron's shoulder, forcing him into a half-spin.

"Don't be a pervy berk," he hissed.

"Just having a bit of fun," Ron replied.

With their backs turned towards the three witches, Ron and Harry could only imagine what was happening when Hermione yelled, "Bugger! That stings!" They thought that it would be safe to look once they heard Fleur and Ginny both cry out in pain, but were stopped half-way.

"Stay turned around!" Hermione ordered.

"What for?" Ron asked.

"Because we need to do more testing," the Muggleborn replied.

Ron's and Harry's imaginations were allowed to roam wild as nine or ten more shouts of pain were bracketed in between giggles and bantering in French.

"That's disgusting!" they heard Ginny say.

"No…it's a deductive investigation," Hermione quipped.

"So zat ees what you kids are calling eet these days!" Fleur giggled.

"Oh, stop," said Hermione.

"Alright, they're done, you two can turn around," Ginny announced in a whiny tone of voice.

Ron and Harry were quick to comply.

"So?" the red-haired wizard asked.

"So, we need you two to reach back and touch your bums," Hermione said with a smile.

"What?"

"Just do it, Ron," said Ginny.

"Touch our own bums…right?"

"Get on with it, you git!"

Harry let out a hearty laugh as he reached back and lightly touched his bum.

Nothing happened.

He arched an eyebrow, then rested his entire palm across his cloth-covered bum without ill-effect.

"Well that's interesting," said Hermione, as she watched Ron recreate Harry's touch test.

"What?" asked Ron.

"You two can scratch your bums, but we can't scratch ours," Ginny replied. "We also can't touch our own…tops…and our…down theres."

Harry resisted the temptation to tease Ginny about her points of identification.

"So it took you three all of that shouting to figure that out?" he asked.

Fleur smiled, and shook her head. "Since Ginny already determined that she couldn't touch a wizard's bits, we decided to see eef the same penalty applied eef we touched each other's."

A breath caught loudly in Ron's throat.

"Touched each other where?" he asked.

"Never mind," said Hermione.

Ron licked his lips, and asked, "So if girls can't touch boy bits, and girls can't touch girl bits either, then we just have to test if boys can touch girl bits…"

"Don't even think of trying," Hermione hissed.

"So now what do we do?" asked Ginny.

"Seems pretty simple," Harry replied. "Just have to take care not to itch ourselves, or to get grabby when we bump into each other."

"It was an accident!" Ginny protested.

"I can't believe that Mum did this to us!" Ron complained. "What if we need to…itch?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "You do the same if you have to take a pee…just run back to the Burrow and ask for your Mummy's help."

"Oh, that's just disgusting," Ginny muttered.

Harry scrunched his face up and said, "Have to agree on that point."

Hermione thought about what she'd just said, and shivered.

"Sorry."

oo00OO00oo

Molly's invasive spell work had a heavy influence on how the five beachgoers spent the afternoon. Fleur pulled boogieboards and swim fins out of her magically-expanded beach bag, and offered them for Harry and Ron's use. It didn't take very long for Harry to catch on, and to have a rollicking fun time catching waves. It took even less time for Ron to give up the effort (due to too much effort) and to climb back onto the sandy beach. He spread out a beach towel, and promptly fell asleep.

Ginny asked to use the inflatable beach toy again. Fleur arched an eyebrow, but held her tongue as the younger witch straddled her legs over the life-sized plastic dolphin and waddled out into the water.

Fleur and Hermione set up beach chairs and retrieved their charmed sunglasses from the bag. While the French witch popped open a bottle of wine, the Muggleborn witch watched Ginny as she watched Harry.

"Well at least that answers that question," Hermione snickered, as Fleur passed her a wine glass.

"Which question?"

"Whether Molly's spell allows us to scratch an itch with something other than our fingers."

Fleur followed Hermione's gaze out towards Ginny and snorted.

"Her boyfriends will never measure up if she insists on gaining the orgasm with something that big in between her legs," she noted.

Hermione giggled. "And the odd thing is…she doesn't even care if we are watching."

"Maybe she thinks that we can not tell what she is doing?" asked Fleur. "Or she is so excited that she can't help but rub herself?"

"I guess a part of me can't blame her," said Hermione, as she readjusted her magical sunglasses and perved on her boyfriend's seemingly bare bum.

"And which part ees zat?" Fleur teased.

"Your accent is slipping," Hermione noted.

"So is your sexual control," the French witch shot back.

Hermione snorted. "Found a way to magically adjust your sunglasses, then?"

Fleur shook her head, and playfully touched her own nose.

"I can smell your excitement, ma Cherie."

"Bah…it's not like there's anything we can do about it, though," Hermione complained.

"Oh, please," Fleur protested. "You are saying that Ginny ees better to rise above her muzzer's meddling than you are?"

Hermione snorted. "Well, she has had year's more practice, hasn't she?"

Fleur giggled, then reached over and grabbed Hermione's hand.

"I think zat there is more…how did you call it…deductive investigation…for you and your beau to undertake?"

"What are you suggesting?" Hermione asked.

Fleur gave the other witch's hand a squeeze as she touched the base of her wine glass to her left breast and began to trace circles around her covered nipple.

"Eef Ginny can rub her fanny against an inflatable toy, and if I can do zis with my wine glass…how can you rub one off without the shock? How could your lover help you? With the vibrating rubber chicken? Or maybe with another dry humping ride?"

Hermione watched Fleur's wine glass as it idly traced a circle, then collected her wits with a shake of her head.

"Fleur, you and I are close, but…I left the chicken back in our room, and I don't think we're ready to do something like that with you sitting right there. And I'm definitely not going to test the extent of Molly's magic within Ginny's field of view."

The French witch giggled. "You know, eef my Bill is to be your Harry's liegeman, then it must follow zat I am to be your servante, no?"

"No, it does not follow," Hermione insisted. "But if you're offering to help…"

"Say no more!" Fleur insisted, as she set down her wine glass and rose from her beach chair. And within the space of two minutes, Ginny was slumped over her beach toy fast asleep (the side of her face magically stuck against the inflatable's neck to keep her from falling off), Ron's nap was reinforced by a stunning spell, and Harry was coaxed out of the water and into the chair next to Hermione. Fleur then pulled a cloth wind break out her bag, and staked it into place around the couple, forming a three-foot high visibility screen.

Fleur leaned over the screen from the outside, and said, "There are notice-me-not charms woven into the outside of this fabric. And there is also another bottle of wine and some cheese in the bag, if you wish to do something other than the magical research."

Hermione looked out beyond the pond and asked, "But what about the minders out on the ward line?"

Fleur smiled. "There ees just the one, I think. It should be no problem for me to keep him…distracted…for at least a little while."

"Thanks," Hermione replied. "We'll take it from here."

"Take what from here?" asked Harry, as Fleur turned and began to walk down the shore line.

Hermione grinned as she handed him his charmed sunglasses, then reached down and adjusted her beach chair to a full horizontal position. She leaned back, held her arms out open, and said, "Take the chance to see if Molly's meddling covers lips as well as fingers?"

Harry glanced over the cloth wind screen, then quickly rolled off of the chair and crawled towards his girlfriend's opened arms. He leaned down, and tentatively placed his lips against Hermione's.

The kiss was tender, sweet…and shock-free.

Harry lifted his head up and whispered said, "Brilliant!" Hermione expressed her agreement by grabbing the back of his head and pulling him down into an aggressive all-out snog.

Leaning next to his girlfriend's chair gave Harry's hands free range to roam up and down her body. But he hesitated, not wanting to push either Hermione's boundaries or Molly's spellwork. She solved that dilemma by reaching out and placing his hand against her side. Dragging that opened hand from her hip up to the base of her breast gave Hermione's boyfriend the limits he was looking for, and he enthusiastically caressed her torso while she ran her hands up and down his chest.

When the young couple had to break their lip lock for a breath of fresh air, Hermione asked, "Ready for some more testing?"

Harry's green eyes sparkled as he lightly nudged his nose against hers.

"What do you have in mind?" he asked.

"Well, there's that test that Ron proposed," Hermione coyly noted. "You know…where a boy touches a girl's bits?"

Harry sucked in a breath. "Really?"

Hermione nodded. "You don't have to risk getting a shock if you don't want to…"

Harry snorted. "Well, I really should do my bit to help with your deductive investigating, right?"

His girlfriend lifted her head up and gave Harry a quick kiss on the lips.

"There's the spirit!" she declared.

"So…how exactly did you test whether girls could touch girl bits?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Do you want to touch me, or listen to me describe how Fleur and I touched each other?"

"Yes!"

"Harry!"

"What?" he protested. "Isn't controlling external variables part of the investigative process?"

Hermione snorted, and shook her head as she grabbed Harry's hand and pressed his fingers against her cloth-covered nipple.

"Ouch!" Harry hissed, yanking his hand back.

"As expected," Hermione replied matter-of-factly. "Now, try again…only stay away from the black circles and touch the outsides."

Harry did as instructed, and was rewarded with a shock-free fondle.

"Excellent," said Hermione. "Now use both hands, and play with both of them."

A groan escaped from the witch's lips as Harry squeezed and rubbed the sides of her breasts.

"Okay…now lean down and kiss where your fingers are right now," she asked.

"Yes, Ma'am," Harry replied. He took a moment to look up over the cloth screen, then dove down and nuzzled his lips and nose against the base of Hermione's left breast. She let his lips roam for a few moments, then insisted that he shift over to the other side just to be thorough. He was quick to comply.

"Hmmm…that feels so good, Harry," Hermione moaned, as she ran her fingers through his hair. "Now see if you can kiss on top…"

Harry's lips were already moving before his brain caught up and braced itself for the shock.

"Aaah!" he hissed, as leaned back and rubbed the side of his finger against his lips.

"Darn," Hermione muttered. "I was hoping that it was just the hands that would trigger the shock."

"Erm…me too?" Harry mumbled.

"Do you want me to see if the same applies to me?" Hermione asked.

Harry reached up and pinched his left nipple. When there wasn't a reaction, he shrugged and leaned forward.

"Go for it," he said.

Hermione went for it, and spent the next few seconds kissing and nibbling on Harry's cloth covered chest. Slumping down to get her lips at chest height placed her hands within reach of his bum. She reached without thinking of the consequence…until a few seconds later, when she realized that there was no consequence to her kneading his buttocks.

"Oh, sure…nothing happens when you kiss and grope," Harry complained.

Hermione leaned back from her nibbling and asked, "Is that a complaint?"

"Hell, no!"

"Good."

They spent a few glorious minutes in that position…Hermione groping his bum and kissing his costume-covered chest, while he ran his fingers through her hair and rubbed her back. Harry didn't know what triggered the next step…whether it was the logical continuation of their joint investigation or whether Hermione was just going with the flow. He certainly didn't mind, though, when she reached down the back of his leg, and pulled his cloth-covered knee up against her cloth-covered crotch.

When this new point of contact failed to produce a meddling spark, Hermione whispered, "Brilliant!" and began to grind against Harry's leg.

"Is this the next step of testing?" Harry whispered.

Hermione shrugged. "We could see if our bare feet could touch bits, or reach down there with hands and lips, but I'm pretty certain we'd get shocked."

"Me too. So…."

Hermione pushed Harry's chest back, and used her own knee to nudge his knee out from in between her legs. He wondered if they were done playing around, until his girlfriend spread her legs and opened her arms.

"It's your turn on top, Harry," Hermione declared in a husky tone of voice.

Her boyfriend was quick to catch on, and stretched his body out against the full length of hers...until a rude shock was delivered at low points of contact.

"Fuck!" Harry hissed, as he grabbed his balls in pain. Unfortunately, cupping his shocked scrotum with his bare hand was enough to get shocked a second time.

"Bugger!"

Hermione would have scolded Harry for his language, if only she hadn't said more or less the same thing as her fanny and fingers were stung the same way.

Harry rolled evasively off of his girlfriend and dropped onto the sand next to her, with knees clamped together.

The two teens decided that the shocks were delivered whenever bare flesh or black spots came into contact with other black spots. The way to test this hypothesis would have been for Hermione to touch her breasts or bum against Harry's crotch, but neither of them were willing to risk additional pain being delivered to those sensitive areas.

"We're out of here just as soon as possible," Harry decided.

Hermione nodded, and replied, "I've read that Ontario is lovely this time of year."