Disclaimer: Am I J.K. Rowling? No, I don't think so. So I don't own Harry Potter. Duh.
A/N: You should be proud of me – I wrote this chapter in about three and a half hours. I really wanted to get it out. Yay for double digits! I apologize for any errors I made because it's late at night and I really don't feel like editing right now. So if I ever get back to it, I'll edit it later. Also, I'm getting to impatient to write huge, 19-page chapters, so my average is around ten pages in Microsoft Word. It's just easier than trying to drag the chapter on and on. Besides, who has time to actually read that many pages in one sitting? Not me. Ok, enough of my rambling. Happy reading!

Chapter Ten: Not Quite Home Anymore

Aria's POV

I knew this was coming. I shouldn't be so shocked. After all, I'd been expecting it ever since Eva sent me that first letter. But it still comes as a horrible surprise when Dad and I Apparate to the empty wooded lot a block or so from my old house, and I realize just what he's asking me to do.

We walk out of the trees and up the block. I feel distinctly out of place here. This block used to be my home. There's the crazy lady's house – she's obsessed with unicorns. She has horrible little figurines of them everywhere in her house, and paintings of them on her walls, and even unicorn dinner plates. She had to babysit me once when I was little and my mum had to run to work in the middle of supper - I was like, four. It scarred me for life.

I smile to myself as we pass her house, just thinking what her reaction would be if I told her that as a third year in Care of Magical Creatures at Hogwarts, we get to study unicorns. She'd probably have a heart attack.

We pass old Mrs. Adrean's house. She's out in her flower garden – big surprise there – on her hands and knees, carefully pulling every tiny weed that dares to poke its head through her precious soil. She glances up at us as we pass, and a frown overcomes her features as if she doesn't recognize me. I don't bother to remind her – she never liked my mum or me very well. She's lived next door to us since I was just a little kid – and mum told me she's pretty sure that Mrs. Adrean was one of the many people to hear the declaration of my very first swear word.

We come to a stop in front of the house. Beside me, I hear Dad inhale sharply as he looks at it. I slowly raise my eyes and stare at it. It looks exactly the same as it did one year ago, except the flower garden is in much better shape than it ever was when Mum took care of it – I can only assume Eva's been using magic to keep it looking nice for when we eventually have to sell it…

"Shall we?" Dad asks softly. I take a deep breath and nod. We start toward the front door, and it opens for us automatically. Eva is standing in the doorway with a smile on her face.

"I wasn't sure you'd come," she says, holding the door open for us. I look around the front hall and a whole tidal wave of overwhelming emotions engulfs me. Blinking back sudden tears, I turn into the living room.

It hasn't changed. Mum's books are still stacked haphazardly on the coffee table on top of last year's Hogwarts letter. Apparently she just left it there all year. My old sweater is still draped over the back of a chair, exactly where I left it two weeks before leaving for school. The same can be said for a pair of worn old sneakers I'd kicked into the corner one day after taking a walk with Meghan around the neighborhood.

The numerous pictures of me are still sitting in their plain frames on the mantel. My favorite armchair still has my favorite quilt lying over the back of it, as though it's been waiting all year for me to come home and relax.

I blink some more.

"I didn't want to move anything," Eva explains quietly, coming to stand beside me. I nod mutely. I have to choose what I want to keep? I have to decide what I can throw away forever and never see again? These things have been around my whole life! How do I pick what I keep?

I shake my head. I have to start with an easier room. I walk out into the hallway again, and Eva and Dad trail behind. I'm about to turn to go upstairs when a closed door just down the hall catches my eye. Something in my chest tightens painfully. Mum's study. Closing my eyes for a second to regain my composure, I start upstairs again.

The door to my bedroom is closed. It probably hasn't been touched since I left for school last September. I turn the knob slowly and let the door swing inward.

My room hasn't changed – obviously. The computer is still in its corner, only it now has a thin film of dust across the screen. I wonder how full my email inbox is after a whole year of not being emptied.

I look around some more. There are still plenty of pictures. I didn't take any with me when I went to Hogwarts. I smile at one of Meghan, Jess, and me from last summer. We're sitting in Jess's back yard in an old baby pool, laughing and smiling. I pick the picture up and look at it. It seems like it was another lifetime that I sat there with my two best friends, gossiping and talking about what school would be like.

From behind me, I hear something fall over and I turn to see my dad picking up a picture frame. He touches his wand to it and repairs the cracked glass wordlessly. I move to his side to see which picture it is.

It's an old picture of Mum and me from when I was probably six years old. I'm sitting on her lap in that armchair, and we have a big story book in front of us. I've always loved that picture. I have my finger to the page, following along as she reads aloud. I wonder how much better the picture would be if it moved.

"This is a good picture," Dad says, setting it back down on my bedside stand. I nod.

"I think Evan took that one, didn't you?" I ask her as she comes to stand beside us. She nods, smiling fondly.

"Yep. I love that picture," she says. She takes her wand out. "You want me to pack anything for you?" she asks. I look around.

"Just the pictures," I say quietly. She waves her wand and all of the pictures disappear. A cardboard box appears on my bed, and it seals itself as I watch it. She waves her wand again and the box is gone.

"I sent it to the house," she says in explanation. Dad nods.

I walk over to the closet and peer inside. I thumb through the different clothes, looking everything over carefully. I look down to see a giant cardboard box sitting beside me. I glance at Eva, who grins. I smile back and start taking the clothes I want out of my closet and depositing them unceremoniously into the box. Before I know it, half my closet is in there. I look at the remaining clothes hanging there innocently, completely unaware that their owner has returned.

I turn away from the closet and nod at Eva, who waves her wand and sends the box home. I almost smile at that. I can't even call this place home anymore. Dad's house is home.

From the doorway, I hear an achingly familiar meow. Turning, I see Crookshanks slinking into the room, his yellow eyes fixed on me. He walks toward me and rubs against my ankles, purring loudly with a little cat-smile on his squashed face.

"Crookshanks," I murmur, picking him up. He rubs his head against my chin, purring even more loudly.

"Well, I'll be," Dad says in awe. "That old cat is still alive."

"You know Crookshanks?" I ask as the cat leaps from my arms and stalks toward him. He grins and squats down to tickle Crookshanks' chin.

"Your mum bought him when she was thirteen," he says. "First time I ever met the cat he nearly scalped me."

Eva laughs. "Crookshanks? He wouldn't hurt a fly," she says, crouching down as well. Crookshanks rubs against their knees, still purring.

"Yeah, not now," Dad says darkly. "He must be over twenty years old now."

"He is part kneazle," I say with a shrug. I take another look around my bedroom. Nothing in here really means much to me. The electronic things would be a waste of space – even though Dad's house does have electricity and a telephone, courtesy of Keira. Other than the pictures and my clothes, there isn't anything in here I really want.

"I think I'm done here," I say. Eva and Dad straighten up, ready to follow me to the other rooms in the house. I pause in the upstairs hallway. No, I'm not ready for Mum's room yet. Nodding decisively to myself, I start back down the stairs. Dad and Eva follow.

We head back into the living room. I think I can do this now.

"All I really want from this room is that chair," I say pointing to it. "And the quilt on it," I add for good measure. Dad waves his wand this time, and the chair disappears. The room seems oddly empty without it.

"Don't you want all these pictures?" asks Dad, stepping over to the mantel. I shrug.

"You can have them if you want them," I say. "But I'm not putting them in my room."

Dad smiles at me and all of the pictures featuring me alone disappear. The ones with Meghan and Jess in them sit in their places on the mantel with gaps between them. I sigh.

"I'll take those," I say, pointing at them. They disappear instantly.

"If either of you want anything in here … feel free," I say uncertainly.

"Are you sure?" asks Eva, who I've noticed eyeing our coffee table enviously since I was about eight. I nod and pick up the books and my old Hogwarts letter a second before the table disappears.

I set the books on the couch and look around. I smile when I see Dad snag a lamp that's always stood in the corner by the window.

"Done?" he asks when he spots me on my way out the door. I nod. I ignore the kitchen completely – there's nothing I want in there. However, as we pass, I notice Dad pause and scrutinize the table, as though mentally comparing it to the one at home. After a moment he joins me in front of the closed door that leads to Mum's study.

"You okay?" he asks, laying a hand on my shoulder. I take a deep breath and reach out for the doorknob.

Mum's desk is still just as organized and neat as it was the last time I was in here. The weird coat rack in the corner – which is obviously an owl perch now that I look at it – is still there, and the bookshelves are still full of books that are most likely wizard books with Muggle covers on them. I sit down in front of her desk carefully.

I hear Dad looking at the bookshelf behind me as I open one of the drawers in the desk. Inside is a plain pocket folder. I take it out and open it curiously.

It's full of letters. I take out the top one and look at it curiously. The handwriting is vaguely familiar. I skim it quickly. Bored, I flip to the signature. It's from my dad!

Shocked, I take out the other letters in the folder. They're all from him! Narrowing my eyes, I swivel around in the chair and glare at the back of his head until he turns around slowly, looking confused.

"Staring at me?" he asks with a slight smile. His smile fades away when he sees me glaring at him. "What's wrong?"

"This," I snarl, shoving the folder in his face. He takes it uncertainly, still looking at me. He lowers his eyes to the folder slowly, and his eyebrows shoot up.

"Oh, Aria," he says, looking back at me. "Aria, you have to understand–"

"Understand what?" I ask fiercely. "That you were talking to my mum almost a year ago and you never told me?"

"Aria, we've had this conversation," he sighs, handing the folder back to me. I snatch it away.

"No, we haven't," I snarl. "We've had the 'I-couldn't-tell-you-I-was-your-father-because-your-mum-wanted-to-do-it-herself' conversation. We haven't had the 'reason-you've-never-told-me-you-were-writing-to-my-mum' conversation!"

"It never came up," he says. I roll my eyes.

"You want to know why?" he asks, leaning against the bookshelf. I give him a 'duh' look. "I never told you I was writing to your mum because I knew you'd take it badly, that's why," he says matter-of-factly. I give him a look and spin around to face the desk again.

"I don't want to go through this all now," I murmur, looking at all the different papers. "But…" I turn around again. Dad's looking me expectantly.

"Would it be alright if I put this desk in my room instead of the one that's in there now?" I ask uncertainly. He smiles.

"Of course." He waves his wand, and I jump back just in time. The desk disappears. "Hmm. We might have some furniture rearranging to do when we get home," he says with a smile. "As for this bookshelf, I think there's a perfect spot for it in the living room." Another wave of the wand and the bookshelf is gone as well.

"Anything else in here?" he asks, looking around. I shake my head.

"Let's go back upstairs," I say with a sigh.

"I thought we were done upstairs," Dad says, looking confused.

"No," I say sadly. "There's still one more room."

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Ron's POV

Aria leads me back upstairs. We go past her bedroom, where the door is still open. I peer inside to see Eva looking at the computer with interest. Hiding a smile, I walk up behind Aria, who's standing in front of another closed door. She looks at it uncertainly, and I'm pretty sure I know which room this is.

"Ready?" I ask. She nods.

"I suppose."

She opens the door and it swings inward slowly. I look at the small bedroom and I feel the breath in my lungs whoosh out. It's simple and plain – nothing more than I would expect from Hermione really – but just the fact that she occupied this space regularly is enough to make a chord in my chest tighten painfully.

Aria walks in and runs her hand over the spines of the books on the small bookshelf in there. She looks around and sighs.

"I don't even want to touch anything," she says, glancing at the wardrobe.

"I know it's hard," I tell her. "But let's just do this, okay?"

She nods, and together we go through Hermione's books and decide which ones to keep and which ones to let Eva sell. When we're done with that, Aria fingers the door to the wardrobe uncertainly. I give her a smile that I hope is encouraging, and she pulls the door open carefully.

While she does that, I turn and look at the little stand holding Hermione's jewelry box. I open it hesitantly.

There's not much in there. There's a necklace her mum gave her once for her birthday, and a family heirloom bracelet her grandmother had sent her for Christmas one year.

There's another necklace with a beautiful green stone set into the word 'Mother'. I can only imagine who gave it to Hermione. I smile.

The last thing in there is a small white gold ring set with a small heart-shaped diamond. I pick it up in wonder. It's the promise ring I gave to Hermione when we were eighteen. I look at it curiously. She kept it all these years?

"What's that?" asks Aria, appearing at my side.

"It's a ring I gave your mum when we were eighteen," I tell her, holding it in the palm of my hand for her to see. She picks it up gently and brings it to her eyes.

"Is it an engagement ring?" she asks, looking up at me. I smile at her accusatory tone.

"No. It's a promise ring," I answer. She gives me a puzzled look.

"What's a promise ring?" she asks.

"That is," I tell her with a grin. She gives me a look.

"What's it for?"

"It's sort of … a pre-engagement ring," I tell her, not quite sure how to explain it to a twelve-year-old.

"Why didn't you just buy her an engagement ring?" she asks pointedly. I wince.

"I was eighteen, Aria. I wasn't ready to get married, and neither was your mum. Besides, giving someone a promise ring doesn't mean you're absolutely going to get married. It's like ... promising you're not going to date other people I guess…" I say uncertainly.

"Was it expensive?" she asks. I chuckle.

"Sort of."

"Were you going to ask her to marry you?" she asks, handing me the ring. I close my hand around it.

"Yeah," I answer truthfully. "I was. I was going to wait a couple years, but I was ready to spend the rest of my life with her," I sigh. Aria smiles sadly.

"She always loved you," she whispers. I look at her sharply. She smiles at my look. "She never told me so, but I could tell. Every time I ever asked about 'my father', she'd tell me that she'd explain everything when I was older and all that stuff, but the few times she did talk about you, it was always with a certain … glow," she says.

"Did you figure out what to do with her clothes?" I ask.

"Yeah. I don't want any of it," she answers with a shrug. "What about her jewelry?"

"Oh, I don't know. You might want to keep this," I say, handing her the bracelet. "Supposedly it's a family heirloom."

"Yeah," she says, looking at it. "I remember Mum showing it to me once when I was little. She told me that one day it would be mine, and then someday I'd pass it on to one of my kids."

"Yes, well let's hope that doesn't happen for a very long time," I say, wrapping my arm around her shoulders. She laughs and leans against me.

"The bracelet is all I want," she says.

"Would it bother you if I kept this?" I ask, showing her the ring again. She picks it out of hand once more and scrutinizes it.

"It's pretty," she says simply, handing it back to me. I take that as a good sign and slip it into my pocket.

"Anything else?" I ask. She looks around and shrugs.

"Not really. Anything Mum would have wanted to keep safe would have been in her desk – she always yelled at me for digging through it when I was younger," she says with a smile.

I nod. "Ready to go?" She takes one last look around. While her back is turned to me, she chokes out a sob, and I feel my heart clench.

"Aria?" I ask, laying a hand on her shoulder. She leans back against me and I wrap my arms around her.

"I just miss her so much," she whispers, turning around and burying her head in my chest. I hug her close.

"I know," I murmur. "Me too. You were lucky – you had almost twelve years with her," I add, wiping her tears away. She smiles slightly.

"Yeah," she sighs. "But it wasn't long enough."

"No," I agree. "It wasn't."

"I just can't believe I'll never come to this house again. I'll never…" she let the rest of the sentence die out as another sob escapes her. I hug her again.

"Are you sure you don't want anything else from in here?" I ask her. She looks around once more. She pulls away and goes to the bed, which wasn't made completely perfectly in Hermione's haste to leave the morning she went to pick up Aria. She touches the comforter with quivering fingers. I join her.

The bedding is the one thing in the room with any personality. It's white with light pink, soft yellow, and light blue vertical stripes.

"I want this," she whispers. "And I don't want it washed," she adds. Normally this request would be strange, but I understand her. Hermione's scent was one of the best in the world – a wonderful mixture of something flowery and something that resembled peppermint. I nod and wave my wand to send it home. Aria's room is going to take some reorganization when we get home.

"Now are we ready to go?" I ask her. She nods, turns away from the bed, and takes my hand.

"Let's go home," she whispers.

A/N: Well, there you go, as promised! Hope you enjoyed! Don't worry, I haven't forgotten about Eva. Or Crookshanks! They'll both make their respectable (or, in Crookshanks' case, not-so-respectable) appearances next chapter! Please review!