Disclaimer – I should have said this before but these are not my characters or world, etc, no money being made, etc, etc, please don't sue.

0o0o0o0

The Green Man's Nursery and Conservatory had a website that allowed you to book appointments for consultation (locally only, a notice which made Harry wonder how far away they'd had requests from). You filled out a questionnaire online and picked an appointment time and someone would come out and have a look. Harry wasn't sure what he was expecting, but the slim form in leather that purred up the driveway on a well-tuned motorbike wasn't it.

"You're drooling," Ben said helpfully from where he was unloading his groceries from the car, "Is it the bike or the girl?"

Harry had been helping him, but now he put the bag in his hands back in the boot, ignored the under-the-breath abuse coming his way and headed over to meet her. She had removed the helmet, revealing black curly hair, pulled back into a low bun and a snub nose dusted with freckles.

"Hi, Zoe Oakden," she propped the helmet on the bike and Harry shook her hand, "You wanted some advice on a vegetable patch?"

"Yeah, on the quagmire here," Harry gestured, "The barn has geothermal underfloor heating and the piping for it is buried there. It destroyed the grass though, and I'd like to grow my own produce, so …"

"Well I'm honoured to be asked," Zoe grinned and stuffed her gloves into her helmet before heading towards the front of the house, "I've been past Mr Baker's garden a fair few times and its looking amazing. He said that you were maintaining it?"

"I am," Harry acknowledged, "But that was working with what was there. Here, I am a bit stuck. I mean I know I need to establish beds and things, and I was thinking of making the beds raised, but size and soil mix and drainage… I've never set up from scratch before."

"Hmmm," Zoe had stopped at the edge of the quagmire and surveyed it carefully, "Well, you do need to ensure raised beds have adequate drainage, and given the wood on the outside of your house you want them to drain away from that… let me get my things and we'll measure and plot."

The bike had saddle bags, including a pair of ankle height wellingtons, tape measure and sketch pad, with a mechanical pencil clipped to it. Between them, they spent an hour measuring and sketching, discussing the merits of various materials to use as the sides of the garden beds and where the best and cheapest gravel could be found. Zoe recommended paving stones as well, to assist with weed control and allow the water drainage to be better directed.

Once they were done, Harry offered her a cup of tea and the muddy wellingtons were kicked off at the front door, revealing brightly coloured mismatched socks. Zoe padded over to the table and plonked herself down at the end, taking the measurements and rough sketches they'd drawn up and beginning a more professional sketch, using correct scale and marking the dimensions down accordingly.

She took her tea black with four sugars, it turned out, and Harry sat opposite, making his own suggestions as she plotted out the best layout of the beds, marking in an irrigation system that could be drained and stored for winter to prevent burst hoses and other such damage.

"I need to make a copy of this," Zoe drained her tea another hour later, "And I'll send it to you, along with the links to the builders' yards that give the best prices."

"Thank you," Harry smiled, and she grinned back. There was a knowing glint to her eyes, as well as mischief, as explained by her next remark.

"Do you want to look at the bike now?"

"Yes please!" Harry laughed, and followed her out to pore over the features and benefits of riding a motorcycle, even in cold or wet weather.

Mr Baker was not impressed when Harry bought a bike of his own a few months later, having finished establishing his garden beds and prepped them for the coming spring plant.

0o0o0o0

"You want us to bid on that?" Mr Baker asked, peering at the screen. With the small barn finally fitted out finished to his satisfaction, Mr Baker had moved some of his tools into Harry's workshop and it was there that they did the larger pieces of work, due to the floor space available. Harry had insisted that a private room with loo and handbasin be added, as well as a kitchen space where they could make tea. Mr Baker had brought his computer over, arguing that the dust wouldn't bother it, having upgraded at home to a laptop like Harry used, conceding the portability was useful when travelling to see a client.

"It's a transport museum, and they want to refit the metal stair rods to be more in line with their exhibits. I thought we could do a bus stop, with carved people on each tread, queueing up the stairs," Harry explained, "You've said I need to work on my carving skills and there are thirty rods that need encasing, including the landing."

"Hmmm," Mr Baker leaned back, "Well, you do need to work on your final assessment piece, to move up to journeyman. This would do it, providing we were successful, but it would be a lot of work, lad. And you'd need to submit an idea that was fiscally viable, as well as creative enough to get their attention. A ruddy long line of people wouldn't do it."

"It would have some surprises in there," Harry confessed and pulled out the rough sketch he'd made of the stair with figures on it, "I'd have Narnia's lamppost and Mr Tumnus, Paddington Bear, E.T., one of those aliens from Roswell, as well as ordinary people."

There were normal people too, of all sorts. Business men and women on phones, reading papers, a pregnant lady, a tourist sitting on a suitcase, men in turbans and women in hijabs, teenagers dancing to headphones, a child with a balloon, an old man with a pet carrier that had a paw swiping out of it. There was even Dennis the Menace and a suitably mysterious man in a hat and trench coat, with a tail sticking out below it. Harry's drawing skills had improved immensely over the last three years, between the graphics tablet training him in shading and texture and Mr Baxter training him in scale and accuracy.

"It is doable," Mr Baker leaned over the drawings, intrigued, "It would depend on how well you do with the carving. That's a new skill for you, and not one that everyone has the talent for. We'd need to win the bid first, which will give me time to gauge your skills. You'll need to do these up properly too."

Harry grinned, and Mr Baker rolled his eyes. After almost three years as teacher and student they knew each other quite well.

"You've already got a set nearly finished on that machine of yours, haven't you?" he asked good naturedly and Harry nodded, "Well, I can't fault your enthusiasm. Alright then, let's go back to the house and you can show me the more detailed drawings. I'm not putting our name to anything that isn't up to par."

Harry had expected no less. Mr Baker was particular and for good reason. His business had a reputation for high quality work, and taking Harry on had been at risk of tarnishing that reputation. Harry had more than repaid that trust by working hard to learn the skills required, discovering a perfectionist streak in himself he hadn't expected.

"When are you seeing that young lady of yours again?" Mr Baker asked as they walked up the path to Harry's home. Harry nearly tripped over his feet at hearing Zoe labelled that way, and it took a moment for him to answer.

"Saturday," he replied, "We're riding to the coast. Should be nice weather for it."

Zoe had agreed to assist Harry in learning the skills to get his L's and then his licence for the bike, which was accomplished through paired rides at first. Once he'd gotten his licence, the habit had continued, only now they went to great houses and open gardens, or across to the larger city to see a museum or art gallery. Zoe was a regular at the Sunday dinners, preparing fresh baked deserts instead of frozen ones (the housemates had to do the washing up and kitchen tidy in lieu of supplying pudding). She had joined what was formerly the 'boys club' at the pub as well, along with Joe and Simon's girlfriends. There had been some hand holding and snogging, but to hear her called his 'young lady' was still a bit startling.

"With summer coming on, you'll be starting cricket again too?" Mr Baker went in first, as Harry held the side door open for him and went to the left, towards Harry's study.

"I'll give up the cricket if we get the job," Harry had worked out the drift of the conversation now, "But not the rides with Zoe."

"Fair enough," Mr Baker nodded, "You can always take the cricket up again next year."

0o0o0o0

The first thing Harry ever carved was Dobby. The little elf stood only a few inches high, one sock sagging on his foot, a couple of those silly knitted hats on his head, beaming up at Harry from the workbench with a book and a duster in his hands. This was Dobby from the Gryffindor common rooms, dusting late one night and happy. Harry hadn't meant to carve Dobby: Mr Baker had instructed that he take the block of wood and attempt a basic figure with it. A slip of the tools had suggested an ear, and before he knew it Harry was revealing Dobby's profile and stance. He'd worked diligently to get the image of his little friend perfect, sanding and smoothing over errors, adding wrinkles and creases in the pillow case to get it just so.

"Well," Mr Baker commented from behind Harry, breaking his startled reverie, "I guess you do have a talent for carving."

"Thanks," Harry said sadly. He cleared his throat and went to get a drink of water. Dobby was gone when he returned, another block of wood in his place.

"Try for something a bit more human, lad," Mr Baker instructed, "A sitting figure this time. I want to see it marked out first."

That was surprisingly easy too, Hermione sitting with her ankles crossed and feet dangling, a book on her lap. It was easy to leave the robes off, and he didn't include the House badge on her jumper or the school badge on her tie. He did give her the prefects badge though. Ron was a natural next subject, sitting cross legged beside her, also with a book on one knee, his elbow on the other. The Head Boy badge he'd always wanted adorned Ron's jumper.

At Mr Baker's instruction, Harry refined a few of the creases in the figures clothes and gave better definition to their hair and faces. Then, Harry oiled these figures carefully, having watched Mr Baker oil Dobby as an example. They were still waiting to hear about the bid they'd put in on the staircase, but Mr Baker didn't seem too worried now. It had taken him nearly five days to produce the three small figures, and Mr Baker felt the larger ones would be easier.

"More space to get the details in," he told Harry, "Less fiddling with suggestive touches. If you can keep up the level of quality here, we'll be in good shape should we win that bid. Now, put this up lad, and spend some time outside. No brooding."

Harry took the figures to the house and put them in his study – Dobby by his set of books on joinery, Hermione and Ron together on a shelf with his antique furniture books. The vegetable garden could always use tending, so Harry went outside to do that.

After a few weeks the little figures stopped startling him, and Dobby was moved to stand in pride of place next to Harry's graphics tablet.

0o0o0o0

"How goes those poor people waiting for the bus?" Zoe asked as Harry entered her small flat. She lived above the village bookshop, something that was evidenced by the large number of books that decorated every surface and spilled out of the few bookcases she'd managed to squeeze in.

"Actually, not too bad," Harry replied, putting the cider in the fridge and kissing her cheek. They were having pasta tonight apparently, and he stirred the sauce while Zone rummaged in the tiny kitchen for plates. "We're about half way there. Mr Baker has left most of it to me, but he did request to be let to carve the child with the balloon."

"That might be his daughter, then, she did so love balloons," Zoe mused, "And that alien you were working on? Did it come out alright in the end?"

"Bloody thing was thrown out for kindling," Harry grumbled, "I'll have to start again, as they were especially enthusiastic about having the oddities included."

"Still," Zoe pulled him away from the stove and hugged him comprehensively, which Harry returned eagerly, "It's one hell of a way to graduate your apprenticeship."

"True," Harry kissed her and they let go when the timer rang to finish putting the meal together.

They ate on the couch as there was no room for a dining table, watching videos of Dr Who. Zoe was a fan and Harry had been drawn in to the series. He was planning on presenting her with a carved TARDIS, stained dark blue, with doors that opened and a figure of the Doctor inside. Tom Baker probably, ridiculous scarf and all.

"Our engaged couple have finally set a date," Harry told her as they cleaned up after dinner, "And they've put down a deposit on Mrs Windemere's old place."

"Thank god," Zoe sighed, "They were a pain in the butt."

"True," Harry grinned, "I've never seen a Vicar so relieved when they announced their plans. The atmosphere in the place was getting nasty. David's still moving into the Vicarage though. It seems the Vicar needs a bit more help than we all knew."

"You'll have an empty house at this rate," Zoe put the dried plates away, "Except for Sargent Ben. I don't think you'll ever move him out."

"Does it bother you? You've never said anything before?" Harry was startled and Zone laughed, wrapping her arms around his waist and leaning into his back. He relaxed a little, enjoying the sensation.

"Of course not, dope," she scolded fondly, "Why would I mind? Are you done with that pot yet?"

"I can be," Harry gave it a final swipe and put it quickly into the drying rack. He pulled the plug on the sink, wiped his hands on the towel Zoe still held and then turned in her arms for a kiss.

Their intimate relationship had developed slowly, but it was one that Harry appreciated a lot. Not just for the sex either, but for the companionship that came with it. He'd even appreciated the 'shovel speech' from her Grandfather, who'd raised her since she was four. Graeme Oakden was a canny man, and not one to take Zoe's happiness lightly.

"The bees arrive tomorrow," Harry murmured in the aftermath. Zoe snickered, accustomed to his odd version of pillow talk. He was running his hand up and down her bare back lightly and she pressed herself closer. She was no better, coming up with random things herself now and then. It was another way they fit together, neither insisting on grand romance, preferring the simple everyday gestures instead.

"David's parents signed off on your beekeeping ability?" she asked lightly and Harry grinned at the dimly seen ceiling.

"Who knew apiarists were so particular?" he replied lightly. There were books on bees added to the 'reference' section of his ever-growing library, and he'd been startled to learn that 'Dumbledore' was a type of bee.

"You do, apparently," Zoe sounded like she was dropping off and Harry kissed her gently.

"I do now," he agreed and followed her into sleep.

0o0o0o0

Installing the people on the stairs took a week. Harry had passed his apprenticeship with the work, something he was extremely proud of, though only Zoe had any real idea of his reaction, having been with him when he took the call from Mr Baker.

While they were away, Ben was called to a family emergency, and the bank teller and vet nurse moved out to be with their boyfriend and girlfriend respectively. Zoe and her grandfather came for the grand opening which Harry hated with all his heart – he still wasn't one for being at the centre of attention.

"Do you think Ben is alright?" Zoe asked as they drove back, her grandfather opting to drive with Mr Baker instead. Ben had been gone for a fortnight by this point, and they were expecting him back soon.

"He hasn't texted or anything," Harry frowned, "Not that I'm certain he would. You know Ben, likes to pretend he's invincible or something."

"True," Zoe nodded. The village sign flashed in the headlights and she put her hand on Harry's leg, "Go around the village green, would you, and left at the church."

"Why?" Harry asked, "What are you planning?"

"Do you trust me?" Zoe laughed. Harry pretended the answer was no, but made the desired changes to the direction they were driving. Zoe directed him to a small clearing behind the church, with the stream running at the bottom of it. It was still warm enough to paddle and Zoe had apparently snuck a small picnic into the back of the car. With the last of the twilight warming them, they set off for the edge of the stream

"This was nice," Harry said, feet dangling in the water a while later, "Thank you."

"Well I figured you should have some sort of celebration for your achievement that was to your liking," Zoe laughed from where she was standing ankle deep in the water, "The look on your face, luv."

"I know," Harry groaned, "I hate being centre of attention."

"I'll remember that when we plan the wedding," Zoe waded over to him, "Did you know that in Victorian times, Leap Day was the only day a woman could propose to a man?"

"I did," Harry looked up at her. She was wearing her hair down for a change, backlit by a distant streetlight. The summer dress she was wearing had a wet hem, splashed from where she'd been wading earlier.

"So, Harry," Zoe was using her most patient tone now, laughter in the undertones of her voice, "Given that today is not February 29, and we are not in Victorian times, will you marry me?"

Even though he'd known it was coming the question was still like a hit to the chest. Of course, he wanted to marry her; she was funny and kind and shared similar interests and didn't mind when he was awkward or dorky or anything else. But if he married her, then what? Children? What if they were magical? How could he explain to her that he was a freak?

"Harry?" Zoe sounded worried now. She waded towards him and he got to his feet, panicking now at the enormity of the choices in front of him, "Harry, breathe slower, you're going to pass out."

"I want to, I…" Harry scrambled to his feet, "I…"

He hadn't run from Voldemort, but this was the most frightening thing ever, and his feet carried him across the cool grass and around the edge of the graveyard before he'd decided to even move. The door to the church was open and he pushed inside, bare feet slapping on the stone floor as he stumbled blindly along, ending up on the steps leading to the altar.

The church was quiet and cool, a sharp contrast to Harry's state of mind. The silence was welcome as well, but did not last for long as the door clunked and bare feet padded up the aisle towards him. Zoe sat next to him and he wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close. Her arms came around him too, and he rested his head on her shoulder.

"So that was a no?" she asked lightly and Harry shuddered.

"Not a no," he rasped, "Just… not easy."

"Hmm," Zoe kissed his forehead, "This is me, Harry. Everything is easy. There is nothing you can say, short of 'I'm already married' or 'I secretly love Ben' that will make me want you less."

"Not married," Harry almost laughed, "Not in love with Ben."

"Well then," Zoe squeezed him, "Cough it up Potter."

"My family are part of a secret society," Harry sighed and shuffled closer, "One that lives side by side with ours, but totally hidden. They died when I was a baby because this man, called Tom Riddle, was trying to become immortal and wanted to encourage a sort of supremist pure blood version of the society that is already there."

"Immortal?" Zoe asked, "Seems impossible."

She was still here though, and not calling him names or questioning his sanity, and that simple fact gave him the strength to go on.

"Not if you participate in ritual murder and … do some really evil things. Somehow, I survived what he was doing – and that forever marked me as his… I dunno, greatest rival. So, I went to live with my mum's sister, who was not the nicest person ever, and eventually I went to school where my parents had. And old Tom Riddle, who wasn't as dead as everyone had previously thought, spent seven years trying to kill me. And then, in the end, after he killed a lot of people, some of whom I loved, I killed him."

Zoe held him tighter, kissing his forehead again and rocking him, and Harry realised he was crying. He hadn't cried at all, not even when sitting beside Remus and Tonks. He pushed his glasses up on his head and buried his face in his hands, letting go years of grief. Eventually he realised he was lying on Zoe's lap, her hand tightly on his shoulder, the other running through his hair.

"Sorry," he whispered and was smacked for it lightly.

"Don't be," Zoe sounded choked up too. He lay where he was for a moment, appreciating the silence and the warmth of her against him.

"So," Zoe took a hand away and wiped at her face, "What is the secret society about? Why are they secret? Or can't you tell me?"

"Magic," Harry sighed, "They do magic. Wands, flying brooms, real fairies and everything. Well, everything if you consider being stuck in the early 1800's fashion and technology wise."

"Really?" Zoe sounded startled and Harry sat up. He got to his feet and pulled Zoe to hers, drawing her over to the candles at the side of the alter.

"Ingatio," Harry held his hand over the candle and it lit obediently. Zoe drew in a startled breath but didn't let go of his hand, leaning in to look at the candle for a moment, then turning to look at him.

"Magic," she said flatly, "There is a secret society of magicians stuck in the 1800's living in secret in Britain."

"Yes, but they prefer to be called witches and wizards," Harry smiled a little and she grinned back, wrinkling her nose, "There is even a separate ruling body and laws. A statute of secrecy covers all disclosures."

"And you're breaking that? Won't you get into trouble?" Zoe frowned, then looked around as if expecting someone to appear and tell them off.

"I'm going to marry you," Harry shrugged, "Our kids could inherit my magic. Of course, I'm telling you about it."

"Wait, that was a yes," Zoe swung back to look at him. Harry blinked and realised that it was indeed a yes, "You said yes! And you said it next to an altar, so you can't take it back or you'll be smote or something!"

"Yes," Harry laughed, "It is a yes."

Further talk was difficult as Zoe wrapped her arms around him and kissed him enthusiastically. Harry was pleased to kiss her back and they stood there for quite some time until a throat was cleared at the end of the aisle.

"David!" Harry yelped as they jumped apart. The young Vicar raised his eyebrow at them, not angry, but clearly questioning their presence.

"David, Harry said yes! Sorry for the kissing," Zoe laughed and towed him towards the steps, then doubled back and blew out the candle.

"Congratulations," David smiled at them both, "But, and please don't think I'm criticising you at all, why propose in here? Neither of you have been devout attendees."

"I proposed in the stream, then Harry freaked out and came here to think," Zoe's voice was teasing, and Harry sighed. The slow grin on David's face was proof enough that he was in for some teasing.

"I'm never living this down, am I?" he asked and both his friend and fiancé shook their heads solemnly, "Fair enough."

0o0o0o0

Graeme Oakden, when he heard the news, came around to Harry's with a pair of promise rings that the family had been using for generations. Harry was honoured to wear his and Zoe had been a bit misty eyed as he'd slid hers onto her finger.

Sunday dinner was the four of them, Mr Baker included as always. The timing of the wedding was discussed, with next spring suggested by Mr Baker and accepted by Zoe. Harry didn't mind either way, as they planned to marry in the back garden and have the reception there as well. Mr Baker was proud to sit in the place of family for Harry, and Graeme agreed to give Zoe away. Harry was careful not to ask if her parents were to be invited, though they were still alive. There was time for that later.

Zoe agreed to move into the house and they spent most evenings packing and moving boxes between her tiny flat and Harry's house. He'd also moved Ben's room to the attic space, to give them a bit of privacy. Ben had finally texted to say he'd be away for another fortnight and that he needed a second room, which intrigued Harry but was not a problem. The house was empty at the moment, except for the three of them. He was in no rush to add extra people right now, that was for sure.

Harry was planning the desk he was going to build into the study for Zoe while she unpacked her professional books. With a double PhD in Botany and Horticulture by the age of fourteen, and an ever-expanding project in conservation, biodiversity and low intensity high yield farming, she had a lot of references, one which had been written by her and was bristling with notes where she disagreed with her initial conclusions. Harry kept saying that she should release a revised edition.

Already unpacked was her record collection, some of which had been inherited from Graeme. Neil Diamond was playing as Zoe unpacked and Harry sketched his ideas. She was singing along as he carefully detailed the carving that would appear to be an oak tree but was actually the support for one entire side of the desk, including a raised back that hid the pigeon holes and sloped book holder from casual view, when the lyrics she was singing caught his attention.

"Porcupine pie?" Harry laughed, coming out to where Zoe was shelving. She grinned and caught his hands, spinning him into a simple two step. Laughing, they finished the song and then Harry carefully set the record back to the start of the song to dance with her again, this time singing the words he had caught clearly.

A horn beeped outside and Zoe went to turn the record off while Harry went to see who it was. It was a delivery van from a furniture store in the next town over and they had a complete bedroom set, sized for a child in plain beech. Once the deliverymen had left Zoe and Harry stood in the newly furnished room and stared at it, and then each other.

"He needs a floor rug in here," Zoe stated, "Actually, that one from my front room would work nicely."

"I wonder if he got linens as well," Harry frowned, "ASDA is still open, I'll pop over and pick some up."

"Better not go for pink or blue, since we don't know if it is a boy or girl," Zoe mentioned as she followed him down the stairs, "Greens or yellows or purple – and patterned would be best. I have a fluffy throw rug and cushion we can add in here too. You'll need a doona and pillow, mattress protector as well."

"Got it," Harry leaned back through the door and kissed her soundly, "Have fun dragging that rug upstairs."

"Ta," Zoe laughed and shut the door behind him, standing in the glass to watch him get into his car and drive away.

Shopping for an unknown child was tricky. Fortunately, there was a green tropical leaf pattern that was sufficiently neutral, and a white sheet set to compliment it. A bundle of bedding later and Harry was trundling through the car park, still humming the song they'd been dancing to only an hour before. Ben was due in a week, which would give them time to wash the sheets and put them on the bed.

Zoe was also humming Porcupine Pie when he came through the door with his purchases.

0o0o0o0

Ben arrived in time for Sunday lunch, with a little girl on the back seat. Zoe whisked her inside for an urgent loo stop and Harry paused his prep long enough to help haul suitcases and boxes out of the car and upstairs to the new child's room.

"Her name is Lizzie," Ben said as they climbed, "She's my niece and why are we still climbing?"

"Zoe has moved in," Harry replied, "We figured some privacy was in order."

"Oh," Ben said blankly, "Do you want me to move out?"

"Don't be an ass," Harry retorted, "I'd have said so, wouldn't I?"

He opened the door to Lizzie's room and Ben dropped the things he was carrying. The addition of the bedding, rug and an armchair from Zoe's flat, covered with her fuzzy throw and matching pillow, made the room a lot warmer and inviting.

"I forgot about bedding," he said quietly, "And I know I didn't order a rug or chair."

"Bring that stuff in, would you, it's blocking the door," Harry put the bags he was carrying neatly to one side, "I need to check on dinner. Mr Baker and Graeme are coming today."

"When did Mr Oakden become Graeme?" Ben asked, shoving the box and bags in his hand into the room so Harry could get out.

"Zoe and I are getting married in spring. You'll be my best man, right?" Harry clapped him on the shoulder, meanly enjoying the gobsmacked look on his face, "I'll see you downstairs."

Lizzie was sitting at the dining table, drawing on some paper that Zoe had given her. There was a glass of milk to hand and Harry smiled when she looked up before heading for the kitchen. Zoe had turned off the music that had been playing prior to Ben's arrival and put the radio on instead.

"His niece," he muttered to Zoe who was peeling carrots. She nodded and kept peeling. They'd winkle the full story out of Ben tonight, once Lizzie was asleep.

"That pie you made yesterday, is it ready to go in once dinner is cooked?" Harry asked, returning to the spice rub he'd been mixing.

"Yes, though what it will taste like, being reheated in an oven with chicken dripping everywhere, is another matter," Zoe grinned, "Mediterranean apple pie is not a thing, young Harry."

"Maybe I should install a second oven then," Harry mused, "Those cabinets by the doors aren't in use at the moment, and then you'd have a baking oven."

"You don't have to change the house for me Harry," Zoe put the carrot down and kissed his cheek, "I'm messing with you is all."

"Hmmm," Harry replied, already calculating how he'd reconfigure what was there to put the oven in at easy standing height.

"And that's your 'yes dear' face," Zoe sighed, "Well, I'll pay half the cost, which means I get half a say in what type of oven we get."

"Yes dear," Harry grinned and was kissed again, more soundly this time, in response.

Lizzie went to bed at seven, and Ben was back downstairs by eight.

"Thank you both for decorating the room for her," he said as he joined Harry and Zoe in front of the TV. They weren't really watching; it was mostly on for noise.

"You're welcome," Zoe said solemnly, "Do you want me to go?"

Ben had always been mostly Harry's friend, though he and Zoe got along well together. Harry appreciated the gesture of giving them privacy, but Ben shook his head, waving a hand tiredly.

"No, stay," he sighed, "This is your home too now, and congratulations both of you. I thought Harry would never have the courage to ask you Zoe."

"I didn't," Harry grumbled, "She asked me."

"Ben, don't distract yourself," Zoe said mock sternly, "Tell all."

"Lizzie is, was, my sisters only child. Sarah has always been a bit selfish, and headstrong. She's a single mother, to my parents' dismay. They've been predicting disaster since the argument about her giving the baby up for adoption. It has made things difficult between them. But for whatever reason Sarah has suddenly decided that she won't have Lizzie anymore, and my parents refuse to have her as well. The first I heard of this was when children's services contacted me to see if I'd be willing to take Lizzie on. They prefer to place a child being surrendered with family if possible," Ben got it out in a rush. Zoe made a sad noise, but Harry, a child who'd been unwanted and was told so at every turn, was furious. Not with Ben, he knew his friend well enough to know that he would treat Lizzie well, but with the rest of the Pond family.

"Harry, breathe," Zoe murmured and wrapped her arms around him, "It's ok, she's here now and welcome, yes? Whatever went on before, stops here."

And that was why he loved her. She intuitively understood him and accepted his off reactions and gaps in popular culture and recent history without worrying about them too much.

"Harry?" Ben asked uncertainly, and Zoe kissed his cheek.

"He's never said it out loud, but I don't think home was a kind place," she told Ben, "He's not mad at you Ben, just the situation."

"I lived with my aunt and uncle mostly, and I was not a wanted child," Harry stared down at the polished concrete floor, "And it was made very clear to me that I was not wanted. Sorry Ben. I guess I'm a little sensitive about that sort of thing still."

"It's ok" Ben said awkwardly, "Anyway, I said I'd take her. She's not sick or anything, and she's a nice bright kid, so I don't know why the rest of the family wanted her gone, but whatever it is, it doesn't matter."

"And we'll help," Zoe said staunchly, "Right Harry?"

"Yeah, if that's ok with you Ben," Harry agreed, "You are her dad, effectively."

"I'd be grateful for the help," Ben confessed, and Harry straightened up from his angry hunch to smile at his friend. Zoe squeezed him and let go.

"I'm making tea," she announced and got up, "And there are three slices of pie left with our names on them."

"Chicken flavoured apple pie sounds really good at the moment," Harry winked at his startled friend, who played along good naturedly.

"Yeah, some chicken flavoured apple pie sounds great Zoe," he called. She made a rude gesture over her shoulder and put the kettle on.

0o0o0o0

Lizzie had arrived in early autumn, and by Christmas she had settled into the household as if she'd always been there. She was three, and so attending pre-school while Ben was at work, with Harry and Zoe listed as responsible adults that could collect her when Ben was on a late running shift.

Mr Baker's son had come home from Christmas with his wife, taking a break from the small rural hospital they worked in, in what Mr Baker described as 'deepest darkest Africa'. Harry and Mr Baker had stopped their mutual work for the duration of the visit, though Harry was continuing to work on a set of wedding bands, carved from a single piece of wood. Once the carving was finished to his standards, he planned to send them to a jeweller who would add the gold bands to them, sealing in the hair that Harry had asked Zoe to give him. He wasn't sure why he wanted a strand of each of their hair in the wedding bands, but his instincts were insisting on it and he'd given in.

The Baker family were coming for Christmas dinner, as was Zoe's grandfather, making a table of eight. Harry had decreed that they dress up a little for Christmas dinner, and Ben had promptly purchased the frilliest dress he could find for Lizzie. This was an ongoing trend, where Ben went what Harry called 'super girly' and Lizzie had to deal with the consequences. She liked dresses, but preferred things a little plainer than the frothy monstrosity Ben presented her with. Harry was reminded of Ron's dress robes, and Lizzie moaning about the frills only emphasised that memory for him. Fortunately for Lizzie, one of Zoe's employees had a mother who worked as a dressmaker on commission and she was able to do an 'emergency de-frilling' of the dress, as well as altering it to sit better on the slender child (Ben was a little hazy on sizing as well at times).

They'd set up a Christmas tree in the sitting area, overlooking Harry's now dormant and snow laden vegetable patch. Harry's gift to Zoe, the oak tree desk, had already been installed in the study, but he had tied a ribbon around the oak tree trunk leg and trailed it through the house to the tree. Zoe had talked both Ben and Harry out of purchasing a thousand gifts for Lizzie – decreeing two each, one practical and one frivolous. Ben had won the 'I'm buying her first bike for Christmas' drinking contest with Harry, who had made her a dolls house instead, complete with miniature wooden dolls and furniture.

The less-frilly dress was donned, and Zoe startled them all with an ankle length dress in dark green, leaving Harry and Ben to revise their own selection of clothes upwards into the 'smart' range. Mr Baker arrived mid-morning with his suntanned son and partner, and Graeme was not far behind. Zoe had commandeered the kitchen early to start baking her Christmas crumble in the newly installed and awkwardly named 'baking only oven', boiling the pudding she'd made earlier that year and making dumplings to go with Harry's planned turkey dinner, complete with Brussel sprouts and cranberry sauce.

The house was filled with chatter and laughter, and Zoe's smile. Harry spent a moment mentally wishing Ron and Hermione a happy Christmas, and hoping that Hagrid was enjoying himself wherever he was. So far, the choices he'd made were working out well and he was certain the half-giant would be pleased with them.

0o0o0o0

Footsteps sounded on the gravel and Harry glanced up for a second before returning his attention to the inlay that he was restoring on the travelling desk that Mr Baker had found in the bric-a-brac section of the monthly county market. This part of his training involved furniture restoration, and Harry had taken the intricately inlaid object apart carefully, after photographing it from every angle. He was working on putting it back together now, having painstakingly crafted the missing pieces he needed as well as cleaning and repairing the existing pieces.

"Hello young Harry," Graeme said, coming into the workshop, "How did the suit fitting go?"

"I picked out a suit following Zoe's very precise and exacting specifications and only after her explicit approval," Harry reported, earning a laugh from both Graeme and Mr Baker who was finishing a French polish on a commissioned piece.

"Good boy," Graeme perched on the stool near the door, the package in his hand placed on his lap.

"Thanks Graeme," Harry replied and straightened. He put the tool in his hand down and reached for a soft makeup brush to dust away a few grains of dust.

"Grandad," Graeme corrected. He'd asked Harry to call him that after the engagement, but Harry had been oddly reluctant. They'd compromised that he would wait until after the wedding, but Graeme did like to push the point now and then. With the wedding only a month away, the reminders were becoming more frequent.

"Not married yet," Harry cheeked, earning another laugh from Mr Baker. Graeme laughed too and held out the package in his hand.

"Barry our postman was trying to fit this into your mailbox," Graeme informed Harry, "I said I'd take it, I was worried he was going to cram it in. The return address is a jeweller."

Harry felt a jolt of anticipation and put the brush down, wiping his hands on a nearby cloth and hurrying to take the package.

"It's the wedding rings," he exclaimed, relieved they'd arrived in plenty of time. Zoe hadn't seen these yet, and wouldn't until the day of the wedding. She'd agreed to give Harry free reign over the rings, contributing to the cost of having his carvings mounted by the jeweller in a band of platinum, her preference over the gold Harry had first thought of. Harry had carved the rings from oak, shaping oak leaves and acorns into a continuous loop that made up the band, which was flat to avoid catching on clothing or tools. They both worked with their hands and he didn't want to injure Zoe or himself with a raised band. He'd used dental tools for the fine carvings and stained the bands dark green before sealing them, incorporating a hair from each of them into the underside. The jeweller was to line the inside of the band and the edges with platinum, making a straight edge. The rings would be thicker in width than a normal wedding ring, and slightly thicker in depth, but Harry had been determined that they would wear something he had made himself.

Mr Baker and Graeme exclaimed in awe and approval as he opened the box to check on the rings. The platinum glinted in the sunlight, and the oak itself gleamed darkly from where it was nestled in the metal.

"Harry they are beautiful," Graeme breathed, "She'll love it."

"Thanks," Harry blushed, still not used to being praised for his talents, even after years with Mr Baker, who was good at giving recognition (or approbation) when needed.

"A masterpiece, Harry," Mr Baker said gruffly, "Truly, lad."

"Thank you, sir," Harry replied. Mr Baker clapped him on the shoulder, gave him a significant look and jerked his head at Graeme before excusing himself in the direct of the house.

"Subtle," Graeme shook his head, handing back the ring box, which Harry closed and put in his pocket for now, "What's all this, then?"

"I wanted to ask your opinion," Harry sighed, "Zoe hasn't mentioned inviting her parents or brother to the wedding, and I know that you raised her so you are only family member that we really want, but… I don't want her to regret not at least telling them."

"Hmmm," Graeme mused, "And you thought you'd ask me instead?"

"If you think I should raise it with her I will, Graeme," Harry shrugged, "But I value your opinion too."

"My son Bradley and his wife were … flaky," Graeme sighed, "They had Adam first of course and then two years later along came Zoe. When Adam was four and just starting the whole schooling thing Bradley and Yolanda discovered Zoe reading Adam's books. Properly reading them too, able to understand what she was looking at and follow the story and even tell you why a character did or said something. Bradley was not really interested in the business, except for the potential to grow dope, and Yolanda was only interested in 'healing herbs. So, discovering your daughter was a prodigy made things… tense. They didn't want to deal with it really. By the time Adam was six Zoe had surpassed him at school. And one day, when I was at work at the nursery and my wife had taken Zoe to a museum for a treat, Bradley and Yolanda packed up their belongings, dropped Zoe's off in our spare room along with a letter and buggered off to Wales to join a commune."

"Oh," Harry sighed, and his almost-grandfather-by-marriage nodded.

"Once a year we got a letter from them. They had another daughter together, called Zephyr, and then a further nine children between them, all with different partners. Adam was renamed 'Starshine' and I haven't heard from him at all. My wife used to write back, but when she got sick Zoe refused to do it. I certainly don't want to. I sent the death notice for Cecilia, and we haven't heard from them since. I don't think that she'll miss having them there, lad. I do think you should tell her you were worried though."

"I will," Harry promised. Graeme grinned and got up.

"I want tea, which you will provide," he announced, "And you can put those rings somewhere safe."

"Yes sir," Harry nodded and followed the other man up to the house. The ring box was tucked under Hermione's figure for safe keeping, with Dobby moved to stand watch beside her.

0o0o0o0

They had decided on a driving honeymoon, investing in bigger saddle bags and luggage racks for the motorbikes. They would marry in the morning, share lunch with their guests and then ride to the ferry, heading across to France on the last boat of the day. They were going to spend three weeks riding around Europe, spending a few days in the big cities and looking around.

That meant their wedding morning started early. Caterers turned up to start setting up as they were finishing their breakfasts and the cars and bikes had to be moved out of the carport (and the bikes loaded with luggage) to act as a serving area for the bar. Tables and chairs had to be set up, Ben and Zoe helped with that, and Harry went behind them laying tablecloths and clipping them to the table edges against the light breeze.

Graeme arrived and was horrified to find the three of them hauling chairs while Lizzie watched a cartoon on the telly and shooed them all off to wash up and get ready. Harry and Ben were wearing a rose in their buttonhole from Cecilia Oakden's garden, and Lizzie and Zoe were wearing snowdrops from Mr Baker's garden.

Zoe had selected a cream coloured linen blend suit for Harry to wear, coupled with leather brown shoes and a white shirt, but had left the choice of waistcoat to Harry. He'd chosen a blue material shot through with bronze which had spoken to him – even though Ben had questioned his taste and his sanity. Zoe had agreed without so much as blinking that it was the right choice and had then sent them home so the girls could shop for their own dresses.

Bath time with Lizzie was always an adventure and it took both Harry and Ben to get the excited child properly tubbed and dry. Lizzie was called away to have her hair done and her frock put on while Harry and Ben had their own showers and got dressed. Mr Baker appeared to deliver the snowdrops to Lizzie and Zoe while Harry and his best man went downstairs so Graeme could place the roses for them.

The county celebrant arrived, and so did David who had agreed to offer a blessing after the legal ceremony was out of the way. Mr Baker led Harry and Ben through the gathered guests to their place at the front and before he knew it, the celebrant was asking everyone to be upstanding for the bride and little Lizzie was prancing across the grass towards them, wearing a cream dress with a full skirt to her knees and a sash in the same colours as Harry's waistcoat. Her shorter brown hair was pinned to the side, with the snowdrops securely in place. She threw her arms around Harry's legs and then Ben's and consented to stand with Mr Baker while Graeme walked Zoe out of the house.

Her dress was simple. Lace over a white underdress with her shoulders bare and full skirts falling to ankle height. She wore red flat shoes, a sensible choice for an outdoors wedding, but just startling enough to appease her non-conforming streak. Her curly long hair was worn down, the sides pinned back so as not to blow into her face and she wore no veil, nor carried a bouquet.

Before he knew it, the ceremony was over, they'd signed the certificates and David had blessed them. Harry walked back down the aisle with Zoe on his arm, the ring he'd crafted warm on his finger. Well-wishers crowded around them, and things got a bit hectic for a short while.

"You look like someone has hit you in the head," Graeme informed him kindly when he finally broke through the crowd.

"Gee thanks, Grandad," Harry rolled his eyes, earning himself an enormous smile.

Their first dance as a married couple was to Porcupine Pie. When an annoying breeze came up halfway through lunch, Zoe pulled a wrap in blue and bronze out to wear over her dress. And when it was time to change and go, Harry insisted on bringing the wrap with them for the honeymoon. Years later, looking back at their honeymoon photos, there are pictures of them both wearing the wrap, either together or singly in cities all over Europe.

0o0o0o0

They had sent packages home from all over Europe during the honeymoon, packages which Ben lined up on the table neatly to await their return. The three of them agreed to wait to open them until Lizzie was feeling a bit better, the little girl having come down with a summer cold that had made her tired and more than a little grumpy.

Harry agreed to get the washing on while Zoe unpacked their clean clothes and he was heading upstairs with their empty bags when he felt a wash of magic. Frowning, because Zoe was not a witch and if Ben had any magical ability Harry was pretty sure he'd have noticed it by now, Harry left the bags on their landing and headed up to the attic. This was Ben and Lizzie's domain and one that he and Zoe did not often intrude on.

He could hear Lizzie crying from her room and Ben trying to soothe her, words of reassurance that were just the tiniest bit rattled. He'd heard Ben use that voice when trying to talk Mrs Gelidly off the parapet of a bridge once. Calm and patient and implacable, but underneath worried as hell.

Harry tapped on the ajar bedroom door and pushed it open. Ben was sitting on the end of Lizzie's bed with the child in his lap, rocking her gently and rubbing her back. She was clutching his shirt and crying. Every soft toy in the room was floating. The look Ben directed over the child's head was wild, and asking for help, though he clearly expected none.

'I guess we know why her mother reacted so badly,' was Harry's first irrelevant thought. He smiled at his friend and crossed the room to squat in front of the occupants, putting his hand on her back as well.

"Oh dear," he murmured, "Not feeling too good kiddo?"

"I'm sorry. Don't send me away," she hiccupped and Harry squeezed her shoulder gently, even as Ben stammered that he would never, it was all fine.

"It is fine," Harry agreed, "But probably best not to leave them floating, hmmm?"

"I don't know how to make it stop," Lizzie sobbed, wiping her face, and Harry looked at the floating toys, gathering his concentration. It had been years since he had tried to do any sort of magic, not counting the tiny spark that lit the candle the night Zoe had proposed.

"It's a very simple spell," Harry murmured, and raised a hand, "Finite Incantatum."

There was a pause and then a brief rain of stuffed animals as the toys fell to the ground or onto the furniture below them. Lizzie gasped and clapped her hands, relief on her face. Ben gaped.

"There is a whole society of people living in the UK, and around the world for that matter, who can do magic," Harry told them both, "And there is a law that says people who can't do magic are not allowed to know about it. It's a Statute of Secrecy. But sometimes a magical child is born to a parent or parents who can't do magic – and then the parents are told a little bit about the magic world."

"You can do magic?" Ben mumbled, "Harry, that's amazing. And Lizzie is magical?"

"Yeah Ben," Harry confirmed, "But I couldn't say anything 'cos of the Statute. When she's eleven there is a school that will contact you. It will teach her to do spells and stuff."

"But if you can do magic Uncle Harry, why don't you?" Lizzie asked, and Harry smiled.

"When I left school I decided to stop," he shrugged, "It's no big deal, honey. And we can't tell anyone. It has to be a secret."

"Because of that statute?" Ben asked and Harry nodded. He patted Lizzie on the shoulder and ruffled her hair.

"Why don't you got to the bathroom and wash your face honey?" he suggested, "You'll feel a lot better."

She nodded and got down from Ben's lap. Harry waited until they could hear the water running, before looking at Ben.

"I'm not a criminal, hiding away," he told his friend firmly, knowing that the police side of Ben was wondering, "There was a war on and I left when it ended. They can't compel you to stay with them, but they can compel you to not use your magic for criminal purposes, and to keep them a secret."

"It's ok, Harry. I trust you," Ben sighed, running a hand through his hair, and Harry felt a knot of tension relax in his chest, "I can't believe my sister didn't want her because of her magic, though."

Harry shrugged non committedly. Now was not the time to bring up the Dursley's.

"Will this happen again, do you think?" Ben got up off the bed and straightened the quilt, prepping to put Lizzie to bed the way he always did.

"Probably," Harry said honestly, "Children are prone to outbursts of magic, especially when not well or feeling a strong emotion."

"Wait, does Zoe have magic?" Ben paused in his pillow arranging and Harry grinned and shook his head. Lizzie hesitated in the doorway and Harry turned and kissed her goodnight, like he would any night that he was putting her to bed. He left them to it, going back to the middle floor and retrieving the bags, putting them away on the top closet shelf.

They didn't mention it again. Harry forgot about it altogether, not even remembering to mention it to Zoe. Which is why he was grateful she had such a level head when Lizzie dropped her hot chocolate in the kitchen, splattering the mugs contents all over her leggings and breaking off the handle.

"No!" she told it even as Zoe grabbed a tea towel to mop up the mess. The handle obediently wriggled back to the mug and reattached itself. Zoe blinked, looked at Harry, who shrugged his innocence and tossed the tea towel to him.

"Come on Lizzie, let's get you changed and Uncle Harry can clean up in here while Dad makes you another hot chocolate," Zoe held her hand out and Lizzie happily skipped off with her to change.

"You said Zoe wasn't magic!" Ben hissed as he rinsed the repaired mug out, and Harry rolled his eyes from where he was mopping up chocolate.

"She isn't," Harry frowned, "That was Lizzie fixing the mug."

"So, if that was the first bit of magic she saw…." Ben started but Harry laughed and got frowned at.

"Ben, I married her. Our children are likely to inherit my magic, should we have any. It was nearly the first thing I told her," Harry tutted.

That didn't mean he wasn't, deep down where no one would ever know about it, really relieved and pleased that Zoe had taken Lizzie's little spell very much in her stride. Because if they ever had children of their own, the whole 'baby is making teddy fly' scenario would not put too much strain on their marriage.

0o0o0o0