Chapter Two:
Summer Holidays
~Be a good boy
Push a little farther now
That wasn't fast enough
To make us happy
We'll love you just the way you are
If you're perfect~
*Alanis Morissette's "Perfect"
"Hey Mum!" Grace cried, waving through the crowd toward her parents. She ran over and threw her arms around her mother. Angel and James had followed her, seeing as their parents always wound up standing together in a little group.
"I missed you so much!" Rayven said, giving her daughter a large squeeze. Grace felt her cheeks flame.
"Don't embarrass the girl!" Her dad cut in, grinning. She gave him a hug and a peck on the cheek, and turned to her aunt, uncle, and godparents. They had to wait for Phil, Luke and Elizabeth to join them before leaving. Anna attacked her older siblings with ferocious hugs and complaints about not enough letters. Luke whispered a promise of some sort, and Grace personally thought she didn't even want to know what he had said.
"Hungry?" Uncle Draco asked, looking around at the brood of children. It was obvious from the looks on Phil and Luke's faces that they had eaten quite enough sweets on the way home, but the others leapt at the chance for dinner.
"You're all coming over for dinner," Aunt Ginny declared, smiling fondly at the children and the adults as well. "Come along, we want to give Angel and Grace as much time together as they can muster." She winked at her daughter and niece, who exchanged high fives before following their parents out of Platform 9 3/4.
Grace practically squealed with delight. Finally, summer holidays!
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
"Ryan Webster?" Her father said, raising an eyebrow skeptically. "Who is this Ryan Webster?"
"He's going to be a seventh year! He's in Gryffindor, he plays Keeper on the Quidditch team and I absolutely MUST go to this party or I'll die!" Grace declared to her parents. Ron looked unmoved, but Rayven had to hide her laugh in a napkin. Her daughter was SUCH a teenager sometimes!
"How do I know there won't be bad things at this party?" Her father insisted.
"Daddy!" Grace whined. "Angel and James will be there. Ryan's parents are going to be home. Don't you trust us?"
"Of course, sweetheart," Her father said. "It's this Webster boy I don't trust." A look of horror spread across his face and he said quickly, "He's not your boyfriend, is he?"
"NO!" Grace replied with a look of disgust. Ron let out a sigh of relief and Rayven continued to chuckle. Looking up and seeing the desperation on her daughter's face she turned to her husband.
"Oh Ron she's sixteen. Let her go to the party."
"What?" He cried, turning to Rayven. "You're on her side now?"
"Don't be ridiculous dear," Rayven continued amiably. "This is about sides, its about letting Grace go to this harmless little party where she can see all her friends. Stop acting like a melodramatic stage Papa and lighten up. We were teenagers once, you know."
"Don't remind me," Ron rolled his eyes. He got a look from both women and threw up his hands in defeat. "Fine! Far be it from me to interfere with my daughter's life. Go ahead; go to your party. But you had better be home by midnight!"
"Yes!" Grace cried happily. "Thanks Dad!" She threw her arms around her father's neck, kissed his cheek, and ran out of the room in delight.
"Hmph," Ron said, his ears slightly red as he hid behind the newspaper. Rayven just laughed.
Grace bounded into the living room and grabbed some floo powder out of the oriental jewelry box sitting on the mantle. Throwing it into the fire she called, "Angel Malfoy!"
"You rang?" A familiar voice replied as Angel's head popped into the fire.
"No. There was no ringing involved." Grace replied in a very serious voice. Angel laughed.
"So," Angel began once her giggles had subsided. "Can you go?"
"Yeah," Grace replied. "You?"
"For a second I was sure my dad was not going to let me. I had to employ tears and everything!" The girls went off into a gale of giggles.
"And..." Grace started, trying to sound casual but failing. "Will James be there?"
"James who?" Angel replied, grinning devilishly. If she had actually been in the room Grace would've thrown something at her.
"James Potter you dolt!" She cried, and Angel burst into laughter.
"Would you go if he wasn't?" She asked.
"Angel," Her cousin whined, and she finally conceded.
"Yes, he's coming. I promise, scout's honor, stick a needle in my eye and all that crap." Angel rolled her eyes. "You are so infatuated it's scary, Gold."
"I know," Grace sighed. "Anyway, see you tomorrow night at Ryan's house!"
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
"I thought he said his parents were going to be here," Grace said, her eyes widening as she looked around the crowded Webster living room.
Practically all the sixth and seventh years of every house were there. The music was blasting, and there was probably more alcohol then oxygen on the premises.
"Well, it can't be all bad," James remarked, looking around with one eyebrow raised. Angel's eyes tore through the crowd. In only seconds she saw who she was looking for.
Her eyes locked with a pair of melted chocolate orbs. Tom Flint was still carrying on a conversation with the group of Slytherin's around him, but his eyes didn't leave Angel's.
"Oh my God," Grace suddenly said in disgust. Angel jumped and tore her eyes away from Tom's. To her surprise she found her cousin looking the same direction she had been only moments before. "Look who Ryan invited. The Flints!" Grace's nose was wrinkled in disgust as she stared at the brothers and their circles of Slytherin friends.
"Yeah," Angel replied. "Excuse me." She took off through the crowd, and before James or Grace realized what was happening, she was gone.
"Well..." Grace said, looking after her best friend in confusion. She then suddenly realized Angel had left her alone with James and her confusion switched to annoyance. Was this an attempt to hook them up? How many times had she told Angel that James didn't see her that way.
"Let's see if we can find anyone we know," James finally suggested. Not having anything better to do, Grace complied.
They found several of their friends off snogging in various corners of the house, and sometimes they didn't even bother with corners. Ryan Webster, the host of the party, was passed out in the den with a cup of beer in his hand. A great deal of students were hovering around a magically enlarged punch bowl containing a liquid Grace couldn't identify, but it had an interesting effect on those who drank it.
The more she saw, the more disgusted Grace became. Frank, a boy she remembered being a sweet and shy Ravenclaw who sat behind her in Arithmancy last year, grabbed her wrist as she and James were trying to get through the wave of dancers around the blaring entertainment system. He started to dance in a way that would not exactly be labeled appropriate by a parent of any kind.
Furious, James removed Frank from his best friend and grabbed her wrist, literally dragging her through the mass of bodies. They managed to get outside the house, where even more people were drinking, snogging, and dancing. Grace breathed in the fresh air, somewhat shaken from her little encounter with the Ravenclaw.
"What the hell was he doing?!" James demanded angrily, shooting the house an evil glare. He turned with a softer look at Grace. "Ready to go home?"
"Not without Angel." She replied stubbornly. "What time is it?"
"Er..." James looked down at his watch. "Oh shit!"
"What?!" Grace cried. How could this possibly get any worse?
"Our curfew was midnight, remember?" He said, his eyes bulging.
"Well, what time is it?" Grace asked, dreading the answer.
"One." Grace let out a groan.
"My dad's going to have my head on a silver platter!"
"Wait right here, I'm going to find Angel." James turned to reenter the house, the look on his face suggesting the pits of Hell as opposed to a large suburban home, but to his relief he found Angel at the door.
"My parents are going to kill me!" She cried, running straight at James. "Do you guys realize what time it is?! We were supposed to be home an hour ago!"
"C'mon," James said in a grim voice, pulling a small box out of his pocket. Inside was a silver ball, a portkey that would take them back to the Potters house. They all touched the portkey, and in less than a second were on the front lawn of The Hollow, the ancestral home of the Potters James's father had inherited.
They tried to sneak into the house, but this wasn't possible. As soon as they walked in they saw Hermione sitting still in what was probably the most uncomfortable chair in the room, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. Harry was pacing around the room with his hands behind his back. He whipped around as soon as he heard the door open and the guilty parties entered quietly. Hermione stood up, saw that her son was alive, then collapsed with relief. Harry's face was purple with rage.
Harry got in as much yelling as he could before Hermione got the fire going and gestured for the girls to go home. They gulped, knowing they weren't likely to get off any easier at home.
Grace watched her cousin disappear in a whirl of green flame. She looked up to her godmother for support, but found no sympathy in Hermione's tired brown eyes and pursed lips. Her stomach in knots of dread, she threw the powder into the fire.
"The Haven!" She said softly, her eyes closed. She began to whirl around, knowing she was being taken to the manor her father had built with the money left from being a spy, knowing she would have to face her mother's teary eyes and her fathers furious words, and knowing she was in it deeper than ever before.
It was just as she had suspected. Rayven's golden eyes, so much like Grace's, were red and somewhat puffy. Ron looked as if he were going to kill his daughter, his face completely white under the trademark Weasley freckles, his blue eyes furious with worry. He immediately began lecturing his daughter.
Grace sat numbly, hardly hearing a word her father said. She gather that she was grounded, although Ron was far to angry to begin developing a set amount of time for her to be grounded in she knew it would probably last until Angel's birthday in August, if not the entire holiday.
Finally her father stops screaming, he just seems out of breath. Grace, with her head bowed low, dragged her feet upstairs and fell into bed, sobbing herself to sleep.
The weeks after the incident at Ryan Webster's party dragged. Grace found herself jealous of Angel and James. She knew they were both grounded as well, but at least they had siblings to distract them. Grace was all by herself, with no one but her parents for company.
They both calmed down with time, of course, and Grace resumed her normal friends-as-well-as-mother-and-daughter relationship with Rayven, but she found herself silently resenting her father. She knew her mom never would've grounded her for so long. The party was at the end of June, and Angel didn't turn sixteen until August 16! That left her two free weeks of holiday.
Ron felt somewhat guilty, she knew, but he refused to relent his punishment. As far as he was concerned, his daughter had broken the rules and she had to pay for it. Grace considered this totally unfair. This was the first time she had ever really done something to worry her parents, and she had left as early as she could, trying to get out of that hellhole of a party.
Ron refused to listen to either argument.
She was sitting alone in her room one evening in July, and was so bored that she was reading a textbook because she had finished all her homework. She was so intent on the book that she jumped in the air when she heard the queer knocking sound at her window.
She looked out and saw a familiar eagle perched on the window sill, its head slightly cocked in curiosity. Grace's eyes widened, and somewhat shocked she ran over to the window and threw it open. The eagle gracefully soared inside and landed on her bed. She blinked, and in the next instant James Potter was sitting on her bed.
James Potter was sitting on her bed. She was alone in her room with James. James, the boy she had loved since childhood James, who she had watch slowly grow into a man. James, who had been one of her best friends since before she could remember, the oldest son of her dad's best friend, the third member of her little trio. James, who was now sitting on her bed with a smug smile on his face that she just wanted to kiss so badly...
Pull it together Weasley.
"What are you doing here?" She snapped, annoyed at his ignorance at her blatant infatuation.
"What does it look like I'm doing?" He asked. "I'm breaking you out of prison."
"What?"
"Grace, don't be so bloody thick," James grinned, and she had to bite her lip to keep from screaming her thoughts. He thought SHE was thick?! "You're an animagus, remember? You can FLY!"
"Oh..." Grace suddenly realized what he was getting at. "You mean I can sneak out of here and my parents will never know?"
"Precisely!" James continued, leaping off her bed and running over to her. "Angel's waiting for us, c'mon." And without anymore words he transformed back into eagle form. Laughing at her stupidity, Grace took the form of a graceful phoenix and followed James out of the open window and into the night toward Malfoy Manor.
"Hey guys!" Angel squealed as two birds gracefully flew through her open window and transformed into her best friends. Grace couldn't believe she hadn't realized she could do this before.
And before she knew what was happening it was established as a nightly tradition that Grace and James would fly to Angel's house to talk and, to put it honestly, just hang out in the way only teenagers can.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
As Ron settled down in his favorite armchair and snatched the Daily Prophet from the coffee table to read about the Ministry's latest Muggle Soda Pop Restriction it occurred to him that life had become incredibly dull. Everything had taken on and unshakable routine that he had come to despise.
It wasn't that he wanted Voldemort back or anything, God forbid. Yet he found himself wistfully remembering the days of excitement when he had been a spy. One of five, a hero behind the scenes, living a life of danger.
Sure, at the time he had hated it. Despised every moment of waking life, excepting the few moments of peace with Rayven. And the reasonable side of his mind pointed out that he wouldn't be enjoying a life of spying right now if he had the opportunity. But still...
Ron had, in a sense, become his own worst nightmare. Working a nine-to-five job at the Ministry, living quietly at home with his family. The only thing that kept him from really getting mad at himself was that he had only one child.
Not to say he didn't find himself wondering what Rayven would say if he told her he wanted more. He loved Grace, loved her so much it hurt sometimes. She was growing up right before his eyes, and was sixteen now. In two years, she would be on her own in the big bad world. The thought made him shudder.
Not only Grace, but his niece, nephew, and godchildren, all of whom practically seemed like his own. Angel had just turned sixteen a few days ago. Her party had been a raving success. Mainly due to the fact that as of that date Grace, James, and Angel were released from their state of being grounded, and they were currently all camped out at the Potter's house in celebration. He knew he had been a little harsh, but the Malfoys and the Potters had done the same and he couldn't bring himself to feel guilty for punishing his daughter, especially after seeing the color slowly fade from her mother's face as the clock had ticked by.
No, he had to live a boring life, if for no other reason than to keep Grace and Rayven safe. There were more important things, he reminded himself, than excitement. A thrilling life of danger and intrigue around every turn, never knowing what the next day will bring, endless new paths and choices and...
He was doing it again. Damn it!
There was no reason to remember something so horrible. He had hated being a Death Eater, hated every moment, hated the secrets and lies, hated the death and terror every day. Hatred, actually, had been his specialty.
No, he reminded himself. Killing had been his specialty.
That brought him back to earth in seconds. The guilt began to resurface, just as strong as it had been sixteen years ago when he was still killing. Why? Why had he done it? So what if he saved the world and all that crud, he had killed so many...so many...
It was for a good cause, right? Those deaths saved millions of lives! Still, reason and guilt do not always agree. The days when he had been a spy...
That's it! I give up! He thought to himself furiously. How is it he could hate what he had done so much, and yet at the same time long to return to that life?
It wasn't that he wanted to be a spy so much as just something interesting. Something new. Something different. Anything but this same old boring-
"Ron?"
Ron realized he had been gritting his teeth. He looked up rather guiltily to see his wife giving him a look of curious concern. He smiled sheepishly.
"Hello dear," He mumbled. She sat on the arm of his chair and played with his hair, which was still a fiery red, if a little thinner than when they had first married.
"What were you thinking about?" She asked. There was no way to hide it from her, Rayven read him like a book. Sometimes it scared him how well she knew him.
"Spying," He replied. "The days when I was a Death Eater."
"Ah," She replied. "Tired of the boring mundane existence of a Ministry Council member?"
"I love my job," He replied. He wasn't lying, really. The Ministry Council had one job: advise the Minister of Magic. And the Minister of Magic was Harry Potter, Ron's best friend. So he actually enjoyed his job, it was just so...boring.
"You think it's boring," Rayven smiled knowingly. Ron jumped, looking at her with surprise. How had she known...?
"Don't worry," She said, sighing. "I miss the old life too, sometimes. But we all know this is what's best, Ron. We both do."
"Yes," He smiled. When Rayven said it, he believed it. However, in the back of his mind there was still a strange longing for action, and he knew it was within her too.
Obviously neither of them remembered the old adage "Be careful what you wish for."
It was at that moment that heat seared through the room as a bright blue fire appeared in the grate. Surprised, the Weasleys turned to see none other than William Croaker's head in their fire. He was older, yes, much older than when they had worked with him nearly two decades ago. Yet though his graying hair was almost gone and there were a few too many wrinkles around his eyes and mouth, he was still alive and vigorous, and had yet to retire from the Department of Mysteries. At that moment his dark eyes were wide with terror.
"Bill?" Ron asked in surprised, quickly rising and crossing the room with Rayven at his heels.
"Ron, Rayven," He nodded at them. "We've got a...well..." He was stuttering, as if he had seen something horrifying, which is really something for the most senior member of the Department of Mysteries.
"What is it?" Rayven asked, trying to remain calm.
"Number 17, Lemon Lane in Kent," He stumbled through the address. "I...I can't...you'll have to see it for yourselves. I've got a lot of work to do..." The last phrase was too himself more than to Ron or Rayven. Without another word he disappeared.
"Should we go?" Ron asked, looking at his wife.
"Of course we should go!" She exclaimed. "Someone could be in trouble!"
"And I suppose you want to save the world," Ron smiled. Little did he know it would be the last he smiled for quite some time.
They apparated to the address Bill had mentioned. The night was practically black since there was no moon, but there was activity all around the place. People were screaming, aurors and Muggle cops were running and yelling at one another, random pedestrians were crying and wailing. Ron felt dread come over him.
He managed to stagger forward a few feet. The chaos around him seemed to melt, as if it were in a dream. Dread filling every part of him, he looked up. He knew, somehow what he would see.
Poisonous green illuminated the sky. There it was, giving Ron the all-to-familiar twisted grin. The Dark Mark. But although the Mark was as terrifying as ever, that wasn't what Ron was staring at.
Underneath the skull-and-snake there was a message. It was written in the same green as the Mark, the same terror and fascinated horror filled his being as he stared. He couldn't tear his eyes, unable to believe what he was looking at. There were two words underneath the Dark Mark.
I'm back.
Summer Holidays
~Be a good boy
Push a little farther now
That wasn't fast enough
To make us happy
We'll love you just the way you are
If you're perfect~
*Alanis Morissette's "Perfect"
"Hey Mum!" Grace cried, waving through the crowd toward her parents. She ran over and threw her arms around her mother. Angel and James had followed her, seeing as their parents always wound up standing together in a little group.
"I missed you so much!" Rayven said, giving her daughter a large squeeze. Grace felt her cheeks flame.
"Don't embarrass the girl!" Her dad cut in, grinning. She gave him a hug and a peck on the cheek, and turned to her aunt, uncle, and godparents. They had to wait for Phil, Luke and Elizabeth to join them before leaving. Anna attacked her older siblings with ferocious hugs and complaints about not enough letters. Luke whispered a promise of some sort, and Grace personally thought she didn't even want to know what he had said.
"Hungry?" Uncle Draco asked, looking around at the brood of children. It was obvious from the looks on Phil and Luke's faces that they had eaten quite enough sweets on the way home, but the others leapt at the chance for dinner.
"You're all coming over for dinner," Aunt Ginny declared, smiling fondly at the children and the adults as well. "Come along, we want to give Angel and Grace as much time together as they can muster." She winked at her daughter and niece, who exchanged high fives before following their parents out of Platform 9 3/4.
Grace practically squealed with delight. Finally, summer holidays!
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
"Ryan Webster?" Her father said, raising an eyebrow skeptically. "Who is this Ryan Webster?"
"He's going to be a seventh year! He's in Gryffindor, he plays Keeper on the Quidditch team and I absolutely MUST go to this party or I'll die!" Grace declared to her parents. Ron looked unmoved, but Rayven had to hide her laugh in a napkin. Her daughter was SUCH a teenager sometimes!
"How do I know there won't be bad things at this party?" Her father insisted.
"Daddy!" Grace whined. "Angel and James will be there. Ryan's parents are going to be home. Don't you trust us?"
"Of course, sweetheart," Her father said. "It's this Webster boy I don't trust." A look of horror spread across his face and he said quickly, "He's not your boyfriend, is he?"
"NO!" Grace replied with a look of disgust. Ron let out a sigh of relief and Rayven continued to chuckle. Looking up and seeing the desperation on her daughter's face she turned to her husband.
"Oh Ron she's sixteen. Let her go to the party."
"What?" He cried, turning to Rayven. "You're on her side now?"
"Don't be ridiculous dear," Rayven continued amiably. "This is about sides, its about letting Grace go to this harmless little party where she can see all her friends. Stop acting like a melodramatic stage Papa and lighten up. We were teenagers once, you know."
"Don't remind me," Ron rolled his eyes. He got a look from both women and threw up his hands in defeat. "Fine! Far be it from me to interfere with my daughter's life. Go ahead; go to your party. But you had better be home by midnight!"
"Yes!" Grace cried happily. "Thanks Dad!" She threw her arms around her father's neck, kissed his cheek, and ran out of the room in delight.
"Hmph," Ron said, his ears slightly red as he hid behind the newspaper. Rayven just laughed.
Grace bounded into the living room and grabbed some floo powder out of the oriental jewelry box sitting on the mantle. Throwing it into the fire she called, "Angel Malfoy!"
"You rang?" A familiar voice replied as Angel's head popped into the fire.
"No. There was no ringing involved." Grace replied in a very serious voice. Angel laughed.
"So," Angel began once her giggles had subsided. "Can you go?"
"Yeah," Grace replied. "You?"
"For a second I was sure my dad was not going to let me. I had to employ tears and everything!" The girls went off into a gale of giggles.
"And..." Grace started, trying to sound casual but failing. "Will James be there?"
"James who?" Angel replied, grinning devilishly. If she had actually been in the room Grace would've thrown something at her.
"James Potter you dolt!" She cried, and Angel burst into laughter.
"Would you go if he wasn't?" She asked.
"Angel," Her cousin whined, and she finally conceded.
"Yes, he's coming. I promise, scout's honor, stick a needle in my eye and all that crap." Angel rolled her eyes. "You are so infatuated it's scary, Gold."
"I know," Grace sighed. "Anyway, see you tomorrow night at Ryan's house!"
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
"I thought he said his parents were going to be here," Grace said, her eyes widening as she looked around the crowded Webster living room.
Practically all the sixth and seventh years of every house were there. The music was blasting, and there was probably more alcohol then oxygen on the premises.
"Well, it can't be all bad," James remarked, looking around with one eyebrow raised. Angel's eyes tore through the crowd. In only seconds she saw who she was looking for.
Her eyes locked with a pair of melted chocolate orbs. Tom Flint was still carrying on a conversation with the group of Slytherin's around him, but his eyes didn't leave Angel's.
"Oh my God," Grace suddenly said in disgust. Angel jumped and tore her eyes away from Tom's. To her surprise she found her cousin looking the same direction she had been only moments before. "Look who Ryan invited. The Flints!" Grace's nose was wrinkled in disgust as she stared at the brothers and their circles of Slytherin friends.
"Yeah," Angel replied. "Excuse me." She took off through the crowd, and before James or Grace realized what was happening, she was gone.
"Well..." Grace said, looking after her best friend in confusion. She then suddenly realized Angel had left her alone with James and her confusion switched to annoyance. Was this an attempt to hook them up? How many times had she told Angel that James didn't see her that way.
"Let's see if we can find anyone we know," James finally suggested. Not having anything better to do, Grace complied.
They found several of their friends off snogging in various corners of the house, and sometimes they didn't even bother with corners. Ryan Webster, the host of the party, was passed out in the den with a cup of beer in his hand. A great deal of students were hovering around a magically enlarged punch bowl containing a liquid Grace couldn't identify, but it had an interesting effect on those who drank it.
The more she saw, the more disgusted Grace became. Frank, a boy she remembered being a sweet and shy Ravenclaw who sat behind her in Arithmancy last year, grabbed her wrist as she and James were trying to get through the wave of dancers around the blaring entertainment system. He started to dance in a way that would not exactly be labeled appropriate by a parent of any kind.
Furious, James removed Frank from his best friend and grabbed her wrist, literally dragging her through the mass of bodies. They managed to get outside the house, where even more people were drinking, snogging, and dancing. Grace breathed in the fresh air, somewhat shaken from her little encounter with the Ravenclaw.
"What the hell was he doing?!" James demanded angrily, shooting the house an evil glare. He turned with a softer look at Grace. "Ready to go home?"
"Not without Angel." She replied stubbornly. "What time is it?"
"Er..." James looked down at his watch. "Oh shit!"
"What?!" Grace cried. How could this possibly get any worse?
"Our curfew was midnight, remember?" He said, his eyes bulging.
"Well, what time is it?" Grace asked, dreading the answer.
"One." Grace let out a groan.
"My dad's going to have my head on a silver platter!"
"Wait right here, I'm going to find Angel." James turned to reenter the house, the look on his face suggesting the pits of Hell as opposed to a large suburban home, but to his relief he found Angel at the door.
"My parents are going to kill me!" She cried, running straight at James. "Do you guys realize what time it is?! We were supposed to be home an hour ago!"
"C'mon," James said in a grim voice, pulling a small box out of his pocket. Inside was a silver ball, a portkey that would take them back to the Potters house. They all touched the portkey, and in less than a second were on the front lawn of The Hollow, the ancestral home of the Potters James's father had inherited.
They tried to sneak into the house, but this wasn't possible. As soon as they walked in they saw Hermione sitting still in what was probably the most uncomfortable chair in the room, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. Harry was pacing around the room with his hands behind his back. He whipped around as soon as he heard the door open and the guilty parties entered quietly. Hermione stood up, saw that her son was alive, then collapsed with relief. Harry's face was purple with rage.
Harry got in as much yelling as he could before Hermione got the fire going and gestured for the girls to go home. They gulped, knowing they weren't likely to get off any easier at home.
Grace watched her cousin disappear in a whirl of green flame. She looked up to her godmother for support, but found no sympathy in Hermione's tired brown eyes and pursed lips. Her stomach in knots of dread, she threw the powder into the fire.
"The Haven!" She said softly, her eyes closed. She began to whirl around, knowing she was being taken to the manor her father had built with the money left from being a spy, knowing she would have to face her mother's teary eyes and her fathers furious words, and knowing she was in it deeper than ever before.
It was just as she had suspected. Rayven's golden eyes, so much like Grace's, were red and somewhat puffy. Ron looked as if he were going to kill his daughter, his face completely white under the trademark Weasley freckles, his blue eyes furious with worry. He immediately began lecturing his daughter.
Grace sat numbly, hardly hearing a word her father said. She gather that she was grounded, although Ron was far to angry to begin developing a set amount of time for her to be grounded in she knew it would probably last until Angel's birthday in August, if not the entire holiday.
Finally her father stops screaming, he just seems out of breath. Grace, with her head bowed low, dragged her feet upstairs and fell into bed, sobbing herself to sleep.
The weeks after the incident at Ryan Webster's party dragged. Grace found herself jealous of Angel and James. She knew they were both grounded as well, but at least they had siblings to distract them. Grace was all by herself, with no one but her parents for company.
They both calmed down with time, of course, and Grace resumed her normal friends-as-well-as-mother-and-daughter relationship with Rayven, but she found herself silently resenting her father. She knew her mom never would've grounded her for so long. The party was at the end of June, and Angel didn't turn sixteen until August 16! That left her two free weeks of holiday.
Ron felt somewhat guilty, she knew, but he refused to relent his punishment. As far as he was concerned, his daughter had broken the rules and she had to pay for it. Grace considered this totally unfair. This was the first time she had ever really done something to worry her parents, and she had left as early as she could, trying to get out of that hellhole of a party.
Ron refused to listen to either argument.
She was sitting alone in her room one evening in July, and was so bored that she was reading a textbook because she had finished all her homework. She was so intent on the book that she jumped in the air when she heard the queer knocking sound at her window.
She looked out and saw a familiar eagle perched on the window sill, its head slightly cocked in curiosity. Grace's eyes widened, and somewhat shocked she ran over to the window and threw it open. The eagle gracefully soared inside and landed on her bed. She blinked, and in the next instant James Potter was sitting on her bed.
James Potter was sitting on her bed. She was alone in her room with James. James, the boy she had loved since childhood James, who she had watch slowly grow into a man. James, who had been one of her best friends since before she could remember, the oldest son of her dad's best friend, the third member of her little trio. James, who was now sitting on her bed with a smug smile on his face that she just wanted to kiss so badly...
Pull it together Weasley.
"What are you doing here?" She snapped, annoyed at his ignorance at her blatant infatuation.
"What does it look like I'm doing?" He asked. "I'm breaking you out of prison."
"What?"
"Grace, don't be so bloody thick," James grinned, and she had to bite her lip to keep from screaming her thoughts. He thought SHE was thick?! "You're an animagus, remember? You can FLY!"
"Oh..." Grace suddenly realized what he was getting at. "You mean I can sneak out of here and my parents will never know?"
"Precisely!" James continued, leaping off her bed and running over to her. "Angel's waiting for us, c'mon." And without anymore words he transformed back into eagle form. Laughing at her stupidity, Grace took the form of a graceful phoenix and followed James out of the open window and into the night toward Malfoy Manor.
"Hey guys!" Angel squealed as two birds gracefully flew through her open window and transformed into her best friends. Grace couldn't believe she hadn't realized she could do this before.
And before she knew what was happening it was established as a nightly tradition that Grace and James would fly to Angel's house to talk and, to put it honestly, just hang out in the way only teenagers can.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
As Ron settled down in his favorite armchair and snatched the Daily Prophet from the coffee table to read about the Ministry's latest Muggle Soda Pop Restriction it occurred to him that life had become incredibly dull. Everything had taken on and unshakable routine that he had come to despise.
It wasn't that he wanted Voldemort back or anything, God forbid. Yet he found himself wistfully remembering the days of excitement when he had been a spy. One of five, a hero behind the scenes, living a life of danger.
Sure, at the time he had hated it. Despised every moment of waking life, excepting the few moments of peace with Rayven. And the reasonable side of his mind pointed out that he wouldn't be enjoying a life of spying right now if he had the opportunity. But still...
Ron had, in a sense, become his own worst nightmare. Working a nine-to-five job at the Ministry, living quietly at home with his family. The only thing that kept him from really getting mad at himself was that he had only one child.
Not to say he didn't find himself wondering what Rayven would say if he told her he wanted more. He loved Grace, loved her so much it hurt sometimes. She was growing up right before his eyes, and was sixteen now. In two years, she would be on her own in the big bad world. The thought made him shudder.
Not only Grace, but his niece, nephew, and godchildren, all of whom practically seemed like his own. Angel had just turned sixteen a few days ago. Her party had been a raving success. Mainly due to the fact that as of that date Grace, James, and Angel were released from their state of being grounded, and they were currently all camped out at the Potter's house in celebration. He knew he had been a little harsh, but the Malfoys and the Potters had done the same and he couldn't bring himself to feel guilty for punishing his daughter, especially after seeing the color slowly fade from her mother's face as the clock had ticked by.
No, he had to live a boring life, if for no other reason than to keep Grace and Rayven safe. There were more important things, he reminded himself, than excitement. A thrilling life of danger and intrigue around every turn, never knowing what the next day will bring, endless new paths and choices and...
He was doing it again. Damn it!
There was no reason to remember something so horrible. He had hated being a Death Eater, hated every moment, hated the secrets and lies, hated the death and terror every day. Hatred, actually, had been his specialty.
No, he reminded himself. Killing had been his specialty.
That brought him back to earth in seconds. The guilt began to resurface, just as strong as it had been sixteen years ago when he was still killing. Why? Why had he done it? So what if he saved the world and all that crud, he had killed so many...so many...
It was for a good cause, right? Those deaths saved millions of lives! Still, reason and guilt do not always agree. The days when he had been a spy...
That's it! I give up! He thought to himself furiously. How is it he could hate what he had done so much, and yet at the same time long to return to that life?
It wasn't that he wanted to be a spy so much as just something interesting. Something new. Something different. Anything but this same old boring-
"Ron?"
Ron realized he had been gritting his teeth. He looked up rather guiltily to see his wife giving him a look of curious concern. He smiled sheepishly.
"Hello dear," He mumbled. She sat on the arm of his chair and played with his hair, which was still a fiery red, if a little thinner than when they had first married.
"What were you thinking about?" She asked. There was no way to hide it from her, Rayven read him like a book. Sometimes it scared him how well she knew him.
"Spying," He replied. "The days when I was a Death Eater."
"Ah," She replied. "Tired of the boring mundane existence of a Ministry Council member?"
"I love my job," He replied. He wasn't lying, really. The Ministry Council had one job: advise the Minister of Magic. And the Minister of Magic was Harry Potter, Ron's best friend. So he actually enjoyed his job, it was just so...boring.
"You think it's boring," Rayven smiled knowingly. Ron jumped, looking at her with surprise. How had she known...?
"Don't worry," She said, sighing. "I miss the old life too, sometimes. But we all know this is what's best, Ron. We both do."
"Yes," He smiled. When Rayven said it, he believed it. However, in the back of his mind there was still a strange longing for action, and he knew it was within her too.
Obviously neither of them remembered the old adage "Be careful what you wish for."
It was at that moment that heat seared through the room as a bright blue fire appeared in the grate. Surprised, the Weasleys turned to see none other than William Croaker's head in their fire. He was older, yes, much older than when they had worked with him nearly two decades ago. Yet though his graying hair was almost gone and there were a few too many wrinkles around his eyes and mouth, he was still alive and vigorous, and had yet to retire from the Department of Mysteries. At that moment his dark eyes were wide with terror.
"Bill?" Ron asked in surprised, quickly rising and crossing the room with Rayven at his heels.
"Ron, Rayven," He nodded at them. "We've got a...well..." He was stuttering, as if he had seen something horrifying, which is really something for the most senior member of the Department of Mysteries.
"What is it?" Rayven asked, trying to remain calm.
"Number 17, Lemon Lane in Kent," He stumbled through the address. "I...I can't...you'll have to see it for yourselves. I've got a lot of work to do..." The last phrase was too himself more than to Ron or Rayven. Without another word he disappeared.
"Should we go?" Ron asked, looking at his wife.
"Of course we should go!" She exclaimed. "Someone could be in trouble!"
"And I suppose you want to save the world," Ron smiled. Little did he know it would be the last he smiled for quite some time.
They apparated to the address Bill had mentioned. The night was practically black since there was no moon, but there was activity all around the place. People were screaming, aurors and Muggle cops were running and yelling at one another, random pedestrians were crying and wailing. Ron felt dread come over him.
He managed to stagger forward a few feet. The chaos around him seemed to melt, as if it were in a dream. Dread filling every part of him, he looked up. He knew, somehow what he would see.
Poisonous green illuminated the sky. There it was, giving Ron the all-to-familiar twisted grin. The Dark Mark. But although the Mark was as terrifying as ever, that wasn't what Ron was staring at.
Underneath the skull-and-snake there was a message. It was written in the same green as the Mark, the same terror and fascinated horror filled his being as he stared. He couldn't tear his eyes, unable to believe what he was looking at. There were two words underneath the Dark Mark.
I'm back.