Chapter I: Can't Buy Me Love…

Emily…

Waking up is hard to do. Especially when your seven-year-old brother lends his aid by jumping up and down on your bed, pulling the covers away, and showing no mercy in his screaming.

Welcome to 'La Casa Loca'.

 I pushed Jack out of my room, and ran him right into Dad, who was fully dressed, despite the early hour. Who in their right mind would be awake and dressed this early during the summer? Certainly not Dad under any normal circumstances, but today wasn't a circumstantial day.

Today was voting day in the election for the next Minister of Magic, and Mum was the top candidate, running against Bob Guinn. No doubt Mum was up and bustling about downstairs already out of nervousness.

Robert Guinn was a veteran politician. His father had been second in command to Cornelius Fudge, and it had been assumed that he would have taken over the position after Fudge's death. But no, that position went to Arthur Weasley. This may be the second time that a Guinn would lose to a Weasley. Everyone was hoping for it. Gramps (as I affectionately called him) was hoping to bequeath his role to his unspoken favourite daughter-in-law. It would be an occasion to remember.

We were having a party at our house today. Mum didn't organize it, but her campaign manager- a very young, spirited, vivacious Hogwarts grad named Juliet Duncan. It was for the entire Weasley family (minus Gramps, of course, for obvious political reasons), family friends, Mum's benefactors, avid supporters- conveniently VIPs, campaign team, and volunteers. Of course, it was a perfect day, but the location…tons of people would be at La Casa Loca today.

Fortunately, I wasn't one of them. Thank you, Kyle.

Kyle was one of my best friends. He, Rachel, Meg, Tom and I had been best friends at Hogwarts since our first year. Rachel and I, obviously, were friends much longer, and I met Kyle when I joined the British Mini Quidditch Team (we were a world-class team, thank you very much. Don't let the name persuade you otherwise).

Anyway, Kyle's cousin, Will Tucker, is transferring to Hogwarts this year. Will's Dad and Mum are divorced. While his mother lives in San Diego, California, Mr. Tucker is a world-class businessman, who is never in one place for more than a year at a time. Will's parents' custody situation is kind of weird. They switch on and off at one year intervals. He's lived in San Diego with his Mum, obviously, but also Tokyo, Cairo, New York, Tel Aviv, Chicago, Moscow, Venice, Sydney, Paris and tons of other places. This year, his Dad's in London, so Hogwarts is the obvious school of choice. Since Kyle is already settled, Mr. Tucker thought that it might be a good idea if he get to know some kids before school started, to he told Kyle to invite some of his friends to spend a day on the yacht in the Mediterranean sea.

All right, can we say spoiled little rich boy?

But hey, I wasn't above getting to see my friends and spending a day on a luxury yacht. Tom, unfortunately, had a wedding to go to and couldn't get out of it. But the three of us girls were going with Kyle, all right.

Meg and Rachel, having boys on the brain, were automatically fighting over flirting rights while pondering just what his accent might be like. I personally didn't care. I just hoped that he knew something about Quidditch. Otherwise, I'd be bored.

I glanced at the grandfather clock in the hallway- the clock that actually told the time. It was just barely nine a.m. and I was awake already. This was torture. I decided that since it was morning I should probably exercise Lady while it was cool.

I slipped back into my room, and pulled on riding pants and T-shirt before grabbing my camera and leaving my room. Sure enough, Mum was totting around like a crazy woman, which she was, and barely gave me a second glance as I walked outside. She was too busy speaking with Juliet about something or other.

She caught sight of me before I walked outside, though.

"G'morning, Emily," she said.

"Morning, Mum," was my weary reply.

"Emily, dear," she said, causing me to stop in the doorway, "could you please remember to leave your riding boots in the stable? Today's very important dear; I don't want manure all over the house."

"Sure, Mum."

"Oh, and Emily?"

"Hmm?"

"What time are you leaving with your friends?"

"Not until eleven thirty. I'll be back by four."

"All right. Make sure that you invite them in. We'll have plenty of food, so it's perfectly fine if they'd like to help themselves."

"Sure. I'll make sure that Mr. Tucker votes for you, too," I said with a wink as I turned and walked out into the crisp summer air.

Over the years, the Ministry had abandoned its' typical British Monarchic system and adapted the American Democratic system when it came to inaugurating a Minister. They found that it suited everyone much better in most respects- if you didn't want to serve as Minister, you didn't have to. Lord knows that not everyone is a natural leader- how could they uphold an entire country? Also with the Democratic system, the Magical People had at least some say in what was going on in their government.

I stopped in the middle of the backyard, and slowly brought my camera to my eye. Photo ops never passed Emily Weasley by. A robin was feeding her small, chirping young their breakfast of a lovely earthworm. All right, so maybe it wasn't exactly the most pleasant thing to look at- you know, eating something grubby and slimy that had just come to the ground- but I thought that it was sweet. Perhaps I'd put that on canvas one day. Or perhaps I'd find something better to shoot and save me the embarrassment of signing my name to such a hotel room type painting.

I continued my stroll to the stables. The horses and stables came with the new house that we had bought six years ago. It was one of the perks, but more or less, I still wasn't terribly fond of the huge manor. It was so large and impersonal. I think that my parents had their reasons for moving here, (reasons which they never told Landon and I) and felt the same way as we did. They tried to make it homier, and it did work to some extent, but the cold stone exterior just didn't do much to help that outlook. Landon and I would have much preferred living in our old house. It was large, (not that we really needed large) homey, personal and just…better.

The wooden stable door swung open, letting sunlight into the musty barn. Straw on the ground crunched beneath my feet, and I was met with the sound of braying horses. I slipped on my riding boots before snapping leads to the halters of the horses, leading them one by one out to the pasture. Before I rode Lady I cleaned the stalls (with magic, of course), and put more feed in. I got my horse tacked up, climbed up and we were off.

We trotted into the woods on the paths that Dad, Landon and I had made, and down to the stream. Not being able to stop myself, I pulled the reigns so that Lady would gallop straight towards a log. She jumped it with little effort. Riding a horse was similar to riding a broomstick…if you wanted to stretch it.

"Oh come on," said a voice from behind me. "You can do better than that."

"Oh, yeah?" I asked, turning Lady to face my father, "Let's see you try."

"Oh, no," he said, shaking his head with a smile. "Horses hate me. Dragons are fine, but horses are an entirely different story."

"Aw…Daddy's a coward…"

"Get off, I'll show you how it's done."

It was a wonderful still frame- Dad being thrown from the horse and flying through the air only to land in the stream. It was slightly off centre, though, because I was laughing so hard.

"Oh, so that's how it's done, eh Dad?"

"Shut up," he said with a smile as he wiped mud from his eyes. "I told you, it's not my fault. Horses hate me."

I laughed at him again, snapping a shot of him smiling sadistically and dripping wet.

"Come on," he said to me, "Your mum needs you back at the house."

"Why?"

"I don't know; she's entirely too stressed out, so anything that you could do to help would…well, help." I swung my leg up and over onto the horse, and rode back slowly as Dad walked alongside.

"So…erm…" he said, rubbing the back of his neck. It seemed as if it were paining him to say what he had to say, and I was enjoying it. "Erm…who are you going out with today?"

Ah…boys.

"Well, you know, just the gang."

"Oh," he said. Yes, it was definitely about boys. Whenever Dad got like this, I couldn't help but want to laugh in his face. His ears were turning red now, which was all the better. "Are…erm…who is the gang, exactly?"

"Oh, you know. Everybody." I couldn't stop myself from smiling. It was a good thing that he was staring at the ground, or else my huge smile would have given it all away.

"Right…but…right."

…

"Emily, are…erm…boysgoingtobethere?"

"Well, of course, Dad. You know, this is all so we can meet Kyle's cousin, Will. Of course boys are going to be there. Tom can't come, though. What a pity…"

Of course, I had no attraction towards Tom; I had just learned from my relatives (namely Uncle Charlie and my twin uncles) at a very early age how to push all of Dad's buttons when I really wanted to.

Dad coughed uncomfortably. "Erm…yeah, pity."

"And I was really looking forward to showing off that new two-piece bathing suit that I bought with Rachel."

And the final straw snapped in bloody half.

"Young lady, you will not be traipsing out of this house half dressed in front of boys!" he said, ears and face terribly red. He was oblivious to my hysterical laughter, though as we approached the stable.

"Don't worry, Daddy," I said, sliding off the horse and giving him a kiss on the cheek, before turning and snapping a picture of his shocked face, "You're the only boy for me." I led Lady back to her stall, leaving Dad standing there, shocked as ever that he had just been duped by his daughter.

Ron…

I walked from the stable back into the house, shaking my wet head at Emily. She got more and more like Hermione every day. Only my wife could ever make me that upset while being completely insincere about what she was saying. Now that Emily had learned that trick, I was done for.

Hermione was still buzzing around when I walked in the door. Her campaign manager, Juliet, was following her, reading her a list of to-dos, who-to-thanks, and speeches.

No matter how many times Hermione told me that she wasn't out to win and that she just wanted to make a difference, win or lose, I knew about how competitive she could be and there was no fooling me. She was out for blood in this election. The day was critical, no matter how many times she would dismiss is. She'd have to make speeches all day over WNN to help persuade the last minute voters. Her speeches would have to be perfectly articulated so as not to spur any question about her role as a leader.

Our little ongoing party wouldn't be starting until eleven thirty, shortly after Emily was leaving, and probably wouldn't be ending until early tomorrow morning, depending on the outcome of the election. Honestly, though, I thought that Hermione's odds were good.

Guinn was a slime ball and everyone knew it. Well, at least everyone voting for Hermione did. Why, there were rumours that Guinn's own mother wasn't voting for him. I wouldn't have been surprised. His campaign was filled with empty promises and hollow lies. His motives were simply to boost his own ego and better his family name once a 'Mudblood lover' had spoiled it. Yes, anyone who knew about his past knew that his family was somewhat like the Malfoys- only rumoured to be in league with Voldemort, but rotten to the core regardless.

I was about to go upstairs and wash off from my intentional (cough, cough) fall into the stream, when there was a knock on the door. I was completely unaware as to why someone would be knocking on the door when they could apparate, but then it hit me. Techno guys tended to be squibs.

The wizarding world had developed quite a different technology over the years. They had adapted Muggle technology as their own, making vast improvements in several areas. Mostly for governmental use, for they found all of the technology to be right down damned useful. Although they would never admit it. WNN was an adaptation of CNN- magic style. Wizarding News Network broadcasted over a blueball flame in the fireplaces of all those connected to the Floo Network.

"Ron, could you get that, please?" Hermione interrupted Juliet to ask me.

"Hello," I said, swinging the door open. Dirty men carrying equipment (like I said, usually they were squibs, so even a simple reduction charm was impossible) pushed past me without so much as a by your leave, began setting up in the living room.

"Oh, no, not there!" Juliet crooned. "No, this all has to go in the parlour. Ron, could you show them please?"

Sure, not like I'm soaking wet and beginning to smell or anything. Not like this is my house and you're the one giving the orders. Still, I didn't want to upset Hermione. She didn't need anything more to be upset by today.

"Follow me," I said through gritted teeth. But they didn't follow me; they pushed past me, tracking dirt all through the house, and found their way to the parlour on their own. All right, fine. I would just go get in the shower then. If no one needed me, then they wouldn't see me. Take that.

Emily…

Eleven o'clock could not have come faster. First, Mum asked me to help get Jack dressed. The kid was seven, he could get dressed on his own, but no. I had to help him get his tie right. Now, what is that about? I'll repeat, the kid is seven. He's not going to stay in a tie for long, is he? No. So what's the point of putting it on him to begin with? I promptly to Mum this, and I just waited for her to see the error of her ways. Surprisingly, she said that the Gryffindor tie looked cute on him, and showed spirit. If he was going to be in the public eye, than he was going to have to dress right. Whatever. I'll admit, though, it did look cute.

Then, she asked me to clean up in the living room. The party was going to be outside, I said, why did the living room need cleaning up? She just shot me one of those looks that said 'don't do this in front of the company', if you could consider Juliet family. She was practically an extended sister, now. Albeit, and extended sister whom Landon had the hots for (his girlfriend, Fiona, wasn't all to happy with Mum's choice of a campaign manager). I wonder why we have house elves if Mum makes us do all of the work.

By this time, of course, it was ten thirty. Of course, I'd like to get a shower and perhaps do something with my hair before I leave, considering I've been cleaning, wrestling Jack into a tie and riding this morning. But no, I have to clean my room as well. All right, the living room was understandable. But bedroom? Who was going to go upstairs?

At ten forty five, I practically dove into the shower, desperate to make a good impression on this potential friend. Tomboy I may have been, but that didn't mean that I didn't like looking nice. My hair was always a wild mess of red curls. It fell just past my shoulders, and was nearly impossible to get a brush through after sleeping on it. A simple drying and detangling spell worked just wonderfully as I ran back into my room and began rifling around for a bathing suit. I had ten minutes.

Thank you, Rachel. She rang then on the wizard's phone, dying to know what I was wearing. How was I supposed to know? She then went into full detail about her new, shiny red bikini, how she was planning on doing her raven coloured hair, and what kind of makeup she was going to be wearing. She should have known better than to call me. I never wore makeup and my hair had four styles: up, down, half up, braid. Honestly, I didn't care. I just had to find something.

"Rachel, shut up for a minute and let me think," I said, with five minutes to spare. "Rach, I hate asking you this, but…what am I going to wear?"

She squealed so loud on the other end that I thought I might go temporarily deaf.

"Oh, Emily! I thought you'd never ask!"

"So did I," I said dryly, but I didn't think that she caught it. Good thing, too.

She kept spouting off on the other end, though. "What do your bathing suits look like? I can't remember from last summer."

"Erm…" I rifled through my closet yet again. "I've got my blue one, and my other blue one, and my green one."

"Are they two-pieces?"

"Erm…no."

"I'll be right over," she said, and hung up the phone. I was afraid. Very afraid.

Within seconds, Rachel was in my room, wand in hand. I had to admit that she did look nice. Whatever she did sure worked. Rachel was a dancer, and it was very evident in her slim figure. She was the object of attention in our year. Despite her extremely skinny body, she was well…erm…filled out. Not like me. No, I was nearly flat. Like a string bean. Mum just said that I was in my awkward stage. Whatever. I'd been in my awkward stage for the past fourteen years. I was kind of tall and skinny- like a stick, almost. That's what made me so good at Seeker- my small build.

"All right," Rachel said, "Let's get down to business."

I was still standing there in a towel as she picked up the navy blue suit and her wand, cutting it in half, removing the sleeves, putting a shimmering charm on it, and turning it into a matching version of her suit, only blue.

"There you are, put this on," she said, handing it to me. I would have protested, but no one defied dancer, soon-to-be model and designer Rachel Potter when it came to clothes. No one.

Surprisingly, I didn't look half bad. The suit did bring out the colour of my eyes, and I had a modestly muscular stomach from all of that Quidditch.

"Wow, Rach. How'd you do that?" I asked her.

"Do what?"

"Make me look…normal?" She laughed, and tossed me a pair of capris and sandals.

"Come on, foxy, let's get out of here," she said, leaving my room. I grabbed a Cannons T-Shirt. Dad would kill me if he saw me wearing this. When we arrived downstairs, we saw Kyle, Meg, and Kyle's father talking with Mum and Dad (Juliet close by, of course). Mum said goodbye to the two of us girls, and we took Floo powder to the Tucker's yacht. We stepped into an elegantly furnished room of mahogany wood and murals of a seascape on the wall. A wet bar stood in the corner, and a mini fridge was behind it.

"Uncle Rich?" called Kyle. I snorted, although I tried to stop myself. What a fitting name for a rich guy. We walked up on deck, led by Mr. McLaughlin (Kyle's Dad), where a man who had a Captain's hat sitting jauntily on his blond hair greeted us.

"Well, hello, there!" He said, flashing a toothy grin. Although he had a potpourri accent, it sounded as if he were a native to Australia.

"Hey," we girls said in unison. He embraced his nephew, and shook hands with his brother-in-law.

"Thanks a lot for inviting us, Mr. Tucker," I said.

"Don't mention it, kiddo. Now, you must be Emily- Ron and Hermione's daughter?" he said, smiling at me.

"Yes. You know my parents?"

"Only heard of 'em; only heard of 'em. I suspect that your Mum's up to her ears in work right about now, isn't she?"

"Yes, sir."

"Well, tell her that she's got my vote in the bag. So, you must be Meghan Fowler?" he asked, turning to my blond friend.

"Yep," she said, playfully, "but everyone calls me Meg."

Poor Meg wasn't the brightest person in the world. In fact, she would be a classic ditz. Apparently, Mr. Tucker had once been in business with her father, or something. He then turned to Rachel, and engaged her in a brief conversation about her father. This man was a classic businessman, obeying the number one rule of management: know your clients.

"Well," he said to us, "Why don't we go see where Willie is, eh? I'm sure that he'll be anxious to meet you girls. Now, your friend Tom, Kyle. He was unable to come?"

"Yeah," said Kyle, "His sister's getting married."

"Oh. Well, tell him that I said congratulations."

"I will."

He led us around to the back of the ship where a boy of our age with shaggy blond hair was sitting back on a padded seat, his bare feet up against the railing, strumming an acoustic guitar to the sweet sounds of The Beatles.

"Hey, man!" Kyle exclaimed, having not seen his cousin in years, apparently. Will stood up to embrace his cousin, and I noticed that he was incredibly good-looking. His eyes were a striking emerald colour, much like Uncle Harry's. He was definitely tan, was wearing a bathing suit with typical guy Hawaiian flowers on it, a white shirt and one of those shell necklaces that I'd always found attractive on guys. And he was tall. Taller than me. Sorry about that overly long description there, I just had to get it out of my system. It really was a pity that Rachel had won flirting rights.

"You like the Cannons?" he asked me, straight off the bat, seeing my T-shirt.

"Yeah. You like the Beatles?"

"I guess. It's music, isn't it?"

"Sure. I'm Emily Weasley, by the way."

"Right, your Mum's that politician. Erm…take pictures much?" he eyed the camera slung around my shoulder.

"I'm an artist."

"Oh. Really."

"And," said Kyle, "she's also a Quidditch expert. Emily's the best Seeker I've seen since Harry Potter!"

"Really? She's that good? I've never seen anyone better than Harry Potter."

"My Dad's Harry Potter!" Rachel spouted, wanting to get in on this.

"Hi," said Will, extending his hand towards her. "And you are? Besides Harry Potter's daughter and all…"

"Rachel," she filled in, shaking his hand vigorously. "Rachel Potter."

"And I'm Meg Fowler," said Meg, elbowing Rachel out of the way. This was going to be an interesting day.

"Will!" came a voice from inside the cabin, "Get ready to cast off!"

"Here," Will said, thrusting his guitar in my hands, "Hold this." 

He ran off to help his father do stuff that I'd never seen before. Not the typical 'raise anchor!' and 'hard to starboard!' stuff, but actual sailor stuff. I hated to admit it, but it seemed as if I definitely had the makings of a crush, here. But so did the two bright-eyed beauties that stood next to me. Kyle went off to help Will and his Uncle Rich, so the three of us girls sat. I strummed on Will's guitar for a bit, not quite knowing what I was doing. I'd always played the piano (Mum made Landon and I learn).

"Hey, Emily!" Kyle called, throwing a rope. I caught it, and he said, "Run it over there and pull as hard as you can!"

"Dude!" said Will, Californian side showing, "She's a girl!"

"No she's not!" Kyle exclaimed. "She's Emily. She plays Quidditch. She's one of the guys."

I'd show him just how much one of the guys I was. I slipped off my sandals and pulled my T-Shirt over my red hair. Kyle's open mouth was a sign of victory. I took the rope that he threw to me, and 'ran it over' to where he was pointing, pulling hard. Soon, we were cruising on the Mediterranean. It was beautiful scenery.

"Food!" called Mr. Tucker from the galley. He was bringing it up and setting it on a table, where we all tucked in ravenously. Whatever it was (some kind of sea food-I couldn't quite tell) it was delicious. It was also evidently very expensive.

Mr. Tucker was very engaging, talking to us about everything. I noticed that when his father was talking, Will looked rather reserved- not speaking, and looking out to sea.

"What kinds of things are there to do for fun around here?" Mr. Tucker asked. "What do you all like to do for fun? Anything going on?"

"Well, there's always Quidditch…" I said with a smile at Kyle who returned the smile with a 'thumbs up' (evidently learned from his Californian cousin).

"Quidditch, eh? Actually, if you'll believe it, I've never seen a game in my life! What's the big game coming up?" he asked.

"Ireland vs. Northern Ireland," we said in unison.

"It's a grudge match," Kyle explained, "The coach of the Northern Ireland team, the Shamrocks, he used to be the assistant coach for the Irish-"

"The Leprechauns," I put in.

"Right. But he sold out the Lep's when by selling their strategy to the Shamrocks right before the World Cup last year, in exchange for the Head coaching job. His team lost, sending the Shamrocks to the World Cup but giving him the job as coach of the best team in the league."

"But there was a problem," I said, "Because they had no reason to fire the current Head Coach. So, he then went and took over the job as Assistant Head Coach for the Lep's."

"Ah, I see…" said Mr. Tucker. "Well, how about I get you three-I'm sure that Will would like to come- tickets to see the Leprechauns vs. Shamrocks?"

Our mouths dropped and eyes grew wide.

We were offering our extreme gratitude when I saw Will get up and move to the back of the ship (is that the aft?). Hmm…curious. I figured that this kid would need a friend, so while Kyle was still going on to Mr. Tucker about the tickets, I took the soda that I was nursing and followed Will. He was leaning over the railing, staring hard into the blue water, as if to bore a hole in it.

I came up and leaned on the railing next to him (in a completely platonic way. Seriously, it looked like he was upset).

"Are you all right?" I asked him.

"Yeah." He wouldn't look at me.

…

"Your dad's nice," I told him.

"Sure he is," Will replied sardonically, turning and leaning his back against the railing.

I mimicked his stance. "What makes you say that?" I asked.

He let out a little snort. "He tries to buy his way into being my father. Whenever I'm with him…he's always trying to…buy stuff."

"Maybe that's just the way he-"

"No, no it isn't. He's always with one of his girlfriends, he barely even talks to me except to buy me crap when he's home, that is. He's always like this with my friends- you know, Mr. Nice Dad. The Dad that everyone wants. Just 'cause he's loaded," Will said. Wow.

"Sorry," I said after awhile. "I didn't want to upset you."

"Well, it was a little late for that. I was already upset."

"Oh."

Ron…

It was six o'clock and Emily wasn't home yet. I was kind of worried; she said that she'd be home by three. The party was in full swing, and the thought hadn't crossed my mind until someone commented on it. I wasn't expecting her, four of her friends, and one of their fathers to come through the fireplace as I was about to ring Emily's wizard's cell phone (which doubled as a tracker and security device for underage wizards- an easy way for parents to keep tabs on their social butterflies).

I strode over, and Harry saw as well, joining me.

"Hello, I'm Ron Weasley," I said, shaking the adult's hand.

"Rich Tucker."

Already didn't like the bloke. He reminded me of Gilderoy Lockhart, who I never liked anyway. This guy smelled like money. Of course, considering that Hermione and I were pretty rich as well, I had no room to judge. But he just looked ready to flaunt and wave around his Gringotts account at a moment's notice. 

It was then that I saw Emily. My mouth dropped open, and I had to silently chide myself that she was growing up and I couldn't embarrass her in front of her friends. I sure as hell wanted to.

Harry stepped in to speak with the Rich guy, and I turned to Emily, saying, "What the hell are you wearing? Rather, what aren't you wearing?"

"It's just a bathing suit, Dad," she said, begging me and warning me with her eyes to be quiet. "Uncle Harry didn't yell at Rachel for hers."

Damn Harry.

By this time, Rich had walked off to change, he said. He emerged from the bathroom five minutes later in an Armani suit, ready to brush elbows with VIPs, so it seemed. I delivered a message from Mrs. Fowler to Meg, and she left immediately via Floo Powder. Harry steered Rachel and Emily to Emily's room to change, and the boys, Kyle and whoever this Will was, immediately made a beeline to the food table where they got into a conversation with Landon and James about the Ireland vs. Northern Ireland Quidditch game to air on MSPN this weekend.

It seemed then as if hordes of people began flocking inside. When Hermione walked over to me, I questioned her about it.

"It's entirely too wet outside for my taste. Don't know what everyone else is doing, though," she said, with a sly smile. I glanced out the window. It appeared to have begun to downpour without my noticing.

I turned back to her, and she greeted me with a sweet kiss.

"What was that for?" I asked her quietly with a questioning grin. Since when did I question kisses?

"Just because," she whispered back, a gorgeous smile across her face. I love it when she does things 'just because'. "Now, if you'll excuse me, we've got wet guests that need attending to."

She walked away, and my eyes followed her. She would be perfect for the job as Mistress- it was evident in her grace and poise around people. She truly cared and wanted to make a difference. This wasn't just some power trip for her. But we would see soon enough. Polls closed in half an hour, and there would be more news coverage until seven thirty, when the new Minister (or Mistress) would be announced.

I prayed, for all of our sakes, that it would be good news…and that Emily would have more clothes on when she decided to grace us all with her presence again.

Emily…

An hour later, we were all gathered around the fireplace, watching Guinn give his exceptionally long closing statement before the new leader would be announced. We kids booed at the appropriate times, and the WNN techno guys were trying to persuade Mum to do her own closing speech from the parlour, but she refused, saying that she wanted her close friends and family around her as she spoke. Broadcasting equipment was quickly set up in the living room, and Juliet was buzzing around Mum like a bug to light.

"Five, four, three, two, you're on, Mrs. W," said the man behind the recorder thing.

"Well, this has been an eventful night to say the least," Mum said with a pacifistic smile on her face. "I'm sure that by now, all of you are resolute in your decisions, and nothing that I do or say will change that. Allow me to say, however, that if elected, I'll act in the best wishes of our government and people. I'll make Magical England a wonderful place for our future generations to grow up, never living in fear. If I'm elected, I'll do the best in my power to lead well. Thank you."

"And…we're out."

Sufficiently shorter than Guinn's, to say the least. We teenagers (although I hate the term, it saves me the trouble of giving a list) resumed out positions in front of the sofa to see what would be happening next.

"Well," said the annoying announcer, Gilderoy Lockhart, "we've heard the closing statements, and now it's time. Mr. Weasley, the envelope, please?" he chuckled at his own joke, flashing a toothy grin, as the shot panned to Gramps.

Gramps was sitting behind the desk in his office, the emblem of the British Ministry of Magic behind him on the wall. He looked very…political.

"It's been an eventful evening," he said, with a small smile, not annoying like Lockhart's, "And now, I'm pleased to announce that the votes are in. Robert Guinn-"

We all sighed. "Well, that's it, then," said Mum. "Good show, every-"

"Loses by a landslide to Hermione Granger-Weasley."

Her mouth dropped open. It took a bit for everything to register. Mum won. She was the Mistress of Magic.

Dad and Uncle Harry were the first to react. They began to laugh quietly, before it broke out into an all-out roar. Everyone was cheering, and Uncle Fred came in, popping the cork out of a bottle of Dom Perignon, spraying the champagne everywhere. Dad kissed Mum, Uncle Harry hugged her, and one by one, flutes of champagne were passed around…basically, it was officially a riot once the liquor had been distributed. We didn't hear Gramps's speech about what an honour it was to relinquish the position to his daughter-in-law. We were all too busy celebrating. Before we knew it, a shot of all of us, jumping up and down, was being broadcasted on WNN. Mum was in the centre of the shot, sipping her champagne, and celebrating with everyone. She just noticed that she was being broadcasted worldwide, and gave a hasty thank-you-my-opponent-was-worthy speech, before Lockhart's face obstructed the fireplace again. Owls and telephone calls came pelting in. It felt like New Years.

'La Casa Loca' took on a new meaning.

Author's Note: I apologize; this chapter was very… "Teen Moviesque". I didn't want the entire thing to be exposition, and I think of this more as a…second preface. Review, children, review!