I know, I know..... I did promise. I lied. I've not had much time to update. What with school, runaway cats, and other various and sundry things, I just haven't had much time. Here is the new chapter.

She had set aside her precious typing contraption, and was working on her even more precious automobile. That is what Snape had called it when he had first seen her dismembering the old computer keyboard. She liked to piddle-fart with machinery. Gears and fuel lines and modems... the mysteries of computer chips and motor oil. Her hair was caught high in a ponytail and hidden beneath a ballcap. She wore jeans and a tank top, and her feet were bare. That was what so many people thought was odd about her- she had dozens of shoes in her closet, but she went around without any on as often as she could.
"Careful, you could fall in." A cheerful voice said from behind her. A moment later, she recieved a swat on her posterior that made her lose her balance. She stood abruptly, hit her head on the hood, and began to curse soundly... in several languages.
"Do that again and you will be fodder for artillery practice.... double cannister." she muttered in a feline growl. Kate rubbed her head again, and resumed her work under the hood.
"It's lunch time. Snape is fuming because there are no House Elves to cook, and Hermione isn't exactly a chef... and we're sick of peanut butter sandwiches and fast food." Harry explained. Kate grimaced.
"All right. Let me get cleaned up and I'll make something quick and light. I need to work on the air conditioner this afternoon too." Removing the heavy gloves, she washed her hands at the pump which was attached to the garage. Then she took a large basket and went to the vegetable part of the garden. Cucumbers, bell peppers and greens were gathered, as well as some dandelions for salad. In the kitchen, after her first disasterous attempt at gourmet, she had proved most competent at making good, old- fashioned meals.
She made grilled turkey and cheese sandwiches, vinegar pickles and a wilted dandelion salad with a light vinegriatte ove the top. She did all this with a brisk efficiancy which had at first shocked her friends.
She ended up feeding most of her food to her two cats, having aquired another. Rappahannock, a sleek calico, had adopted Kate. She and Orion weren't quite sure whether they got on, but, as Kate had remarked to Hermione, that probably meant that they'd end up as mates.
But she had finished first and put her plate in the sink, then went outside again. But she did not return to her tinkering. Settling in a white wicker sofa, she curled up with a book. Not the type of book that Hermione always carried around, oh no. This was a paperback, with a cover proclaiming a mystery title. The summer day was so perfect, with the aroma of plants, good, tilled earth, and the almost imperceptible scent of spirits, and the sensation of soft, contented cats on her lap, lured her into a nap. Hermione and Ron had snuck off for a snogging session; but Harry and Snape both watched her, from their respective vantage points. Snape watched her with a sense of panic. She was still so obviously a child, despite all her cleverness and grown-up behavior. Harry watched her with something that bore upon reverence. Here was the daughter of his beloved godfather. So far from Hogwarts and any crushes he might have had there, he thought her the sweetest girl in the world, with her bare feet swinging over the arm of the wicker seat, a thick braid over her pale shoulder, gleaming in the sunlight.
And he only realized it when Snape had come to loom over her, like a cloud obscuring the moon. He leapt to her defence, standing opposite Snape.
"Let her be." He said, warning in his voice.
"You're assuming I'd hurt her? My god, boy! She's the most precious person in the world... " the older man stopped short, then resumed, "I love her as if she were my child. And I am eaten from the inside out with regret that she isn't. What's your excuse, Potter?" He turned and left abruptly leaving Harry to ponder the bitter question.
Suddenly, he bent and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, then to her cheeks, her closed eyelids, and finally her mouth... Then, appalled by the familiarity with which he had be acting, he straightened up and fled to the stable, the horses being out in the pasture, and he was assured privacy from anything approaching sentience while he figured out what he was thinking.
Kate awoke to a very pleasant sensation. It was almost like sitting up in the bower in June, with a good breeze stirring the roses to brush against her face. She had read somewhere, that there was only one thing softer and sweeter than a rosebud, but she had dismissed that as sentimental drivel. But the idea of a phantom lover, coming only in her dreams was slightly erotic....
When she fully awoke, the feeling had gone, and she was alone... well, not quite alone. The cats had abandoned her, but sitting on one of the wrought iron patio chairs, was Major Owain Rhys.
"You look smug." She commented, yawning.
"So do you. Like you'd had your first kiss.... and enjoyed it."
"Sorry to disappoint, Granddad. I only dreamed I had."
"Did you now? Child, you don't need to keep so busy. Come to the field for a while. They miss you down there. Walk the trails, dip your feet in the stream. Re-charge."
"Good idea. I'll slip away at twilight."
She mounted Traveller and headed off to the battlefield. The mist in the valleys camoflauged her movements. Dismounting, she let the great gray horse graze as she wandered about the enormous field, touching the trees and cannon with reverent hands. She dipped her feet in Plum Run, feeling the lazy water current, and the current of something other than water, something powerful.
She loved this land. It was saturated in her every pore. None of the others really understood how much she loved it. It was home. There was no sweeter word in her vocabulary. Walking this battlefield, seeing things which few people saw, much less understood, came naturally to her. It was after the 'Gettysburg Madness' of early July, and there were few tourists about in the evening. A few were trying to contact ghosts... maybe even film them.

"Hey! Young lady! Do you happen to know what is the best place to look for ghosts?" A harsh, Western acent accosted her.
She looked the young man up and down, letting that imperceptible air of power radiate a bit before she answered, "You can look for them all you want, but if they decide not to show themselves, then you are S.O.L." She said in a crisp voice, "Excuse me, my horse is calling me." She walked to where Traveller had emerged, nickering at her. She nodded and leapt up.
"Good luck, finding your ghosts. I've been informed you may find more than you bargain for!" She said to the young man from her perch. She tossed a stone from her pocket to him. "In case you need to get away from something nasty. Throw this down and cross the stream." She said and rode off into the shadows.